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Melissa was completely absorbed, experiencing the story unfold through the protagonist's eyes.
The setting: Terminal Island Prison, a privately-owned facility that had turned incarceration into profit through bloodsport entertainment.
The context: "Frankenstein," the most popular and legendary Death Race champion, had won four races. One more victory would earn him freedom. But during that final race against his rival Machine Gun Joe, Frankenstein died—murdered by the prison's warden, Hennessey, who needed to maintain her profitable franchise.
Enter Jensen Ames. Former professional racer, now wrongfully convicted of murdering his wife—a crime actually orchestrated by Hennessey herself. The warden made Jensen an offer he couldn't refuse: wear Frankenstein's iconic mask, race to win five competitions, and earn your freedom. Refuse, and lose access to your infant daughter forever.
Jensen had no real choice. He knew Hennessey would never actually release him—she needed "Frankenstein" as her star attraction, her golden goose for ratings and revenue.
But he played along. And as he raced, he discovered that one of his competitors was actually his wife's real killer. He got his revenge on the track.
Simultaneously, Jensen uncovered more of Hennessey's conspiracy and began planning his escape. Eventually he teamed up with Machine Gun Joe—his rival who desperately wanted to defeat Frankenstein once and for all—to take down Hennessey and break out of Terminal Island.
The plot was simpler than Fast & Furious—fewer characters, more streamlined narrative, no branching storylines or multiple endings. The focus was laser-targeted on the races themselves.
And oh, what races they were.
Melissa could immediately see that Alex had poured tremendous creative energy into track design. Each race featured completely different maps, road conditions, terrain features, and rule variations.
Beyond the obvious weapons and environmental hazards, there were countless hidden interactions—large structures that could be collapsed onto opponents, small objects that could create chain reactions, subtle environmental clues that revealed tactical opportunities.
These design elements transformed Death Race from a simple "drive fast and shoot things" experience into something with genuine strategic depth. Each race had multiple viable solutions, various paths to victory beyond just superior driving skill or firepower.
In one mission, Melissa failed to grab the weapon activation marker and got hammered by a competitor's sustained fire. Her vehicle was nearly destroyed, armor shredded, systems failing.
"The factory ahead—looks like we can cut through there!" her navigator Case called out.
Melissa had played enough to recognize that navigator hints were almost always pointing toward solutions. She immediately adjusted course, drifting through the factory's main gate.
Inside the massive facility, steam rose from industrial equipment. It looked like a steel mill—furnaces, overhead cranes, massive machinery.
She drove into a section filled with obscuring steam, temporarily breaking her opponent's line of sight. The pursuing car's gunfire went wild, bullets ricocheting randomly.
Then a rocket streaked through the mist, missing Melissa's car by inches and slamming into an overhead crane's support beam.
The explosion nearly severed the steel frame. A massive ladle—used for pouring molten steel, weighing several tons—hung precariously from the damaged crane, swaying dangerously.
Melissa saw her opportunity immediately.
She waited until her opponent's car burst through the steam cloud, then deliberately drove beneath the damaged crane, luring her pursuer to follow.
As the enemy car opened fire again, Melissa swerved and slammed into the already-compromised support beam at full speed.
The impact shattered the weakened steel. The massive ladle plummeted straight down—landing directly on the pursuing vehicle just as its rocket launcher was reloading.
BOOM.
The explosion was spectacular. The ladle crushed the car, the rocket ammunition detonated, and the entire wreck erupted in a cascading fireball.
Melissa pumped her fist. "YES! That was fucking INCREDIBLE!"
Similar tactical opportunities appeared throughout the campaign. In a later race, Warden Hennessey—desperate to boost ratings—deployed the "Dreadnought," a modified tanker truck converted into a mobile weapons platform.
The thing was a monster. Heavily armored, bristling with mounted guns and rocket pods, it rolled onto the track like a battleship on wheels and started indiscriminately annihilating racers.
