It’s been a long time since I played through Sony’s modern classic, Shadow of the Colossus. As Ethan pointed out earlier, I’m not really one to replay games. But a special week calls for special measures, so I dusted off my copy of the game (which, thank God, is the original black label version) and fired ‘er up.
The first thing that (re) occurred to me was the fact that SotC has one of the best soundtracks composed for any videogame, ever. The musical accompaniment to the opening cutscene does a fantastic job of setting the proper mood, invoking a sense of mysticism and wonder as you watch our hero venture into the forgotten land where the game takes place. Not being a fan of extremely obscure animes, I can’t measure the soundtrack against Ko Otani’s other works – but I’m willing to bet that he outdid himself here.
The soundtrack performs fantastically on its own – hence why I have it sitting in my iTunes playlist, playing as we speak – but the quality of the music itself is only half the story. It goes without saying that the mood of a game heavily depends on having the right music at the right moments, and Shadow of the Colossus succeeds at this in a way that few other games have.

Beware of blood geysers...
Take the first encounter with a Colossi. After struggling up a sheer wall of rock, our hero Wander is greeted to the sight of two gigantic legs lumbering past him. Looking up, you see the Colossi – the beast you’ve been commissioned to slay – in its grand entirety. The music takes a slow, uneasy tone as we watch the creature walk away from us, unaware we even exist. The mood is one of confusion, and perhaps fear. Naturally, you wonder how, exactly, you’re to kill something like that.
Once Wander engages the Colossus, the music instantly switches to a bombastic, frenetic, and appropriately desperate tone. The fight has begun, but the air of confusion still lingers; you’re still unsure what to do or expect.
With a few good stabs to the leg, the beast stumbles to the ground. Once again, the music changes; speeding up considerably, and taking on a slightly more hopeful tone. Like yourself, the soundtrack is less confused, but still desperate.
Finally, after repeated wounds to the head, the creature falls. The music calms, and becomes almost saddening as we watch the peaceful giant crumple to the ground in death. You’re reminded of the fact that, fearsome as it was, the Colossus meant no harm to you – and, indeed, was content to simply ignore you until you began stabbing it.
The soundtrack may be one of the most essential elements to the unparalleled mood that Shadow of the Colossus creates, but it’s just one of many. Over the course of the week, I’ll be discussing them all in detail.