Wildcard Campfire’s debut album, Where God Grew Tired, explores humanity, conflict, and survival through cinematic heavy music. We discuss storytelling, AI, personal experiences, and future ambitions.
1. Where
God Grew Tired is more than a collection of songs; it’s a ten-track journey
through rebellion, war, faith, memory, collapse, and survival. What inspired
you to create this fictional world, and when did you realize that the album
needed a larger narrative connecting its songs?
The
inspiration mainly came from the way I see the world, human behavior, and life
in general. In fact, the desire to create this world was there right from the
beginning.
A lot of
the lyrics had already been sitting with me for years, some as early drafts and
others practically finished. The same goes for some of the riffs and melodies.
Some were already there on the guitar, while others were simply in my head,
waiting for the opportunity to bring them to life.
Music has
always been my way of dealing with things I've experienced, witnessed, or gone
through. I've been connected to music in one way or another since I was very
young, so it naturally became my way of getting those things out.
At some
point, I realized I kept waiting for the perfect moment when I'd have all the
resources, people, and tools to produce everything exactly the way I imagined
it. But between having a family, running a business, and living as a digital
nomad who moves around quite a bit, I realized that perfect moment probably
wasn't going to arrive on its own.
So, I
decided to stop waiting.
I started
taking all the ideas I'd accumulated over the years and building an entire
world around them, complete with its own history, rules, characters, factions,
and relationships. In fact, what people will see in the Lore Book is a fairly
accessible and condensed version of all the world-building I've done behind the
scenes.
So, the
narrative wasn't something I came up with afterward just to connect a bunch of
unrelated songs. The music and the world grew out of the same ideas and
experiences. Eventually, I just reached a point where I decided it was time to
finally bring them to life and share them with other people.
2. The
album is released under the name Wildcard Campfire, a faceless project with a
strong emphasis on storytelling and world-building. Why did you choose to keep
the project's identity faceless, and how does this approach influence the way
listeners connect with the music and its characters?
When we see
the person behind a piece of art, we often end up focusing on that person.
Their appearance, personality, behavior, and everything surrounding them,
rather than necessarily focusing on what they're trying to express through
their work.
Wildcard
Campfire is, first and foremost, a project about telling stories and creating
good, heavy, cinematic music. I wanted those things to be at the center of
attention, rather than the person behind them.
I also
think this approach gives listeners more freedom to interpret things in their
own way. They don't need to see me to imagine the characters or connect with
what those characters are experiencing.
And so far,
it really seems to be working. I get messages from people telling me which
songs they've connected with, how they interpret them, and what emotions those
songs bring out in them. What's interesting is how different those answers can
be. Sometimes people find completely different meanings in the exact same song.
I genuinely
enjoy those conversations. To me, when someone finds something personal in
something I've created, even if their interpretation is different from what I
had in mind when I wrote it, that means I've managed to communicate something
real.
3. The
Ashen Gospel unfolds across three parts: Before the Banners Burn, When the
Banners Burn, and Where God Grew Tired. What does this trilogy represent within
the album's larger story, and why was it important to divide this central
narrative into three distinct chapters?
The Ashen
Gospel is essentially the backbone of the album. While the other songs
introduce personal stories, characters, and moments from different periods
within the world, the trilogy tells the story of the major events that shaped
the civilization as a whole.
Before the
Banners Burn tells the story of the rise of the False Prophet, a leader who
promises people safety, peace, and a better future. He manages to make people
believe in him in a way that closely resembles religious faith, but also the
way people sometimes view political leaders in our own world. At the same time,
a rebellion begins to form among those who can see through his promises.
When the
Banners Burn takes that rebellion and turns it into something much bigger. The
rebellions evolve into wars that continue for generations. The original leaders
die or disappear, but the wars carry on without them. Hatred has become part of
the identity of the different groups, to the point where people continue
fighting even when the original reasons for the conflict have almost been
forgotten.
The third
part, Where God Grew Tired, brings all of this to its devastating conclusion.
The title is meant to convey the idea that after thousands of years of humanity
repeating the same cycles of war, hatred, and destruction, it's as if even God
has finally grown tired of watching it all unfold. Throughout those years,
civilization continues fighting and advancing technologically until it
eventually develops and uses weapons that bring about the near-total
destruction of the world.
It was
important to me to divide the trilogy into three parts so that each stage could
carry its own weight: the promise, the war, and the destruction. That way, the
trilogy tells the bigger story, while the other songs allow us to see what
happens to the people living through those events.
But here's
where things get particularly interesting to me.
The song
ends with the words "The old lie started breathing again", and the
story actually continues in the project's very first single, A Hymn for the
Unburied.
