RGM: Rhythm Game Music
Last Sunday, I attended the birthday of one of my greatest friends. She had us all come out to the mall by where the Braves play, some 14 miles northwest of the city, so we could all play games at the Round1 arcade. This was at 2 p.m.—earlier that morning, I’d shuffled out of a red-eye flight from Las Vegas and stepped into the notably cooler (can you believe it?) Atlanta morning air. I slept through about half-a-dozen hours of sunlight, then made my way up Sherman’s path.
We were there to watch a best friend dominate Dance Dance Revolution, and listen to the knowledge another had recently attained in Japan—and to play everything we could, of course. After a significant dopamine rush on the addictive Music Diver, I wondered: Why are rhythm song games such a genre unto themselves? Outside of the simple cultural novelty, these struck me and my friends in conversation as songs written directly for the games themselves. No one was playing these live, outside of the clever DJ looking for a recognition cheer at Dragon Con. I decided to do my research.
Most of the songs I’ve compiled for this playlist of rhythm game hits are called BMS song. This stands for Be-Music Source, a file format designed to be read by the standard rhythm game program—specifically the kind pioneered by Konami’s beatmania IIDX line of cabinets stretching back to 1999. Musicians can compose a song, code it into playable charts, and even create a background video to accompany the work. A lot of the hits come from BMS contests, like a Eurovision for rhythm games, which means most of them are independently produced—hence easier and cheaper to license.
Now, song contests are complicated. On one hand, they’re Exploitation 101, a way to garner free labor out of those who can’t fight for royalties. On the other, they’re a way for hidden genius to cut through the noise. But remember: It takes cunning and finesse to make a career out of a one-hit wonder. For every “Waterloo” or “Since U Been Gone,” there’s a Clay Aiken’s “Invisible” in the shadows. One only has to remember Dragonforce of the Guitar Hero days to see the limits of rhythm game success.
Yet these are often sophisticated and complex compositions. They’re designed at first provide stimulating play, but there’s artistic meat there nonetheless. It’s a hyper mix of classical, breakcore, bubblegum pop, and progressive rock. They typically have more tempo changes than a King Crimson album—and rightfully so, as they’re meant to keep even an expert player on their toes. The ripples of this style can be found everywhere from simple message board posts to entire creative sub-genres, some of which I’ve written about myself. I could argue there’s no A.G. Cook without it.
Am I in over my head here? Almost certainly. But a toe I was willing to dip, and wet I got. I can only hope this opens doors to a greater understanding. And while I’ll never be great at DDR, I’ll always be rapt to watch—and listen.
Yet these are often sophisticated and complex compositions. They’re designed at first provide stimulating play, but there’s artistic meat there nonetheless. It’s a hyper mix of classical, breakcore, bubblegum pop, and progressive rock.