As a fan of video games, I’ve recently secured myself a Playdate — the intriguing, beautiful and quirky handheld video game system from software developer Panic. The Playdate is quite unlike any other modern games console, firstly because it has a 1-bit, non-backlit, black and white screen (it looks a bit like e-ink), and secondly because it has a crank. The crank is an input device, a way to control games, not a way to charge the device.
One of the initial games that comes with the Playdate is called Whitewater Wipeout, and the concept is simple — you are a surfer, and you use the crank to pull tricks.
Crank!
What you may be thinking at this point is what does any of this have to do with the bit-crunched piece of electronica you find at the bottom of the page. The answer is very little, outside of my own head… But, in my mind, the two things have become intrinsically linked. Whitewater Wipeout actually has its own soundtrack — an 8-bit inspired chugging surf-rock track. But I find myself gravitating towards Emco’s track Betrayal in place of the the game’s actual soundtrack.
There is a combination of beauty and fear in Emco’s Betrayal that feels perfect for my compressed little adventures on the ocean waves. A haunting piano refrain floats like shifting water before a wall of distortion and bass hits you with the force of a rip tide. When I’m pulling triple-360s and racking up combos it feels just right, and then when I smash face-first into the water or get consumed by the advancing wave, it is still perfect.
Betrayal itself was inspired by a time when Emco felt betrayed and left alone — as such it depicts a sense of helplessness, and a story of resilience. Both feel relevant to adventures on the waves, a beautiful and terrifying balance between control and the loss of control.