🍪🎶 Dialogz: Wilbert Roget, II — The Composer Who Turns Worlds Into Music

Hello there, sonic dreamers and world builders. Today we’re talking about the kind of person who shapes how you feel a game long before you notice it — Wilbert Roget, II, Grammy-nominated composer and sound architect of modern gaming worlds.

If you’ve shouted “FOR SUPER EARTH!” in Arrowhead Game Studios’s Helldivers 2, cruised through the eerie highways of Ironwood Studios’ Pacific Drive, or felt the cinematic pulse of Ubisoft and Massive Entertainment – A Ubisoft Studio’s Star Wars: Outlaws, you’ve felt his work. Add to that the weight of Sledgehammer Games’ Call of Duty: WWII, the mech mayhem of BANDAI NAMCO Online Inc.’s Gundam Evolution, and even the orchestrated chaos of NetherRealm Studios (WB Games)’ Mortal Kombat 11 — and you get a career built on soundtracks that don’t decorate worlds, they define them.

Wilbert doesn’t just compose — he engineers emotion. In an era where AI templates threaten to make everything sound “epic,” he’s proof that human instinct still composes the strongest frequency.

🎵 From Silence to Sound

In modern game production, most scores start in a DAW — a digital audio workstation, basically a studio-in-a-screen. Load a few orchestral presets, drag in a cinematic drum loop, and voilà: instant trailer energy. It’s fast, flexible, and completely predictable.

Wilbert Roget, II prefers the opposite. He begins with silence — pencil, paper, and patience. “Fleshing out the composition and production details in music programs can take an extremely long time,” he says. “So I like to make sure that I have a strong basis for the track before potentially wasting time on the PC. Having a paper sketch means I know where the track is headed right from the very start of production, which gives me more control over the listener’s experience through time.”

It’s not nostalgia — it’s a protest. A belief that human intent can’t be shortcut with templates. That creativity should leave smudges on paper before it makes waves on screen.

🦊 Kiki: Pencil and paper? This guy’s a time traveler. I can’t even handwrite my grocery list without switching to Notes halfway through. He’s out here proving art can survive extinction.

🍪 Chip stares at a pencil like it’s an ancient relic, tries to bite it, and gets a splinter.

And maybe that’s why his sound feels alive in an era when everything’s been quantized to death — because he starts where machines can’t: listening to silence.

🧺 Turning Objects into Instruments

Most composers rely on immaculate sound libraries — orchestras, plugins, or thousand-dollar sample packs that make every hit sound cinematic. Wilbert? He raids reality.

For Pacific Drive, a survival road trip through a storm-torn wasteland, he didn’t need studio polish — he needed the sound of a world barely holding together. A squeaky dishwasher door became a synth pad. A friend’s snoring transformed into ambient effects. Rust, hum, and human imperfection turned into rhythm.

“I just hear things I think sound interesting,” he says. “I record them on my phone and play around later. Often I’m surprised by what some of these real-world sounds can become when run through samplers and effects.”

🦊 Kiki: Bro recorded a snoring friend and turned it into art. I delete voice notes that sound like I’m breathing too loud. Man’s making music out of real-life glitches.

🍪 Chip instantly hits “record” on his phone, captures his own chew sounds, then gasps in horror at playback.

🎭 Inside the Soldier’s Head

Game soundtracks usually act like narrators — big, emotional guides that tell you when to feel heroic or sad. But what happens when the composer decides to step inside the character instead of hovering above them?

While working on Star Wars: First Assault, an unreleased first-person shooter, Wilbert decided to try something few had done before — he composed from the character’s perspective. He calls it first-person composing: writing music as if the player were hearing their own thoughts.

“If I had scored the game using a typical cinematic ‘third-person’ perspective, it might’ve sounded colder and more generic,” he recalls. “The goal was to paint both sides equally — Rebels and Stormtroopers — and sell the experience of an individual soldier on the battlefield. So I’d load into a level alone, walk around, and imagine how I’d feel in that moment. The in-game music I wrote was much quieter, yet more intense and suspenseful.”

Picture it: a silent hangar, flickering lights, your breath echoing in a helmet — and the music doesn’t announce your bravery; it listens to your fear.

🦊 Kiki: Scoring from the soldier’s POV? That’s wild. Most games tell you when to feel brave — he’s writing the anxiety you’re pretending you don’t have.

