David Levy has built a career around finding the sweet spot between chaos and control. From scoring Rooster Teeth's RWBY and gen:LOCK to stepping into the Doom Eternal: The Ancient Gods universe and Justice League x RWBY, David has carved out a signature voice rooted in aggressive rhythm, modular sound design, and a producer's obsession with weight. He is also one of the creative minds behind two of Heavyocity's most distinct instruments to date — Oblivion and Oblivion Drums. We sat down with him to talk about following Mick Gordon on Doom, his remedy for writer's block and the gear keeping his rig dangerous, and what he was chasing sonically when he turned his drum-production process into a sample library:
Doom Eternal: The Ancient Gods was a defining moment for your sound. Can you walk us through how you approached following Mick Gordon's run and finding your own voice in that universe?
The first thing I did was panic, because those were obviously some very big shoes to fill. Doom already had such a strong musical identity, and Mick’s work played a massive role in defining that sound for modern audiences. So for me, the challenge was never to imitate what he had done, but to understand the core DNA of that universe and find a way to contribute something that felt authentic while still having my own fingerprints on it.
I quickly realized there were two elements that had to be present in every cue for it to feel like it belonged in Doom. The first was that relentless sense of pulse and forward momentum. The music needed to move. It needed groove, aggression, and a hook that could drive the gameplay without feeling static. The second was the overall sense of menace. It had to feel dangerous, heavy, and almost oppressive. If one of those elements was missing, the cue simply didn’t work.
From there, I spent a lot of time building the tracks in layers and experimenting with different gear, plugins, pedals, and processing chains to find sounds that felt raw, distorted, and brutal, but still controlled. A big part of the process was finding the balance between chaos and clarity. The music needed to feel gnarly and unhinged, but it still had to punch through and support the gameplay.
Ultimately, my goal was to honor what had already been established while bringing my own perspective to it. I wanted the music to feel like it could live in the same universe as Mick’s work, but not sound like a copy of it. That balance of respecting the existing sonic language while pushing myself to find my own voice inside it was probably the most important part of the process.
Oblivion was the first instrument that captured your signature sound. Walking into the Oblivion Drums collaboration, what did you want to do differently — or push further — this time?
With Oblivion Drums, I wanted to push the aggression even further. The goal was pretty simple: create some of the heaviest, nastiest, most mix-ready drums possible — drums that could cut through almost anything.
I often build those kinds of sounds when I’m scoring, but the process is incredibly complex and time-consuming. To get drums to feel that big, aggressive, and cinematic, I’m usually stacking dozens of samples, running them through complicated analog chains, distorting them, compressing them, mangling them, and then trying to keep all of that power from turning into a mess. It can take hours just to get one drum sound to sit right.
So with this instrument, I wanted to capture that entire process and make it instantly playable. I wanted the sound of a fully processed, custom-built drum chain available right out of the box, without losing the weight, punch, or character that comes from doing it the hard way.
The exciting thing is that I really feel like we achieved that. Oblivion Drums has that bold, brutal, larger-than-life quality I’m always chasing, but it’s immediate. You can load it up and get that sound quickly, which is exactly what I wanted from the beginning.
Oblivion Drums was built around your aggressive drum sound, captured through Heavyocity's catalogue and sampling criteria. What surprised you about translating a personal playing/production approach into a sample library someone else will perform?
What surprised me most was the sheer level of detail involved. I knew Heavyocity had an incredibly high standard, but seeing their sampling process up close was a real eye-opener. It gave me a much deeper appreciation for why their instruments feel the way they do.
When you’re creating sounds for yourself, you can get away with a certain amount of instinct and imperfection. You build the sound, perform the part, process it until it works, and move on. But when you’re turning that sound into an instrument for other people, it has to respond musically across a much wider range of uses. It can’t just sound good once. It has to feel good under someone else’s hands.
That’s where the sampling detail became so important. I remember asking things like, “Do we really need that many velocity layers?” or “That many round robins, really?” And the answer was absolutely yes. They were completely right. Those details are what make the instrument feel dynamic and alive. The aggression is there, but it doesn’t feel static or repetitive. Every hit has variation, movement, and response. That was the biggest lesson for me: capturing a sound is one thing, but making it playable and expressive is a completely different art form.
