GT7 W67: Subaru BRZ S '21 & Toyota GR86 RZ '21

The Subaru BRZ/Toyota GR86 twins are cars that aren't even worth reviewing in the real world. It's not that they're bad, per se; it's just that, as the last members of the critically endangered species of "affordable rear drive sports cars", they don't really have much competition. If a prospective sports car shopper has a tighter budget and/or wants the open top, they'd be funnelled into the Mazda Roadster. If they need more space and/or a more focused track toy out of the box, only the Boxer twins provide those. Real life can very often be a bit of a downer sometimes.

When immortalised into the digital realm of Gran Turismo 7 however, the Toyobaru twins face much, much stiffer competition than a softly sprung Roadster. The twins' performance windows put them square in what I consider to be the "Performance Sweet Spot" of sports cars: around 230HP, and around 1.1 to 1.3 tonnes in mass. It's in this window where I feel that power, speed, mass balance, suspension, differential, and tyres all form the perfect, harmonious balance with each other with nothing dominating the experience, allowing the whole package to be cohesive and really come alive. Some of the industry's most legendary sports cars fall into this bracket, such as the 901 Carrera RS 2.7, E30 M3 SE, AP1 S2000, and of course, my absolute darling RX-8 Spirit R. Given this wealth of options in a racing game, can the Boxer–engined newcomers punch out a niche for themselves in this esteemed company?

ハルトゲ　E30 改訂版 by kuronana_325i

#Hartge #BMW #TommyKaira

As the most modern cars in the group, the ZD8 BRZ and ZN8 GR86 twins definitely look and feel their spring chicken age; they are the only ones that make usable torque in the mid range, despite the fact that they are Naturally Aspirated like everything else in the group. The "DN8 Twins", as I'll refer to them from now, have achieved this mid–range shove from their Boxer engines having been bored out from 86 millimetres to 94mm (3.386in to 3.701in), but before the fanboys go crying foul that the 86 doesn't have an 86 engine anymore, the stroke is still unchanged at 86mm. Despite the increased bore, rev limit for this new FA24 engine remains unchanged from the previous FA20 engine at a healthy, ample 8,000rpm, with the only difference this time round being the increased power output of 231HP (172kW), and that one doesn't have to play "Blackjack: Engine Revs Edition" to find it. With this hike in mid–range torque, the torque "waves" of the FA24 are so well balanced against the gear ratios that the DN8 Twins are among the very few cars that can shift at a wide rpm range without losing any speed; anywhere from 7,4 to 7,8 is good, the former of which is when the game will shift for the driver if left in automatic shifting. The real benefit of this mid–range torque is of course, coming out of tight corners; as manual gearboxes take an eternity and a half to shift in this game, and this game heavily rewards short shifting to control power oversteer out of corners, making luggable engines a godsend.

Black Rock Shooter Elishka BRZ by shenlin2001

#brs #blackrockshooter #elishka

But it's not just in the torquey engine backed up by the cars' speakers where the DN8 Twins feel modern; they also have a stupefying amount of chassis rigidity—possible only with today's technology—that makes them feel incredibly responsive and direct, which is of course upholstered by similarly stiff suspension setups. If the enlarged engine wasn't enough to pull the DN8 Twins away from the Mazda Roadsters, the no–nonsense springs ensure that a serious track day enthusiast would never cross shop the focused coupé twins with the lackadaisical convertibles. The suspension setup on the top grades of the DN8 Twins represented in this game are set up for track duty out of the box, permitting very little pitch and roll to make sure that all four tyres are always within their drivers' reach and control. These springs are so stiff in fact, they can sometimes boarder on unforgiving, even on a paved racetrack; hitting rumble strips at weird angles, even some seemingly innocuous ones like the inside of Lesmo 2, is liable to disconcertingly hop the DN8s and rob the driver of crucial milliseconds of control, which can quickly result in a spin if the driver is not prepared for it.

