Add to the intensity. Picture this:
You're walking through the Hills, a barren landscape where the ground is soaked with the blood of the perpetual, walking dead. The sky is scorched, bloodied. Mist coils around you like death. A flash! A shocktrooper is upon you, weapon drawn and pointed at your face. It's over. Darkness. He is gone. Was it an illusion? A fabrication of the anxious mind? How the hell are you going to get out of here? You clutch your worthless weapons with sweaty hands. Your feet sink into the moist ground.
Now imagine that same tension except throw in that you know - absolutely know - that at any second your 360 is going to go tits up. It's enough to send you reaching for a stiff drink. Calm your nerves, my lucid dreaming friend. It's okay. Everything is still green. Super green. The red lights are stalking you, yes, but your time has not come yet. I've put your head ball back together. This was only a test. You have passed.