For a composer who buys Oblivion Drums on day one — what's the patch or workflow you'd point them to first to "get it"?
I would honestly start with the loops. They’re immediately fun and probably the fastest way to understand the personality of the instrument.
The loops really show what Oblivion Drums is about: weight, aggression, movement, and attitude. They can instantly spark ideas, whether you use them as the foundation of a cue or just as a starting point to build your own rhythm around.
From there, I’d start layering individual hits underneath or on top of the loops to customize the groove and make it your own. That’s where the instrument really opens up. You can get something exciting happening very quickly, but there’s also plenty of depth if you want to dig in and shape the sound further.
So my advice would be: load up the loops, find something that hits you immediately, and start building around it. That’s the quickest way to “get” the instrument.
You're self-taught, came up through audio engineering at Power Station, and started full-time composing in 2011. Looking back, how did the engineer's ear shape the composer you became?
Coming from an engineering background helped me tremendously, especially early on. At the time, I didn’t have the same depth of experience in composition, production, or sound design that I have now, but I did understand how to make things sound big, polished, and expensive.
Working on large-format consoles and outboard gear at Power Station taught me how to listen critically, not just to notes, but to weight, depth, transients, space, saturation, and how every element sits inside a mix. That became a huge part of my identity as a composer. I wasn’t only thinking about what the music should be doing emotionally or melodically; I was also thinking about how it should physically hit the listener.
That engineering experience gave me the confidence to push sounds harder. I knew how to use compression, EQ, saturation, distortion, and mastering techniques to take instruments right up to the edge without completely losing control. That was especially useful when I was still developing my compositional voice, because I could make my work feel larger and more finished from a production standpoint.
Of course, mixing in the box with plugins is not the same as working on a massive analog console, but the concepts translate. Gain staging, tone shaping, dynamics, space, impact, clarity, those things are universal. The tools changed, but the listening skills carried over.
In a lot of ways, I think the engineer’s ear made me a more production-minded composer. I’m always thinking about the final sound, even from the first idea. For better or worse, I rarely separate the writing from the mix. They’re part of the same creative process for me.
Piano at 7, drums at 14, guitar and cello in your 20s — what does being a multi-instrumentalist do for you when you're writing for picture?
I was pushed into piano pretty early because my dad is a prodigy pianist. Naturally, as a kid, I wanted nothing to do with it. I took lessons for a few years, hated the structure of it, and eventually abandoned the instrument completely.
Years later, I picked up drums, and that was the first instrument that really clicked for me. It felt physical and instinctive in a way piano never did at the time. Rhythm became a huge part of how I understood music, and I think that still shows up in a lot of my writing.
Guitar, cello, violin, and viola came much later, mostly out of necessity. I wasn’t trying to become a virtuoso on all of them. I just wanted my scores to feel more alive and more human. Sample libraries can be incredibly powerful, but I quickly realized that even the best libraries can sometimes miss that imperfect, expressive quality of a real performance.
So I started learning those instruments enough to use them as a kind of “first chair” layer over the samples. I would write the larger arrangement with libraries, then track real single-line parts on top, cello, violin, viola, or guitar, to add movement, imperfection, and personality.
That made a huge difference. Even a simple real performance layered into a cue can trick the ear into feeling like the whole thing is more organic. The small inconsistencies, the bow noise, the phrasing, the way a note speaks slightly differently each time, those details matter.
Being a multi-instrumentalist also helps me write more naturally for the instruments. Even if I’m not playing everything at a concert level, having my hands on the instrument teaches me what feels physical, what feels awkward, and what kind of phrasing makes sense. For picture, that’s really valuable, because the goal is not just to write impressive parts. It’s to create something that feels believable, emotional, and connected to what’s happening on screen.
Biggest musical influences — both inside and outside film/game scoring?
That’s always a hard question, because I think influence is more cumulative than singular. It’s not usually one artist or one score. It’s everything you’ve absorbed over time, all getting stirred together.
For me, that goes back to the bands I listened to as a teenager, Foo Fighters, Radiohead, Primus, Slipknot, Dream Theater, and Tool to name a few. Those artists shaped the way I think about energy, groove, aggression, and texture. Even if I’m not writing anything that sounds directly like those bands, that influence is still somewhere in the DNA.