But when the oldskool approach is best, the DN8 twins can feel like they have rolled right off a time machine. There are good old fashioned buttons and knobs for air con and audio, for starters, and any company sensible and caring enough to still give us that in 2024, I will trust with childlike faith. There are no weird gimmicks, overprotective nannies, or overbearing understeer hard–baked into the suspension and tyre setups to dampen a spirited drive, and in the context of 2024, that is such a breath of fresh air to a man desperately in need of CPR. Uplifting spirits further is their quoted mass: 1,270kg (2,800lbs) apiece, which, while representing a 40kg (88lbs) increase over the preceding ZN6 when comparing top trims of the Toyotas, is still an impossibly light number by today's stringent and demanding standards, and I would even go as far as to argue that the mass increase is well worth it for the extra performance on offer, because the difference in mass is only something I might barely notice hopping between ZN6 and ZN8 back–to–back. That is to say that, judged on their own merits, the heavier DN8 Twins stand on their own four wheels as a compelling drive. The front ends of the DN8 Twins are so sharp and crisp that steering them both felt like trying to redirect origami cars rather than brutish metal chunks, and it's a sensation long thought extinct in the industry. This of course is due in no small part to the Boxer Engines, which boast a low centre of gravity, but the bonnet, front fenders, and even the roof being made of lightweight aluminium also deserve special mention for contributing to that sensation. And very unlike modern cars that try to protect its driver with crippling understeer, the DN8 Twins are not afraid to play, helpfully peeking out the rear end just a tiny bit on hard trail braking to get the car rotated into a tight corner. Equipped as–standard on all grades with a Torsen Limited Slip Differential, the torquey engine is of course capable of breaking grip on the 215mm section tyres to put on a smokescreen.

...oftentimes without the driver intending to.

Said Torsen LSD on both the twins are an evil blight upon their performance and driving feel, locking up much too early on power and actively crippling the twins. The grip and lightness of the car is there, and I know the cars can put down more power much earlier out of a corner if not for the LSD prematurely locking up and sending the rear ends sideways. It feels to me as if the diff has been set up from the factory for the cars to go drifting, and I personally hate the way it makes them drive. The stiff diff make the twins awfully twitchy on corner exits, with tight hairpins like Andretti Hairpin most clearly highlighting the problem, and they cost the twins so much pace that I legitimately set a faster lap time in an RX-8 around Laguna Seca despite the 4–door sedan being some 70 kilos (154lbs) heavier with only 1 more HP over the DN8 Twins. The diff quickly and strongly locking up also makes tracks that heavily necessitate corner cutting, such as the newly–added Eiger Nordwand, extremely precarious to navigate, as one rear tyre losing grip and spinning up quickly brings the other along, surrendering all grip on both sides and making the car extremely skittish, often resulting in frantic wheel shuffling until the driver can gather back together the car. Then again, this is hardly the first time I've complained about the diff being too tight in cars, so it could just be that I personally prefer extremely loose differentials. I just personally find the tight diff in the DN8 Twins especially disappointing because I genuinely think they could be in the conversation for the best driving cars ever made, and the diff has single–handedly ruined the DN8 Twins for me.

The ZD8 BRZ has notably softer springs on the rear than the ZN8 GR86, which does go some ways in assuaging the problem, and that's the only difference I can find between the twins both on the spec sheet and out on the track. It could also be that, much like their stiff suspension and under stressed chassis, the diffs on the DN8 Twins were set up to handle a fair bit more power and grip than the cars have bone stock, aimed at saving a builder on a budget from shelling out for an aftermarket differential. If it was me, though? I'd shell out for an aftermarket diff and leave the rest of the car as–is. And that perhaps is the area that the twins feel the most modern: they're sold as capable, perfectly serviceable bases, but just like most modern video games, they can feel a bit wanting and perhaps even lacking in personality until updates, DLC, and fan–made mods fix a few annoyances and really bring out their latent flavours. The older cars in that comparison group, the 901 Carrera RS 2.7, E30 M3 SE, AP1 S2000, and SE3P RX-8, are all sold as cohesive products that had to make sense as they left the factory, each brimming with their unique personalities and kinks that will need ironing out if their owners are to try to tune them. That is to say, if you're someone who likes to customise and tune cars, the DN8 Twins are much more accessible and accepting bases, but if you're someone who just wants to hop into a car, not have to think about much and just enjoy the drive, I think any of the other aforementioned cars will give much more smiles per mile than the DN8 Twins.

Me personally, I like my stuff to work right out of the box without having to mess and tinker with thousands of values. And it's for this reason that the 901 Carrera RS 2.7 and the SE3P RX-8 still reign supreme as the best driving road cars in the game. That being said, I also recognise that I'm in a very lucky position to be able to nitpick the ZD8 and ZN8, and I'm still incredibly grateful for their continued existence in today's market, because they carry on the dying light of the relatively affordable rear drive sports cars with stick shifts. They are cars that absolutely need to be experienced for oneself, either virtually or in reality.

