In lucid concurrence with the trending gaming climate that requisitions graphical equality in the industry, and in the interest of remaining contemporary, though impartial (sort of) to the fluctuating fidelity and compiled anomalies that seems to negate the fictitiously scribed preface of constitutional notification to the gaming community. I felt complied to discuss the controversy surrounding the hypothetical equivalence between the digressed dilution of PS4 content and its inferior contemporary the Xbone. Then I decided that this was a frankly arbitrary, confusing, pretentious and frankly conspicuous proposal on a flagrantly overblown systemic division that would be just as tedious to read as it would be for me to write. So instead Ill refer back to my intimate, trivial grouse and share with you one of my most venerated of introverted declinations that may see me ruthlessly flayed by 99% of the gaming faction. Come closer. Closer than that, come on…….good. *peers anxiously around before whispering* I hate racing games.

“Yes, the composition of the alloy wheels are……incredibly authentic!”

I know, I know “shots fired!”, but perhaps I’m being just a tad disingenuous with this misleading profession which isn’t conducive to the message I’m attempting to portray. The more appropriate derivative is dislike. I generally reserve hate for rapists, terrorism (see previous article), Brussel sprouts, animal cruelty and Michael Bay films. Suggesting that I “hate” racing games is akin to saying I “hate” Jaffa Cakes in the biscuit section in supermarkets or I “hate” my Aunts disturbingly defined facial hair. It’s a subjection that has been reared over marginal increments of time, that has elapsed with such gradual contraction that racing games redundancy, in my eyes has simply declined through over exposure. As a kid I played Mario Kart, we all did. In the advent of 3 dimensional rendering came the likes of Daytona USA, SEGA rally Championship and Destruction Derby, which even by today’s cosmetically affluent standards are still serviceable endeavours. At one stage I was even obsessed with the Need For Speed franchise, with underground and Most Wanted becoming permanent fixtures on my PS2, with each radiating a feign edict of whimsy and freeing deviations to the regularly restrained concept associated with racing games, which are often dubiously executed. You can customise you ride, add decals and generally lark about. It appears that now we renounce the arcade frivolity of driving cars, deferring resources into developing authentic representations of genuine vehicles, realistic collisions and precision manoeuvring.

“This isn’t going to end well.”

Purchases such as the malignant Gran Turismo seem to be validated by the overt textures, or the way the light glistens off the perspiring dimples that drape over the tracks surface, or how the metallic composition of the cars body retracts and dents after collisions. “Look at the contrasting pigmentation of overlapping contours and verdant foliage in the distance. Splendid indeed, but the circumference of the track is hugely impaired by inaccurate imitation of Silverstone. I concur, bend 3 is far more pronounced than this representation and tyres on this car are wholly insufficient for successful negotiation of this track, especially during such precipitating conditions. You almost forgot the augmented rear suspension and adoptive tessellation” AHHH! What the hell is a tessellation?! I know it isn’t my normal MO to moan about such trivial considerations (who sniggered) but I find such liberal authenticity irksome! There is a cogent argument for attentive delineation, the aesthetic attraction to the bespoke graphical fortification and I can be just as culturally receptive to the stylistic exultations as anyone else……in an art gallery. But I wouldn’t spend hours wistfully gazing at the beautifully crafted canvas, with my finger on my mouth and an eyebrow arched in a conveyance of distinction like Jeremy Brett as Sherlock, that seems to make gamers ovulate all over their joysticks (that sounded better in my head). The hereditary malignancy compiled into almost every “racing simulator” seems to be disposing the traditional arcade (excuse the pun) driven experience where acceleration, performance and manoeuvrability are accentuated for your enjoyment.

I guess the pithy subtext to this mesh of woven reprove is that I dislike the conspicuous reliance on style, the meandering compliance on iridescent arrows that guide me round tracks like confused toddler high on sugar, and that we deserve another Burnout game! To hell with your precision driving and vehicular verity; lets embrace the mangled carnage of old, where crashing your car merited additional points. Does the world need an antiquated concept, ostracised by progression, patiently awaiting to split the furrowed upper lip of pretentiousness? You bet your furry dice we do!

What is worst advancement in computer games?