GT7 W119: Nissan GT-R LM Nismo '15

I've long held the opinion that, to evaluate a soulless tool purpose–built to do one job and one job only, a racecar's worth can be very simply and quickly summarised by where it ended up on the finishing order. By that metric, the Nissan GT-R LM Nismo is perhaps one of the worst racecars in modern history, being an LMP1 riddled with countless technical issues that made it qualify slower than some LMP2s, and of the three cars entered into the 2015 24h of Le Mans, only one survived to see the chequered flag, but was so far behind the leaders that it didn't qualify as a finish.

However, at the risk of sounding like an utter hypocrite, I've always had a soft spot for the "LongBoi", and I hardly think I'm alone in that sentiment. While history books may remember the LM Nismo as a failure, I've always held it in high regard not only for Nissan daring to be different and putting money and effort where their mouths were, but also for allowing such a seeming blight on their storied history be immortalised and preserved in Gran Turismo, and I think they can and should be proud of daring to be different. Blessed with a functional hybrid system in the games, the LongBoi sent ALL of its ungodzilly power to its poor front wheels via a 5–speed gearbox, and to say that it's the proverbial one–legged man in an ass kicking contest would be an understatement; it's more a one–legged T–Rex in an ass kicking contest trying to channel a nuclear–powered dropkick through a makeshift shoe out of a well–used echidna condom. Mechanical faults may not be simulated in Gran Turismo, but the digital LM Nismo was nonetheless quite true–to–life in how uncompetitive it was in the games, and it's a fact that has had a radioactive light shone on it when the LongBoi was carried over into Gran Turismo Sport, a game laser–focused on e–sports and categorised racing.

But it's precisely because the LM Nismo is so very ostensibly an underdog that makes anyone who rocks up to a Gr.1 grid in it an instant rock star, guaranteed to catch the attention of everyone else in the same way that an AE86 would command attention lined up beside an FD3S on a mountain pass, or someone pulling out a Pachirisu in the finals of a Pokémon Tournament. A unit so evidently underpowered and goofy looking rubbing shoulders with the established big guns in any competitive environment just promises a dazzling display of confidence, skill, and chicanery from its wielder. In the same way that overlooked and off–meta choices exist in other games, I opine that the FF LM Nismo more than deserves to be in Gran Turismo, not in spite of its flaws, but because of.

Nissan GT-R LM Nismo Test Car by Spicy_Nikorasu
#nissan #nismo #gtr

But the cars' lack of competitiveness on either side of the digital divide is not at all to say that the concept of a front–engined LMP that maximises its aerodynamics within the LMP1 rulebook is a flawed one; it only proves that an LMP that routes all its power to the front wheels is a bad idea. Ten years after the LM Nismo's abysmal real–life outing at Le Mans, its digital counterpart would get one hell of a glow–up; Update 1.60 of GT7, released in late June of 2025, reworked the LM Nismo such that its electric motors now drove the rear wheels instead of the fronts. One might question the realism and legitimacy of the LM Nismo sending its electric drive to its rear wheels, as Nissan themselves quote the LongBoi to be FF in what little remains of their official press releases. However, according to the chief engineer of the project in an episode of Jay Leno's Garage, Zack Eakin reveals that the hybrid system was to be capable of driving the rear wheels, and that they were debating at the time whether or not the extra drive lines, effects on mass distribution, and other complications were worth the benefits. Of course, history will now tell us that the hybrid system wound up driving none of the wheels, and so I think the depiction of the LongBoi with AWD is just as fair as an FF LM Nismo. One thing is for certain though: Godzilla is a hell of a lot more competitive in GT7 now that its thousand–plus HP is split between all four wheels instead of just two.

Of course, even when making better use of its rear wheels, the LongBoi still understeers on corner exits; it's still a front–heavy car trying to put over 600HP through the front wheels. It's just that now, we also have to deal with the oversteer in the rear as the front end understeers. The LM Nismo has staggered tyres, but not in the way that one might perhaps expect: the front tyres are 14" wide, and only 9" wide at the rear. In sensible speak, that's 355mm front and 230mm rear, and for some context, the rear tyres are barely wider than those on a production R32 GT-R, which is hardly a stable car with 307HP. That's just an insanely tiny contact patch to be attempting to put down yet another 600+HP with, racing slicks or not. With a 65:35 mass distribution, the front tyres will still wear at a much faster rate than the rears, even with a fully rearward Brake Bias of +5. As a result of all that, the LM Nismo will still severely lag behind the more conventional LMP1s of Toyota and Porsche going into and coming out of corners, having to instead rely on its slightly higher top speed to reel back in its contemporary peers.

