Sound Design at Edinburgh Napier University

  • Creating Sounds for Worlds That Refuse to Sit Still: Malin Arvidsson on Game Audio and Interactive Design

    Sound in games often feels invisible when it is working well. Players notice visual worlds immediately. Landscapes stretch into the distance, characters move through environments, and stories unfold through action and dialogue. Sound tends to arrive more quietly. Footsteps simply seem to belong beneath a character, background ambiences appear to exist naturally around us, and a creature’s voice feels inseparable from its personality. Everything seems to fit together so naturally that the work behind these experiences often disappears from view.

    Yet creating sound for games involves a challenge that differs fundamentally from many other forms of media. Film and television unfold through fixed sequences of events. A sound designer working on a film knows exactly when a door opens, when dialogue occurs, when music begins, and when tension rises. Audiences experience those moments in the same order every time. Games behave rather differently. Players stop unexpectedly, move in different directions, repeat actions endlessly, ignore objectives, or spend long periods interacting with things designers never anticipated would receive much attention. Some players rush directly through environments while others investigate every possible corner of a world. A sound designer may know what can happen inside a game, though cannot always know what will happen, when it will happen, or how often particular experiences will occur. Sound therefore cannot simply be attached permanently to images and left alone. It must continue adapting long after the designer has stepped away.

    During an online guest lecture, Malin Arvidsson explored this challenge through reflections on her own experiences working across game audio. Throughout projects involving children’s games, procedural systems, and large-scale interactive worlds, a recurring idea gradually emerged. Game audio frequently involves building systems rather than constructing isolated sounds. Designers create frameworks, relationships, and behaviours that continue operating within worlds that remain unpredictable.

    Arvidsson described discovering games somewhat unexpectedly. Having decided at an early age that she wanted to work with sound, she initially pursued sound engineering and recording work before later encountering opportunities in game production. Games had not necessarily appeared to be an obvious destination at the time. Film and television perhaps felt more visible as career directions, while game audio remained relatively unfamiliar. Yet after joining Audio Interactive and working on early projects, games gradually became something much larger than a temporary opportunity. Part of this attraction appeared to emerge from constant change. Technologies evolve rapidly, development processes shift, while projects rarely require exactly the same approaches twice. Many creative fields involve continual learning, though games introduce an additional layer of complexity through their combination of artistic decisions and technical systems. Sound designers are often required to think simultaneously about recording, editing, implementation, behaviour, memory, interaction, and player experience.

    Some of the earliest examples discussed during the lecture illustrated how dramatically workflows have changed over time. While working on Action Man: Jungle Storm, implementation tools remained extremely limited compared with contemporary systems. There were no dedicated audio middleware environments, no simple methods for previewing sounds directly within gameplay, and no convenient ways of rapidly testing ideas. Implementation frequently involved manually replaying sections of gameplay while attempting to synchronise sounds externally. Looking back, the process appears cumbersome and time-consuming. Yet despite those limitations, hearing newly created sounds finally appearing inside the game still produced a strong sense of satisfaction.

    Later projects introduced another challenge as assumptions taken from linear media no longer translated effectively into interactive environments. Arvidsson described work on Republic: The Revolution, where large numbers of character animations required accompanying sounds. Initial approaches appeared straightforward enough. Individual animations were paired with carefully designed sounds in much the same way they might be within film production. Footsteps, movements, and interactions each received specific audio elements designed to support visual actions. Problems quickly appeared once these sounds entered gameplay. Memory limitations immediately became one issue, with thousands of individual files consuming valuable resources. Yet another issue proved equally important. Players repeatedly encountered exactly the same actions throughout long periods of gameplay. A movement animation viewed once might feel entirely convincing, though hearing precisely the same sound attached to the same movement hundreds of times gradually became distracting rather than believable.

    This problem reveals something broader about realism itself. Human beings often tolerate variation without noticing it consciously, while exact repetition becomes highly noticeable. Everyday experiences rarely unfold identically from one moment to another. Footsteps change subtly according to movement, surfaces, speed, and context. Someone walking across gravel rarely produces exactly the same sound twice. Objects interact slightly differently each time they collide, while environmental sounds fluctuate continuously. We generally ignore these small differences, though their absence can become surprisingly noticeable. Once a sound begins repeating with complete consistency, attention gradually shifts away from the world itself and towards the system generating it. Perfect consistency can therefore begin feeling less realistic than controlled variation.

    Solutions required a different form of thinking. Rather than attaching one sound permanently to one action, sounds became collections of possibilities. Footsteps could exist within larger groups of variations, different surfaces could trigger different responses, and small adjustments in pitch, timing, and volume could introduce subtle differences between repetitions. Players no longer heard identical events replaying endlessly. Instead, they experienced systems capable of producing varied outcomes.

    Arvidsson reflected on this through an observation extending beyond the immediate technical problem. She noted that changing sounds can sometimes create the impression that animations themselves are changing. Sound was therefore no longer simply accompanying visual information. It had begun influencing how visual information itself was interpreted.

    Repetition emerged again through examples involving dialogue. While working on Evil Genius, background conversations between characters introduced similar difficulties. Real dialogue becomes recognisable very quickly once repeated frequently, though replacing speech with meaningless placeholder sounds created worlds that felt strangely artificial. The eventual solution involved constructing thousands of vocal recordings using invented forms of structured nonsense speech. Colleagues recorded large collections of vocal performances resembling language without becoming meaningful dialogue. The purpose was not literal realism. Players were not expected to understand these conversations or extract semantic meaning from them. Instead, the objective involved creating evidence that activity continued occurring around the player. Worlds rarely feel alive merely through visual detail alone. People often listen for small signals suggesting that environments continue existing independently of their own actions. Background conversations, distant movement, as well as changing environmental activity all contribute to the impression that spaces continue functioning whether or not the player directly observes them.

    Memory constraints returned in a different form during discussion of LittleBigPlanet. Storage restrictions within the PSP version introduced significant constraints compared with larger console releases. Some reductions remained relatively straightforward. Numbers of variations could be lowered and certain content could be simplified, though environmental soundscapes proved more difficult. Long ambient recordings consumed considerable amounts of memory, while straightforward looping solutions introduced repetition problems of their own. Instead, Arvidsson described constructing simpler environmental foundations combined with shorter sound fragments including birds, insects, and environmental details. Individual elements could then appear according to changing probabilities and timings while introducing subtle variation. Rather than hearing static recordings replaying continuously, players experienced environments appearing more dynamic and less predictable.

    Examples such as these suggested that technical limitations did not merely reduce possibilities. Constraints frequently redirected attention towards different forms of design thinking. Rather than storing larger quantities of material, systems could generate richer experiences from fewer resources.

    Increasingly interactive systems introduced another layer of complexity. Physics systems created situations where players themselves generated outcomes that designers could not fully predict beforehand. Within LittleBigPlanet, players could construct objects using different combinations of materials and structures. Objects then collided using changing amounts of force under varying conditions. Questions that initially appeared simple quickly became more complicated. Which material should dominate when metal collides with sponge? Should paper dominate plastic? What happens when multiple materials contribute simultaneously? Questions such as these reveal how game sound often shifts away from designing isolated sounds towards establishing behaviours and rules. Designers create relationships and systems, allowing games themselves to determine outcomes dynamically.

    Broader reflections on working within the industry also appeared near the end of the lecture. Networking, persistence, and long-term relationships emerged repeatedly throughout these discussions. Freelancing across games, film, and television introduced uncertainty alongside flexibility, requiring continual adaptation as projects, collaborators, and opportunities changed over time. One comment near the conclusion captured this relationship clearly. Arvidsson described game sound design as roughly forty percent creativity and sixty percent technical implementation and problem solving.

    Initially this ratio may appear unexpected. Sound design often seems associated primarily with creativity and artistic expression. The examples discussed throughout the lecture suggested something slightly different. Creativity within games frequently emerges through solving problems. Memory restrictions, implementation systems, player unpredictability, and technical limitations all shape the final experience.

