Turbo Pudding

LoudnikThe real story

The real story behind Monotone’s note

· The Turbo Pudding team · 5 min read

Night Highway, on a dark navy background with thin lane lines: Volta’s ship, a white and lilac arrowhead with a round speaker in the middle and mint-green wing tips, flies right under a Jammer, a gray box with slats, a dark red light in its corner and two small lamps at the bottom, with a little white screen under it; a big ring of glowing green notes with curling tails swirls around the two of them, two pink bullets hang on the right, and two more Jammers shaped like tilted flat panels peek in from the right edge

Out in the Airwaves, the galaxy of Loudnik, sound carries through space, and every planet is a radio station with its own song. Then Monotone, a conductor machine, decides there is only one right sound in the universe: a clean A at 440 hertz. Everything else is noise. It’s Thursday, the day for the real story, and that one sentence holds two of them. A real radio station has been playing that very A since 1936, and real space turns out to have a note of its own.

The picture at the top is Night Highway, the neon city where every billboard shows Monotone. Volta’s ship has flown right up under one of his Jammers, a gray box with slats and a red light in the corner, and the green notes of her shots are swirling all around it.

A note with a number

440 hertz means 440 vibrations every second. On a piano, it’s the A just above middle C. Monotone’s whole plan comes down to that one number. As far as he’s concerned, everything else is noise.

Under the hood, every note in Loudnik is worked out from that same number. The game plays its songs live, and to find the pitch of any note, it starts from A at 440 hertz and counts up or down from there. So every song Volta fires at the Jammers is tuned, quite literally, to Monotone’s favorite note.

You can even hear the A on its own. When a boss arrives, a warning sounds three times. Each starts on exactly 440 hertz, then slides up and away, with a lower A, at 220 hertz, humming underneath.

Speaker Canyon, on a dark brown background with low ridges shaped like dunes: Volta’s ship, a white and lilac arrowhead with a round speaker in the middle and lime-green wing tips, flies up through a broken ring of glowing pink bullets while an arc of small lime-green shots flies ahead of it; at the top a Jammer bursts in a flash of yellow and white sparks inside a pale ring, a faint gray music note floats on the left, and in the lower right corner stand the big round speaker cones of an amp stack
Typed “bullet hell music game.” Got a canyon made of amps.

A real station that plays it

Monotone would be pleased to learn that his A is already on the air. In the United States, the National Institute of Standards and Technology, NIST for short, runs a radio station called WWV, and once an hour it broadcasts a steady 440-hertz tone.

The station began with test broadcasts from Washington, D.C., in May 1920, and what it played back then was concerts, on Friday evenings. In January 1931 it moved to College Park, Maryland. The tone arrived in August 1936, added at the request of several musical organizations. In 1966, the decision was made to move WWV to its current home near Fort Collins, Colorado. So the station that plays Monotone’s note got its start with Friday night concerts. Volta would approve of that part.

The A still goes out today, on a schedule: in the second minute of each hour on WWV, and in the first minute on WWVH, NIST’s other station. It’s left out in the first hour of every day, counted in Coordinated Universal Time. And these days it isn’t really for musicians. It works as an hourly marker for chart recorders and other automatic machines.

Volta’s hideout, Pirate Cove, is an asteroid belt full of old relay masts.

Pirate Cove, on a deep indigo sky with faint stars: Volta’s ship, the white and lilac arrowhead with cyan wing tips, flies past a dim purple asteroid with a thin old relay mast on it and fires a row of four pale blue bars; above it, a pink satellite with two blue solar panels is cracked and crackling with white sparks, two gray teardrop Jammers with antennas and red lights hang on either side, and two gold guitar picks fall on the right
Search: “space shooter satellite.” This one is having a bad day.

Could sound really cross space?

In the Airwaves, sound carries through space. In our universe, it mostly can’t. NASA explains where the popular idea that there’s no sound in space comes from: most of space is close to empty, so sound waves have nothing to travel through.

Radio has no such problem. Radio waves belong to the same family as light, the electromagnetic spectrum, and they travel at the speed of light, 299,792,458 meters per second in a vacuum. That’s how NASA talks to its spacecraft. The New Horizons probe uses a dish antenna 2.1 meters across to keep in touch with Earth from as far as 7.5 billion kilometers away. A real pirate station in space would have to broadcast by radio.

The Armada, in deep navy space: Volta’s ship, the white and lilac arrowhead, flies through a crowd of big glowing purple bullets and smaller pink ones, while a pale green arc of sound rises above it and a scatter of gold guitar picks tumbles down on the right; the dark gray hull of a battleship with a round hatch fills the lower left corner
Searched “space shooter coins.” Got guitar picks instead.

The lowest note in the universe

Space isn’t completely empty, though, and in one place it really does sing. The Perseus galaxy cluster, 250 million light-years from Earth, is full of hot gas, and the black hole at its center sends out pressure waves that make ripples in that gas. In 2003, NASA reported that those ripples add up to a note.

The note is a B flat, 57 octaves below middle C. A regular piano covers about seven octaves. The frequency is more than a million billion times lower than the lowest sound a human can hear, and it’s the deepest note ever found coming from any object in the universe. It has kept roughly the same pitch for about 2.5 billion years.

In 2022, for NASA’s Black Hole Week, the sound was finally turned into something people can hear. To get there, it was raised by 57 and 58 octaves, which means 144 quadrillion and 288 quadrillion times higher than its real frequency.

So Monotone has a rival. He wanted the whole universe on one note, and it turns out the universe already had one. It isn’t even an A. It’s a B flat, the very next key up on a piano, only a long, long way further down.

Pirate Cove, Disco Rings and Bell Garden, the first three stations, are free to play in your browser at loudnik.com. The full game, all ten stations, is $4.99, paid once. More about the game is on its Loudnik page.

More about Loudnik

LoudnikMeet the cast

Loudnik: meet Volta, Bobina and the Jammers

Who’s who in Loudnik’s first three stations: a pirate DJ, a cassette robot, a machine that loves one note and the gray army that switches the galaxy off.