🍪 Chip hides under a helmet way too big for him, muffled squeaks echoing like battlefield radio chatter.

🎨 Painting with Color

Some composers read scripts. Wilbert reads light.

When scoring Call of Duty: WWII, he noticed the whole game was tinted in blue-gray melancholy — desaturated and historical, like a memory trying to stay alive. To match that feeling, he didn’t just imitate the emotion; he mirrored the palette.

“I think my Call of Duty: WWII score was the most directly influenced by color palette,” he explains. “I noticed the art direction favored a desaturated blueish tint, giving the visuals a historical vibe that I wanted to match with my music. So I frequently used piano to double the low strings, as well as scrap metal and WWII weapon and vehicle SFX processed through heavy reverbs and delays, to give a hazy blue feel throughout the score.”

The result isn’t a “war soundtrack.” It’s visual memory turned sonic — the kind of score that feels like frost settling on metal.

🦊 Kiki: Matching music to color palette? Okay, Picasso. I just found out my monitor’s on “vivid mode.” I’m getting serious Expedition 33 vibes here BTW.

🍪 Chip adjusts the monitor to “sad blue,” sighs dramatically, and holds up a paintbrush dipped in digital pixels.

🕰️ Balancing the Past and the Present

Historical shooters come with baggage. Everyone expects brass, snares, and patriotic swells. It’s easy to make them sound right — it’s harder to make them sound fresh.

“This was indeed a very difficult line to tread,” Wilbert admits. “The score is brassy and orchestral to capture the WWII setting, but I specifically didn’t write any trumpet or high woodwind parts, to avoid the score sounding dated. We also needed to give the impression of being modern without using any overtly modern sounds – I used large toms and dhol ensembles played very quietly, as well as fast rhythmic string quartet parts, to give more energy to our action cues without needing the typical synths expected in a modern score.”

By stripping away clichés, he built something paradoxical — music that respects history without sounding like it’s trapped in it.

🦊 Kiki: I’m gonna be honest — this part flies right over my “sophisticated listener” radar. My freshness meter caps at gaming T-shirts, and when I think WWII sounds, it’s just the classic bomb alarm in my head. But hey, if someone can make that era feel new without synth drops, respect.

🍪 Chip cups his ears, imitates a bomb siren badly, then throws himself to the floor dramatically.

🎮 Composing with the Game

In big productions, studios often bring composers in early — sometimes before the game even plays right. They want “mood pieces” for trailers, investor decks, or tone-setting. But Wilbert prefers to wait until the game moves — when its identity isn’t theoretical anymore.

“It’s always nice to be involved early,” he says, “but the gameplay itself informs so many of my decisions that it doesn’t make sense to start a game score before some gameplay pillars have been established.”

That patience is rare. It means he’s not just writing music for a game; he’s writing with it — letting pacing, physics, and player rhythm shape the soundtrack from within.

🦊 Kiki: Knowing my patience? Yeah, no. I’d get way too involved. I’d end up in the studio smacking writers and designers on the head like, “MOVE. I’ll do it myself.” The fact he can just wait for gameplay to be ready is god-tier discipline.

🍪 Chip flails with a tiny clipboard, trying to direct imaginary developers, trips over a cable, and rage-quits mid-air.

🎧 Old Lessons for New Creators

When people ask how to become a better composer today, most expect an answer full of plug-ins, sample packs, or maybe an AI tip. Wilbert’s answer sounds almost primitive — and that’s exactly why it’s brilliant.

“Listening to classic game music — particularly the SNES era — and transcribing by ear is a fantastic way to learn,” he says. “SNES music generally has a limit of eight simultaneous voices, and the samples themselves will be relatively dry and clear both in the production and rhythm, so it’s the easiest place to start.”

Eight tracks. No symphony. No effects rack. Just melody, harmony, and intention. That’s how some of gaming’s most unforgettable themes were born — not because composers had everything, but because they didn’t.

🦊 Kiki: I’m gonna be real — I have no clue what “eight channels” means, but I love SNES soundtracks. My rule is simple: if I can hum it in my brain without lyrics, that’s a certified good beat. You can build whole worlds out of that kind of melody.

🍪 Chip hums something vaguely 16-bit, gets too into it, and accidentally blows a tiny bubble from his headphone jack.

