Editorials
How Music Can Change… ‘Resident Evil 1-3’ vs. ‘Resident Evil 4’
Well, this is it. The last day of BD’s Resident Evil Week, where we’ve brought you a ton of content, editorials, contests, and opinions on one of gamings most terrifying franchises. It’s been a blast for all of us and we hope that you have enjoyed yourselves!
That being said, I’ve still got an article up my sleeve for all of you. Today, I’m tackling the stylistic differences and tonal shifts from the first three Resident Evil games and 2005’s Resident Evil 4, which went from a more orchestral approach to a sinister, almost alien sounding score.
Read on for more!
The original game was released in March of 1996, a mere 15 months after the Playstation 1 console itself came out. We all remember the clunky controls and the questionable graphics (which were admittedly pretty amazing at the time), both of which were a representation of the console’s limitations. After all, there’s only so far you can push a 32-bit system that plays CDs, which don’t exactly have the most storage space on them.
Also, it is my belief that the short time in between the release of the console and the release of the first game contributed to a certain sound and musical style, namely that it still had a lot in similar with the music and stylings of the still relevant 16-bit era. While the music used better, deeper, richer samples, there were still very heavy nods to the days of the SNES and Sega Genesis.
Composers Makoto Tomozawa, Koichi Hiroki, and Masami Ueda were able to craft some very unsettling music, much of it I believe to be inspired by Bernard Herrmann. The main focus of Resident Evil 1 was on organic, string-based music, reflecting the warm interior of the Spencer Mansion and even to some extent the laboratory underneath.
The music in Resident Evil 1 was focused very much on how organic the game was. If you think about it, the game was very…meaty. Zombie people, zombie dogs, zombie crows, zombie plants (yup), zombie insects, zombie reptiles, etc… Even Tyrant was a human that was experimented on beyond what should ever happen. What they all shared was that they were of the flesh, which influenced the music and gave it that warm string-based style, which felt more comforting and “human”.
Another trend within the soundtrack was an overall grandiose flair, a bombastic approach, especially when it came to action sequences. The more intense the scene, such as a boss fight, the more intense the score, with large attacks and grand orchestrations.
This musical style continued through Resident Evil 2 and Resident Evil 3, where the music was predominantly string-based, still sharing that 16-bit mentality (although it became less of an influence as each sequel was released) and overall bombastic tone.
Resident Evil 2 had some moments of 50’s and 60’s sci-fi/horror cinema, a slight air of cheesiness and B-quality hovering over it. Still, it also had some truly memorable cues, such as the Police Station theme, which still haunts my dreams.
Also, while the Spencer Mansion was primarily wooden and carpeted, and therefore warm, a great deal of Resident Evil 2 took place in city streets or buildings that used a great deal of stone. That’s why the music oftentimes felt very cold, piano melodies reverberating and echoing through rigid, unyielding hallways.
Resident Evil 3 was a bit more militaristic, as evidenced by the story of the game. There was more of an emphasis on marching percussive elements as well as a healthy mix of the the cold pianos and warm strings from the previous entries.
The third game also began using sound design more heavily as music, something that Resident Evil 4 would take to a whole new level.
It would be unfair of me to not mention that Resident Evil 4 came out on the Gamecube, which had higher technical capabilities than the Playstation. Also, the physical format of the Gamecube, the mini discs, held nearly double the amount of info that a Playstation CD could hold, which allowed for richer sounds and more complex instrumentations.
Whereas Resident Evil 1, 2, and 3 took place in overall familiar territories – houses, buildings, streets, which could be in any city or town – Resident Evil 4 took us away from those and instead placed us in a location that was unsettling due to its unfamiliarity. We went from our “home” and traveled to somewhere foreign and mysterious, with locations that we don’t experience on a daily basis. Everything felt alien and outdated, creating a strong sense of unease. This was a strange land and we were never meant, nor allowed, to feel safe.
The strings and organic instrumentation from previous entries more often than not took a back seat to the more foreign, almost tribal sounds that pervaded. And while Resident Evil 3 began to use sound design as part of the music more than the previous two, it was this game that really embraced this concept.
From strange howlings to unsettling ambience, this game definitely took a page from Akira Yamaoka and Silent Hill, creating backdrops that were did not stand out but rather created dread without the player realizing it. It’s like when watching a really suspenseful scene in a horror movie and you don’t realize that there’s eerie music in the background, amplifying the tension to unbearable amounts.
Another reason for this change in style was that the creatures felt more alien and outlandish. Gone were zombies, replaced by the Ganados, who were infected by Las Plagas. These enemies, while resembling humans, never shared that humanity that zombies seem to have. This allowed the music to detach itself from organic methods, showcasing their lack of organic humanity.
While each composer has offered something special to the series, creating music that has stayed with us for years, the stylistic differences are something that should be noted and ascribed to how the game itself evolved over time. From the story to the technology of the system itself, the music has always been a reflection of what was presented.
I first heard about The Mandela Catalogue through a couple of nephews who were obsessed with the ARG’s sinister mythology. It was only after watching Wendigoon’s in-depth analysis of the series that I realized just how deep this rabbit hole goes.
In fact, I’d already been exposed to the nightmarish visuals of Alex Kister’s YouTube creation for years at that point without even realizing that it was the origin of several viral “cursed images” and spooky memes that had leaked into the wider internet – with this viral element actually being a part of the Catalogue’s overarching narrative.