That song
sounds incredibly hopeful, and it really does tell the story of humanity
returning to the surface after spending generations in underground shelters.
But everything these new generations know about human civilization comes from
what was preserved for them, and the figure that appears again and again
throughout that legacy is the False Prophet.
They have
no idea who he was or what he did. To them, he's simply part of the truth they
grew up with.
And that
leaves me with some interesting questions. Did the False Prophet actually
manage to fulfill his promise of a new future, in some completely twisted way?
And if so, was he really a false prophet, or is his story far more complicated
than it first appeared?
After all,
if humanity eventually adopts the same ideology as a whole, maybe many of the
conflicts that led to its destruction really would disappear. But would that be
a genuine utopia, or a deeply unhealthy, uniform civilization where there's no
longer any room for differences, independent thought, or new ideas?
To me, our
differences, our different perspectives, and even our disagreements are a huge
part of what makes humanity interesting and allows us to evolve. Maybe a world
where everyone agrees on everything would be more peaceful, but that doesn't
necessarily mean it would be a better world, or even a more human one.
These are
questions I asked myself throughout the process of building this world, and
they're questions I still ask when I look at the world around us. I don't
necessarily want to provide a definitive answer to them.
In fact,
that's one of the reasons I chose to end this era of Wildcard Campfire at this
particular point. I want to leave listeners with those questions too, and let
each person decide for themselves whether what they've heard is a story about
humanity being saved, or about humanity losing something essential about itself
in the process of surviving.
4. The
album explores how rebellion can evolve into war, how violence becomes embedded
in institutions, and how the past continues to shape future generations. What
ideas about human nature, power, faith, and the repetition of history did you
want to explore through this fictional civilization?
I'm really
glad you asked this! For me, it was less about wanting to explore these
subjects and more about expressing my personal perspective on human nature and
the world we live in.
One of the
most fascinating and frightening things about human nature, to me, is our
ability to justify almost anything when we're convinced that our cause is
righteous. People don't necessarily see themselves as the villains of their own
stories. Sometimes they genuinely believe they're fighting for something good,
even when their actions cause tremendous suffering to others.
You can see
this throughout history. The French Revolution, for example, began with
aspirations for liberty and equality, but also led to the Reign of Terror.
World War II and the Holocaust offer a different, far more extreme and
horrifying example of how an ideology built on hatred and supremacy can become
an entire system of persecution and extermination, one in which ordinary people
also participate.
Religion
and faith also have a place in this discussion. I don't see faith itself as
something negative. It can give people hope, meaning, and tremendous strength.
But history also shows us how it can be exploited to control others. The
Spanish Inquisition, for example, demonstrates how religious institutions and
political power, acting together in the name of absolute truth, can turn faith
into a tool of persecution and coercion.
And I don't
think this is limited to religion at all. Political and national ideologies,
and even ideas like justice and freedom, can become dangerous when people start
believing that their goals justify any means necessary.
What
troubles me most is that when I look at the modern world, at the wars and
conflicts happening around us, the polarization within societies, and even the
way people engage in public discourse, it's sometimes hard not to recognize
those same patterns repeating themselves.
We live in
an age of incredibly advanced technology and almost unlimited access to
information, yet we still manage to divide the world into "us" and
"them," turn entire groups of people into enemies, and justify
actions we'd condemn if they were committed by the other side.
Of course,
I don't believe every conflict is the same, or that all these historical events
are equivalent. But the fear, hatred, desire for power, and our ability to
convince ourselves that we're always the ones in the right remain disturbingly
familiar.
Sometimes I
feel like history doesn't really repeat itself in exactly the same way. It
simply puts on a different mask.
And that's
exactly what I wanted to express through the civilization of Where God Grew
Tired. A world that changes and develops over thousands of years, yet continues
carrying the consequences of decisions, beliefs, and hatreds inherited from the
past.
At the same
time, I don't believe humanity is inherently evil or that we're doomed to
repeat the same mistakes forever. We're capable of tremendous compassion, just
as we're capable of tremendous cruelty.
And maybe,
in the end, the real question isn't why history keeps repeating itself, but why
we keep believing that this time we'll be different.
5. Musically,
Where God Grew Tired moves between melodic metalcore, djent, deathcore
aggression, progressive metal, post-metal atmospheres, and orchestral
arrangements. How do you decide which sounds and styles best serve each song's
story, and how do you maintain a cohesive identity across such a diverse album?
I love a
lot of different musical styles. Mostly heavy music, cinematic music, and
classical music, but I also listen to blues, classic rock, hip-hop, electronic
music, and plenty of other genres. So for me, it was pretty natural that the
album would end up being musically diverse.