GT7 W65: Porsche 911 GT3 (996) '01

Hey you. Yeah, you, reading this. You're on GTPlanet Forums, so I assume you know a bit about cars? How about a pop quiz? "When was water–cooling first adopted in a passenger vehicle?"

You don't know? Of course you don't; you're not a walking collection of useless trivia nor Google incarnate. Engines switching their methods of cooling from surrounding air being funnelled around the engine to having specialty liquids designed to extract heat being pumped around engines to cool them is a straight upgrade: it gives engine more power density, more revs, less NVH and emissions, and, you know, reduces the risk of the whole thing going kaboom mid drive. That switch to water–cooling isn't even worth thinking about. Unless of course, you're a Porsche 911 fan over the age of boomer, in which case you know exactly when the hell your favourite Carrera got drowned in the evil liquid that is engine coolant: July 17, 1997, the birthday of the rebellious 5th–generation 911, the 996.

Ikamusume Porsche911(996) by Fast_R_61

#anime #itasha #ikamusume

Okay, yes, fine, the engine sound is muffled a bit compared to the traditional air–cooled units found in the prior four generations of 911s, and unfortunately, early 996 engines had a reputation that didn't hold water; sometimes literally, as reliability issues such as oil leaks and Intermediate Shaft Bearing failures were commonly reported, forever tainting the all–important first impression of the 996. But Porsche didn't become the most dominant manufacturer in Le Mans history by accepting defeat and rolling back changes. With their backs against the wall, they called upon the man who made them such a dominant force in the endurance racing world to begin with—Hans Mezger—to administer CPR to the drowning engine half a crank case in a watery grave. You might know his name if you're familiar with the 917 that won Porsche its first overall victory in Le Mans, the 804 that gave Porsche its only win in Formula 1 to date, or maybe if you have a strange fascination with the mid–engined, water–cooled 911 GT1 that won Le Mans in 1998. Heck, if you've ever driven any of the prior 4 generations of 911s, you'd have at the very least sampled his work; they were all powered by engines colloquially known as "Mezger Engines". Under the trained hands and watchful eyes of the legendary engineer, the ill–fated M96 3,387cc Flat 6 gained 213cc and .76 to its name. This was apparently all it took to silence the outcries of reliability issues... or they were simply drowned out by the sound of even more power.

This new breed of M96.76 3.6L Flat 6 engines? Porsche fans came to know it as... the "Mezger Engine". Man, these guys resist change as if everything came in five cent coins. What are they going to complain about next, that the headlights aren't round on the 996?

Almost as if to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that this new M96.76 Mezger Engine is reliable enough to withstand the rigours of racing, Porsche introduced the "GT3" trim to the 911 lineup in 1999 for the first time in the model's history, equipped of course with the brand spanking new 3.6L NA Flat 6. As a homologation model for Group N-GT (a category predating FIA's own GT3 category!), 996 GT3s were sold to customers bereft of creature comforts like sound deadening, ride comfort, audio systems, and air con, though the latter could be optioned back in at no extra charge. It's the sort of car that kids fall in love with, and the kids that grow up to be engineers wish they could make, but the bean counters at Porsche were wisely cautious with expectations, planning for only as many 996 GT3s to be made as the 996 GT3s weighed in kilograms, and given that it's a stripped out track toy made to be as light as possible, the GT3 sure seemed damned by accountants from conception to be an obscure footnote in the 911 history books. However, demand for these spine–smushing, ear–rupturing coffins so greatly exceeded the initially planned run of 1,350 cars (that's 2,976lbs for you freedom loving folks) that production of the 996.1 GT3 totalled 1,868 cars in three short years, ensuring that this love letter GT3 grade would become a linchpin in the 911 lineup in later generations.

