Warhammer 40,000: Space Marine - The Soundtrack (2LP) - Blue Opaque/White Vinyl

Warhammer 40,000: Space Marine – The Soundtrack is one of those game scores that lands with the weight of a Drop Pod. Scored by Cris Velasco and Sascha Dikiciyan, it arrived in 2011 alongside Relic’s chainsword-swinging third person brawler and immediately set the tone for a universe where heroism and horror share the same cathedral-sized corridors. If you remember Captain Titus stomping through manufactorums and across battle-scarred forges, you’ll remember the music, because it makes the war feel grand, not just loud.

Velasco, whose name many will know from his God of War contributions, brings that operatic sense of scale, the brass and choir that feel like they’ve been chiselled from granite. Dikiciyan, better known to some as Sonic Mayhem from the Quake II era, threads in a taut industrial pulse and modern edge. Together they build a hybrid orchestral sound that fits Warhammer to a tee. It is stern but not stiff, brutal yet noble, and it lets a bit of tragic beauty bleed through the armour.

What sticks out on a fresh listen is the way themes feel sculpted for the factions and spaces you move through. The Ultramarines get stoic motifs that rise in steps, almost like a ritual march, then open into wide harmonies that catch a bit of light off the ceramite. When Chaos turns up, the harmony curdles and the percussion turns predatory. Strings grind, the low brass growls, and there’s this whisper of choir that feels like it’s chanting from some relic-choked chapel. You don’t need on-screen prompts to know the stakes have shifted.

The action writing is busy, but never messy. The percussion sections have real heft, not just volume. Kettledrums, snares, and metallic hits interlock like plate armour, and the rhythmic figures do the heavy lifting without smearing the mix. When the electronics arrive, they sit under the orchestra rather than smothering it. You get a bed of synths that adds momentum and modern menace, which is very much Dikiciyan’s lane, but the melodic spine stays orchestral, which is where Velasco shines. It’s a strong partnership, and you can hear the trust between them in the way motifs are handed back and forth.

There are moments of pause too. Between the firefights, the score breathes with brooding cues that give you a look at the scale of the Imperium. Low organ-like tones, sustained strings, a distant horn call, and that faint, reverent choral colour that hints at relics and a thousand years of crusades. It is not schmaltzy. It’s more like the sound of a stained glass window after a bomb blast, dust hanging in the light.

If you’re chasing game music that stands up away from the screen, this holds its own. The sequencing builds a proper arc, the production is punchy without clipping, and the dynamic range lets the quiet parts earn their place. On headphones you can pick out the layering in the percussion and the way the choir wafts in, but it’s even better through speakers where the brass can bloom a bit. I keep thinking how good a cut of Warhammer 40,000: Space Marine – The Soundtrack vinyl would feel on a serious system. The low toms would hit the chest, the choir would sit in the room like incense, and those big brass statements would roll out like an orbital strike.

As for lineage, it sits comfortably next to other heavy hitters of the era, but it avoids the copycat trailer tropes that dated a lot of early 2010s scores. You can hear the shared DNA with Velasco’s other work, but the Warhammer voice is distinct. Fans still talk about this one as a highlight of the game, which says plenty given how beloved the armour-clad melee feels in hindsight.

Collectors take note. If you’re on the hunt for Cris Velasco vinyl or Sascha Dikiciyan in the stacks, keep this on the wishlist. There have been on-and-off rumours about pressings for various Warhammer scores, and if Space Marine gets the treatment it will be snapped up fast. If you like to buy Cris Velasco records online, or you’re combing a Melbourne record store on a Saturday arvo, the combination of choral grandeur and industrial heft would make this a tidy companion to other Cris Velasco albums on vinyl. It’s the sort of title people ask about when they’re flipping through video game vinyl in shops that specialise in vinyl records Australia wide.

In the end, this soundtrack does what good Warhammer art does. It makes the universe feel impossibly large, and it gives the blue-armoured heroes a sound as big as their myth. Eleven years on, it still carries that weight. Put it on, close your eyes, and the Bolter smoke practically writes itself.