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"The static towers of the Marakan flow have proven to be one of the most popular venues in the Tournaments since their introduction last season. The true nature of the modern gladiator is revealed as participants butcher their way to victory. Whether competing in CTF or Bombing Run competitions, players must keep one thing in mind at all times as they do battle in the poisonous skies of Purgatory -- It's a long way down."

Fan Fiction:
In the poisoned skies above Purgatory, where the storm never sleeps and metal cries under the weight of ceaseless rain, the Marakan Flow towers rise—a stark testament to the ambition and failure of humankind. Once a hub of experimental energy transmission, these towering antennae were part of a colossal effort to harness the electrical currents of Purgatory’s volatile atmosphere. The Marakan Initiative aimed to supply limitless power to colonies spread across barren moons, promising a brighter future for humanity.

But ambition turned to hubris. The installation’s design proved ill-suited to the unrelenting storms of the region. Lightning strikes overloaded circuits faster than they could be repaired, and the corrosive rains ate through even the most advanced alloys. As funding dried up, the once-gleaming platforms were abandoned, left to rot as silent monoliths. Beneath the towers, a graveyard of broken infrastructure sprawled—rusting skeletons of machinery and tangled cables slowly devoured by time and weather.

It was years before the Marakan Flow found new life as an arena for the Tournament. Its grim aesthetic and dangerous environment made it an instant favorite for bloodsport, embodying the ruthless spirit of the games. Competitors are drawn to its treacherous vertical design, where every step on the slick, creaking platforms could spell victory or a fatal plunge into the abyss below. The electrified air, still alive with erratic surges of power, adds another deadly element to the games, as players dodge not just their enemies but the very environment itself.

For the corporations behind the Tournament, Marakan Flow’s story is perfect propaganda. It tells of humanity’s struggle against impossible odds and the glory that comes with overcoming them—even if that glory is won through bloodshed. For the fighters, it’s a test of skill and nerve. And for the spectators, it’s a brutal spectacle, as modern gladiators battle among the towering ruins of a bygone dream. Above it all, the storms rage on, indifferent to the carnage below, as if to remind everyone that even the victors are just fleeting moments in the endless dance of decay and survival.