You're not sure what this "AMERICA" thing is, or why it needs saving, but you'll be damned if you won't become its PRESIDENT and pilot this unstoppable war machine per some ill-conceived Metal Wolf Chaos fantasy.

You tuck yourself into the snug confines of the mecha's CONTROL FORT.

You're here for two things: to rain unspeakable devastation down on the forces of evil, and to flail your limbs about in a playful manner.

AND YOU HAVE NO ROOM IN YOUR FORT TO FLAIL ABOUT WHATSOEVER.

But it seems you are not in control of the mecha at all. It appears to operate entirely of its own accord.

The sobering reality settles in. This infernal contraption will be your grave.