🔀 Crossovers and Chaos

The lines between genres are dissolving fast. Game scores aren’t confined to orchestras anymore — they sample trap drums, club bass, and even protest beats. Wilbert’s no exception; his playlists are as unpredictable as his compositions.

“I started getting into M.I.A.’s music a few years ago,” he says, laughing. “I’m certain some influence from her brilliant production style and beats found its way into my Outlaws score!”

You can hear it — the swagger in the percussion, the subversive energy that makes Star Wars: Outlaws feel less like a space opera and more like a rebellion with a rhythm.

🦊 Kiki: Ok, I’ll say it — I’d rather hear Will’s music in an actually good game. The man’s out here dropping masterpieces and I’m over on YouTube listening to them without context. What a crime.

🍪 Chip scrolls through YouTube playlists, nodding solemnly, then accidentally adds “lofi Imperial March – 10 hours” to favorites.

🔮 The Future of Game Music

There was a time when a soundtrack just played — a loop that rose in combat, quieted in dialogue, then faded out when you paused. But as games became more reactive, so did their music. Now entire systems decide when to swell or fall silent, syncing every emotion to your movement.

Wilbert’s fascinated by the people building that future — the music designers. “They’re the team members who edit, implement, and design interactive music systems,” he explains. “More than ever, they’re being hired internally to studios rather than relying on publishers or composers to handle implementation. It’s a small community, but constantly innovating — sharing ideas at places like GDC and GameSoundCon.”

It’s the next step in game storytelling: music that doesn’t just score the world — it feels it back.

🦊 Kiki: Funny how taking things away from publishers somehow makes everything better. Maybe that’s the real next-gen feature no one’s talking about.

🍪 Chip nods wisely, scribbles “REMOVE PUBLISHER DLC” on a sticky note, and slaps it on his monitor like a manifesto.

🎥 From the Studio to the Screen

Game soundtracks are getting so cinematic that sometimes it feels like Hollywood is catching up. Helldivers 2 is a perfect example — part satire, part chaos, and built around a theme that sounds like it was made for surround sound and stadium speakers.

So when we ask Wilbert if he’d want to score a Helldivers movie, he doesn’t hesitate. “I would of course love to be involved,” he says. “There are many different directions the film could take — satire or serious, comedy or horror — but there surely would be at least one planetary dive scene, and it would be a shame if it didn’t incorporate the Helldiver theme somehow!”

🦊 Kiki: I can already see it — me with a bucket of popcorn, waiting for the lights to dim just to hear the Helldivers anthem blast in full Dolby Atmos. That’s cinema.

🍪 Chip stands on the armrest beside her, holding a tiny popcorn bucket, saluting as the imaginary trailer begins.

🕵️ Missions, Heists, and Dreams

Every composer has a fantasy gig — that one world where their music would just click. For Wilbert, that world involves gadgets, double-crosses, and laser alarms. “I recently watched all eight Mission: Impossible films,” he says. “I’d love to score a game in that universe — or anything like James Bond or Lupin. Working on Star Wars: Outlaws was a dream come true, especially as a longtime Metal Gear fan, and it’d be incredibly fun to work on more stealth and espionage titles in the future.”

You can tell why. His tracks already move like spy plans — slick, confident, seconds away from chaos. The kind of sound that makes you feel like you could pick a lock or pull off a heist, even if you can barely open a jar.

🦊 Kiki: Yeah, give me that game. I’d spend half the mission crouched in a corner, scared out of my mind, but the soundtrack would convince me I’m pulling the cleanest operation of my life. That’s good music — it lies for you.

🍪 Chip tries to hide under a cardboard box, instantly sneezes, and blows his own cover.

🍪 Last Bite

Wilbert Roget, II doesn’t just compose — he listens differently. He sketches melodies like blueprints, samples the noise the rest of us ignore, and writes from somewhere deep inside the player’s heartbeat.

From the patriotic chaos of Helldivers 2 to the lonely highways of Pacific Drive and the cinematic pulse of Star Wars: Outlaws, his work proves something easy to forget: music isn’t background. It’s architecture for emotion.

🦊 Kiki: He’s proof that even in an industry chasing algorithms, soul still has better rhythm.

🍪 Chip sways gently, crumbs glimmering like stardust.

So stay curious. Keep hearing the world as music. And remember — even a squeaky dishwasher can sing.

✉️ Got a tip or want to collab? Write us here!

💌 Subscribe & share!