Against that behemoth, Melissa's car was hopelessly outmatched. Even with perfect driving, she couldn't dodge the Dreadnought's homing missiles.
Then she remembered a scene from Fast & Furious—the train heist sequence where Dom's crew had to pass under a low bridge. One car went under the transport truck to avoid the restricted clearance.
Could she...?
Melissa aimed her vehicle directly at the Dreadnought, accelerating hard. At the last second, she dropped low and drove underneath the massive tanker chassis.
It worked. There were no weapons mounted on the Dreadnought's undercarriage. The missiles couldn't get a lock. She was in a blind spot, completely protected.
She rode underneath for almost thirty seconds, waiting for her weapon system to recharge. The moment it activated, she deployed her incendiary bombs—dropping them directly onto the Dreadnought's undercarriage.
The tanker's fuel supply ignited. The entire vehicle transformed into a rolling inferno before exploding in a mushroom cloud of fire and twisted metal.
Melissa pulled off her headset, breathing hard, grinning like an idiot.
These kinds of situations appeared constantly throughout the campaign. Each race had multiple viable strategies. Different approaches created different outcomes. The unpredictability, the improvisation, the satisfaction of pulling off a clever tactical maneuver—it was absolutely addictive.
Traditional racing games where you won purely through superior driving skill couldn't compare. This was on another level entirely.
Luke, Chris, and the other reviewers were completely transfixed, having watched Melissa's entire playthrough.
"This gameplay is fucking genius," Luke said, his voice full of genuine awe.
After seeing the complete career mode, he understood Death Race's biggest innovation with perfect clarity.
The game maximized player agency for tactics and strategy within racing competition. It created space for creative problem-solving, improvisation, unexpected solutions. That unpredictability and player expression was what made it genuinely entertaining to both play and watch.
Chris, who'd initially been skeptical about the genre-blending approach, was now completely sold. "I thought it was just racing with shooting tacked on. But it's not. It's not mindless driving and it's not mindless shooting."
He gestured emphatically.
"It's competitive racing where you win through strategy, speed, AND intelligence. Where quick thinking matters as much as mechanical skill. Where every race has multiple solutions and emergent gameplay."
Melissa nodded, already typing furiously in her review document. "This is legitimately high-end game design. Morrison understood the fundamental problem with racing esports—it's deterministic and predictable. The best driver with the best car wins, period."
"Death Race introduces controlled chaos," Luke added. "Skill still matters hugely, but so does tactical thinking, environmental awareness, adaptability. Every race tells a different story. You can't just memorize the optimal racing line and execute it perfectly."
"The spectator potential is insane too," Chris said, pulling up competitive mode to test it. "This would be INCREDIBLE to watch as esports. The variety, the comebacks, the clutch plays—"
"The highlight reel moments," Melissa agreed. "Someone's about to lose, then they collapse a building on their opponent at the last second? That's content gold. That's the kind of clip that goes viral."
The room went quiet as everyone absorbed what they'd just experienced.
"Hunter's going to lose his mind when he sees this," Luke said finally.
"ET Games is going to shit themselves," Chris added with a grin.
Melissa saved her preliminary report and leaned back in her chair. She'd reviewed hundreds of racing game submissions over her career. Most were derivative, safe, forgettable.
Death Race was something genuinely revolutionary.
Alex Morrison hadn't just created another racing game. He'd solved the fundamental problem he'd identified on that livestream—he'd made racing competition genuinely exciting and unpredictable as both gameplay and spectator sport.
And he'd done it by completely reimagining what competitive racing could be in a virtual environment, unconstrained by real-world physics or safety concerns.
The madman had actually delivered on his bold claims.
"Alright," Melissa said, pulling herself together. "Let's write this up properly. Hunter needs a full report by morning, and I want to test competitive mode before we finalize."
She pulled the VR headset back on, already grinning in anticipation.
This was going to change everything.
PLz Give me Powerstones.