The Harmonic Sands of Time: How the Score of Assassin’s Creed Origins Defined Its RPG Reboot
The year was 2017. After a year-long hiatus, the Assassin’s Creed franchise returned not with a incremental update, but with a fundamental reinvention. Assassin’s Creed Origins transported players to the breathtaking and perilous world of Ptolemaic Egypt, shifting the series’ core gameplay from linear action-adventure to a full-fledged open-world RPG. This monumental transition was underscored, and in many ways guided, by a singular, brilliant artistic choice: its score. Composed by the critically acclaimed Sarah Schachner, the music of Origins did not merely accompany the reboot; it became the soul of its new identity, articulating the emotional depth, cultural richness, and epic scale that the new RPG direction demanded.
For a decade, the musical identity of Assassin’s Creed had been powerfully defined by Jesper Kyd’s haunting, ethereal melodies for the Renaissance titles and Lorne Balfe’s swashbuckling brass for Black Flag. These scores excelled at evoking specific historical atmospheres—the intrigue of crowded Italian cities or the freedom of the Caribbean seas. However, with Origins, the requirement was different. The shift to an RPG necessitated a score that could sustain hundreds of hours of exploration, respond to dynamic combat encounters, and, most importantly, forge a deep, personal connection with the protagonist, Bayek of Siwa.
Schachner’s approach was one of profound synthesis. She masterfully wove together three distinct sonic threads to create a tapestry that feels both authentically ancient and emotionally immediate.
First, there is the sound of Place. Ancient Egypt is a land of myth and stark beauty, and the score captures this duality perfectly. Instead of relying on stereotypical "Egyptian" motifs, Schachner employed a vast palette of textures. The haunting strains of the lyre, the breathy tones of the nay flute, and the rhythmic pulse of frame drums ground the player in the specific time and place. Tracks like "The Shimmering Sands" are not grand themes but environmental soundscapes—layers of undulating strings, airy vocals, and subtle metallic percussion that mimic the heat haze rising from the desert and the endless, mesmerizing expanse of dunes. This ambient, almost meditative quality was essential for the RPG format, which encourages slow, immersive exploration over mission-sprinting. The music gives the world itself a voice, making the act of simply traversing the map a meaningful experience.
Second, there is the sound of People. Central to the RPG elements are narrative weight and character development. Bayek is not a silent instrument of the Brotherhood; he is a deeply wounded Medjay, a father and husband driven by a personal vendetta that slowly morphs into a broader ideological struggle. Schachner’s score is the emotional core of his journey. The main theme, first introduced in "Bayek of Siwa," is not a tune of heroic fanfare but a melancholic, intimate melody carried by a lonely vocal and a sparse string accompaniment. It speaks of loss, duty, and a deep love for a homeland scarred by conflict. This personal, introspective quality was a departure from the more external, historical-focus of previous scores. It allows the player to feel Bayek’s pain and resolve, making his evolution from grieving father to founder of a creed profoundly resonant. The music ensures that the RPG’s focus on character is not just a mechanical system of dialogue choices, but an emotional arc.
Finally, there is the sound of System. The RPG mechanics introduced systemic gameplay—dynamic enemy camps, escalating combat, and unpredictable encounters in the wild. Schachner’s score is dynamically integrated to support this. Combat music is not a simple loop but an evolving entity. A tense, percussive bed of tribal drums and anxious strings signals danger ("Echoes in the Desert"). Upon engagement, it erupts into complex, layered rhythms driven by frame drums, duduk, and aggressive string ostinatos, mirroring the chaos of a fight. The music reacts to the player’s actions, rising and falling in intensity, making every skirmish feel uniquely scored. This systemic approach to the music was critical in selling the new, more methodical and skill-based combat of the RPG framework.
The impact of Schachner’s work extends far beyond the boundaries of Origins. It set a new audio precedent for the franchise. The subsequent titles, Odyssey and Valhalla, while having their own distinct musical voices (The Flight’s energetic Greek folk and Einar Selvik’s Norse chants, respectively), fully embraced the template Origins established: a blend of authentic instrumentation, deeply personal themes for the protagonist, and dynamic scoring that supports a living, systemic world.
In conclusion, the score of Assassin’s Creed Origins was far more than background music; it was a foundational pillar of its RPG reboot. Sarah Schachner’s genius lay in her ability to sonically articulate the very essence of this new direction. Her music gives the world its immersive soul, gives the protagonist his emotional heart, and gives the new gameplay systems their thrilling pulse. It proved that in a genre where player agency is paramount, a powerful, adaptive score is not a luxury but a necessity—the invisible hand that guides the player’s emotional journey through a vast and ancient world. The sands of Egypt, through her music, do not just shimmer with heat; they resonate with the pain, triumph, and timeless spirit of those who walk upon them.
