How much sound does a game really need?
Most players never notice the sounds that have been deliberately left out of a game. During his online guest lecture for Edinburgh Napier University, Gaetan Troutet suggested that this is often the hallmark of successful sound design. Creating an effective soundtrack is rarely about filling every moment with audio. It is about deciding what genuinely deserves to be heard. Drawing upon his work developing casual games for Global Eagle Entertainment, he demonstrated how technical limitations, player behaviour and careful editorial judgement shape almost every creative decision. A single principle underpinned the discussion. Successful sound design depends as much upon restraint as invention.
The environment in which Troutet’s games are played makes these decisions particularly demanding. Unlike many commercial titles developed for dedicated gaming hardware, his work must function across a diverse collection of in-flight entertainment systems installed on aircraft across the world. Some platforms provide comparatively modern hardware with generous storage and processing resources. Others continue to rely upon considerably older systems whose limited memory and bandwidth require soundtracks to be simplified before they can be deployed. The same game may therefore exist in several different technical versions, each shaped by the capabilities of the hardware on which it will eventually run. Even then, the hardware represents only part of the challenge. Every passenger experiences the soundtrack differently. Some use the headphones supplied by the airline, others connect their own, while many later encounter the same games on mobile devices with entirely different loudspeakers. Unlike a cinema or recording studio, there is no single reference listening environment. Troutet suggested that professional sound designers should accept this uncertainty rather than attempting to eliminate it. The objective is not to produce a soundtrack that sounds perfect under ideal conditions. It is to create one that continues to communicate effectively wherever it is heard.
Although the lecture centred upon casual games, the questions Troutet raised apply to sound design far more generally. Every project exists within practical constraints, whether they involve memory budgets, processing power, production schedules or playback systems. Rather than viewing these restrictions as obstacles to creativity, Troutet argued that they often encourage clearer thinking. Once every sound occupies valuable storage, competes for the listener’s attention and requires implementation within a functioning game, designers become far more selective about what truly matters. Working as the sole audio practitioner within his development team reinforces that perspective. Troutet moves continually between creating sound effects, composing music, recording dialogue, implementing assets and collaborating with programmers and designers. Rather than treating these activities as separate disciplines, he presented them as interconnected parts of a single design process. Creative decisions influence implementation, technical limitations shape artistic choices and production realities affect every stage of development. Sound design therefore becomes inseparable from the wider process of building the game itself.
One of the most thought-provoking moments in the lecture centred upon what appears to be a deceptively simple question. When a player performs an action, should that action always produce a sound? Many beginning designers instinctively answer yes. Buttons receive clicks. Menus receive confirmation tones. Every movement, selection, reward and transition appears to justify another layer of feedback. Troutet challenged this assumption directly. Rather than asking which sounds could be added, he encouraged students to ask which sounds genuinely improved the experience. Every additional sound competes for the listener’s attention. Every new cue alters the perceived importance of those surrounding it. Audio that initially appears informative can rapidly become repetitive, distracting or simply exhausting when heard hundreds of times during repeated play. Casual games make this question particularly important. Players often return to them repeatedly in relatively short sessions. Sounds that seem satisfying during the first few minutes may become irritating after dozens of repetitions. Troutet therefore described restraint as an active design decision rather than the absence of creativity. Silence is not an empty space waiting to be filled. It forms part of the overall balance of the soundtrack. Choosing not to add a sound may ultimately improve clarity far more than creating another effect.
These same principles become particularly apparent in interface design, where audio functions less as decoration than as communication. Troutet encouraged students to think of interface sounds as messages directed towards the player rather than ornamental additions to menus and buttons. A confirmation tone, warning signal or navigation sound should communicate its purpose immediately, allowing players to understand what has happened without continually consulting the screen. One particularly memorable suggestion involved imagining the interface without any graphics at all. If a player were blindfolded and heard only the sounds, could they still distinguish success from failure, confirmation from cancellation, or navigation from selection? If the answer is yes, then the sounds are performing a genuine communicative role. If not, making them louder or more elaborate is unlikely to solve the underlying problem. Rather than treating interface sounds as decorative clicks or beeps, Troutet encouraged students to think of them almost as a spoken language. Every sound should communicate intention. Players should recognise whether an action has succeeded, failed or requires further input without consciously analysing what they have heard. Well-designed interface audio reduces cognitive effort. The player understands first and reflects afterwards. In this sense, interface sounds become part of the conversation between the game and the player rather than simply another layer of feedback.
The same philosophy shaped Troutet’s approach to creating collections of related sounds. Rather than treating every effect as an independent recording selected from unrelated libraries, he described building what he called families of sounds. Interface elements, gameplay feedback and recurring actions share common characteristics, creating a recognisable sonic vocabulary throughout the game. Individual sounds may differ substantially in pitch, duration or function, though they continue to feel as though they belong together. Players may never consciously analyse these relationships, yet they often perceive the overall soundtrack as more coherent and easier to understand. Creating these relationships frequently meant recording original material rather than relying exclusively upon commercial sound libraries. Library recordings remain valuable resources, though bespoke recordings provide greater flexibility when developing a consistent sonic identity. Variations can be created from common source material, preserving subtle similarities that would be difficult to achieve using unrelated recordings gathered from multiple collections. The objective is not originality for its own sake. It is to ensure that every sound contributes towards a coherent listening experience rather than drawing attention to itself as an isolated event.