    Players rarely notice these systems directly. They simply hear worlds that feel alive. Background conversations seem to continue without them, environments appear to change naturally, as movement feels connected to the spaces around it. Much of the underlying complexity disappears beneath the experience itself.

    Perhaps that invisibility forms part of the achievement. Successful game audio may involve more than creating individual sounds. It may involve building worlds capable of continuing to surprise players long after the designer has stepped away. Rather than asking whether a sound works in isolation, a broader question may involve whether an entire system continues behaving convincingly once players begin doing things nobody predicted.

  • Listening to the Future: Dr Justyna Maculewicz on Sound Design for Intelligent Vehicles

    Dr Justyna Maculewicz

    Sound in vehicles often becomes noticeable only when something goes wrong. Most people can immediately recall an irritating warning tone, an intrusive navigation prompt, or repetitive notifications during a journey. These sounds tend to interrupt rather than accompany experience, appearing briefly to signal danger, demand attention, or communicate instructions before disappearing again. Much less attention is usually given to the wider role sound plays in shaping how journeys actually feel. Yet vehicles already communicate continuously through sound, although many of these interactions become so familiar that they disappear into the background of everyday travel. Indicators click rhythmically beside us, seatbelt reminders demand attention, parking systems announce approaching obstacles, and navigation systems guide movement through spoken instructions. A largely invisible conversation already exists between people and vehicles, though most of it remains unnoticed until something becomes irritating or disruptive.

    As vehicles become increasingly intelligent and potentially autonomous, this relationship begins changing in important ways. Traditional vehicles rely heavily on direct control. Drivers steer, brake, accelerate, and make continual decisions throughout a journey. Future vehicles may shift some of these responsibilities towards automated systems, creating a rather different experience. Attention may move away from the road itself and towards work, conversation, entertainment, or rest. Questions therefore begin emerging around whether sound should continue acting primarily as interruption or whether it might instead become a quieter form of support that helps people feel informed, comfortable, and connected to the actions of a vehicle.

    These questions formed the basis of an online guest lecture delivered by Dr Justyna Maculewicz, whose work explored user-centred approaches to sound design for future vehicles. Rather than beginning with technological possibilities alone, her work started with people and their experiences. The emphasis throughout the lecture repeatedly returned to an important principle: understanding users before designing sounds.

    Research presented during the lecture involved interviews with drivers and passengers across a range of commuting contexts. Participants discussed their daily experiences, frustrations, routines, and emotional responses during travel. The purpose was not simply to determine whether participants liked particular sounds but to understand how people experienced travel itself and where sound might play meaningful roles within those experiences.

    Findings suggested that travelling involves far more than moving physically from one place to another. A commute can become preparation for a working day, a brief period of quiet after a stressful afternoon, or one of the few moments available for concentration and reflection. Someone travelling home after a long day may seek quietness and reassurance, while another person beginning a working day may value engagement and awareness. A parent travelling with children may experience entirely different priorities from someone commuting alone. Expectations and needs therefore change continuously across situations.

    One of the more interesting aspects of the work involved moving away from rigid user categories and towards behavioural patterns. Three broad behavioural tendencies emerged from the interviews. One group preferred control and active engagement with driving experiences. Another sought reassurance and clarity, valuing confidence in the behaviour of systems around them. A third group prioritised comfort and productivity, viewing travel time as an opportunity to focus on other activities.

    Importantly, these were not treated as fixed personality types. Maculewicz emphasised that individuals could move between different behaviours depending on context, mood, fatigue, weather conditions, or travel purpose. Someone who normally enjoys driving may prefer a calmer and more supportive experience after a stressful day. Equally, a passenger travelling during unfamiliar conditions may suddenly seek additional reassurance and information. Behaviour therefore appeared dynamic rather than static.

    This distinction had important consequences for sound design. Traditional systems often assume that one solution should work equally well for everyone. Yet if user needs change over time, sound design may also need to become adaptive rather than fixed.

    For users seeking active engagement, richer sonic environments appeared more appropriate. Additional information and more expressive interactions could support a sense of control and awareness. Those seeking reassurance instead preferred clearer and calmer forms of communication that reduced uncertainty. Meanwhile users focused on work or productivity often preferred quieter interactions providing only essential information while avoiding unnecessary interruption. Rather than creating a single universal sound environment, the work explored whether future systems might adapt according to changing experiences and needs.

    A broader design framework was then introduced that organised vehicle interaction into multiple layers. These included perception, intention, current actions, required responses, strategy, and emotional context. Emotional framing operated across these categories rather than existing separately, helping shape the overall experience rather than acting as an isolated feature.

    What made this framework particularly interesting was that it treated sound as something larger than isolated alerts. Traditional warning systems often appear only during particular moments requiring immediate attention. In contrast, this approach considered how sound might support an ongoing relationship between users and vehicles. Instead of simply reacting to problems, sounds could help explain behaviour, communicate intentions, and create a sense of continuity throughout a journey.

    Among these ideas, intention sounds emerged as one of the most distinctive aspects of the lecture. Conventional warning sounds typically communicate information after an event has occurred or immediately before danger appears. Intention sounds operated rather differently. Rather than announcing what had already happened, these sounds communicated what a vehicle was about to do.

    Sounds associated with acceleration, braking, or turning were introduced slightly before physical movements occurred. Although this difference initially appears relatively small, it has interesting implications for perception. Human beings continuously anticipate actions and outcomes within everyday experience. When travelling in a vehicle driven by another person, passengers often prepare unconsciously for changes in movement based on visual information, driver behaviour, or expectations formed through experience. Autonomous systems may reduce some of these familiar cues.

    Without anticipation, even small delays between expectation and movement can create discomfort. This issue becomes particularly important when people are no longer focused directly on driving tasks. Someone reading, working, or looking away from the road may have fewer signals available for predicting changes in movement.

    Findings presented during the lecture suggested that intention sounds could help address this problem. Participants gradually became accustomed to these cues, often reporting that they stopped consciously noticing them over time. Yet despite becoming less consciously aware of the sounds, behavioural effects remained present. Participants reported greater comfort, improved trust, and reductions in motion sickness.

    This aspect of the work suggests an interesting possibility. Effective sound design may sometimes involve creating sounds that gradually disappear from conscious awareness rather than continually demanding attention. Successful design may occasionally involve fading into the background, allowing people to feel supported without constantly being reminded of the system itself.

    Trust formed another important theme running throughout the lecture. Autonomous systems raise practical questions concerning safety and reliability, though they also introduce psychological questions involving confidence and reassurance. People may intellectually understand that a system functions correctly while still feeling uncomfortable or uncertain.

    Sound therefore becomes important not only for transmitting information but also for shaping emotional responses. Perception sounds and intention sounds appeared capable of supporting trust while remaining acceptable during longer periods of use. Rather than overwhelming users with constant warnings or large quantities of information, carefully designed sonic interactions helped establish a feeling that the system remained understandable and predictable.

    Another particularly interesting aspect involved the methods used early within the design process itself. Maculewicz described vocalisation exercises in which participants and researchers used their own voices to explore sound concepts before detailed design work began. Instead of immediately creating polished digital sounds, people experimented using simple vocal expressions to communicate movement, intention, and emotional qualities.

    Although these exercises initially appeared playful, they served an important purpose. They helped clarify what sounds were intended to communicate before investing significant effort into production and implementation. Questions surrounding function and meaning could therefore be explored before technical decisions became fixed.

    Running throughout the lecture was a broader shift in thinking about the role of sound within vehicles. Traditional systems frequently focus on isolated moments of interruption and attention. Future sound interaction may instead become something quieter and more continuous, operating as an adaptive layer supporting comfort, anticipation, trust, and wellbeing throughout travel.

    Vehicles may therefore communicate with us in increasingly subtle ways. Sound within future systems may gradually move away from functioning as collections of warnings and alerts towards becoming a quieter layer of interaction that helps people understand not only what a vehicle is doing, but also how they relate to it.

