There's a moment at the beginning of Saints Row IV, where the Boss is climbing up the side of a rocket equipped with a nuclear warhead in an attempt to disarm it and save the day at this risk of his or her own life. Aerosmith's I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing roars in the background as characters take turns talking about how much they care about the Boss. It's a moment that works as well as it does thanks in no small part to that piece of licensed music and its associations outside of Saints Row IV. By putting it on at that exact moment, the developers bring forth memories of Bruce Willis, Ben Affleck, animal crackers and Liv Tyler from 1999's Armageddon. The entire scene is lifted up by that song choice, elevating what would have been a fun little gameplay section into the hilarious, brilliant moment in which I decided to give my full attention to Saints Row IV.

Music affects us in a myriad of ways; it's capable of cutting to the very emotional core of who we are. Licensed tracks, when used properly, can enhance a title in a way music created specifically for the game cannot, bringing outside experiences with those songs -- and all the feelings and emotional connections a player has with that particular piece of music -- with it. Music and memory are deeply linked, and exploiting those links can result in an in-game moment that resonates with the audience.

For open-world games, licensed music assists with ambitions of making a living, breathing world. Part of the reason the Grand Theft Auto series is so beloved is that each game is expertly crafted in this regard, with Rockstar going to great pains to make the cities players cause mayhem in feel real. I may not have ever taken a rocket launcher to a police helicopter before, but I certainly have driven down the highway at less than legal speeds with Def Leppard’s Photograph blaring. Shared moments like those, between a game and its audience, further immerses players; it helps ground the otherwise insane and ludicrous player actions into some form of reality.

Of course, sometimes the absurd violence in-game can be made even more silly when playing a song that just doesn’t sit right with the on-screen action -- an effect that is surely expected by creators, if not outright intentional. In Saints Row IV, there’s nothing more satisfying than cracking skulls while listening to Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake or George Bizet’s Habanera. The dissonance between the visual and the aural might not help keep players grounded in the game’s world, but it can certainly add to their enjoyment.

This is totally indicative of the 1940s. Not pictured: intense racism, homophobia and a complete lack of regard for women.

Outside of the antics of games like Saints Row and Grand Theft Auto, licensed tunes can have a direct impact on telling a story. BioShock’s Rapture wouldn’t have been nearly as memorable without the use of popular tracks from the 30s, 40s and 50s. Bing Crosby’s crooning being heard from a nearby radio while a Big Daddy lurks around the corner illustrates the world players have fallen into without resorting to several boring minutes of exposition. Jack and the player navigate the turbulent underwater city, learning more of its culture and history, all while being tethered to the game world’s specific time period through the audio.

There’s a specific moment early on in BioShock, when Jack’s plane has crashed into the ocean and the player has successfully navigated the treacherous, flaming waters and made it to the lighthouse. As players enter the building and the doors shut, they’re greeted with a giant banner emblazoned with the words “No Gods or Kings, only Man.” It’s unsettling in and of itself, yet faintly playing in the background is Django Reinhardt’s beautiful and haunting cover of La Mer (which is familiar to English speakers as Beyond the Sea made most famous by Bobby Darin). The instrumental goes a long way towards dialing up the tension and creepiness, in no small part due to the hard, almost violent strumming halfway through. This scene also serves as a perfect encapsulation of what BioShock is aiming to do -- the song and imagery come together to serve as a thematic representation of the game. It works, thanks to Reinhardt.

Even beyond narrative-focused titles, recognisable musical cues have their place. While most titles use licensed music to set a specific mood or tone the developer wants to portray, most sports titles use songs as nothing more than background noise -- popular songs that players know can get them pumped up; it can also serve as a sort of simulation of the stadium experience. Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater is a series that bucks the trend of sports games and music, instead curating a soundtrack that exemplified the culture of skateboarding. Pop-punk, punk rock and ska were all integral to the first few iterations of the series and, combined with the meteoric rise of skateboarding as a sport and its counter-culture ways, Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater stands as a unique sort of time capsule for the late 1990s and early 21st century.

Whereas the modern Fallout titles or BioShock use music to tether their narrative to a specific time period, Tony Hawk’s track listing works as a look back to their individual game release dates, framing the game itself as a point in time. It’s something few games have accomplished or even tried to do: fully embracing the time period in which it was developed. With licensed music, developers have an incredible amount of freedom and range in how to tackle scoring their games.

The next time you cruise down the streets of a simulated Steelport, take a moment and appreciate the impact its radio stations and the music itself plays. Then maybe find some bad guys, crank up the classical radio and have a good time.

[Originally posted at www.AWESOMEoutof10.com on 05/18/2014]