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Been listening to the World of Warcraft soundtrack this morning. Yes, children. I bought the soundtrack.
It’s been an interesting experience. Of course it’s cool to listen to more detailed and ambient versions of familiar themes, such as the Main Title theme and some of the city themes (each major city in the game has its own theme), but what I’ve enjoyed most has been the ambient zone themes. That music has no particular purpose. No rousing crescendos or inspiring choral voices. Just disassociated melodies within which your mind can wander around a bit. The kind of music that could bind together a larger work. Like maybe … Neima?
This music gives me ideas. No, not melodies or themes that I would steal. It’s made me think about how I’m going to flesh out some of my more grandiose ideas.
Look, among the many wonderful goodies I’ve managed to squirrel away in the past year is an amazing program called GigaStudio. And to that program I’ve matched a hard drive with around 240 GB of samples. Every imaginable sound under the sun is on that hard drive. So I’m listening to this wonderful ambient music on this World of Warcraft CD, and I’m thinking “I could do that.” Realistically, for the first time in my life, I can do that.
Oh, what wonderful toys I have now. I can hardly wait to get started. Neima awaits. Caldwell awaits. All the lands of Arumaea cry out “Give us our themes and ambient music!”
Okay. So you have no idea what I’m talking about. That’s okay. I do. Somewhere in the mists of my mind’s eye …

… a queen stops upon a hill and, with aides and generals pulling at her, begging her to keep walking, she turns back to look upon her burning city. Her heart aches at the thought of the thousands of dead and dying that are being left behind. She doesn’t try to hide the tears that stream down her cheeks. They’re only the barest hint of the depth of her grief. Oh, her beautiful city!

Maesu, most trusted of her generals and oldest friend, lays a gentle hand upon her shoulder. “Tanaes,” she says softly, “we must continue. You are all we have left. If they capture you …” Maesu’s voice trails off. She dares not speak it. She doesn’t have to.

Tanaes nods her agreement. Together the two woman take a last, long look at the city. A glance passes between them that serves to sum up what cannot be spoken. The unthinkable. Anduan has fallen.

There. Don’t you think that needs some music? I do. And I attempted it almost 20 years ago. It manifested itself as a piece called The Fall of Anduan. It’s a piece I’m aching to revisit, and to perhaps, finally, do it properly.
Oh, there are so many wonderful possibilities. I finally have all that I need to get all stuff out of my head.

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