Soundtrack Sunday
Welcome to Soundtrack Sunday, where a member of the PC Gamer team takes a look at a soundtrack from one of their favourite games—or a broader look at videogame music as a whole—offering their thoughts or asking for yours!
God, Stardew Valley turned 10 this week, didn’t it? That feels sort of wild to think about. I didn’t jump into the game until around 12 months later, but that’s still nine entire years that this game has been in my life. It’s certainly not been in my regular gaming rotation anywhere near as much as some of Pelican Town’s most dedicated farmers, but it’s one of those I always come back to when I desperately crave some cosy warmth in my life.
Because I don’t know about you, but something I so often find with my cosy games is that I don’t really remember their soundtracks. I know, I am a terrible appreciator of videogame music. Despite, you know, writing about how much I love it every week. But I think when a lot of these games are designed to feel relaxing, or comforting, their soundtracks sort of take a backseat.
Sometimes it’s ambient music that fits well in the context of the game, but doesn’t have much listening power beyond it. Or filled with lo-fi tracks—which, while I am a total sucker for lo-fi, I never find any one particular track burrowing its way into my brain to infinitely loop around my noggin as I go about my day.
But Stardew Valley does something special. It carefully toes the line of nostalgia and newness, bringing something that feels fresh but deeply rooted in the games that inspired Barone in the first place. Jaunty synths for bright summer days that transform into more gentle, ethereal sounds as the seasons grow colder, an almost comically stereotypical ragtime piano piece for the Stadrop Saloon, and the delightful main theme.
It’s one that feels a little dreamy—funnily enough, it reminds me just a teeny-tiny bit of the Donald’s Dreamland playground theme from Toontown. Not in terms of any actual melody running through either track, but just the way both of them make me feel. A little sleepy, a little happy, and very cosy. It’s probably a reason why Stardew reads so nostalgic to me, since it’s literally reminding me of some crusty kids’ MMO that I still hold a very soft spot for.
It’s a real inviting track, one that almost feels like an old friend welcoming you home. Even if it’s the first time you’ve ever booted up the game. I don’t know what Barone put in those synths to make them sound so iconic, but I’ve been eating it up for the last nine years.
Of course, I can’t write about how wonderful Stardew Valley’s soundtrack is without mentioning the absolute GOAT: Dance of the Moonlight Jellies. It’s the most popular song on Spotify, and for good reason. It plays during the festival of the same name—a nighttime event where jellyfish delicately glow and bob around in the ocean, their soft blue hues lighting up the dark skies.
It’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to crying over a track that doesn’t exactly intend to hold any great emotional weight behind it. But something about how gentle a song it is, paired with the beautiful pixel art scenery, gives me ridiculous goosebumps every single time.
I think part of what makes Stardew Valley’s soundtrack so special is the very fact that it comes from Barone himself. While he works alongside a team these days, the early days of the game were a solo effort. It’s so clear how deeply connected Barone is to every single aspect, and how much of himself he poured into every corner of its creation. Those connections ripple out to where we can feel them ourselves, and I sincerely believe the soundtrack would not be anywhere near as special had it come from an outside source.
Nobody understands a game more than the person responsible for its existence, and that couldn’t be clearer with Stardew Valley than in its music. The game is special as a whole, but the soundtrack adds so much to how special an experience living a virtual life in Pelican Town truly is.
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