When I
start working on a song, I don't necessarily think about which genre it should
belong to. I think more about the feeling I want to communicate. Some stories
need to be aggressive and chaotic, while others need more space, atmosphere, or
melody. Sometimes you need to combine all those things within the same song.
I think
what keeps the album musically cohesive is that, ultimately, I'm the one
writing and directing everything. I've spent over twenty years developing my
identity as a musician, and that identity is still there even when I'm playing
completely different styles of music on my own.
Beyond
that, there are recurring musical motifs, deliberate choices in melodies and
harmonic progressions, and certain approaches to vocal delivery that help
connect the songs.
I define
Wildcard Campfire as a Cinematic Heavy Music project. It's a broad umbrella
that allows me to explore different styles without feeling like I have to
belong to any single genre. As long as the music remains heavy, cinematic, and
serves the story I'm trying to tell, I feel like it's going in the right
direction.
6. You
write the riffs, lyrics, melodies and song structures, and guide the overall
creative direction, while generative AI is used during the performance and
production stages under your direction. Could you walk us through your creative
process, from the first guitar riff or lyrical idea to the finished track? How
do you ensure that the final result reflects your artistic vision?
Great question! I know there's a lot of resistance to AI in music right now, and I do understand where some of it comes from. There's plenty of generic material being produced with it, but I believe that when musicians use it as a tool rather than a replacement for their own creativity, they can create some amazing things.
To me, it's
a technology that allows people with ideas and creativity to bring things to
life even when they don't have all the resources, time, or people needed to do
it the traditional way.
My process
usually starts with the lyrics and the story. I build the world, the situation,
or the character the song revolves around, and I start imagining how the music
should sound to communicate that particular feeling.
From there,
I pick up my guitar and start developing the riffs and melodies. I work out the
overall song structure, BPM, keys and modes, vocal phrasing, how the vocals are
divided between singers, where guitar solos or instrumental sections should
appear, and how all the different parts should fit together.
By that
point, I usually have a pretty clear picture in my head of what I want the
finished song to sound like.
Then I use
AI to bring it into the performance and production stages. It handles a large
part of the technical work, but that absolutely doesn't mean I just take the
first result it gives me and release it. I keep generating new versions until I
find one that gets close to what I was hearing in my head. From there, I work
on that version section by section, changing and refining each part until I get
as close as possible to what I originally imagined.
Once that's
done, I also handle the final mastering myself.
I think the
project's release schedule reflects that process. The final versions of the
album and singles were already ready in May, but I wanted to give them more
time, keep listening, and consider whether there was anything I still wanted to
change before releasing them.
Most of the
songs I've released are definitely not their first or even second versions.
At the end
of the day, what matters to me isn't how quickly I can release music. It's
making sure that what I put out stays as true as possible to what I originally
wanted to create.
7. Several
songs bring the album's enormous fictional world down to a more intimate,
personal level. The Ghosts of My Past explores guilt and trauma, Shackles of
Blood examines violence turning inward, and Paradise Has Walls portrays social
and religious pressure as a personal siege. How do your personal experiences
and broader perspective on the world shape the way you translate these themes
into individual stories within the fictional universe of Where God Grew Tired?
I think
almost everything I write starts somewhere personal, even if it eventually
becomes a fictional story that doesn't necessarily describe something that
literally happened to me.
A lot of
the lyrics were written as a way of dealing with experiences I've had, things
I've witnessed, or emotions that have stayed with me over the years. By giving
those experiences to fictional characters instead of putting myself directly
into the story, I can focus on what I'm trying to express without getting in my
own way. It also gives me the creative freedom to take those feelings somewhere
much more extreme without having to make every song about myself.
The Ghosts
of My Past, for example, deals with the way our past continues to live inside
us. Decisions we regret, guilt, memories, and experiences that don't
necessarily disappear just because time has passed.
Within the
album's story, the song is also a continuation of The Lowest Point. It follows
the character after the experience of imprisonment, exploring the memories and
guilt they carry, and the struggle to learn how to live again without remaining
mentally trapped in that terrible experience. The world around someone can
change completely, but sometimes they're still living inside something that
happened years ago.
Shackles of
Blood takes that idea somewhere much darker, exploring what happens when a
person doesn't just carry the world's violence within them, but eventually
becomes a source of violence themselves. Sometimes the strongest chains are the
ones we forge ourselves through the choices we make, and struggle to escape
afterward.
With
Paradise Has Walls, I wanted to show how things we tend to think of as larger
social, religious, or political systems can affect something as simple and
personal as the love between two people. Sometimes you don't need a war or a
cruel ruler for someone to feel like their freedom has been taken away.