However, the thing that drivers of the LM Nismo need watch out the most for isn't understeer nor oversteer. It's... well, I don't know, actually. The LM Nismo has a nasty, NASTY tendency to suddenly lose its rear end over certain corners on certain tracks for reasons nigh inexplicable both on acceleration and deceleration, and this is a common experience had by other COTW participants both on controller and wheel, from the imperfect public roads of Le Mans to the smooth paved tarmac of Spa. I don't know what, if anything else, was changed on the LM Nismo when it went from FF to AWD, but referencing my old GT Sport screenshots, the current LM Nismo has had its spring rates increased by a whole Hertz to 5Hz on both ends, and its alignment figures now look downright unintuitive with 0.45 Toe–Out front and a ridiculous 0.90 Toe–In rear. For some context, both the 919 and TS050's default spring rates are at 4Hz front and rear. This absurd stiffness in the springs results in a Godzilla that assaults its driver relentlessly through just force feedback on a wheel, so much so that the public roads of la Sarthe feel as unruly a gravel track, with the car fighting its driver to be let off the leash that is the steering wheel even on the straights, and that is even with the FFB on my T300RS turned all the way down to the minimum. This incredibly stiff suspension setup, coupled with the front biased downforce and narrow rear tyres I suspect is what makes the LM Nismo's rear end so violently allergic to microscopic bumps and elevation changes at high speed. In other words, the rear end of the LM Nismo simply doesn't have enough grip to cash the cheques the front writes, and for as god–awful as the FF LM Nismo was, I don't ever recall it being this dangerous and unpredictable to drive in either GT Sport or GT7. The right kink before Indianapolis and the uphill section of Eau Rouge are just two examples of where the LongBoi consistently spins out. Because the LongBoi is so inherently unstable at the rear, it's also exceptionally prone to being pit maneuvered if the drivers behind (pretend to) make a mistake.

That all being written, the AWD LongBoi is still a massive improvement over the FF car we had, and the gap in performance is now small enough that BoP can easily close the distance should the powers that be deem it fit to decree so. The de–facto meta cars of Gr.1, the Porsche 919 and Toyota TS050, both share a common weakness in having low top speeds, since their hybrid systems are programmed in stone in these games to recharge the battery using the ICE past a certain speed, giving them super sharp acceleration in low to mid speeds, and then suddenly becoming utterly flaccid past 240km/h (149mph) or when they run out of charge. This makes them incredibly quick and fuel efficient at most tracks in the game where there are corners that necessitate braking for every once in a while, but ironically some of the worst choices to bring to a high–speed track like la Sarthe. The LM Nismo's hybrid system, unlike the battery systems in those cars, is a flywheel system that I don't even want to pretend I know the basics of, but in practice, it charges and discharges much quicker than the Lithium–Ion batteries of the 919 and TS050, and most importantly, doesn't sap engine power at all. This gives the LM Nismo an incredible advantage on long straights, 5–speed gearbox be damned, capable of speeds in excess of 320km/h (193mph) in clean air before having to brake for the Mulsanne chicanes, whereas the 919 and TS050 struggle to crack 310km/h (174mph). To really seal the deal, the LM Nismo I've noticed drinks ever so slightly less fuel than said contemporaries, meaning that it's a high–speed monster with the immediate handling and fuel efficiency of a modern LMP1 to back it up, making it a compelling package in high–speed tracks, especially when high fuel use multipliers are in play. It... will just take a bit of trial and error to know which corners will unsettle its rear end, and then actively drive around that weakness by going extra slowly.