On the scoring side, films like The Matrix, Blade Runner, and Dune made a huge impact on me. They each have such a distinct sonic identity. They’re not just scores that support the picture; they help define the world. That’s something I’m always drawn to, music that feels inseparable from the universe it belongs to.
As far as composers, Hans Zimmer, Brian Tyler, Mick Gordon, and Sarah Schachner are all big ones for me. They each have a very recognizable voice and a willingness to push the sound of scoring forward. I’m especially inspired by composers who are not just writing music, but building entire sonic languages around a project.
So I’d say my influences are a mix of bands, scores, sounds, production styles, and specific composers. It all ends up feeding the same thing: trying to create music with a strong identity, emotional weight, and a sound that feels memorable.
How do you start a piece — especially when the brief is "aggressive" or "heavy"? What's the dramatic question you're trying to answer before you pick a sound?
Before I write anything, I try to figure out the sonic world of the cue. That’s usually the first big question: what does this piece want to be made of? Is it mostly organic and acoustic? Is it synth-driven? Is it hybrid? Does it live in a gritty industrial space, or something more cinematic and polished?
From there, I think about scale. Is this supposed to feel intimate and tense, or massive and over the top? With aggressive music, the answer is usually “big”, or at least, it eventually needs to get there! But even then, I want to know how big, how soon, and how much room the cue has to grow.
Once I understand the world and the scale, I start curating the palette. That means choosing the right synths, sample libraries, acoustic instruments, drums, guitars, or processing chains. Not every synth works for every track. Not every drum sound belongs in every cue. A lot of the work happens before the writing even starts, because the wrong sound can push the whole piece in the wrong direction.
Then I usually begin with rhythm. As a drummer, that’s almost always my way in. It might be a drum groove, a percussion pattern, a synth pulse, or some kind of low-end rhythmic figure. I’m looking for the engine of the cue, the thing that creates movement and attitude.
The main dramatic question I’m asking is pretty simple: does this sound, groove, or idea actually evoke the feeling I’m chasing? Does it feel dangerous? Does it feel urgent? Does it feel heavy in the right way? If the answer is no, I keep searching.
For aggressive or heavy briefs, I’m also asking what the center of gravity is. Is this track built around guitars? Synths? Drums? Distorted organic material? Some combination of all of it? Once I find that core identity, everything else starts to fall into place. The goal is not just to make something loud or intense. It’s to make sure the aggression has purpose, shape, and a clear emotional direction.
Writer's block — your remedy?
It’s not an option. I just sit down and keep at it. It always happens eventually, it’s just a matter of time.
I don’t think of it as waiting for inspiration as much as creating the conditions for inspiration to happen. Sometimes that means writing through a bad idea until it turns into a better one. Sometimes it means stripping things back and starting with something simple, a pulse, a texture, a bass line, or a sound that feels interesting.
That said, if things start to feel stale, I’ll reach for tools that can shake me out of my usual habits. Heavyocity’s pedals and loops are great for that. They immediately give me movement, tone, and attitude, and that can be enough to get the creative gears turning again.
So my remedy is pretty simple: keep going, lower the pressure, and find one small thing that sparks a reaction. Once that happens, the block usually starts to disappear.
Credit you're proudest of, and why?
Probably Doom Eternal: The Ancient Gods and gen:LOCK, for different reasons.
Doom was a massive undertaking on every level. There was the obvious pressure of stepping into a musical world that Mick Gordon had already defined so brilliantly, and then there was the challenge of actually writing that kind of music under extremely tight deadlines. It was complex, aggressive, highly produced, and very demanding. I had to push myself hard on that project, both creatively and technically, and I’m proud of what I was able to contribute to that universe.
gen:LOCK holds a very special place in my heart because it was my first truly large-scale, AAA-budget project that I scored on my own. It was eight episodes, each around 25 minutes, with almost wall-to-wall music. The score was hybrid orchestral, so it had a bit of everything: big action, drama, emotional character moments, and recurring themes. It gave me room to build a musical identity for the show in a way I hadn’t been able to do before.
I wrote over three hours of music in about three months, and it was incredibly intense. There really wasn’t much time to step away during that period. It was one of those projects where you’re completely consumed by the work, but you can also feel yourself growing in real time.