In the case
of this particular song, I can actually share a little of the personal story
behind it without going into too much detail.
My wife and
I were born in different countries. We met when she came to the country I was
born in for a few months, and after she returned to her home country, we spent
a long time dealing with bureaucracy and laws that made it difficult for us to
be together permanently. There were even periods when we couldn't see each
other for months at a time.
That's the
experience the song grew out of. Of course, within the fictional world, I took
those emotions and struggles in a different direction, but the emotional
foundation comes from something we actually went through ourselves.
I don't
think a song has to be autobiographical to be personal. What matters to me is
that the emotion behind it is real.
And the
beautiful thing, to me, is that a listener can take that story and find
something that connects to their own life without even needing to know what
originally inspired me to write it.
8. One
of the album's most intriguing qualities is its willingness to embrace tonal
contrasts. Khinkali Inferno finds humor and human connection amid conflict,
while The Legend of the Shanenigator introduces deliberately absurd lore. What
made you want to include these moments of humor in such a dark, cinematic
universe, and how do they fit into the world you've created?
Because
humor is part of life! Even in our own world, with all the wars, suffering, and
terrible things happening around us, people still laugh, eat, love, and enjoy
the little things.
If I
created a world that consisted of nothing but suffering, war, and death, I
think it would actually feel less human.
Khinkali
Inferno came from wanting to show those moments between battles. In this case,
it's about soldiers taking a break from the war to sit down together and eat
khinkali, a Georgian dish that I absolutely love and became very familiar with
while living in Georgia. Of course, even the meal itself is described almost
like a battlefield, because we're still talking about the world of Where God
Grew Tired.
The Legend
of the Shanenigator is an even more personal and ridiculous story. It was
inspired by my little boy.
I was
sitting at home, and the living room was completely tidy. Then my son came home
from daycare. About five minutes later, I walked through the living room again,
and it looked like a disaster zone. I think pretty much every parent of a
toddler can relate to that.
That got me
imagining what a child like that might be like growing up in a world full of
conflict and chaos, and I took the idea to a completely ridiculous extreme.
That's how the legend of the Shanenigator was born.
Make It Pop
also comes from a personal place, but this time from my work as a developer and
programmer. Anyone who works in a creative field knows that moment when you
have a really good idea, and then comes another request for a change, and
another one, and another revision, until the original idea barely exists
anymore.
I took that
concept in an absurd, morbid direction, where the creative work is literally
portrayed as a corpse, and the client is still asking if we can make it feel a
little more alive.
I really
love humor, and it's part of who I am. And at the end of the day, even with a
dark, cinematic metal album, there's a limit to how seriously you can take
yourself!
9. The
tracklist doesn't follow a straightforward chronological order, instead moving
between different voices, memories, and historical moments. How should
listeners approach the album for the first time? Is there a particular
listening order, lyrical detail, or recurring element they should pay attention
to in order to uncover the connections between the tracks?
For a first
listen, I'd actually recommend starting with the three singles and then moving
on to the album in its official tracklist order.
The only
thing I'd probably change about the singles' release order is to listen to A
Hymn for the Unburied first, followed by The Lowest Point, and then Make It
Pop.
There's a
musical reason for that. The album's tracklist wasn't arranged according to the
world's chronology, but according to how I wanted listeners to experience the
music.
For
example, the album opens with The Beast With My Name, which is a very
aggressive song designed to hit hard right from the start. If I'd arranged the
album chronologically, it would have opened with The Ashen Gospel - I. Before
the Banners Burn, which is much more progressive and cinematic, and might be a
little harder to digest for someone discovering the project for the first time.
For a
second listen, though, I'd suggest trying to follow the world's chronology
instead.
Start with
The Ashen Gospel - I. Before the Banners Burn, move on to Khinkali Inferno, and
then The Ashen Gospel - II. When the Banners Burn.
From there,
you can move through the other songs according to the different periods and
stories they represent. One connection that's particularly important to me in
this sequence is listening to The Lowest Point immediately followed by The
Ghosts of My Past, since they represent two consecutive stages in the same
character's story.
Eventually,
you reach The Ashen Gospel - III. Where God Grew Tired, followed by Make It Pop
after the destruction, and finally A Hymn for the Unburied, which closes the
story.
I'd also
recommend paying attention to recurring motifs like fire, banners, promises,
and faith, and how their meanings change throughout the songs.
I think
these two approaches offer completely different experiences. The first allows
you to simply enjoy the album as music, while the second lets you start
uncovering the story hidden behind it.
10. The
three earlier singles, A Hymn for the Unburied, Make It Pop, and The Lowest
Point, belong to the same era but sit outside the album's ten-track sequence.