  • Beyond the Frequency Response: Dr Nick Zacharov on Why Sound Quality Refuses to Stay Simple

    Sound quality appears to be something that should be relatively easy to define. Modern audio engineering has become remarkably precise, allowing engineers to measure frequency response, distortion, sound pressure level, impulse response, and countless other properties with extraordinary accuracy. Pages of graphs and measurements can describe how an audio system behaves in minute detail. Looking at these increasingly sophisticated tools, it becomes tempting to assume that the problem has largely been solved. Better systems should produce better measurements, while increasingly detailed measurements should gradually lead towards better listening experiences.

    Yet most people who spend time with sound eventually encounter an uncomfortable contradiction. A new pair of headphones may arrive with impressive specifications and glowing reviews, promising exceptional clarity and technical accuracy. Everything appears correct on paper, yet after listening for a while something feels slightly wrong. Another pair with less impressive measurements somehow sounds more engaging, or perhaps two products that appear remarkably similar perform very differently in practice. Even more confusingly, people listening to exactly the same material can disagree entirely about what they hear. Experiences like these raise an interesting question. If sound can already be measured with extraordinary precision, why do we still need people to listen?

    This question formed the starting point of an online guest lecture delivered by Dr Nick Zacharov, whose work has spent more than three decades exploring sound quality and sensory evaluation across industries including telecommunications, professional audio, and product development. As co-founder of AudioSense Lab, his work focuses on understanding how people experience sound rather than simply measuring the physical properties of signals. Across the lecture, one idea gradually became increasingly clear: sound quality is not hidden solely within the signal itself. It also emerges through the relationship between sound and the people hearing it.

    Part of the challenge begins with assumptions about hearing itself. Measurement systems generally behave in predictable ways. Microphones can be calibrated, repeated measurements can produce highly consistent results, and instruments respond reliably under controlled conditions. Human hearing behaves rather differently. Rather than functioning as a neutral recording device, the auditory system continuously interprets incoming information before we consciously become aware of it.

    Zacharov described hearing as an extraordinarily sophisticated process operating across enormous ranges of frequencies and intensities. Sounds arriving from different directions interact with the shape of the head and ears before even reaching the inner ear, while loudness, timing, and spatial position all influence the information ultimately reaching the brain. Listening therefore involves more than passively receiving information from the outside world. The auditory system actively reconstructs what we hear, continually shaping experience rather than simply recording it. Measuring sound pressure level may therefore be relatively straightforward, though measuring how people actually experience sound quickly becomes much more complicated.

    This issue becomes clearer when considering the language people commonly use to describe audio experiences. Terms such as brightness, warmth, spaciousness, clarity, depth, and fullness often feel straightforward and intuitive, and most listeners immediately recognise what these ideas mean. Yet many of these qualities do not correspond directly to simple physical measurements. Loudness provides a useful example. Loudness is not merely a sound pressure value but a perceptual experience allowing listeners to organise sounds along a continuum extending from quiet to loud. Anyone who has increased the volume of a quiet dialogue scene in a film only to be startled moments later by a sudden explosion or a swelling piece of music has experienced this distinction directly.

    Similar relationships exist for many of the characteristics listeners use when evaluating sound systems. Spaciousness involves more than physical distance between sound sources, warmth cannot simply be reduced to a particular frequency range, and clarity often emerges through interactions between multiple factors rather than a single measurable value. Describing sound therefore becomes surprisingly complicated. People often use similar words while imagining different things. One listener’s idea of warmth may not correspond exactly to another person’s understanding of the same term. Researchers and designers therefore face the challenge of developing shared vocabularies that allow experiences to be discussed more consistently.

    This need for a common language has led researchers towards the development of perceptual descriptors and sensory lexicons. Rather than relying on vague impressions such as “good” or “bad”, listeners are encouraged to think in terms of more specific qualities that can be identified repeatedly. The aim is not simply to produce more words for describing sound. Instead, the goal is to create reliable ways of connecting subjective experiences with measurable characteristics. The question therefore shifts again. Rather than asking whether sound itself can be measured, attention moves towards understanding whether measurements adequately describe the experiences listeners actually care about.

    One of the most interesting ideas discussed during the lecture emerged through a distinction between preference and perception. Initially these concepts seem almost interchangeable. If somebody prefers one sound over another, it appears reasonable to assume that the answer provides everything necessary. Preference feels direct and uncomplicated. Yet preference quickly becomes more unstable than it initially appears. People notice different details, bring different expectations into listening environments, and respond differently depending on context. Prior experiences shape listening behaviour, while cultural backgrounds and individual habits influence interpretation. Preferences can also change over time, meaning two listeners hearing exactly the same material can arrive at entirely different conclusions.

    To explain this distinction, Zacharov introduced an example involving cheese. Imagine placing several cheeses in front of a group of people and simply asking which one they prefer. Most people would answer almost immediately. The process feels natural and instinctive. Yet the situation changes once different questions begin appearing. Which cheese feels creamier? Which one seems more acidic? Which has a stronger texture? Attention gradually moves away from simple preference and towards analysis. People begin thinking differently about the experience itself.

    Listening behaves in much the same way. Zacharov noted that if people are simply asked what they prefer, they often respond immediately and instinctively. Once listeners are instead asked to evaluate characteristics such as distortion, bass, or other specific attributes, something changes in the listening process itself.

    “If I ask people what they prefer, they will instantly tell you. If I ask them to evaluate distortion and bass and all of these different characteristics, they start thinking consciously about things.”

    What initially appears to be a relatively small distinction gradually becomes much more interesting. Once people become consciously aware of what they are listening for, their relationship with sound itself begins changing. They are no longer responding naturally in the same way they might during everyday listening. Instead, they begin examining specific characteristics and separating experiences into individual components. Listening effectively becomes analytical rather than instinctive.

    This distinction sits at the centre of sensory evaluation. Rather than asking people simply whether they like something, sensory evaluation attempts to understand how people perceive particular characteristics and why those characteristics influence experience. The goal is not merely to identify winners and losers but to understand the qualities shaping listening itself.

    Zacharov described how this often involves training listeners to recognise and describe perceptual attributes systematically. This process does not necessarily involve teaching people what they should hear. Instead, it focuses on developing consistency. Listeners learn to identify particular forms of distortion, tonal differences, changes in spatial presentation, or other relevant characteristics. Over time, they develop a shared vocabulary allowing listening experiences to be discussed with greater precision.

    Training becomes particularly important since untrained listeners often respond differently from experienced listeners. Someone listening casually may immediately focus on broad impressions such as whether a sound feels enjoyable or unpleasant, while trained listeners may identify subtle changes in bass response, timbral colouration, spatial width, or artefacts introduced by processing systems. Neither response is inherently better than the other, though they provide different forms of information. One reflects instinctive experience while the other provides analytical detail.

    These methods become particularly valuable within product development. Preference testing can identify whether people generally favour one system over another, though such tests often reveal relatively little about why decisions occur. A product may consistently outperform competitors while leaving important questions unanswered. What exactly are listeners responding to? Greater spaciousness? Reduced distortion? Increased clarity? Better balance?

    Sensory evaluation attempts to bridge this gap by identifying the characteristics influencing perception, allowing researchers and designers to understand not simply whether products succeed but why they succeed. These approaches have applications across a wide range of industries. Telecommunications systems aim to optimise speech quality and intelligibility. Headphone manufacturers seek desirable listening experiences across different musical styles. Automotive companies increasingly design not only engines and interiors but also the sonic experience of travelling within vehicles. Consumer technologies ranging from smart speakers to voice assistants similarly depend on understanding how people perceive sound rather than simply reproducing signals accurately.

    Towards the end of the lecture, another issue gradually emerged concerning the relationship between controlled testing environments and everyday listening experiences. Listening tests often take place under carefully designed conditions intended to isolate variables and remove distractions. Such environments are extremely useful for identifying subtle differences and maintaining consistency, yet real listening situations rarely behave in the same way.

    People do not spend their lives sitting silently in isolated rooms rapidly switching between competing systems. Sound exists alongside movement, conversations, expectations, distractions, and activities unfolding simultaneously. Headphones are used on trains and buses, music accompanies exercise and travel, and films are experienced within social environments rather than laboratories. A technically ideal system under laboratory conditions may therefore not necessarily produce the same experience within everyday contexts.