Among those smitten by torture is Gran Turismo director and Polyphony Digital CEO, Yamauchi Kazunori, who owns a 996 GT3 to this day, and has gone on record praising it for its body rigidity, direct response, and opining that it is still a benchmark for modern performance cars. Almost as though Kaz was trying to build the car its own legacy, the 996 GT3 would gain almost a mythical status in the digital realm of Gran Turismo; a 2001 996 GT3, plausibly modelled after Kaz's own ride, was included in the Japanese and European versions of 2001's Gran Turismo 3, albeit inaccessible via normal gameplay as an unused asset. While RUF does serve as a stand in for Porsche models in Gran Turismo 3, Polyphony Digital seemed to not even be allowed to as much as mention Porsche, resulting in some very painful and obvious dancing around the name in RUF cars' descriptions, such as "a famous German automaker", or "based on a unit used in that automaker's larger sports car", all while having to stress every time that RUF is an automaker recognised by the German government. It's a wonder how the heck they didn't get in more trouble for including a fully–functional, albeit unused 996 GT3 in the game!

The fully–functional 996 GT3 as an unused asset in Gran Turismo 3

It would take another 17 years before the very same 2001 996 GT3 would be officially included and proudly advertised in a Gran Turismo game: GT Sport. But just when it seemed time for the 996 GT3 to melt away into the background as just another road car in the games' car list, a State of Play trailer for Gran Turismo 7 would shine yet another spotlight on an elusive, behind–the–scenes 996, albeit this time, only on its engine, as an explicitly named M96.76 powerplant was seen somehow smushed into the back of a 1966 Volkswagen Type 1200 as a way of advertising a new feature to the series: Engine Swaps. We GT7 players would end up never being able to do that very specific swap, with the 964's air–cooled Flat 6 slotting snug into the back of the bug instead. Mik Hizal still hasn't received that memo, though; he still insists that there is a "911 GT3" engine in the back of his Beetle.

So, with all the hype and waiting out of the way, how does the 2001 996 GT3 hold up as "just another car", as "just another 911" in Gran Turismo 7?

 

It's not just in the mechanicals where the 996 GT3 spits on its forbearers' legacy: it also does a full 180 in the driving experience as well, ironically by actually holding straight and true. There may have been "pure" and stripped out 911s before, but as a straight up, no–nonsense homologation model, the 996 GT3 makes the already hardcore 993 RS Club Sport look like a casual garden shed strip job in comparison. Road going 911s up to this point have more or less felt like products of their time, having noticeable pitch and roll whatever it is they did, which, when combined with their rear heaviness, makes them outright hazardous to drive in the worst of times. The 996 GT3 on the other hand, feels like wearing a pair of jeans a size too small; it feels tight and restrictive, and the driver will have to fight the car to get it to do anything, including turning a corner. 

The 996 GT3 defaults to safe, controllable understeer in any situation, as its the front tyres that are the limiting factor from corner entry to exit; the front tyres of course do most of the braking and all of the turning on entry, but the rear end is so rock solid and bereft of all drama that it's almost deadpan. In fact, the 996 GT3 can feel eerily like an EV to drive at times, simply because there's no sensation of a big lump of concentrated mass anywhere in the car, having its heaviest component, the engine, sat behind what feels like anchor–laden rear axles, which ardently refuse to give. To get the 996 GT3 to do its best work then, requires a very well educated right foot on trail braking and throttle blipping, as it's only with gentle, yet persuasive footwork will the 996 GT3 show its true cornering ability. On corner exits, overzealous drivers will find that it's also understeer that causes them to lift off the loud pedal instead of oversteer, as what little weight is over the front axles flies clean off to ensure that none of the 354HP (264kW) are allowed to run loose, almost as if Porsche made a FF hot hatch! The 996 GT3 was never offered with traction control, and quite honestly, it's completely unnecessary in the dry—it'd have to be provoked with a flaming barbed wire stick to get it to lash out on its driver, like flooring the throttle pedal in the first two gears, or deliberately trying to inertia drift it. I would not recommend trying the latter, as I'm sure even Vic will concur.

