The Story Told Through Mass Effect's Clubs - Part 1
When Mass Effect: Legendary Edition released on May 14th, 2021, audiences both old and new were once again reminded of the colossal narrative powers that BioWare once possessed. The Mass Effect Trilogy represents storytelling at its most grandiose by effortlessly integrating a whole galaxy’s worth of lore through environmental storytelling, captivating codex entries, overheard conversations, and the trials and tribulations of Commander Shepard and the crew of the SSV Normandy. Some of the characters you meet, choices you make, and their implications on the galaxy as a whole can stick with you well beyond the credits rolling, and it can make you want to come back for more.
I should know, I have played through the whole trilogy twice in two months.
Throughout countless articles written about this trilogy, there’s one aspect of the story-telling that has been oft-overlooked—the music. Not the orchestral main motifs or the adrenaline-fuelled thrashing of battle music, but the music within Mass Effect. I want to break down how the clubs of Mass Effect, from Chora’s Den to Purgatory, subtly tell the story of people outside of Shepard’s orbit.
In Part 1, we’re going to take a journey through Mass Effect 1’s weird and wonderful club scene. Though the musical technology and compositional design is more restricted, there is an awful lot of nuance displayed in a few simple beeps and boops.
Mass Effect 1 - The Calm Before The Storm
The first game in the trilogy sees Shepard take on the nefarious Saren Arterius, a rogue council spectre looking to use his army of synthetic soldiers called “Geth” for REASONS. The first game doesn’t have the galaxy-shattering stakes that the preceding games have, and this can be felt within the games three club locations. Each club has an almost ominous calm to them, a reflection of a galaxy blissfully ignorant to the turmoil they’re about to face. This calm can be felt within the club’s soundtrack also; however, even though all three of these tracks have nearly identical instrumental line-ups, the way each track uses its melodies and instruments paint startlingly different portraits of the galaxy at large.
The Citadel: Flux
The Citadel is the home of galactic politics. It’s a giant space station built by an ancient extinct race called the Protheans (we assume…) that houses the Citadel’s cross-species council, as well as embassies and other important dignitaries. In Mass Effect 1, this location is split in two. There is the Presidium, which is where all the embassies and council buildings are, and the Wards. The Wards is the beating heart of the Citadel, where people shop, live, and party the night away. One of these locations in the Wards is a club called Flux.
Flux functions both as a club as well as a Quasar hall. Not Quasar as in the game where you shoot lasers at each other in an arena (there’s already plenty of that in Mass Effect), but a gambling machine that kind of plays like blackjack without cards. The music in Flux has to skirt the balance between dance and ambience as Flux represents a location where the residents of the Wards can go to have a drink with friends, have a little dance, or a wee flutter with their credits. This is articulated in the music that has elements of the 90s Acid House movement if it had grown up and had a couple of kids.
The main motif is a simple, synthy keys line, fixating around no more than 5 or 6 notes. This is sitting atop a simple breakbeat, giving the track direction while keeping the groove steady and mellow. The melody is occasionally cut through by a few vocal stabs and ad-libs to add extra colour to the track. There isn’t anything too funky happening with the EQ-ing across all of the parts, aside from the breakbeat which has had a decent dollop of reverb added to cut through the higher frequencies and to mellow the beats overall attack. As far as dance tracks go, it is unassuming and mellow, but this is why Flux’s track is so effective.
The music across the series is vast and explosive, but that’s not the type of music we listen to, especially on a night out in a nice club. The music we really want to listen to just floats away into the vibe of the joint. The music of Flux does exactly what it needs to do; it has enough of a beat to keep you moving, and enough forward momentum to keep you engaged when partaking in Quasar all while never invading your psyche enough to distract from a good conversation.
Noveria: The Port Hanshan Hotel Lounge
Noveria is one of my favourite locations across all of the Mass Effect trilogy. There is something so gorgeously transient about its architectural design. Brutalism in its purest form, at times reminding me of hazy winter days walking around the Barbican or Tate Modern in London. Everything about Port Hanshan is built out of necessity rather than passion, which gives the whole place a harsh beauty. The transience of Noveria, a frozen planet famed for its lax trade laws and factory permits, can be felt within Port Hanshan’s Hotel Lounge. It’s the quintessential hotel club lounge, right down to its almost offensively top-heavy beat.
Rather than being driven by the beat or bass line, the track kicks in with this highly granular, analogue synth line. Unlike Flux, where the synth melody is very compact, this line is thick and viscous, swallowing up pretty much all the aural space available. The counterpoint to this chord-heavy melody is a heavily reflected countermelody that slots into the spaces between chordal patterns. The kit itself is as simple as simple can be, marking where the beat is with the occasional taiko drum roll to signify structure changes. The simplicity of the drum beat is essential in making sure this track doesn’t become too obnoxious, instead allowing the chordal patterns to take centre stage.
The whole aural experience is loud, brash, and in your face, which sits juxtaposed to the relative calm of the inhabitants of the lounge itself. This plays into the lore of Noveria, a planet of polar opposites where the laws of the council are lax, but the laws of business are paramount. Noveria is corporate 1-0-1, but even suits need to let their hair down from time to time.
The Citadel: Chora’s Den
Not all clubs are designed for a classy night of gambling or a reprise from the rigors of corporate life. Some clubs are pure smut, a place with inexplicably sticky floors, shady patrons, and attractive people shaking what their mama gave them in the faces of anyone with enough credits. That’s where Chora’s Den slots into this mix. Of all the clubs in Mass Effect 1, this is one that most players would have spent some time in, as the main plot takes you on a collision course with the establishment’s shady owner. But outside of the main plot hook, Chora’s Den offers a true insight into The Citadel’s sordid underbelly, and the music underpins this perfectly too.
“Chora’s Den” is all about the beat, with the electric kit taking centre stage within the ensemble. Once again, the kit has been heavily equalised to take the edge off of those hard-hitting hi-hat and snare hits. The cushioned effect this has helps drive the low ends of the track, giving Chora’s Den a unique ambience compared to other clubs in the game. When you’re there, you can feel the bass drum rattling your inner ear, the bass rumbling in your stomach. This is all accented by vocal ad-libs that further accentuate the titillation that can be found in Chora’s Den. It’s the most simple of the compositional designs, but by far the most effective. There doesn’t need to be anything more than an addictive beat to keep patrons dancing, drinking, and taking all kinds of narcotics.
The whole mood of Chora’s Den perfectly juxtaposes the Presidium above it. The Citadel wants to display itself as the shining star of council space, where the rich and elite spend time in their lounges, partaking in a casual drink or a visit to Sha’ira, the consort. In actuality, many of these dignitaries would be found in Chora’s Den. It is the place to be, where anything goes and enough credits can buy you the time of your life. The true space-age dream, all captured within the beat.
Stay tuned for Part 2!
Michael Leopold Weber
Michael is a freelance journalist currently living in West Japan. Though he has a degree in music from The University Of London, he still often plays out of time (shouting "it's close enough for jazz" whilst it happens). When he isn't obsessing over II-V-I's, Michael can be found digesting a whole range of video games from farming sims to FPSs. He also loves tea a little bit too much.
