Monday, 17 February 2025

GT7 W95: BMW M3 (E36) '97

The E36 BMW M3 is in the unenviable position of being the middle child sandwiched between two better regarded brothers, the legendary homologation special E30 and the highly–regarded E46. Some might even go as far as to say that the E36 is the worst M3, and yet, it was declared Car & Driver's Best Handling Car at any price point in 1997, beating out bona fide midship 2 door sports cars like the Ferrari F355 and Acura NSX. So, what exactly is it we're dealing with here? Or is the worst M3 still really that damn good?


As Gran Turismo 7 players are most likely aware however, the E36 is notorious in this game for thus far having a very troubled existence since it was added in Update 1.49 back in July of 2024, the very same update that overhauled the game's physics and brought with it some unfortunate and sometimes hilarious quirks. The E36 never did have astronaut aspirations, but it was softly sprung enough to encounter problems with the game's physics that seemed to punish cars with soft suspension in befuddling ways, though I'm convinced that there must also be other factors at play that make the issue so persistently afflict the E36. Watching back publicly shared replays of the E36 pre v1.55, it seemed as if the cars or their drivers just steered themselves off the paved track for no apparent reason right into a wall, with no ostensible attempt at resisting their violent fates along the way, sometimes even on relatively straight stretches of tarmac. While said glitch does appear to have toned down in severity, that catastrophic behaviour is still very much present in v1.55, and it will still catch out drivers at the worst of times. My E36 lost itself on Turn 3 of Eiger Nordwand, a slow, downhill right–hander, and with less than half throttle clear out of the powerband of the NA Straight 6, my E36 just speared off towards the inside barrier near the exit of the turn, as though it gave into a long–closeted fetish for Barry R and his facial reconstruction prowess. I of course am in no position to comment on how true to life that reaction to my inputs is, but in the context of this game and in comparison to many of the cars it has, some of which very close in performance, layout, and era to the E36, that's just behaviour I can't expect, explain, nor accept.


In the context of a review of a car in a video game, that's all that would be enough to write off the E36, but in the interest of being fair and thorough, the E36's issues hardly end at a silly glitch. It may have been declared Car & Driver's Best–Handling Car in 1997, but here in Gran Turismo 7, the E36 is going up against a NSX-R instead of a bloody NSX-T, it's going up against something that was never unleashed upon the states in the GT-R, and it's also got more power to tie itself up in knots, being the EU spec that comes to us at 316HP (236kW) instead of a meek 240HP (179kW). And in this digital landscape where in theory only the best trims of each model is represented, the E36 I find struggles horrendously to keep up with its digital peers.


It's not just the springs of the E36 that are soft; its chassis feels like it has about as much structural integrity as a truss made of toothpicks tied together with rubber bands. The way in which the E36 approaches its limits is annoyingly not linear, requiring disproportionate effort and care to get the last 10% of its handling envelope out of the car. The car starts off nimble and light on its feet, belying its hefty 1,460kg (3,219lbs) mass and showcasing immediate response and even an accompanying screamer of a soundtrack that together would smite anyone with petrol in their blood. It keeps that agility and responsiveness on hard braking and trail braking, all the way until I'm almost entirely off the brakes and give the steering wheel a harder twist to meet the apex, at which point the car feels as if it hits a metaphorical wall, refusing to turn any more than it's already doing and stressing the tyres into screaming hysteria, often resulting in me missing the apex by about half a car width. Despite being a rather heavy and softly sprung car, rumble strips and road camber greatly upset the E36, the former causing it to squirm vaguely and often requiring quick flashes of counter steer just to keep it pointing in the right direction, with the outside of the last turn of Road Atlanta (a relatively flat and innocuous rumble strip) being a good example. Cutting corners with more raised kerbs, such as the awful chicane of Nürburgring GP or the Bus Stop of Watkins Glen is a crapshoot, because the car just feels incredibly vague when thrown off balance or upset. And when the E36 M3 slides, it's completely numb and catastrophically ceases all communication to its driver. Losing grip in an E36 is like watching a horror movie; I'm terrified, but I can have no more influence and involvement in the affair beyond being terrified. Overall, it's just a car I never came to gel with nor trust under any circumstance, and it was just pure frustration in a racing scenario.


Of course, cars from that era are never without flaws. And so I thought I'd do what car reviewers in real life do, and conduct my own comparison tests. I brought along with me an A80 Supra RZ and a R33 GT-R V • spec, both 2–door Inline 6 sports cars and 1997 models. Even when downgrading the Japanese cars from their default Sports Hard tyres down to match the E36's Comfort Softs, they are both supremely easier to drive, giving me a sense of predictability and ease where the E36 was hysterically screaming at me to baby it better. The Supra in particular has a 6–speed stick shift, and wouldn't even fit under our Weekly Lobbies' regulations even on gimped tyres simply because it's so much faster than the E36. The turbocharged cars also propel themselves out of corners better with solid walls of mid–range torque, and the GT-R even has AWD to help with that. And those are the fat pigs of the "276HP era" of Japanese sports cars; the E36 wouldn't even be a half–decent appetiser for the more athletic cars from that era like FD RX-7 and NA NSX-R.


