Buried Stars: Take Me Now

The music stage is a place where many stars are born. In front of the world, bearing their emotions in a display of dazzling talent in the spotlight. The appeal shines just as bright for any who so desire, but only the most capable are allowed. Not only must they navigate those they are in competition with, they must also learn how to overcome those who didn’t make it, by choice, by jealousy, or otherwise who seek nothing more than the destruction of those they envy. In the information age, it is just as easy to put those whims out into the world, accessible to everyone, both in the immediate vicinity and complete strangers. And when truth is impossible to discern beneath the mountains of conflicts, manipulations, and outright lies, how can objective truth not only be validated, but confirmable?

Buried Stars is a visual novel directed by Jin Seung-ho and developed by Korean-based Studio Largo. Even amongst its contemporaries its conceptual strength is only outdone by its exceptional execution in the most important elements of the genre. It’s hard to overstate just how impressive the craft and creative energy that is put into it. Especially given that Korean gaming, by and large, does not have the pedigree that Japanese, Polish, French, or North American games have in terms of their quality, audience, and staying power.

The titular music survival competition “Buried Stars” features a group of idols who have had checkered pasts and controversies that saw them leave their groups (either voluntarily or forced) and/or involved in legal trouble given a second chance to remain in the industry, their careers revitalized through record deals should they win, fan votes being the unit of measurement through which their chances of success linger. The format of music survival shows is one that is very popular in Korea, often being the catalyst for groups and soloists to get their start in the music industry.

After the five remaining contestants are each given their ranking and told that those with the least amount of votes will be eliminated from the show, all but ending their dreams of redemption. Soon after the announcement is made, the building collapses, everyone is able to evacuate in time except for the stars currently occupying center stage, a lone staff member, and the producer of the show are trapped in the rubble, leaving them isolated and enclosed in the dilapidated building. No contact with the outside world and only their fellow competitors, they must find a way to survive with both their bodies and minds intact.

You play as Han Do-yoon, the former bassist of the band “Masquerade” who was unfairly ousted by his record company after creatively clashing with the new lead vocalist and standing up for his fellow members who were under attack. Gameplay largely takes place between story segments at short intervals throughout the evening in which it takes place. Given a host of keywords to use, you must discern which piece of information will help you learn more about your competition, while needing to maintain a friendly enough relationship with them and being able to keep a stable sanity, your mental constitution on the edge after the traumatic events which just occurred. Unfortunately many of the interval segments are not made mechanically interesting enough to sustain the run time of the game and frequency of them. The pacing is dragged down as you work to exhaust all of the dialogue options. From a presentation standpoint it wouldn’t have hurt to have Do-yoon move around the stage to communicate with each individual as opposed to having them stand side by side while talking about them still in ear-shot. It makes it feel more like a menu for the player rather than having it blend more seamlessly into the fiction. Fortunately as a visual novel, it doesn’t need to lean on that as heavily as games of different genres might.

It is in its narrative and characters where it makes up for its moment to moment gameplay short comings. The cast of characters is not only wide, but each has a depth and authenticity to them that they are finally able to be more of with the immediate publicity of a live show postponed. Given directives by the crew to embellish and create personas for the audience to latch on to. There is a “kaye-fabe” WWE-esque dynamic between the characters. In a very real and life threatening situation they are each still alluding to the “characters” they were asked to play while recalling their very real and extremely well realized pasts. Focusing on a variety of issues rarely discussed in contemporary Korean art such as the darker elements of the Korean music industry, school violence/bullying, and mental health issues. But rather than invoke these for nothing more than cheap shock value, they are woven into the fabric of the story and informing the characters actions in a way that hides its narrative convenience remarkably well. There is a smart mixture of pure survivalism, the constant weight of the show, their careers hanging in the balance, and their ability to maintain their relationships with each other. The final of which is truly put to the test as they learn that the voting is still going on, and more troubling, still being encouraged, as the stakes are raised ever further and deadlier by a malevolent interloper.

The color palette is one of dark blues, grays and neon signage. The environmental design is a creaking danger of fallen lights, walls ripped apart, the danger of falling debris a constant. Permeating throughout it is a lingering and flickering sense of mourning, that their may be different in a way they never could have foreseen, but that spark of possibility remains, and that temptation, like the collapsed building, is impossible to escape. The soundtrack, while small, does an outstanding job of maintaining tension and confusion. A veritable cacophony of driving synths and electronic ambience to support the current moment and overall tone of the story.

My interpretations of Buried Stars are that it is a critique of the concept of “the show must go on” against the backdrop of social media and the ugliness that it can bring out in us and the influence we can have. We are all passively encouraging each other to have perceptions of truth without knowing it in full, and it is that desire for engagement that has overtaken the weight of truth in society in the information age. No matter how painful of a truth we may hold inside of us, that authenticity deserves to see the light of day in all of its roughness, difficulty, and potential ugliness. But the process of collective discovery has turned into a nihilistic spectacle of ritual humiliation. We’re addicted to the flames as long as it confirms what we believe to be true no matter who it harms or what it turns us into.