    This raises questions surrounding ecological validity, a concept concerned with how closely experimental conditions resemble real-world experiences. Zacharov reflected on this as an increasingly important direction for future work, suggesting that listening research has gradually begun moving towards broader and more realistic forms of evaluation.

    “I think there is a trend in going more holistic nowadays and going more ecological.”

    Running throughout the lecture was a wider point. Sound quality is not simply a technical problem waiting to be solved through increasingly detailed measurements. Measurements remain essential and enormously valuable, though they only describe part of the listening experience. Signals, technologies, environments, expectations, and listeners continuously interact with one another. Understanding sound therefore may involve more than measuring systems accurately. It may also require understanding the people hearing them.

  • Listening Between Worlds: Dr Ximena Alarcón on Deep Listening and Sonic Migrations

    Dr Ximena Alarcón

    Migration is often described through borders, journeys, and distances travelled. People leave cities, cross countries, settle elsewhere, and gradually build new lives. Less often do we ask what migration sounds like. Yet movement between places changes more than physical location. Familiar sounds disappear from everyday life while new ones slowly become woven into routine experience. Voices remain in memory long after people and places have gone, and certain sounds can unexpectedly return us somewhere we thought we had left behind.

    During an online guest lecture, Dr Ximena Alarcón explored these less visible experiences through sound, asking whether listening might reveal dimensions of migration that geography alone struggles to capture. Drawing on her own experiences of moving from Colombia to Europe, alongside years of artistic and research practice, she explored how listening can become a way of understanding relationships between people, places, and memory.

    Dr Alarcón is a sound artist, researcher, and Deep Listening practitioner whose work combines collaborative performance, sound art, memory, and digital technologies. Across these projects and reflections, one idea repeatedly surfaced: listening is not simply an act of hearing sounds that already exist around us. It can also become a way of tracing experiences, understanding relationships, and making sense of where we belong.

    Many of these ideas first developed through an apparently ordinary experience. After growing up in Bogotá and later encountering underground transport systems in European cities, Alarcón became increasingly interested in the environments created by these systems. Most people barely notice them. Announcements repeat endlessly, trains arrive and disappear, and routine eventually turns entire spaces into background activity. Daily commuting often becomes something we stop consciously hearing. Yet beneath that familiarity, people continue forming subtle relationships with the spaces around them, carrying emotions, frustrations, routines, and memories through these environments day after day. Alarcón became interested in what kinds of traces these repeated experiences might leave behind.

    This question developed into Sounding Underground, a project exploring underground systems in London, Mexico City, and Paris. Participants recorded journeys, selected sounds they considered meaningful, and reflected on the experiences attached to them. Rather than documenting transport systems themselves, the project explored relationships formed through listening.

    “What memories have people when they listen during routine journeys?”

    Responses revealed something surprising. Participants recognised common rhythms and textures across different cities while also identifying details that felt distinctive to each place. One participant described experiencing the three underground systems as though they formed a single connected network rather than separate environments. Sounds that would usually disappear into the background of everyday life suddenly felt more intimate. Mechanical noises, station announcements, and passing voices acquired emotional significance, becoming linked with memory and familiarity in ways that might otherwise remain unnoticed.

    Questions that initially centred on transport systems gradually grew more personal. Listening repeatedly to memories of movement raised another question that redirected Alarcón’s work entirely: “I would like to listen to my own migration.” Attention moved away from cities themselves and towards the experiences carried through them. The question was no longer simply how environments sound, but how memories, identities, and relationships continue shaping listening long after movement has taken place. This transition led Alarcón towards Deep Listening, a practice developed by Pauline Oliveros that encourages expanded awareness of sound, body, memory, and environment.

    Deep Listening extends beyond identifying sounds within a space. Listening becomes connected with silence, bodily awareness, dreams, movement, and relationships with others. Alarcón described keeping dream diaries as part of this process, recording fragments of dreams before they disappeared into waking life. Listening was no longer directed only towards external environments. It became a way of tracing relationships between memories and experiences that might otherwise pass unnoticed. Migration consequently began to appear as something more complex than movement between locations. Memories from different places continue existing alongside present experiences, while voices from the past remain present within current surroundings. Different versions of ourselves emerge over time rather than simply replacing one another.

    Language became an important part of this exploration. During the lecture, Alarcón reflected on the experience of moving between English and Spanish, describing how speaking different languages can sometimes feel like moving between different versions of oneself.

    “When you speak more than one language, you start to create a different personality when you switch between languages.”

    Many people who speak more than one language immediately recognise this feeling. Words change, though something else changes as well. Rhythm changes, gesture changes, and emotional expression often shifts in subtle ways. Certain ideas suddenly become easier to express while others seem to disappear entirely. Alarcón described this through the idea of the “nomadic voice”, suggesting that migrants often inhabit spaces that are neither entirely one place nor another. Instead, memories, identities, and experiences overlap and remain in motion, creating what she described as in-between spaces.

    Questions about memory and identity eventually expanded beyond individual experience. If listening could reveal something about personal migration, could it also create meaningful connections between people separated by geography? This question shaped projects such as Letters and Bridges and Migratory Dreams, where participants in different countries exchanged letters, shared dreams, recorded sounds, and developed collaborative sonic performances across distance. Unexpectedly, participants often described feeling close to people they had never physically met.

    One of the most memorable moments emerged during Migratory Dreams. Participants in Bogotá perceived London as sonically dense and heavily urban. During performances they instinctively introduced sounds of nature, almost as if attempting to return something they felt migrants living in London had lost. Across continents, participants were not simply exchanging sounds or creating performances. Listening had become a way of caring for distant people through shared experience.

    Although these projects emerged through experiences of migration, the ideas discussed throughout the lecture extend far beyond migration itself. Sound design often focuses on realism, immersion, and technical precision, yet Alarcón’s work suggested broader possibilities. Sound can preserve memory, support identity, and create relationships between people separated by distance.

    Migration, in this sense, may involve more than moving between places. Physical journeys eventually end, yet the quieter journeys shaped by memory, identity, and listening often continue long afterwards. Alarcón’s lecture suggested that people do not simply travel across spaces. They also continue travelling through experiences, relationships, and sounds that remain with them long after they arrive.

  • The Fast and the Sonorous: Vehicle Sound Design Insights from Codemasters’ Jethro Dunn

    Jethro Dunn, Senior Audio Designer at Codemasters, has contributed to a range of projects, from tactical military shooters to arcade racing games. During his lecture, he shared how vehicle sound effects are shaped by technical constraints, creative objectives, and genre-specific requirements—whether simulating the weight of an armoured convoy or signalling damage in a playful kart racer.

    Drawing on titles such as Operation Flashpoint: Red River and F1 Race Stars, Dunn focused on practical techniques for crafting immersive vehicle soundscapes, managing acoustics, and enhancing player feedback.

    Jethro Dunn

    Streamlining Vehicle Audio in Tactical Shooters

    In Operation Flashpoint: Dragon Rising and Red River, vehicles like jeeps and APCs required sound design that balanced realism with hardware limitations. Early designs utilised layered loops for engines, transmissions, and mechanical effects, but this approach led to unnecessary system overhead.

    “We were wasting more memory managing complex sound events than on the actual audio data, so we had to rethink how we structured vehicle sounds.” — Jethro Dunn

    The team restructured vehicle audio into smaller, independent elements. Engine and exhaust sounds were separated to enhance spatial realism, and mechanical “sweeteners” were introduced at low acceleration to add life and responsiveness during slower movements.

    Shaping Player Perspective: Interior and Exterior Vehicle Sound

    When players moved inside a vehicle, soundscapes shifted to reflect enclosed acoustics. Manual adjustments ensured consistent transitions between interior and exterior perspectives, with positional tweaks placing engine noise appropriately whether driving, seated as a passenger, or operating a turret.

    Conveying Distance: Designing Distant and Ultra-Distant Vehicle Sounds

    Vehicle sounds were deliberately simplified at distance, becoming ambient rumbles to reflect real-world acoustic behaviour. For ultra-distant scenarios, low-frequency layers simulated convoys heard kilometres away, enhancing environmental awareness without cluttering the soundscape.