I definitely leveled up because of gen:LOCK. It pushed my writing, my production, my stamina, and my confidence. In many ways, gen:LOCK also prepared me for Doom. It taught me how to handle a large volume of music under pressure, how to make fast creative decisions, and how to keep the production quality high even when the schedule is relentless.
Studio setup and favorite gear or plugin right now?
My setup is always evolving, but right now it’s a hybrid rig built around three Universal Audio Apollo 8s for my interfaces and I/O. On the outboard side, I’m using a Thermionic Culture Fat Bustard II for summing, a couple of pieces from Overstayer Audio, and an SSL The Bus+.
Then there’s the more chaotic side of the setup: pedals, distortion boxes, modular gear, and anything that adds color, grit, or unpredictability. I use things from Metasonix, RML, Erica Synths, Fractal Audio, Make Noise and Soma Labs, all the weird, aggressive tools that can take a sound somewhere unexpected.
My favorite piece of outboard gear right now is probably the SSL The Bus+. It’s a beast. It adds punch, weight, and glue to almost anything I run through it. It has that ability to make things feel more finished and more expensive without completely changing the character of the source.
For distortion, the Metasonix TX-3 is one of my favorites. It’s completely insane in the best way. It can be unpredictable, ugly, unstable, and somehow exactly what a sound needs. I love gear that fights back a little, and the TX-3 definitely does that.
On the plugin side, for dynamic control stuff I love everything by FabFilter and Oeksound. I use their stuff constantly. Pro-L 2 and Spiff are all over Oblivion Drums. Acustica-Audio have some fantastic plugins as well. They make some of the best analog emulation out there in my opinion. For creative stuff I’m a big fan of Melda Production and Arturia.
Best career advice you ever received?
A few years into composing full-time, I felt like I wasn’t getting anywhere. I was working hard, but nothing seemed to be breaking through, and I started wondering if it was time to throw in the towel.
Around that time, I ran into Austin Wintory at a Video Games Live concert and asked him how he kept himself from giving up when he was starting out. His answer was simple: never give up, because you never know when things are finally going to click into place.
That really stuck with me, and he was right. About four months later, Rooster Teeth found my music on SoundCloud and hired me to work on Red vs. Blue. That opportunity ended up changing the entire trajectory of my career.
Advice for someone trying to break into game and hybrid scoring today?
The first step is obvious but unavoidable: get really good at what you do. Write constantly, even when no one is paying you to write. Study the music you love. Pull tracks into your DAW, break them down instrument by instrument, and really analyze what’s happening, the arrangement, the sound choices, the production, the mix, the energy. Then try to recreate it as closely as possible. It’s one of the best ways to learn.
Keep educating yourself. Watch tutorials, take masterclasses, and focus on the areas that matter most for the kind of work you want to do: arrangement, orchestration, mixing, sound design, production, implementation, whatever it may be. Learn your DAW deeply. Learn your plugins and sample libraries. Figure out which tools actually serve your sound and which ones are just shiny distractions. And if you’re buying new tools, wait for the end-of-year sales if you can. That’s usually the best time to build your setup without going broke.
Also, be realistic about money at the beginning. Most people don’t make a living from this right away. Having a part-time job or another source of income can take some of the pressure off while you build your career.
Reach out to other composers and ask thoughtful questions. Most people are more willing to help than you might expect. You can learn a lot from people who are already doing the work, even if it’s just through a short conversation.
Networking matters too. Go to local game dev meetups, Dev Beer Nights, conferences, or any events where developers and creatives are gathering. Social media can also be useful, especially LinkedIn and Reddit, if you approach people like a human being and not like you’re just trying to get something from them.
Before you start asking people for work, make sure your materials are in good shape. Have a clean, professional-looking website, a short reel, and a few strong examples that show what you do best. Don’t make people dig too hard to understand your sound.
When you’re starting out, look for smaller indie projects, student games, or mod communities. That’s where you can build experience, relationships, and credits. Introduce yourself, be friendly, and if it feels appropriate, offer to write a short demo in the style of their game. If you can solve a problem for them and earn their trust, that can turn into real work.
And finally, pay attention to rights. If you’re working for very little money, or no money at all, try to retain the right to release and sell the music yourself. AAA companies usually want to own the music outright, but smaller studios and indie developers often have more flexibility. Early on, the goal is to build momentum, but you still want to protect yourself and the value of your work.