The E36, like many cars of its era, is a pretty good car with its share of flaws and quirks. What damns the E36 in my mind is that it's a relatively affordable high–performance machine that looks like it would fit right into the early Gran Turismo games, competing with the "276HP era" cars those games made legends among a generation of kids. But it's precisely because the E36 finds itself in this era and performance bracket that means it has to be held to so much higher a standard than usual, because there are just so many other options to choose from, many of which have had the privilege of imprinting upon an impressionable child's mind, becoming heroes to many. If it can't even outrun or out–handle a Supra, it has no chance of even being on my radar when I'm swooning over the beautiful curves of an FD RX-7, both on and off a track. I guess one can make the argument that it's by far the cheapest among its contemporaries here in GT7, but eh...


While the flaws of the E36—namely its soft suspension and chassis—do have easy fixes, why bother with it when the E46 has six forward gears and a much stiffer chassis to work with as a base for tuning? The E36 really does suffer massively from the middle child syndrome, and, at least among the M3s represented in the game, really is the worst one. If you want sheer driving pleasure, go with the E30. If you want a competent tuning base, the E46 is the way to go, and the E92 is... there, for moral support with its big F–off V8 engine.

Wednesday, 5 February 2025

ACS10112024: focus and shoes

I'm not very keen on writing for the past few years of my life. Maybe it's less so I lack the time for it, but moreso the energy and willpower. I think I'm just completely disinterested in my own life, and that I've lost any and all hope that it'll get any better in the future.

Or maybe the reason why I don't like to write is because I always seem to come up with the most depressing and moody openings ever, totally sucking all momentum and energy out of whatever mental roller coaster I might be riding on.

I've recently gotten a new pair of spectacles six years after my last pair was made. I've been noticing that my left eye is really strained when looking at screens for a while, and wearing my specs for a few hours does fatigue me. My eyesight hasn't necessarily gotten much worse, if any, but maybe the focal point or whatever is the technically correct jargon has shifted in the six years since. I initially had only wanted the lenses redone, but I'm really starting to think I was upsold by the friendly attendant into getting a whole new pair entirely. I wish I caught that in the moment, because I'm really not in a position where I have any money to spend. I'm just perpetually physically uncomfortable. Malls are always way too fucking hot despite the air con, and I'm always in a sticky, gross sweat when I'm out and about. I also had dinner just before the visit, which sends all the blood rushing to my face and head for some reason. I'm terribly embarrassed about the mess I left on their systems because of my fucking disgusting oily, sweaty face. I actually lost sleep that night thinking about that.

It's a "minor" thing, but on occasion, I do find myself wondering about a fear I've had a decade or so ago. I feared being a normie. I feared being aimless. I feared having to fight myself to get out of bed every morning to go to a dead end job just to make enough to scrape by, and have that consume most, if not all of my waking hours, effectively defining my life until I retire. I wonder what motivated people to wake up and go flip burgers, or wipe tables. Unlike most fears from that long ago, these ones really didn't diminish much, if any, and they still affect me just as much if I paid them any heed, because I still don't have answers to those questions. Having been upsold a new frame, I also catch myself wondering, "how could people bring themselves to do this to others?" Look, I'm not going to pretend I'm a saint, but I've always had trouble knowingly hurting other people, much less to their face. I don't say this with any grudge or ill will; I genuinely wonder how people can bring themselves to do this. Do they not have some sort of a psuedo physical barrier in their mind that prevents them from hurting people, like I do? Are they the weird ones, or me? And where does this barrier in my mind come from, if it's so abnormal? It makes me so, so scared of putting myself out there in the world, of having a job, because not only does it mean that I'll be putting myself out there to be eaten alive and taken advantage of by people less kind, but also that I'll most likely be put in a position to use social pressure and other such unfathomables to eat others alive in the same fashion. It is a world and a cruel game I cannot even begin to comprehend, and quite frankly, I consider it a blessing that I remain ignorant of it, the odd instances where I get upsold something notwithstanding.

The store I went to, a Japanese brand common in Singapore whom I shall not name because I don't want to feed Google's profiling on me, is known for their super quick 20–min turnaround time, but because of my... fang guang? Astigmatism, I think it's called in English? My lenses have to be custom made to order, and a waiting period of 10 (working?) days is usually typical. My new specs came, and when I tried them on, they felt weird on the spot. I thought it was something I'd eventually get used to, but that feeling of comfort never came. Since the custom prescription specs were still under warranty and they offered the service, I went back for a re–test, and the person that tested me this time revealed to me that I had trouble discerning image sharpness on my right eye, perhaps because I was already fatigued when I took the test, or perhaps because of "lazy eye"? And it's just soured my inner thoughts and dialogue for several days till now.