Troutet consistently returned to the relationship between player experience and design judgement. Recording equipment, software and implementation techniques remained important, though they were never presented as ends in themselves. Every technical decision ultimately served the same objective: helping players understand, navigate and enjoy the game. Sound design therefore became an exercise in editorial judgement rather than accumulation. The important question was no longer how another sound might be added, but whether that moment genuinely deserved sound at all. Once that decision becomes the starting point, implementation, iteration and refinement begin to look rather different, forming the focus of the remainder of the lecture.
Implementation forms the natural continuation of Troutet’s argument. Once the decision has been made that a sound genuinely deserves to exist, another set of questions immediately follows. When should it play? Under what conditions should it remain silent? How should it respond when players behave in unexpected ways? Troutet encouraged students to recognise that creating an individual sound is only one stage of the design process. A carefully recorded asset can still fail if it appears at the wrong moment, masks more important information or becomes repetitive through excessive triggering. Implementation therefore becomes an extension of sound design rather than a separate technical activity. Decisions about timing, variation and behaviour shape the player’s experience just as profoundly as the recordings themselves. Very few sounds remain unchanged after their first implementation. Once assets begin interacting with graphics, gameplay and player behaviour, weaknesses quickly become apparent. Sounds that worked well in isolation may feel intrusive within the finished game. Others disappear beneath music or gameplay effects, while some simply occur too frequently. Rather than treating these discoveries as failures, Troutet presented them as an expected part of development. Every implementation reveals more about how players actually experience the game, allowing successive revisions to refine the soundtrack until it supports interaction naturally.
This willingness to revise also requires a particular creative mindset. Troutet observed that sound designers often invest considerable effort in creating individual recordings, making it tempting to defend them once they have been completed. Professional practice frequently demands the opposite approach. If a sound distracts players, interrupts the pacing of the game or simply fails to communicate effectively, attachment to the recording itself becomes irrelevant. During the lecture he summarised this philosophy with a familiar expression from creative practice: kill your babies. The phrase may sound severe, though the principle behind it is straightforward. The success of the overall experience matters more than preserving individual ideas. Removing or replacing a favourite sound is sometimes the decision that allows the remainder of the soundtrack to function more effectively. The willingness to edit critically therefore becomes every bit as important as the ability to create new material.
The same philosophy extends beyond individual recordings into collaboration with the wider development team. Troutet repeatedly emphasised that sound design does not develop independently from programming, art or game design. Audio practitioners inherit decisions made elsewhere while simultaneously influencing the work of others. Effective collaboration therefore depends upon communicating design decisions in terms of the player’s experience rather than purely technical language. Requests for additional implementation features, changes to interface behaviour or modifications to gameplay become far easier to justify when they are framed around what players will understand, notice or enjoy. Communication, in this sense, becomes another aspect of sound design rather than an administrative task surrounding it. Professional organisation supports that collaboration in equally practical ways. Clear file names, consistent project structures and carefully maintained asset libraries rarely receive the same attention as recording or mixing, yet they influence every subsequent stage of production. Projects evolve over months or years, assets require continual revision and other members of the team must be able to locate the correct material quickly. Well organised sessions reduce confusion, simplify implementation and ultimately create more opportunities for genuinely creative work.
Troutet also cautioned against becoming overly attached to particular software, plug-ins or recording equipment. Digital audio workstations continue to evolve, new tools appear regularly and production techniques inevitably change across a career. These developments undoubtedly influence professional practice, though they remain only means of achieving a larger objective. The more important questions concern what the player should hear, what information deserves emphasis and how audio contributes to the overall experience of the game. The same perspective shaped his comments on sources of inspiration. Commercial sound libraries, films and existing games all provide valuable references, though they should never replace careful design thinking. A distinctive soundtrack emerges through the relationships between sounds, the pacing of interaction and a clear understanding of the audience rather than through the novelty of any individual recording. Troutet consistently returned to the idea that sound design is fundamentally a process of making informed decisions rather than collecting techniques.
Troutet repeatedly argued that sound should guide interaction rather than compete with it. Audio may reward success, reinforce important actions or draw attention towards changing events, though it should rarely distract players from the activity itself. This philosophy connects directly to the earlier discussions of restraint, interface communication and coherent families of sounds. Every element of the soundtrack exists to support understanding. Once a sound begins attracting attention to itself rather than to the player’s experience, its purpose deserves to be questioned. The measure of successful sound design is therefore not how much audio has been added to a game, but whether every element continues to justify its presence through the experience it creates for the player.
The lecture concluded by returning, implicitly, to the same deceptively simple question that had shaped the discussion from the beginning. How much sound does a game really need? Troutet offered no universal formula. Different genres, audiences and platforms inevitably require different solutions. Instead, he encouraged students to replace assumptions with judgement. Does this sound communicate something important? Does it improve the player’s understanding? Does it strengthen the overall experience? If the answer is no, then adding more audio is unlikely to solve the problem. Careful omission often represents a stronger design decision than continual addition. Across examples ranging from airline entertainment systems to interface design, implementation and professional collaboration, Troutet consistently presented sound design as an exercise in thoughtful selection. The defining characteristic is judgement. Choosing which sounds deserve to exist, how they relate to one another and when they should remain silent requires an understanding of perception, interaction and communication that extends far beyond recording individual effects. Successful sound design is therefore measured not by the quantity of sounds within a project, but by how effectively those sounds help players understand, navigate and enjoy the worlds they inhabit.