When Obsidian Entertainment first announced The Outer Worlds 2, fans of the satirical sci-fi RPG franchise immediately began wondering how the sequel would expand upon the Halcyon colony. For composer Oleksa Lozowchuk, the answer lay in creating a musical landscape that could balance life, death, and beauty – even if that meant mixing authoritarian propaganda with polka.
Lozowchuk, co-founder of Interleave Creative and the music director for the recently released sequel, has been working with Obsidian for roughly four and a half years. Before that, Lozowchuk served as the music composer for 2022’s Horizon: Forbidden West, which shares some similarity with The Outer Worlds 2, both set in a distant sci-fi universe.
While his team initially came on board to assist with technical infrastructure for audio, the relationship evolved into a full creative partnership, with Lozowchuk stepping in as principal composer and music director following the departure of the first game’s composer, Justin Bell.
“Justin Bell’s original theme from the first game was awesome,” Lozowchuk says. “I knew I had to write something that built upon that, but then expanded it vertically and horizontally so that it had even a wider range of emotions.”
To achieve the necessary gravitas for the sequel, Lozowchuk leaned into a space-symphonic orchestra sound, introducing elements of melancholy and darkness while simultaneously pushing for a sense of hope.
A Cabaret of Chaos
Perhaps the most ambitious undertaking for the audio team was the creation of 60 original songs, including diegetic in-world music. Obsidian decided to eschew licensed music in favour of original tracks that deepen the world-building, with specific sonic identities carved out for the game’s various factions.
For the Protectorate faction, Lozowchuk aimed for a sound that represented a “thumb down” from authority, but he wanted the music to bubble up from the people. The result is a bizarre, catchy mix he describes as a “carnival”. Working on music for the Protectorate is a dream come true for Lozowchuk, who reveals that he was a leader of a Polka band in his early years.
“I love Balkan crazy brass music, and I love, I love you know, Broadway spectacle and, and that kind of over the top crazy stuff,” he says. “To be able to marry that with this Eastern European authoritarian kind of choir and military straight orchestra with this cabaret of chaos too, I like all those songs I loved.”
“I was like, I wanna mash this up with Moulin Rouge meets The Muppets meets Balkan brass. And kind of make it a carnival and just like this crazy Mardi Gras kind of celebration, even though the lyrics were crazy dark.”
This dissonance between upbeat melodies and sinister lyrics was intentional. Lozowchuk worked with writers to create songs that function as earworms, catchy enough that players might hum them without immediately registering the dystopian messaging.
Take “Give Me Your Hand” as an example. “There was this one line… ‘Two hands are better than one, but one is better than none,’ Lozowchuk explains. “It’d be fun to make it a polka and mash it up. Almost like you go to Broadway and it’s like a stomp spectacle.”
The song hides a grim reality behind its rhythm. “When you walk away, and you think about the words, you’re like, ‘Wait a sec, gimme your hand. You’re still a cog in the sovereign’s plan?’ You’re providing emotional context, so when the player’s traversing through the world and playing the game, you feel it’s authentic because it makes you feel something, and you either believe it is a part of the world or you don’t. There’s no middle ground.”
Grounding the Player
Beyond the radio songs, Lozowchuk’s philosophy for the score was centred on topographical grounding. In an open-world RPG where player choice is paramount, the music needed to act as a compass.
“If you close your eyes at any point in the game, you should be able to know right away from the sound of the instruments or the tonality of the instruments, that you’re in this part of the world and then you’re not in this part of the world,” he says.
To achieve this, the team at Interleave utilised unique instrumentation. Composer Antonio Gradanti built a custom instrument called a “mirror drone” specifically for Dorado, one of four moons of Elysium. The instrument featured long coils attached to cylinder drums that, when bowed, created a single note that could sustain for as long as 30 seconds at a time.
“It’s an example of a very specific sound for a very specific part of the world.”
The Legacy of Video Game Music
It used to be that music soundtracks from feature films would be released independently on physical media, prolonging and preserving the legacy of a composer’s work in the years post-release. The advantage that a feature film or TV show has is its limited nature. Everyone remembers John Williams’ iconic themes for Jurassic Park and Star Wars, because they play either through a long title sequence or are reinforced across a variety of scenes within a span of two hours.
Video game music doesn’t always work like that. You could have a piece that only triggers after a specific chain of events. In role-playing games, those events may never be triggered by a player. While some games offer their digital soundtracks as a bonus, a lot of game music is lost to time. Take Daniel Pemberton’s excellent compositions for Concord, the failed Sony-published title that barely lasted for two weeks on the market. Who knows how long Sony will keep that playlist public? To that end, Lozowchuk ensures that his team works with the publishers to celebrate their work outside of the games.
“I’ve always tried making sure that we share the behind-the-scenes material so players can actually see what love went into crafting the music for games,” he says. “If I were to bet anything, I would say that soundtracks have this way of existing within the game and then also existing outside of the game. And to me, that’s very unique about [video games]. [The thing about] soundtracks in general [is] that they can become part of the soundtrack of your life.”
He adds that worrying about whether people pay attention to the game’s music is not on his priority list. He cites examples where fans have recognised his work long after its release, sometimes even after a decade.
“Music has that way of meaning something to people in a deep way that makes it quite a privilege to be writing music for media and specifically games.”
As for inspirations, Lozowchuk points to, surprisingly, Ennio Morricone and his work on the 1986 drama The Mission. Coming to games, he mentions being a fan of the works of Gareth Coker (Ori and the Blind Forest), Jesper Kyd and Austin Wintory (Assassin’s Creed).
Life, Death, and Beauty
Ultimately, Lozowchuk approaches his work with a tripartite philosophy: “Life, death, and beauty.” He wants to create life-giving art, while also possessing the seriousness of mortality and offering hope through beauty.
“I try to create music, music and art that has a lot of life and is life-giving regardless of the context,” Lozowchuk said. “And I like to write music that kind of reminds me of my death, so it has a bit of seriousness to it. I love writing stuff that has beauty.”