With the LM Nismo now being AWD, it really has become the best of both worlds. It's still the underdog we all loved to root for, and yet at the same time, it's competitive enough now that it just might prove competitive once in a blue moon should the track and BoP favour it. More than that however, the LongBoi is an endlessly fascinating piece of motorsport history and an engineering showpiece even ten years after its outing at Le Mans, and to have it scrubbed off history books and forgotten is just such a crying shame. In lieu of direct recognition from Nissan, Gran Turismo has become a foster museum for the unloved child, and the LM Nismo's story might just continue under PD's care. The GT games have always taken failed racecars and given them a whole new purpose and audience, in so doing giving them a second chance at life, such as Jaguar XJ13, Chaparral 2J, and Toyota TS020. Will the LM Nismo be next in line in becoming a Gran Turismo legend? Time will tell, but I sure as hell hope that it will be the next fondly–remembered failed racecar; with Nissan seemingly hell–bent on scraping it off their history books, we GT players might be on a strict timer to enjoy the LongBoi before another generational leap in consoles and graphics fidelity leaves the car behind for good.

Bonus Ramble:

Yes, I actually re–installed GT Sport just for that second photo in this post. It took 6 hours of installation, not counting the shenanigans of my PS5 somehow refusing to download the last 4 items of the update in Sleep Mode, so it actually took half a damn day in real time. Just a cautionary tale here for anyone who still hasn't uninstalled GTS from their console.

I'm actually pretty surprised that the "Season's Greetings" curation of Scapes didn't make the transition from GTS to GT7. I thought I must've been tripping some exotic balls when I remember we had that exact location on a body of water with artificial lights strewn in with a mountain looming in the background. These Season's Greeting Scapes even have fully animated elements in them, like flowing water and a CUTE CAT!

Also, the Photo Mode menu in GTS seem a bit more responsive than GT7's. What the heck is with all that, Kaz?! Are you really happy with being the god of a world so flawed? Can you really look your parents in their eyes and say they can be proud of you? HUH?!

GT7 W109: Chevrolet Corvette Z06 (C5) '01 & Dodge Viper GTS '02

Growing up with the PS1 era of Gran Turismo games, my childhood heroes have always been the FD RX-7 and the SR II Vipers, both having sleek, curvaceous bodies that somehow spoke not just fluently, but also bewitchingly, in a wordless language to the kid who knew nothing about cars. The Viper in particular was offered with body stripes, making it stand out all the more in a sea of monotonous cars in an era before visual customisation featured in racing games. In comparison, the boxy, somewhat derpy looking C4 Corvettes just never registered in my head, not to mention the C4s were just plasticky food for the Vipers on the track, stock for stock.

Of course, when Chevrolet unleashed the C5 Corvette onto the world in 1997, the playing field looked much more even. After the sacrilege of having a Lotus–built V8 carry the Corvette's legacy in the flagship C4 ZR-1, the C5 Corvettes would all proudly bear an engine that would soon become an instant classic synonymous with General Motors: the LS engine. Wrapping around the compact (by American standards...) 5.7L LS6 NA V8 engine of the Z06 was a sleek and curvaceous body that bore less resemblence to the C4 it succeeded and more with the FD RX-7, and dare I say it, the American car with the hulking V8 engine also drove quite like my corner–craving childhood hero as well.

Fine I'll do it myself by XSquareStickIt
#barbie #toystory3 #movie
Since SPD can't read the damn room by Spicy_Nikorasu
#lemans #c5r #commemorative

All that is to say, with GT7 Update 1.59 adding in the long–awaited and sorely missed C5 Z06, the SR II Viper gets a new playmate, and I get to be a kid again.