As the first GT3 in 911 history, the 996 GT3 is unflinchingly raw and mechanical, having none of the electrical wizardry of the later models to help hide or assuage its few flaws on a racetrack. While the entire car is extremely stiffly sprung, there is a lot of travel in the front suspension necessary to put weight over the featherweight front end; enough for the front wheels to hit the fenders in the most extreme of circumstances, like, say, if someone were to try to Kansei Dorifuto it. Even when driven "normally", this long stroke can become a prevalent problem at high speed. The 996 GT3 is one of the very few road cars of its time that actually produces downforce, and quite a bit of it at that: 30–120 front and rear according to whatever obtuse unit and measurement method GT7 uses. If the 996 GT3 was already limited by front grip in low speed corners, imagine dumping heavily rear–biased downforce into the mix. Even in mid 4th gear at around 180km/h, the steering wheel seemingly stops talking to me, and the front end becomes increasingly numb and slow to respond to steering inputs. Lifting even a bit does help tremendously with that, but the issue is that there's so much front travel in the suspension that the front end can quickly go from barely interested to turning too much with just a partial lift, making it extremely hard for me to tell just how much the front end wants to respond to every tug of the steering wheel off centre, and it's this vagueness that keeps me from really exploring the 996 GT3's limits at speed. Skill issue? Very possibly, but certainly not exclusively. Thankfully, this is an issue that is only prominent on a track like the Nordschleife, with the vast majority of its turns taken at speed; it's much less noticeable on other tracks.

The 996 GT3 is undeniably fast if a fast driver works with the car to work the car, which can be a very rewarding driving experience at times, but it can get rather tiresome quickly. I know the car can turn at speed, so why do I have to figuratively argue with the car to convince it to do so each and every time? For those unlucky enough to relate, it's like having to argue with oneself just to do basic things like getting out of bed and taking a shower. It's more or less fine when you're on your own with no commitments, but in a racing scenario where I might have to dodge something quickly or adjust my line to give space, I don't always have time to baby the car and set it up nicely to get it to do what it needs to. Worse still is when the reward for hard work is vague and not guaranteed, it makes said hard work just a chore and a gamble. Going back to the shower scenario: if there's no guarantee my life will get any better even if I go take that shower, and I expend all that energy and willpower to do it and end up feeling indifferent, I just feel like I never should've bothered.

But such too is the way of progress; the 996 GT3 is so fast that it can't even afford to fantasise about being as playful and whimsical as the 993 RS CS or NA2 NSX-R. Absent the sophisticated computer aids of today, the 996 GT3 can't afford to trust the driver enough to leave as much in their fleshy, flawed hands, simply because everything around it is happening so much faster, and while cars keep getting faster, humans sadly do not. In a way, having to fight that understeer is a primitive, mechanical way for the driver to prove to the car that they know what they're doing, absent any electrical wizardry to alter the driving experience. Unfortunately, in becoming so raw and focused, I think the 996 GT3 inadvertently shows clearly with no room for doubt the flaws of an RR layout, as even a run–off–the–mill V8 R8 is faster and easier to drive, and cheaper to boot! Of course, Porsche would keep getting better at their craft, and the 997 GT3 and Cayman GT4 are both newer, faster, and somehow, cheaper machines than the 996 GT3 in GT7's twisted and illogical economy. That said, the 996 GT3 does have a neat niche in this game as of v1.48, sitting at just under 550PP fresh from the Brand Central: 548.92PP to be exact. This makes the 996 GT3 a shoe–in as–is for 550PP events without any need for aftermarket parts and tinkering, such as the Kyoto 1 Hour Endurance mission race, which the 996 GT3 handily cleans up running flat out with just one stop, even on "Normal" difficulty (which I believe is the hardest difficulty for Mission Races due to a bug still unaddressed in the game as of v1.48). For this fuss free, ready–to–race state out of the box, the 996 GT3 could well be worth the 180,000 Credits Porsche asks for.

The 996 unfortunately suffers from being the middle child of many siblings; it isn't as playful as its older, slower predecessors, but doesn't yet have the magic of its younger successors. While the 996 GT3 isn't a car I foresee myself going back to, it is nonetheless one of the most important models in the 911 series, and has helped me gain yet more respect for Porsche. Even though they were in dire financial straits in the 90s, they quickly addressed the 996's initial issues, and even went as far as to create a pure, sporty variant of the car they didn't expect to sell well. Since then, Porsche has never relented on offering as raw an experience as modern laws would allow; just look at the 991 R and the 992 S/T. A sports car, a product, always needs to keep evolving, even if said changes look uncomfortable. Can anyone imagine a car with an air–cooled engine being offered in dealerships today, much less be a benchmark for the do–it–all car? Writing as a fan of Mazda's Wankel Engine sports cars, I think Porsche fans are the luckiest enthusiasts in the world to have the car they fell in love with at any point in the past seven decades not only survive to this day, but stand as a benchmark for other automakers to follow, and I think the 996 deserves a lot of credit for that. Speaking for myself personally, the 996 GT3 has shown me that, if forced to make another big change in the very quiet future, Porsche will do right by their fans and do it right.