    Practical Choices: Avoiding Granular Synthesis

    Dunn noted that granular synthesis, commonly used in racing games for dynamic engine sounds, was intentionally avoided for military vehicles.

    “We didn’t use granular synthesis for these vehicles because we didn’t have the recordings, and we didn’t need that level of complexity.”

    Adding Mechanical Detail: Transmission Whine and Brake Squeals

    To enhance realism, layers such as transmission whine and brake squeals were incorporated, helping players interpret vehicle behaviour and reinforcing the mechanical character of military vehicles.

    Communicating Through Sound: Feedback in Arcade Racing

    In F1 Race Stars, sound effects prioritised clear communication over realism.

    “In arcade racing, players need to hear when something’s wrong before they even look at the screen.”

    Exaggerated mechanical noises signalled damage, while distinct cues marked repairs or performance drops—providing immediate, intuitive feedback in a fast-paced environment.

    Recording Challenges and Creative Solutions

    Capturing vehicle audio involved logistical challenges, from limited access to military hardware to managing motorsport recordings.

    “You can’t ask a military driver to do ten perfect laps for recording—you get what you get.”

    For smaller projects, Dunn recorded toy cars in controlled environments—demonstrating adaptability across varying project scopes.

    Reflections on Vehicle Sound Design

    Jethro Dunn’s lecture demonstrated how vehicle sound effects are shaped by technical awareness, efficient workflows, and responsiveness to gameplay needs. From spatial realism through engine and exhaust separation to mechanical sweeteners and clear gameplay cues, his approach highlights the practical decisions that define vehicle sound design across both realistic and stylised game environments.

  • Playing Along: When Music Is Part of the Game World

    “We talk about music that originates from within the diegesis — and not from some non-diegetic player outside of it.”
    — Axel Berndt

    In a guest lecture on game audio, Dr.-Ing. Axel Berndt examined the role of diegetic music — music that exists within a game’s fictional world and can be heard, performed, or even disrupted by its characters. This kind of music, Berndt argued, is not background or emotional subtext. It is part of the world itself.

    Berndt, is a member of the Center of Music and Film Informatics within the Detmold University of Music, working at the intersection of sound design, musical interaction, and adaptive systems. His lecture brought together commercial examples, music-theoretic distinctions, and design considerations to illustrate how music behaves differently when it belongs to the world rather than framing it from outside.

    Dr. -Ing. Axel Berndt

    Inside the World: What Makes Music Diegetic

    Diegetic music refers to music that originates within the game’s diegesis — its fictional environment. Berndt described it as everything “within this world”: sounds that characters can hear and react to, including wind, speech, and music performed or played through in-world devices.

    “If someone switches the radio on, triggers the music box, sings a song, or plays an instrument… their music is also diegetic.”

    Examples included a street musician in The Patrician, a pipe player at a party, and the bard at the start of Conquest of the Longbow. In Doom 3, a gaming machine plays music within the scene; in Oceanarium, a robot performs in a clearly defined virtual space. These are not aesthetic flourishes — they anchor music in the logic of the world.

    Berndt contrasted this with non-diegetic music, which accompanies a scene without being part of it — such as a film score swelling during a battle. “There is no orchestra sitting on an asteroid during the space battle,” he remarked, highlighting the artificiality of non-diegetic scoring in game environments that otherwise strive for realism.

    Sound That Can Be Interrupted

    Once music is part of the world, it becomes subject to physical space, interruption, and interaction.

    “The simplest type of interaction may be to switch a radio on and off, but there is much more possible.”

    Berndt categorised musical interactions as either destructive — disrupting a performance — or constructive, where player input enriches or alters the musical output. In Monkey Island 3, players must stop their crew from singing an extended shanty by choosing responses that are woven into the rhyme scheme. Each interruption is musical and interactive.

    “The sequential order of verses and interludes is arranged according to the multiple choice decisions the player makes.”

    Such scenes turn performance into a mechanic. Music is not a layer applied to gameplay — it is the gameplay.

    When Music Isn’t Polished — And Why That Matters

    Berndt emphasised that diegetic music should not always sound flawless. Live performance in reality includes irregularities: tuning fluctuations, missed notes, imperfect timing. Simulating this can enhance believability.

    “Fluctuations of intonation, rhythmic asynchrony, wrong notes — these things simply happen in life situations. Including them brings a gain of authenticity.”

    He cited the harmonica player in Gabriel Knight, whose wavering tone subtly reinforces the impression of a street musician with limited technical control. Imperfection isn’t failure — it is context-aware design.

    Berndt also warned against repetitive loops that expose the limits of a system. When the player leaves and re-enters a scene, and the same music starts again from the beginning, the world appears frozen. “We reached the end of the world,” he said. “There is nothing more to come.”

    To counter this, he advocated techniques such as generative variation, asynchronous playback, and music that continues even when not audible — preserving the impression of an autonomous, living environment.

    Games Where Music Is the Environment

    Berndt’s second category of diegetic music is visualised music — where players engage not just with music in the scene, but with music as the environment itself. This includes rhythm games like Guitar Hero, Dance Dance Revolution, and Crypt of the Necrodancer, where music structures time, space, and action.

    “What we actually interact with is music itself. The visuals are just a transformation — an interface that eases our visually coined interaction techniques.”

    In Audiosurf, players import their own tracks and race through colour-coded lanes shaped by the waveform. In Rez, players shoot targets that trigger rhythmic events. These games represent a shift from music as accompaniment to music as system.

    “The diegesis is the domain of musical possibilities. The visual layer follows the routines of the music.”

    Berndt emphasised that this kind of interaction demands careful timing, expressive range, and sometimes even simplification to make musical gameplay accessible.

    From Instruments to Systems

    Not all music-based interaction takes the form of traditional games. Electroplankton allowed Nintendo DS users to create sound patterns through direct manipulation — drawing curves, arranging nodes, or triggering plankton-like agents.

    “Interestingly, all these concepts don’t really need introduction. Give it to the players, let them try it out, and they will soon find out by themselves how it works.”

    Berndt distinguished between note-level interaction (e.g. triggering individual sounds, as in Donkey Konga) and structural interaction, where players influence arrangement, progression, or generative systems. Both approaches are valid, but they ask different things of the player — and of the designer.

    Designing with Music in Mind

    Berndt’s lecture underscored a recurring principle: if music is situated in the world, it should behave accordingly. It must continue when out of frame, shift based on player presence, and reflect changes in the environment. When music is visualised or systematised, it should offer feedback and form, not simply decoration.

    “Music as part of the world has to be interactive, too.”

    This is not a stylistic preference — it is a design commitment. When music is embedded in the rules of the world, it becomes not only more believable, but more meaningful. It can reflect character, reinforce consequence, and establish rhythm within both narrative and mechanics.

    Berndt’s examples — from Monkey Island to Rez, from ambient performance to interactive music toys — show how music can operate on multiple levels at once: as texture, mechanic, and presence. His lecture made clear that diegetic music in games is not a solved problem or a historical curiosity. It remains a rich site for experimentation and design.

  • Understanding Binaural Hearing: Insights from Professor Jens Blauert’s Guest Lecture

    Binaural hearing is fundamental to how we perceive sound in space, influencing everything from daily interactions to the way we experience music, film, and interactive media. In a compelling online guest lecture, Professor Jens Blauert, a leading researcher in psychoacoustics and spatial hearing, provided an in-depth exploration of the principles behind binaural perception. His extensive research has shaped the fields of spatial audio, binaural recording, and 3D sound reproduction. Best known for his influential book Spatial Hearing: The Psychophysics of Human Sound Localization, his insights are particularly valuable for sound designers working in film, virtual reality, game audio, and immersive media.

    Professor Jens Blauert

    The Relationship Between Physics and Perception

    One of the key distinctions Professor Blauert made in his lecture was the difference between the physical properties of sound and auditory perception. Sound, as a physical event, consists of mechanical waves traveling through a medium, whereas auditory perception arises when the brain processes these waves, constructing an auditory event. This distinction is essential for sound designers because reproducing the physical properties of a sound does not guarantee that it will be perceived as intended. The auditory system is not a passive receiver but an active interpreter, reconstructing sound based on cues such as timing, intensity, and spectral content.

