Cleanly! Scores of hours logged at Spa, Magny-Cours, Zandvoort and a dozen other Euro-American racing cathedrals, and all in the service of doing everything cleanly. Passing cleanly on the inside of a straightaway, or neatly nipping through the inside of a corner and slamming the door shut on the guy caught outside.
The Line is clean and perfect, and if I hit all my marks then my driving will be smooth and beautiful. My tires whine a bit as I accelerate through the Parabolica at Monza, but they don’t shriek and the the car doesn’t try to bust loose. My control is perfect, and that is the entire point of the game.
But God, the concentration and practice required. Sometimes I want to play a racing game and I look at my wheel sitting beneath my desk, and at GTR 2 atop my bookcase, and I just can’t go through that. It’s eight at night, there’s an icy draft seeping in through the windows of my apartment, and I just completed a long day of revising the same article until it was good enough to send back to my editor. Who will want more changes, and I’ve already gone from Draft A through Draft L. I want to play a racing game, but my sims want perfect reflexes and sharp senses, and I’m too used up to try and pilot a GT3 around Valencia. The torque alone is more than I can bear right now.
Yet GRID is so messy, like all arcade racers. All the cars slip and slide with greased tires across glass tracks. A simple 90 degree right-hander turns into a crescendo of shrieking rubber, roaring engines, and crunching metal and glass as cars smash each other into walls. I try a clean pass, outbrake my opponent going into a corner, take the line on the exit… and pound my wheel in frustration as he shoves me straight into the tire barrier. We were second and third, but now the entire field is driving past as as I try to extract myself from the the scrum.
We hit the barriers at 85 mph and my windshield is cracked and starred so badly that I can hardly see the track. Replays of the race will show that the front of my car now describes a check mark. It was straight line before. But my crew chief is on the radio telling me that I’ve “got some damage, but nothing too serious.” I reverse into my opponent, slewing him around as he tries to get back into the race, then roar off in pursuit of the long-gone field. The car still handles like it just rolled out of the factory.
Arcade racing games, like the ones that Codemasters produce, merely take real-world racing as their theme. TOCA and GRID are, to borrow a term from Tom Chick, Car-RPGS (caRPGs). You hop behind the wheel and work your way from driving sedans to super grand tourers, buying new cars and kit and unlocking new challenges along the way. Progress is constant, and all your training is on-the-job. Races are combat, where you put bruising hits on the opposition and use guardrails to help you negotiate sharp corners. The great skill in a caRPG is not driving, but in playing automotive pinball through the field until you accumulate enough prize money to move up to the next tier of challenges.
As an aside, arcade racing games also make sure to include lots of tedious bullshit to appeal to the entitled mouth-breathers who thought Gone in 60 Seconds and The Fast and the Furious were the Godfather and Easy Rider of their generation. If GRID is making a selling point out of the fact that you can drive the 24 Hours, or wrestle an old TVR around Donington Park, why is it making me master the pointless unfun of drifting? What could possibly make them think I’d care about such a thing? Let me be clear: drift racing is to real racing as tequila is to good liquor. There are people who are passionately devoted to it, but they a small, crazy subgroup that most of us would rather ignore.
But once I adjust to GRID’s icky collisions and near-gripless cars, I do find myself enjoying the cheerful madness of the racing action and its wise inclusion of a “flashback” that lets me undo catastrophic mishaps. Taking a Mustang sideways into a corner, punching the throttle at the apex and wrestling with the savage force of its fishtailing is exactly the kind of thing I want from an arcade game. I begin to enjoy the take-no-prisoners savagery of the races, especially when you nudge someone else into a wall at top speed and cause a massive pile-up in the rear-view mirror. I love the sudden quiet and solitude that follows the moment you just crashed the entire field somewhere in a chicane behind you.
Still, what I really want is a game that occupies the sweet spot between the mad chaos of a GRID or Need for Speed and the taut immersion of a SimBin game. A game that places a premium on smart, clean driving but doesn’t demand the monk-like devotion that characterizes a racing season in RACE or GTR 2. I love great racing and good driving, but sometimes I don’t want to be my own race engineer, or approach a play session the way Lewis Hamilton must approach a race weekend at Silverstone. Rather than taking a slug of GTR 2 with a GRID chaser, I’d like something that blends their strengths. Something that still keeps the racing clean, but not immaculate.