Flash-forward to 2026 and the unprecedented success of Kane Parsons’ Backrooms has led to Hollywood betting on horrific internet properties with existing fanbases, which means that Kister’s unique hybrid of both religious and analog horror is finally headed to the big screen with a script written by Kister himself alongside Tyler Clifton.
While this news shouldn’t be too surprising if you’ve been keeping up with the ongoing success of The Mandela Catalogue (both myself and Wendigoon having previously predicted that the series would inevitably make the jump to theaters one day), plenty of horror fans are likely confused as to why so many folks are excited for what appears to be a Hollywood adaptation of a series of creepy .jpeg images under a VHS filter.
With that in mind, today I’d like to invite fellow readers to accompany me as I explore the origins of Alex Kister’s viral hit and attempt to explain exactly why we should all be excited about the Mandela Catalogue adaptation!
From High School Writing Project to Internet Horror Phenomenon
The first seeds of The Mandela Catalogue were sown when Kister was still in high school and developed a writing project subverting religious tropes in a world where biblical history had been altered by demonic forces. A little while later, Kister came across an analog horror contest on Reddit and decided to adapt his ideas into a standalone video where he would edit a religious kids’ cartoon –The Beginner’s Bible: The Nativity, to be specific- into something far creepier. This is how the iconic Overthrone video was born, with this viral short film taking on a life of its own as fans demanded more eerie content from Kister.
Though the video was originally meant to be a one-and-done sort of affair, with Kister actually regretting some of its primitive visuals and considering the editing amateurish and “YouTube-Poop-like” when compared to his current standards, fan reaction and free time during the COVID-19 pandemic encouraged the (then) seventeen-year-old filmmaker to continue producing content set in this same world. The Mandela Catalogue name was inspired by the Mandela Effect conspiracy theory, as the series would slowly begin to explore the subtle horror of alternate histories.
Inspired by existential dread brought on by extended periods of quarantine as well as a personal crisis of faith, Kister continued to expand his alternate timeline where the rise of Christianity had been prevented by what was presumably the Devil disguised as the Archangel Gabriel. This alternate course of fictional events led to the existence of certain paranormal anomalies that had come to be accepted as “normal” by the 1990s, which is why most of the series’ supernatural horror is presented in such a matter-of-fact manner.
Most of this background information and religious lore is delivered by increasingly cryptic broadcasts and in-universe PSAs, as well as the occasional found footage video, that often have to be decoded by clever viewers. Of course, it’s the consistently disturbing imagery that made the series so popular – much of which was originally created by Kister on a smartphone!
The Alternates: Horror’s Most Unsettling Modern Monsters
The show’s early episodes mostly take place within the fictional Mandela County in Wisconsin and depict life in a world where demonic entities are capable of using media to enter our reality. This process usually involves scaring victims into killing themselves and then repurposing their bodies as horrific doppelgangers referred to as “Alternates”. This terrifying phenomenon has become so common that local police already have specialized procedures in place to deal with the issue, though this usually consists of simply ignoring calls for help so as to avoid spreading so-called “Metaphysical Awareness Disorder” any further.
Over time, Kister would expand this mythology and incorporate different kinds of Alternates into the mix, though the story never stopped deconstructing religious concepts. The series’ second volume exponentially increased both video quality and the overall narrative scope as we began to follow the lives of characters who had already grown up in this dystopian hellscape where the government is forced to prohibit religion, television, and even mirrors in the hopes of mitigating the damage done by the ongoing invasion of otherworldly entities.
The really interesting part comes into play when you realize exactly how the Alternates make use of scary media in order to spread their demonic influence, with the analog horror of it all being a diegetic part of the story and something of a memetic trap orchestrated by the false Gabriel.
I particularly appreciate how some characters begin to suspect that there’s something wrong with their version of reality and that things weren’t meant to play out this way, especially when Mark utters the haunting line “who have I been praying to all this time?” That’s why I think The Mandela Catalogue is an effective piece of religious horror even if you don’t subscribe to the Christian worldview, as the mere idea of a world where evil has already won is a universally terrifying concept in and of itself. Not only that, but the series’ uncanny analog imagery alone is already worth the price of admission, as you’ve likely already noticed by looking at the pictures accompanying this article.
Why The Feature Adaptation Could Be Horror’s Next Big Success
It’s actually been a whole year since Kister first announced that he had been working on a feature-length screenplay for a Mandela Catalogue movie since 2022, with his proposed story following an ensemble of high-school graduates who uncover a supernatural conspiracy after the mysterious disappearance of a fellow student. This premise sounds similar to narrative elements present in the series’ second volume, but I’m pretty sure that Kister is going to go the Kane Parsons route and make the movie more of a spin-off than a re-imagining of its source material.
While notable Hollywood producers like Aaron B. Koontz, Scott Stuber, and Steven Spielberg himself are backing the upcoming project, I feel like there’s no one better to adapt this deeply personal exploration of faith and the dark side of communication than the person who first came up with it. That’s why I can’t wait to see Kister’s work on the big screen, as I have a feeling that this young filmmaker is the next one on the list about to make cinematic history – especially since this is clearly a passion project that has been in the works for years at this point!
That being said, there’s always a chance that the film could end up unleashing a fresh wave of Alternate incursions, but I guess that’s just a risk we’ll have to take.
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