    How Humans Localise Sound

    A major focus of the lecture was the way humans determine the position of a sound source. Interaural time differences occur when a sound reaches one ear before the other. The brain interprets this difference as an indication of direction, which is particularly useful for localising low-frequency sounds below 1.5 kHz. At higher frequencies, interaural level differences become more significant, as the head acts as a barrier, creating differences in loudness between the ears. Another critical factor in sound localisation is spectral filtering by the outer ear. The pinnae modify the frequency spectrum of incoming sounds depending on the direction from which they arrive, helping the brain determine elevation and distinguish between front and back sound sources.

    For sound designers, understanding these cues is essential when working with spatial audio and binaural rendering. In virtual reality and gaming, the careful manipulation of interaural time differences and interaural level differences ensures that sound sources are perceived as truly occupying a three-dimensional space.

    The Role of Other Sensory Inputs

    Spatial hearing is not an isolated process but is influenced by other sensory inputs, particularly vision and proprioception. Professor Blauert discussed the ventriloquism effect, where conflicting auditory and visual information results in the brain prioritising vision. This is why, in a film, dialogue appears to come from the mouth of an on-screen character, even if the sound is emitted from off-screen speakers.

    Head movements also play an essential role in localisation, as the brain refines auditory perception based on changes in sound cues over time. In virtual reality, integrating real-time head tracking with binaural audio processing enhances immersion, ensuring that spatial cues remain accurate as the listener moves.

    Reverberation, Reflections, and Spatial Awareness

    Reverberation and sound reflections also shape spatial perception. In natural environments, sounds bounce off surfaces before reaching the ears, adding information about distance and space. Early reflections, which arrive within the first few milliseconds, provide cues about room size and material properties. Late reverberation contributes to the sense of spaciousness and immersion.

    For sound designers, controlling reflections is crucial for shaping an environment’s acoustics. Artificial reverberation can make a space feel larger, more intimate, or more diffuse, but excessive reverberation can blur spatial cues, reducing intelligibility.

    The Cocktail Party Effect and Binaural Signal Detection

    The lecture also explored how the auditory system processes multiple overlapping sound sources. One of the most fascinating aspects of binaural hearing is the ability to focus on a particular sound source while filtering out others, a phenomenon known as the cocktail party effect. When multiple sounds arrive at the ears, the brain can separate them based on spatial location and timbre.

    People with hearing impairments, especially those with asymmetrical hearing loss, struggle in noisy environments because they lose this spatial filtering ability. For sound designers, this principle is fundamental to mixing dialogue, music, and effects. Ensuring that critical sound elements remain perceptually distinct is essential for clarity and intelligibility.

    Professor Blauert also explained that binaural perception is not only responsible for spatial hearing but also plays a role in reverberation suppression and timbre correction. When listening with both ears, the auditory system can reduce the perceived reverberation of a space, making sounds clearer. It can also compensate for frequency distortions caused by reflections. A simple experiment demonstrates this effect: if a listener closes one ear while in a reverberant environment, the space sounds more echoic, and the timbre of sounds changes. When both ears are used, the brain naturally suppresses excess reverberation and restores a more natural balance.

    For sound designers, this means that spatial mixing must account for how the brain processes sound, ensuring that artificially introduced reverberation does not interfere with localisation or speech intelligibility.

    Applications for Sound Design and Spatial Audio

    The principles covered in this lecture have direct applications in binaural audio, 3D sound design, and immersive media. Headphone-based binaural recordings create highly realistic spatial experiences, making them ideal for virtual reality, augmented reality, and gaming. In film and theatre, spatial mixing techniques enhance realism and guide audience attention. In architectural acoustics, an understanding of how reflections shape perception is crucial for optimising venues for speech clarity and music performance.

    The research presented by Professor Blauert also informs the development of hearing aids and assistive listening technologies, improving speech intelligibility for individuals with hearing impairments.

    Final Thoughts

    Professor Blauert’s lecture reinforced the importance of understanding how humans perceive sound rather than focusing solely on its physical properties. For sound designers, the key takeaway is that perception determines how spatial audio is experienced. A strong grasp of binaural hearing principles enables the creation of immersive, natural, and convincing soundscapes, ensuring that audio enhances storytelling, gameplay, and user experience.

    As the demand for interactive and immersive media grows, these concepts remain essential tools for crafting engaging auditory environments.

  • Understanding Aural Architecture: A Guest Lecture with Dr Barry Blesser and Dr Linda-Ruth Salter

    The experience of space is often thought of as a visual phenomenon, but our understanding of where we are is deeply tied to sound. In a thought-provoking guest lecture, Drs Barry Blesser and Linda-Ruth Salter explored the concept of aural architecture, discussing how sound shapes our perception of space and influences human interaction. Their insights challenge conventional thinking about hearing and space, bridging disciplines from acoustics and cognitive science to architecture, social anthropology, and Sound Design.

    D rBarry Blesser

    About the Speakers

    Dr Barry Blesser is a pioneering researcher in audio technology and spatial acoustics, best known for his contributions to digital reverberation and sound processing. As one of the key figures in early digital audio, he played a central role in the development of the first commercial digital reverb unit in the 1970s. His expertise spans psychoacoustics, signal processing, and the experiential aspects of sound perception. His book Spaces Speak, Are You Listening? (co-authored with Dr Linda-Ruth Salter) explores the relationship between sound and space, shaping discussions on aural architecture.

    Dr Linda-Ruth Salter is an interdisciplinary scholar whose work explores the intersection of space, culture, and human perception. With a background in philosophy, social science, and design, she has contributed to research on how architecture and auditory experiences influence human cognition. Her collaboration with Dr Blesser in Spaces Speak, Are You Listening? examines how sound and built environments shape social interactions and emotional responses.

    The Concept of Aural Architecture

    Aural architecture refers to the way sound interacts with a space and how we, as listeners, interpret and experience that interaction. Drs Blesser and Salter highlighted a crucial distinction: hearing space is not the same as hearing sound. While we might assume that knowing where we are is intuitive, the lecture invited us to consider a deeper question: how do we truly know where we are?

    Using historical and experimental examples, the speakers demonstrated that sensory input—especially sound—plays a vital role in spatial awareness. One striking example involved sensory deprivation experiments from the 1950s, where participants placed in silent, isolated environments began to hallucinate within minutes. This underscores how critical sound is for maintaining a coherent sense of place.

    For Sound Designers, this concept is fundamental when creating immersive experiences in film, games, and virtual reality (VR). In horror sound design, for instance, silence can be just as powerful as sound. By gradually removing background noise and narrowing the listener’s sense of space, Sound Designers can create an unsettling effect that plays with the brain’s need for spatial awareness.

    The Role of Sound in Spatial Perception

    Different senses contribute in unique ways to our understanding of space, but hearing is particularly powerful. Unlike vision, which depends on illumination and line of sight, sound travels around obstacles, fills enclosed areas, and provides constant feedback about an environment. This ability to hear space allows us to determine room size, surface materials, and even the presence of unseen objects.

    Drs Blesser and Salter illustrated this with a compelling thought experiment: if you were placed in a completely dark room but could still hear, you would likely be able to infer the shape and size of the space just by listening to how sound behaves. This principle is at the core of aural architecture, influencing everything from concert hall design to everyday experiences in urban and domestic settings.

    In Sound Design, this understanding is crucial when designing game audio environments. Many modern game engines use real-time spatialisation techniques such as occlusion filtering, where sounds are dynamically muffled or altered when obstructed by walls or objects. This not only makes the soundscape more realistic but also enhances gameplay by providing the player with important auditory cues.

    Another example is reverberation in post-production for film and television. When mixing dialogue recorded on a sound stage, Sound Designers often add convolution reverb to match the acoustics of the scene’s visual setting. Without this adjustment, the dialogue may feel disconnected from the environment, breaking immersion.