What role do these songs play in expanding the world of Where God Grew Tired,
and how did you decide which material belonged on the album itself and which
should remain outside its main tracklist?
The singles
served two purposes for me. They expanded the story, but they also gave me a
way to introduce different sides of the project to listeners before releasing
the album.
I didn't
want to release an album I'd spent so much time working on to an audience that
didn't exist yet. On top of that, the album itself is already around 55 minutes
long, and adding the three singles would have made it a pretty lengthy
listening experience for someone just discovering Wildcard Campfire.
A Hymn for
the Unburied was the first single, and I think it's also one of the most
musically accessible songs I've written for the project. There's something very
nostalgic about it for me. It reminds me of the music that influenced me during
the years when I first started writing and composing.
It also
carries another personal meaning for me. In a way, it represents my own
decision to stop leaving my creative work buried.
Make It Pop
came next to introduce the heavier, more aggressive side of the project and
give listeners who prefer their metal on the more extreme side another reason
to step into this world.
Finally,
The Lowest Point introduced the more progressive and complex side of my
writing, with a longer song structure, technical sections, and different
musical transitions. Emotionally, it's also one of the most personal songs I've
ever written.
Each single
was essentially a different doorway into Wildcard Campfire, and together they
allowed me to show the project's musical and emotional range before the full
album came out.
11. You've
developed a lore book and lyric books to accompany the project, giving
listeners access to the chronology, characters, and deeper connections behind
the music. How important is it for audiences to understand the full story, and
do you see these materials as essential companions to the album or as optional
layers for listeners who want to explore the universe more deeply?
As a
creator, of course I'd love for everyone to know the full story and understand
how all the songs connect. But I absolutely don't think that's a requirement
for enjoying the album.
Even as a
listener myself, I don't always dive into the story behind every song or album
I enjoy. Sometimes the music itself is more than enough.
I see the
Lore Book and lyric books as an additional layer for people who do want to
explore the world more deeply. They offer a closer look at the chronology,
characters, and connections that aren't always obvious just from listening to
the songs.
But I also
love the idea that someone might listen to the album and imagine a slightly
different world from the one I created. At the end of the day, once the music
is out there, it doesn't belong only to me anymore.
The plan is
to make the books available soon through the project's support website, either
separately or as part of a Deluxe Edition of the album, which will also include
the three singles and a reimagined version of one of the album tracks that's
currently in the works.
To me,
these are extra layers of the experience, not homework people need to do in
order to enjoy the music.
12. With
Where God Grew Tired marking Wildcard Campfire's debut album, what would you
like this release to establish about the project's identity and future
direction? Can listeners expect the story to continue beyond this era, perhaps
exploring what happens when humanity returns to a world transformed by the
ruins of its own civilization?
For me,
Where God Grew Tired is really the foundation of the identity I want to build
for Wildcard Campfire. I wanted to establish it as a project that tells stories
through music, without limiting myself to a single genre or type of story.
The
response from listeners so far has been much better than I expected, especially
considering that the first single only came out at the end of June. Beyond the
numbers and statistics, what has made me happiest is the connections I've made
with people through the music. I've met some amazing people and received
support I genuinely wasn't expecting when I started.
As for
continuing the story, I see A Hymn for the Unburied as the closing point of
this era. I wouldn't want to extend the narrative just because I could. I'd
rather move on to a new world where I have something different to say.
I've
already started writing and building the next world of Wildcard Campfire, and
it's going to take a very different direction. This time, I want to focus more
on psychological themes, within a dystopian setting that begins in the near
future. From there, I'll see where the writing takes me. It's entirely possible
that the story could eventually move tens of thousands of years into the
future.
Musically,
I'm currently planning to continue with the workflow I developed during this
album, but my biggest dream is for the project to grow enough that I can bring
in human musicians and vocalists, produce everything organically, and
eventually take Wildcard Campfire to the stage.
I know that
might take time, but I'm patient and willing to put in the work to get there.
In the
meantime, the Where God Grew Tired era isn't completely gone just yet. There
are still a few things I'm working on, including a first guitar playthrough and
attempts to bring in suitable vocalists for vocal playthroughs of songs from
the album. I'm planning to handle the harsh vocals myself.
I'm also
trying to figure out the right way to do all of that while maintaining the
project's faceless aesthetic, so there are still some interesting challenges to
work through.
I think the
most important thing for me going forward is to keep creating things I
genuinely believe in, without feeling like I need to repeat the same formula
just because it worked once.
I want
every new Wildcard Campfire world to feel like it has a genuine reason to
exist, and for every album to give listeners something different to discover.
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