When I went to bed that night, I was just... angry, at myself. I didn't know until that second test, but I pretty much realised immediately I had focus issues on my right eye immediately after the woman pointed it out to me. I have to blink a few times and "screw in" my face around my right eye SO MUCH just to get sharp vision from it. It made me realise that I've just been living, writing, driving, designing, thinking, over a cloud of blur and fog all this while, physical and mental. I just felt super discouraged and angry at my own situation. More and more, especially in the past seven or so months that I've been somewhat focused on myself and my own needs, I've come to find that I'm a rather sensitive person. I'm a bit of an emotional sponge. I get immensely swayed by art. Being around news genuinely upsets me. I tend to cry when others share heartfelt stories. I can't stand listening to the forced enthusiasm in radio ads. I'm a light sleeper. Apparently I have a sharp sense of hearing, and maybe that's what makes me speak so softly and what makes my family appear so uncouth and rough to me. To carry this into the extent of caricature, I have extremely sensitive skin, and I'm guessing my sinus is my body being overprotective. I don't know how much of this is related to █, but maybe things that don't bother most people, like our stupidly jerky automatic transmission buses, or the sticky sweat from the ridiculous humidity of Singapore, affects me more than others because I'm more sensitive to sensory things. Sometimes I wonder why my soul isn't light or fragile enough to be carried away or shredded by a passing breeze. Sometimes I feel so out of it just by simply existing that I think I ought to be protected and preserved in a controlled, cool and dry environment, like I'm a critically endangered species brought here into this harsh, inhospitable climate via time travel.

Where the fuck is this post going. Forget my soul; my train of thought feels like it could float away off the tracks on its own, like it were a tube balloon filled with helium and folded into the rough shape of a train.

Because I think I'm so sensitive, I think I need a higher level of care that is only possible with a rich, affluent lifestyle. I wish I could just tell people to fuck off and not talk to me without having to coddle their feelings, and just drop all formalities and just get to the point if I absolutely need to engage, just so people don't drain me so much. I wish my home could be air conditioned 24/7, just so I can feel like I exist in the moment and in my body when the heat and humidity reaches the deadly levels of a typical Singaporean afternoon. I wish I didn't feel so nervous, so rushed, like I had all the time in the world at a better equipped facility when testing my eyesight, just so I wouldn't have to stumble through my life through a constant blur. So many other things I could possibly say, but can't think of because my brain is constantly in a fog, too. I can't help but to wonder, if I had the means to better take care of myself, if the hundreds of small discomforts and thousands of inconveniences in my life just vanished, how much more productive and better of a person I could be. The art I could produce. The ideas I could have. To be the fullest version of myself. I just wish I had the magical means to make this all go away, if only for a few minutes, just so I can see and think clearly in a few moments of bliss, instead of this ambiguous hell I'm forced to stumble through on autopilot and guesses, instead of something I can actually see and feel for what they truly are. How good that must feel, knowing things and making informed decisions. I might just feel like I'm a whole different person. Maybe I wouldn't hate life so much and not want to die. I've always been told that wanting to die is an illness, after all. As crazy as that sounds to me, maybe there's a world wherein they're right about that.

In an unbelievable coincidence, both my slippers and sports shoes broke within... a month, or two? of each other, and as a basic ass man, that amounts to a grand total of 100% of the shoes I own. I want to say that that's because of all the walks I've been taking ever since quitting my job, but it's probably because I weigh something stupid like 120kgs. Despite being poor and with literally no income to even feed myself, I think my sensitivity means that I can really tell the difference between cheap products and expensive, premium ones—something I'm sure my mother will be proud to proclaim as having been inherited from her. I also hate the idea of slop on a philosophical level, and for something that will ideally last me a long time in a world ever more leaning towards disposable intangibles, I would very much like to spend a lot of money on something that's not only high–quality, but that will also last me a long time. I like old clothes and shoes because I grow into them and they stretch around me. They're comfortable. I get to form muscle memory with them. I still get finger orgasms when I type on my mechanical keyboard I really want to name but also really shouldn't. ...look, I really don't have a grand point to make with this. Good stuff is good.

We spent quite a long time in a brand name shoe store, and a young, maybe part time student attendant was super patient and helpful with us. But because we're poor, we were only there to ascertain sizes and which models to get; my sister thinks she can get the shoes cheaper if she were to get them from an outlet store in Changi. And so after all that hard work, we wound up not buying anything, and I felt SUPER AWFUL for that. I lost sleep over that, too. Part of me wanted to at least leave them a good review, but I don't super remember her name. █

I wonder why I'm such a softie. I really wonder how in the hell I've come to live for 30 long years in this harsh, insensitive, sometimes downright cruel world. I'm also in another brain fog and probably not thinking clearly, so I can't tell how melodramatic I'm being over something that shouldn't bother most people that are hard enough to thrive in this world.