    The Impact of Culture and Cognition

    The lecture also explored cultural and cognitive aspects of auditory perception. Different cultures interpret sound in diverse ways, and our brains continuously rewire themselves based on how we use our auditory system. For example, musicians who have trained their ears for years can detect subtle variations in acoustics that others might not even notice. Similarly, some blind individuals develop an advanced ability to hear space through echolocation, using sound reflections to navigate their surroundings.

    The speakers pointed out that aural architecture is as much a cultural phenomenon as it is a scientific one. In some societies, specific sounds become deeply symbolic. The resonance of a cathedral, for instance, has historically been associated with religious experience, while the chime of a village bell once defined local identity in 19th-century France.

    For Sound Designers working in interactive media or theatre, understanding cultural soundscapes can enhance authenticity and immersion. When designing audio for a historical drama, for instance, awareness of period-accurate materials, such as wooden floors, stone walls, or open landscapes, allows designers to recreate accurate acoustic reflections, enhancing immersion.

    The Changing Nature of Soundscapes

    With advancements in technology, our relationship with sound and space is evolving. Modern electronic devices create virtual auditory environments that can transport our minds elsewhere, detaching us from our physical surroundings. The ubiquity of headphones, for example, allows individuals to curate personal soundscapes, but it also leads to functional deafness—a state where people can no longer hear the sounds that define their immediate environment.

    For Sound Designers, this has significant implications in VR, AR, and immersive media. One example is the use of dynamic object-based audio, such as Dolby Atmos or Ambisonics, which allows sounds to be placed in 3D space and adapt to listener movement. This ensures that spatial relationships between sound sources remain consistent, even as the user moves through a virtual or augmented environment.

    Another example is binaural audio mixing, often used in ASMR, virtual museum guides, and 3D audio storytelling. By recording with a dummy head microphone, Sound Designers can capture the way sound naturally interacts with human ears, providing a hyper-realistic listening experience that can transport users into another environment.

    The Responsibility of Aural Architects

    Drs Blesser and Salter concluded with a call for greater awareness in design, urging architects, engineers, and urban planners to consider aural architecture in their work. They introduced the concept of aural empathy—the ability to design with an awareness of how sound affects human experience.

    A key takeaway from the lecture was that sound is not just a by-product of space; it is an integral part of how we experience it. Thoughtfully designed spaces take into account how soundscapes influence mood, communication, and social interaction.

    For Sound Designers, this means thinking beyond just what a sound effect should be and instead considering how it should be experienced within a space. Sonic accessibility is another important aspect—for instance, ensuring that spatialised audio cues in video games or public environments assist users with different hearing abilities.

    Final Thoughts

    This lecture provided a fascinating lens through which to examine space, demonstrating that aural architecture is not merely a technical concern but a fundamental aspect of human perception. By incorporating auditory awareness into design, we can create richer, more engaging environments that truly reflect how people experience the world.

    For those working in Sound Design, these ideas reinforce the importance of treating space as an active element in an auditory experience. Whether designing immersive film soundtracks, crafting realistic game environments, or developing innovative AR applications, an understanding of aural architecture can elevate the quality of sound experiences.

    The next time you step into a space, take a moment to listen to it. What can the sound tell you about where you are? The answer may be more complex than you think.

  • Dubbed to Perfection: Graham Hartstone’s Guide to Enhancing Storytelling Through Sound

    Graham Hartstone, a highly respected dubbing mixer and former head of post-production at Pinewood Studios, shared his expertise in an online guest lecture. Drawing on his extensive career in film sound, which spans decades and includes work on major productions, he offered a wealth of insights into the art and technical precision of rerecording sound for film.

    Graham Hartstone

    The Evolution of Sound and Its Role in Storytelling

    Hartstone’s career began in 1961 as a cable operator, progressing through various roles in sound before ultimately leading the dubbing team at Pinewood. His experience includes working on iconic films such as the James Bond series and collaborations with directors like Stanley Kubrick and Ridley Scott. He reflected on the shift from analogue mixing techniques to the expansive digital tools available today, discussing how technological advancements have changed the sound mixing process.

    Throughout his career, Hartstone emphasised that sound must serve the narrative, with careful attention to dialogue clarity, atmospheric cohesion, and the interplay between sound effects and music. He discussed the importance of premixing, highlighting how dialogue, effects, and Foley must be balanced to create a seamless final mix. Foley, he stressed, should blend naturally rather than draw attention to itself. Using Aliens as an example, he described how even background movements were carefully crafted to maintain immersion without overwhelming the primary action.

    Collaborations, Challenges, and International Versions

    Hartstone shared experiences working with directors who had strong opinions on sound, such as James Cameron and Stanley Kubrick. Kubrick was known for personally directing foreign language dubs to maintain creative control, often insisting that his own team handle translations to ensure consistency across different languages. Hartstone recalled how Kubrick’s meticulous nature extended to every aspect of post-production, with dialogue edits often requiring multiple iterations to match the director’s high standards. Kubrick even insisted on making foreign dubs sound as close to the original English version as possible, ensuring that voice tone and performance retained the same impact.

    James Cameron was similarly demanding, particularly about technical precision in sound. Hartstone shared an example from Aliens, where Cameron required the sound of motion trackers to be carefully crafted to enhance suspense. He recalled how Cameron would repeatedly review sound effects, adjusting subtle details to make sure they perfectly complemented the tension of each scene. This attention to detail extended to mixing explosions and gunfire, where Cameron wanted the audience to feel every impact without overwhelming the dialogue.

    The challenges of working on large-scale productions also included meeting tight deadlines and working with evolving edits. Hartstone noted that in films like Blade Runner, changes were often made up to the last minute. He shared how the iconic ambient soundscape of Los Angeles in Blade Runner was built from unused Alien sound elements, giving the city a layered, futuristic atmosphere. He also recounted how Ridley Scott requested late-stage changes to music and sound effects after test screenings, requiring the mixing team to make quick adjustments to balance the soundtrack effectively.

    For international versions, Hartstone explained that dialogue premixes had to be prepared well in advance of final mixes to allow time for translation and dubbing. On GoldenEye, special care was taken to ensure the foreign dubs matched the English version’s intensity, particularly during action sequences. His team provided detailed mixing notes, ensuring that foreign versions retained the same dynamic range and impact. He also explained the additional complexities of preparing mixes for different distribution formats, including airline and television edits, which required removing or replacing strong language while maintaining natural speech flow.

    Practical Techniques for Mixing

    Hartstone provided a wealth of practical advice for sound mixers, focusing on achieving clarity, balance, and impact.

    Dialogue Mixing and Clarity

    He advised using high-pass and low-pass filters to enhance dialogue clarity, suggesting a high-pass filter at around 80Hz to eliminate unwanted low-end rumble and a low-pass filter at around 9kHz to reduce sibilance. He explained that dialogue should be prioritised in the mix, ensuring that off-screen lines remain intelligible by adjusting levels and adding subtle reverb to match distance perception.

    Hartstone also discussed the importance of perspective in dialogue mixing. He emphasised that the audio should match the framing of the shot—voices should not shift unnaturally in relation to the camera’s viewpoint. For example, close-up dialogue should be crisp and intimate, while wide shots should have a more open sound, reflecting the environment. When working with ADR (Automated Dialogue Replacement), he recommended blending it with the original production sound by matching room acoustics and microphone placement to avoid inconsistencies.

    Balancing Sound Elements and Surround Mixing

    Hartstone stressed the importance of dynamic balance between different sound elements. He warned against overusing compression, explaining that while it can help smooth out levels, excessive compression can make a mix sound unnatural. Instead, he recommended using automation and manual level adjustments to retain natural dynamics, especially for dialogue-driven scenes.

    For surround mixing, Hartstone advised positioning ambient sounds carefully to avoid distracting the audience. Dialogue and primary sound effects should remain anchored in the front channels, while environmental sounds and subtle atmospheric elements should be spread across the surround channels. He suggested that surround effects should be used sparingly in dialogue-heavy scenes but can be more pronounced in action sequences to enhance immersion.