Of the two, the Viper is more of a known quantity; we've had SR II Vipers since Gran Turismo 1, and this particular 2002 GTS model has been with the series almost like a mascot since Gran Turismo 5. I've always liked Vipers because they've always just seemed like someone materialised a cartoon character in real life, which is perhaps why it's so effortlessly charismatic to the 8–year old kid inside every man. It's powerful, brash, dangerous, unwieldy, demands respect, and takes no BS from anyone—especially its own driver, and as is the case with all good character design, one could glean its characteristics just from laying eyes on it. Stability control? TCS? HA!, try begging for ABS for a start. Yet, it also seems to have a nonchalance about it that is either confidence in its own abilities, self–awareness that conveys it shouldn't be taken seriously, or a paradoxical mix of both. It's heavy, soft, and numb in the corners. It understeers on corner entry and exit, and it slithers and writhes about mid–corner as though trying to bite an omnipresent itch somewhere along its body. And for a car this softly–sprung, it really doesn't like kerbs, liable to leap into the air and pounce onto an unsuspecting trackside barrier if it doesn't find the kerbs to its taste. Getting a Viper round a track quickly is less about surgically making use of every millimetre of the track as it is simply keeping the snake straight and on the paved surface, where it is most happy and its driver is the most safe. Even then, the Viper is not an easy pet to satiate, as its 8.0L V10 prefers to be short shifted, even with its low 6,500rpm rev limit. Of course, with an engine so low–revving and comically abysmal specific output figures, the real magic of the Viper's engine is in the sheer torque it has throughout the rev range; by the time I realise I'm in the wrong gear coming out of a corner, it has already become the correct gear. In all, the Viper is a massively quick car by early 2000s standards, but it just never makes me feel like I want—or even should—push it hard. It's one of those cars where you'll automatically be doing well simply by not getting into an accident.

The bowtie wearing C5 on the other hand, is much more business minded. Strait–laced, focused, pinned down, and scarily efficient with its movements, the Z06 exudes such a no–nonsense feel when behind the wheel, almost as if it were fighting to change the perception of American sports cars, or perhaps fighting to be the image of America's sports cars for the first time in Corvette history, being the first generation of Corvettes penned in a toxic world where Vipers roam free on American streets. With a wide, low stance and a lightweight body that looks crafted to rend air with surgical precision and an unhealthy vendetta, the C5's sleek silhouette is a statement of ill intent to dispose of corners with as little fuss and as quickly as possible. Getting out of the Viper and straight into the C5, the Z06 just feels so effortless and razor sharp on turn–in that it's just downright uncanny for an American car of its time, not to mention it has impressive stopping power as well. One doesn't get much in the... minimalistic interior of the C5, but they do have a tachometer that reads up to 7,000rpm, and the Naturally–Aspirated 5.7L LS6 engine very much enforces the mindset of, "I paid for the whole tachometer; Imma use the whole tachometer". Quite like a certain childhood hero of mine, actually!

But of course, the C5 is still a Corvette at the end of the day, meaning it will violently bite off heads if proper respect and care is not exercised when driving it, even if it is a corner craving machine not just in the context of this comparison, but as a whole. Being a 2001 model, we GT7 players just miss out on the 2002 update to the Z06 that bumped its power from 384HP to 405HP (287kW to 302kW), but even then, I've found our slightly less powerful Z06 to be a bit snappy on corner exits on power. Good thing the C5 'Vettes all come standard with Traction Control, then! The thing that irritated me the most when driving the C5 however, is that it seems to have gear ratios from three completely different cars mashed into one gearbox: the first three gears look to have come straight from a top fuel dragster, 4th and 5th being on an island by themselves, and then 6th is so tall and disconnected from everything else that it might as well be its own planet. The car launches strongly with short and close 1st to 3rd gear shifts, but shifting to fourth drops the revs so much that it just drains all life from the car and my soul from my body each time I have to make that shift. At the risk of sounding corny, it really disrupts any flow state I may have on a drive. It'd sure be a shame if 3rd and 4th were the most commonly used gears around most tracks, huh? That big dropoff in revs on upshifts also means that the driver has to wait longer before downshifting from 4th to 3rd under braking, and I'm ashamed to say that I'd probably have blown up a few LS6 engines on downshifts had engine damage been simulated in GT7. I suspect the reason why there's such a big gap from 3rd to 4th is to allow the driver to launch the car in 1st and then skip–shift to 4th during daily driving, but it's such a shame that the performance–oriented Z06 has to be saddled with this BS as well.

For how drastically differently these two proud American beasts go about their business, a stopwatch actually has an incredibly difficult time telling the two apart; the cars were within 2 tenths of a second from each other around Road Atlanta in my clumsy hands, and with all their specs crunched, the 2001 Z06 measures in at 562.97PP as of v1.61, which is within hair–splitting range from the 2002 Viper GTS that comes up at 561.26PP. In a racing scenario however, it's always easier to overtake on a straight than in the corners, and with GT7's track list consisting mostly of wide open racetracks with sizable straights, the Viper is just the faster car for the pragmatic in most scenarios when stock, though I think the C5 would make for a better tuning base with its lower, wider body.