But yeah, a week later, we went back and bought both a pair of really fucking good slippers and super fucking good sports shoes. The former are so good that even my sister felt stunned from the moment her foot touched the slippers, and immediately made her perfectly adequate to that point slippers feel like they came from a trash heap. She describes those slippers by saying, "it's as though my feet were being massaged as I walk!", and frankly, I don't disagree with her. The sports shoes didn't have shoelaces, which blew my mind because I've always thought that shoelaces were the stupidest things ever in a world where Velcro is a thing, even when I was in primary school. These shoes were advertised with the tagline, "never touch your shoes again!", and from having tried them on in the store, they sure as hell weren't lying. My mind was blown away by the fact that these shoes exist, and they're super comfortable to wear, too. So much so that they almost make this ultra sensitive shut–in want to leave his home for something, just so he can have an excuse to wear the shoes.

I suppose I should do the online diary thing and actually post a photo of my new shoes.

Sunday, 2 February 2025

GT7 W93: Toyota GT-One (TS020) '99


After the online TT featuring the GT-One at Fuji several moons ago, I've sworn off the TS020 for its spiky rear end. It has the very familiar problem that the FT-1 Gr.3 suffers from, in that it just can't seem to load up its rear tyres at all; no matter how gradually I roll onto the throttle pedal and ease off the steering, there will come a point where the rear end just breaks sideways suddenly and violently. At the risk of sounding completely moronic, I think this is due to the Toyotas both running tyre pressures too high for their own good. The same fault in other cars can be assuaged by switching to lower diameter wheels, but neither of these Toyotas can change their wheel sizes, so both are stuck with that Achilles' Heel for life, with tuning only going so far to assuage the issue.


That bad experience at Fuji is enough for me to write off the car, but it only gets worse the deeper one digs into the TS020 rabbit hole. Obelisk has already pointed out that the TS020 doesn't make enough downforce to fit into Gr.1, but even by Gr.2 standards, the TS020 doesn't push itself into the pavement enough to compete. The TS020 needs to brake Eau Rouge and lift completely for a bit to make 130R, which are corners that even the 2008 GT500 cars needn't lift for. The TS020, with its lower downforce (and arguably drag) numbers, can't brake for corners nearly as late as the 2016 GT500 machines, it can't carry the same speeds through said corners as said Gr.2 meta cars, and it has to tiptoe out of every corner with its spiky rear end, making it lag behind anything comparable to it, be they Group C, GT500, or F1.


To really drive the final nail home in the vacuum–packed coffin, Polyphony Digital really, really hates old cars in its group categories, and they showed this disdain yet again when, in v1.55 that dropped in the middle of our two weekly lobbies, they widened the performance gap more between the TS020 and the meta Gr.2 car, the 2016 NSX-P, under BoP, resulting in a whopping 69.74PP difference between the two cars supposedly balanced to be competitive with each other when both are wearing their default Racing Medium tyres. For some context, we run our COTW lobbies with a 10PP headroom over the featured car normally, because anything more than that usually just becomes an uninformative slaughter. A 70PP difference is the difference between a grandma grocery getter C-HR and a track–focused sports car ND Roadster NR-A. Around even a short lap like Laguna Seca, my TS020 was some FIVE SECONDS A LAP slower than the GT500 machines, meaning I would risk being DNF–ed by race timer had the race been six laps long. Toss in some infighting and some mistakes, and K31thc0m DNF–ed SPD, RX8, and I at Suzuka using a R5 Turbo DTM with just four laps of Suzuka. I get that PD hates old cars being competitive in grouped categories, but even a 1 s/lap deficit would've been huge enough to dissuade anyone seriously trying to win to choose the TS020; five is just bloody dangerous. The TS020 didn't need a power nerf to slot into Gr.2; it needed to be lightened further just to vaguely hope to keep up with more modern machinery.


Aside from its looks, the TS020 truly has nothing going for it in GT7. It's expensive, selectively available, drives terrible, and is so woefully slow around a circuit under BoP that it's a legit cause for concern and protest. Like the beloved tracks and career modes of old GT sorely missed by its fans, the GT-One was brought back to GT7 barely a recognisable silhouette of its old shelf, butchered beyond any reasonable belief, and almost comes across like a slap in the faces of those who grew up in love with these older classics. Unless there ever comes a Gr.2 race on Le Mans, Monza, or Route X, the TS020 is just completely hopeless in Gr.2. Forget Gr.1 or Gr.2; the TS020 might be a better fit for Gr.3.


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