    Layering Explosions and Action Sequences

    Hartstone shared techniques for mixing action-heavy films, particularly regarding explosions and gunfire. He explained that layering sound elements helps create depth and realism. For an explosion, he suggested layering three key components: a bass-heavy thump for impact, a mid-range crack for texture, and high-end debris for detail. He recommended ensuring that these layers are carefully mixed so that the low end does not overpower dialogue and other important sounds.

    He also discussed the importance of spatial placement for action scenes. For instance, gunfire should have directional placement in the mix to match the on-screen perspective. He recalled how, on James Bond films, the team carefully panned gunfire and bullet ricochets to follow the action, adding realism and depth to chase and fight sequences.

    Checking Mixes Across Different Playback Systems

    To ensure consistency, Hartstone recommended testing mixes on multiple playback systems, from large cinema screens to nearfield monitors. He suggested switching between full surround and stereo playback to detect phase issues or missing elements. He also noted that checking the mix at lower volumes can help identify problems with clarity, as important dialogue or sound effects may get lost when played at lower levels.

    Additionally, he highlighted the importance of attending final screenings to verify the mix in the intended playback environment. He recalled how, during a Blade Runner premiere screening, last-minute mix adjustments were needed to correct sound balance issues, reinforcing the importance of checking the final product under real-world conditions.

    Final Thoughts

    Graham Hartstone’s lecture provided a detailed exploration of film sound design, offering valuable lessons for professionals and enthusiasts alike. His expertise underscored how vital a well-crafted soundtrack is in shaping the audience’s experience, blending technical precision with creative storytelling.

  • David Chan on Game Audio: When It Is Done Right, No One Will Notice

    Game audio is an invisible practice, when executed well, players barely notice it. Yet, it is fundamental in shaping an engaging experience. In an insightful online guest lecture, David Chan, Audio Director at Hinterland Games, explored the philosophy and craft of video game sound design. Drawing from a career spanning over 37 titles, including Mass Effect, Knights of the Old Republic, and Splinter Cell, he detailed how sound can enhance immersion, create emotional impact, and bring virtual worlds to life.

    David Chan

    The Philosophy of Sound Design

    Chan described sound design as performing two essential roles: creating an illusion and reinforcing reality. He linked this to historical examples, such as stage performances that used wooden blocks to mimic galloping horses or metal sheets to simulate thunder. The same principles apply to games, where sound designers must craft worlds that feel authentic, even when they do not exist in reality.

    A clear example comes from Red Dead Redemption, where audio designers carefully reconstructed the sonic environment of the Old West. The ambient sound of the game—horses neighing, conversations on the streets, distant gunfire—contributes to a sense of time and place. Chan explained how these elements reinforce reality, ensuring that the world feels lived-in. He noted that the game’s soundtrack, inspired by spaghetti westerns, further supports this atmosphere, seamlessly integrating music with environmental sounds.

    How Sound Shapes a Scene

    One of the most striking examples Chan presented was how sound can completely change the mood of a scene. He demonstrated this by stripping the original audio from a video clip and replacing it with two different soundscapes:

    • The first version used subtle ambient sounds like birds chirping and distant city noise, creating a neutral, everyday setting.
    • The second version replaced these with an ominous drone and eerie music, transforming the same footage into something foreboding and tense.

    This exercise highlighted how sound designers influence perception and steer player emotions without altering the visuals.

    A more extreme example of this approach comes from Splinter Cell, where Chan and his team had to create the illusion of a prison riot without actually animating one. Due to technical limitations, they could not show hundreds of rioting prisoners on-screen. Instead, they relied on audio cues—distant shouting, the clanging of metal doors, and muffled alarms—to make players believe chaos was unfolding nearby. As the player moved into enclosed spaces, the soundscape changed, becoming quieter and more muffled, reinforcing the illusion that the riot was occurring just out of sight.

    Designing Sound for Fictional Worlds

    One of the key challenges in game audio is developing sounds for fantasy and science fiction worlds. Chan spoke at length about Star Wars: The Old Republic, a game set in the Star Wars universe but in an era not explored in the films.

    He explained that while they aimed to remain faithful to the franchise’s iconic sounds, many of the game’s effects were newly created. For instance, the game introduced new droids that needed to sound as if they belonged in Star Wars, without directly copying R2-D2’s beeps and whistles. The sound team designed robotic sounds that felt authentic to the universe but were built from scratch.

    Another challenge was designing energy weapons for the game’s melee combat—something rarely seen in the Star Wars films. The team had to develop a sound signature that fit within the established audio landscape while remaining distinct from traditional blaster sounds. Chan saw it as a success when players assumed the game had simply reused sounds from the films, when in reality, much of the audio was entirely new.

    In Prey, Chan tackled a different challenge: designing sounds for organic weapons. Unlike traditional sci-fi firearms, these weapons were hybrids of living creatures and technology. One example was a grenade-like alien that the player had to rip apart before throwing. To make this sound believable, the team blended:

    • Wet, organic textures to give the impression of tearing flesh.
    • Squelching and bubbling effects to suggest the creature was still alive.
    • Mechanical clicks and pings to remind the player that it was still a weapon.

    This careful layering of sounds helped create an unsettling but intuitive experience for players.

    Building a Scene with Sound

    Chan provided a detailed breakdown of his sound design process using a scene from Prototype. He demonstrated how game audio is constructed layer by layer:

    1. Environmental Ambience – The first layer consisted of background sounds such as distant city noise, wind, and subtle echoes, setting the foundation for the world.
    2. Character Actions – Next, footsteps, breathing, and interactions with the environment were added to reinforce the character’s presence.
    3. Emotional Elements – Music and additional sound cues were introduced to enhance tension, guiding the player’s emotions.
    4. Final Mix – Once all elements were combined, the scene felt alive and convincing, despite being constructed entirely from separate sound sources.

    This method is essential in games, where every sound must be placed with intention. Unlike film, where microphones capture real-world sounds during production, game soundscapes are built from scratch.

    The Risks of Distracting Sound Design

    While sound design enhances immersion, poorly implemented audio can have the opposite effect. Chan discussed how reusing sounds from other games can break immersion. He pointed to Team Fortress 2, which reused audio effects from Half-Life, making the soundscape feel out of place.

    He also shared humorous examples, such as a reimagined Super Mario Bros. scene where realistic voice acting was added to Mario’s jumps, falls, and collisions. The exaggerated grunts and pain sounds turned the classic game into something unintentionally comedic, showing how audio choices can completely shift a game’s tone.

    Another example came from The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, where a voice line was accidentally repeated in the same conversation. These small mistakes, while often unintentional, can pull players out of the experience and serve as a reminder that they are in a game.

    The Human Side of Game Audio

    Chan also discussed the role of voice acting in game sound. He played outtakes from recording sessions, showing how voice actors experiment with different tones and deliveries. He noted that good voice performances must match the world—whether it is gritty realism in Watch Dogs or over-the-top fantasy in Jade Empire.

    He also shared a humorous example from MDK2, where an alien species communicated by expelling gas—a creative but comedic take on alien speech design. While some sounds need to be grounded in reality, others allow for creative and exaggerated approaches.

    Final Thoughts

    David Chan’s lecture provided an insightful look at the complexities of game audio, from crafting subtle background sounds to designing entire worlds through sound alone. His key message was clear: Great game audio should be felt, not noticed.

    When done well, it deepens the player’s immersion, enhances emotions, and makes virtual worlds more believable. Whether creating the ambience of the Old West, the tension of a sci-fi battle, or the chaos of an unseen riot, the principles he shared continue to shape the way game audio is approached today.

The BSc (Hons) Sound Design at Edinburgh Napier University is a comprehensive four-year programme that equips students with the skills to seamlessly integrate sound into various media, products, and environments. The curriculum covers both linear and interactive media, allowing students to specialise in areas such as film, radio, television, theatre, and video games. Collaborative projects with peers from disciplines like Acting, Digital Media, and Games Development are integral to the course, fostering a multidisciplinary approach. Additionally, students benefit from online guest lectures by internationally recognised sound designers, providing valuable industry insights.  

Close up of mixing console in D38