But to be pragmatic about toys I think is completely missing the point. I love and enjoy both, and to ask me to choose between Corvette and Viper is akin to asking me if I'm a bra or panties guy; they're both sexy as hell, and to miss out on one with the other is to miss out on life. A limp dick conclusion from me for sure, but I'm too busy having fun with them both to care. I'm simply glad that they both exist and that we have them in Gran Turismo 7.

GT7 W120: Chevrolet Corvette ZR1 (C7) '19

The seventh–generation Corvette, the C7, famously heralded the end of a formula that had proved for over six decades to be almost as sacred to Americans as the second amendment. In 2018, the last of the front–engined Corvettes rolled off dealership floors, and among them were a select few that promised perhaps to represent the absolute ceiling of performance that modern engineering can squeeze into an FR road car. The C7 ZR1 then, seems almost as if GM's way of pre–emptively saying to critics of the RMR C8 Corvette, "Tell us you can comfortably handle the C7 ZR1, then we'll listen to your whining and bitching about the layout switch". In other words, the C7 ZR1—at least to me—appears to be almost insane by design.

While it's true that the C7 ZR1's ludicrously widened body sprouts cartoonish aero and houses a 754HP powerplant, it's not any of those—nor the carbon ceramic brakes or super sticky Sports Medium tyres—that first raised alarms in my head when I looked at the spec sheets. Rather, it's the unexpectedly high ride height of the aero–wearing modern performance car that shocked me: 127mm (5in) front and 132mm (5.2in) rear. Out on the track, my worries were well–founded; the C7 ZR1 was extremely lairy in the corners, with a lot more body movement than I had been intially expected and prefer. So much so in fact, that I had strongly suspected the C7 ZR1 to be represented in–game in a drive mode less than its most aggressive akin to the 2017 Ford GT. But from what I can tell, only the most aggressive Track Mode gives us the linear tachometer we see in the game. In other words, the C7 ZR1 is behaving exactly as intended, which is to say, "batshit insane".

What that all translates to is, perhaps fittingly, a driving experience that feels properly old school in spite of its bevy of clever electronic wizardry working under the hood to keep the bowtie adorned missile out of the walls. The car has gobs of grip, both mechanical and aerodynamic, but the driver has to work the car to experience any of it, almost as if the driver has to prove themselves to their steed. One has to know which corner of the car is laden and which isn't, manage the weight transfer of a 1,615kg (3,560lbs) body at speed when muddled with downforce, trail brake with finesse, and be extremely aware of the fact that off–neutral braking will severely elongate stopping distances, to say nothing of the dexterity required of one's toes to massage the landmine of a right pedal without setting it off, even with TCS active. In a sense, it feels very "alive", and it forges a relationship of give and take with its driver as opposed to the more modern and isolating supercars that see it fit to deny its driver of any fun and involvement in the name of keeping them safe (see: C8 Corvette Stingray). If the C7 ZR1's contemporary peers were to be likened to an LMP1 hybrid racer, then the C7 feels like it's a Group C monster in comparison: fast and scary as all hell, but just undeniably and nigh inexplicably badass all the same, with an air of purity and simplicity around it that is just so damn alluring to weird folk like me. In short, it is exactly everything I want from the sendoff model of the ultimate "traditional" Corvette.

But is the C7 ZR1 truly the limit of what an FR platform can handle? Judging by my (lack of) chemistry with the car, I was initially tempted to say so. The C6 ZR1 is much more my speed, literally and stylistically, being so much easier to drive, so that's always my bowtie of choice. However, the AMG GT Black is just so much easier to drive than the C7 ZR1 while offering comparable performance, so maybe the Corvette could've stayed FR if GM had figured out the black magic employed by Mercedes. To me, the Corvette's switch from FR to MR always seemed aimed more at sanctioned motorsports than production cars. Maybe if more people could sample the C8.R, even if only in a video game, then the C8 might be more well–liked.

Still, for the C7 ZR1 to even be in the same conversation as much more expensive exotics like the AMG Black and Ford GT while itself only costing 134k Credits is a feat of its own, and damned if it isn't going to sound great and be a lot of fun, win, lose, or draw.