The long treacherous highway to Shatterdome is littered with wreckage. It dominates the horizon of the Fallen Desert. Among synth pulses and discordant alarms, we dodge exploding bombs and rival factions' war machines, until we reach the gate. Thunderous percussion and electric guitars herald the beginning of the Tournament. And we're just in time to claim our rightful bounty.

Something will be done. Low synth pulses and clicking clocks portend the precipice of the point of no return. Ripping electric guitar riffs and chest-pounding percussion dominate the scene. It's almost time now. The trigger will be tripped. The Protocol that was foretold would be the first offensive strike back against the machines. And it's down to this moment.

War bells from on high ring out alongside bending braams, disquieting risers and face-melting braams and SFX. The immovable object demands attention. Its constant motion powers the enemy's forces of destruction. But not after today. The chaos of the fight intenstifies with stuttered and panning stingers and synths, risers that pull the Rebel foces out of their malaise, bring them to the doorstep of victory.

Oh. It's you. We meet again. Ominous atmospheres, distant pianos, swirling SFX and massive percussion warn me it's time for another fight. The last fight. There won't be any doubt as LFO synths oscillate among glorious, action-packed, driving insanity. Just when you think the fight is over, the tides turn. The percussion intensifies, the battle is internal and eternal. The battle is mine.

This beacon has to reach the tower and the only thing in the way is an army of synths. Better get grinding. Cool synths and huge slams pace your battle against the clock with ticking percussion and a killer ambience. Lock and load.

Now you're all in big trouble. New gun, endless ammo and a bad attitude check, check and check. Gun clicks, huge drums, distorted screaming guitars and a synth pace just screams...time for the PAIN!

It's a desperate race against the clock before this whole thing blows. Kick in the nitros it's gonna be a close call. Cool modern synths, a captivating mix of tribal percussion and surprising drums pace this energetic, heart pounding escape.

Setting course for the data hub with ill intent on our minds, this one is gonna leave a mark. Breakneck pacing and dirty-ass synths highlight this anthem of future war against the machines. Hold on to your butts.