GT7 W66: Genesis G70 GR4

Luxury car brands in motorsports may be almost as old as the concept of the motor race itself, but they've always struck me as an anamolous sight nonetheless. After all, what does a stiffly sprung, flame spitting, sponsor slathered, stripped out coffin share with the the plush, quiet, refined, and comfortable road car on which it's based, other than a generic silhouette? But, lo and behold, it's 2024, and Genesis, premium arm of Hyundai, has officially partnered with video game series Gran Turismo to debut to armchair racers around world a a trio of racecars—the Gran X Racer Vision Gran Turismo Concept, the X GR3, and G70 GR4. This week, we're taking a look at the latter: a luxury 4 door sedan wrought for Gr.4 competition.

G70 GR4 BTCC Tribute livery by BlackGasoline

#btcc #rydell #motorsport

大崎甜花 G70 by Lotus_RacingT128

#anime #itasha #imas

In the lenient transition to Gr.4 racing, the G70 has retained the use of its Kia Stinger derived Lambda II twin–turbocharged 3.3L V6 engine and optional All–Wheel–Drive from its VIP chauffeuring days, and when coupled with competition springs stiff even by racecar standards, the G70 GR4 is one of the easiest, if not the easiest Gr.4 car to drive. Said twin–turbocharged V6 engine delivers an unfaltering tabletop of torque anytime, anywhere upon request true to its luxury car roots, and drivers can simply leave the chore of shifting entirely to the game at no penalty whatsoever. Should the distinguished individual behind the wheel wish to indulge in the traditional art of changing cogs themselves, they'll find that the G70 GR4 hardly loses any pace when short–shifting to sip fuel. Being on the VIP list of V1.48 BoP, the G70 GR4 has exclusive, early access to most corners on a racetrack, and even mother nature herself and her oppressive air struggles to tax the G70 GR4. In short, this engine is everything a person could ask for, whichever suit they happen to be wearing.

But the G70 GR4 is far from a one–trick pony; when the roads meander, the G70 GR4 is lavishly appointed with tools to trivialise the challenges of any racetrack. It of course has the aforementioned stiff suspension setup that gives the luxobarge an unethical degree of directness and immediate response, which the car keeps deep into a corner under trail braking. When coupled with its coveted AWD and surprisingly balanced 52:48 mass distribution, trifling matters like bumps and kerbs are sorted by the unflinchingly neutral car before any of it reaches the driver, who only needs concern themself with picking an earlier–than–usual apex and fully depressing the throttle pedal past which. Should the G70 GR4 be pushed too far, it defaults to very calm and mild understeer, never lashing out unexpectedly. It is a car that is simply challenging to get to break composure, and as such, is a car that can completely disappear into the background of a driver's mind, letting them concentrate on more pressing matters, like (urgh) other people.

For the connoisseur who value immersion, the G70 GR4 is also equipped with a wide and clear rear camera, which sits dead centre on the car's dash behind a minimally obstructive rectangular steering wheel, making the task of assessing approaching danger much, much easier—or to simply gloat at the peasants they've passed. The shift lights are immaculately calibrated with the car's revs, flashing blue when the V6 reaches the last few hundred rpms in the rev range, where it finally shows hints of waning, meaning that blue flashes happen right when the car wants to be shifted, sparing the driver any mental gymnastics of figuring out when to shift or how to read the car, and it quite frankly makes the more eccentric and picky competition look cheap and cumbersome in comparison. A slight complaint I have though, is that I do wish the shift lights were mounted above the rear camera, because as they are right now, they're mounted in the middle of the steering wheel, which will require the driver to avert their eyes far from the road ahead to see.

That said, in the spirit of sportsmanship, the G70 GR4 does have its fair share of flaws. As of v1.48 BoP, it ranks the 6th heaviest car of the 33 models in Gr.4 (7th in Low–Speed BoP), and while its stiff springs, large 19–Inch carbon wheels, and ample power do a spectacular job of masking that mass, they can't hide the heft for long. Like all front–engined AWD cars, the G70 GR4 will quickly consume its front tyres as though a spoiled child. This is not a problem when chauffeuring cherishables around, but in the context of a race, it means that the rapid pace the G70 has in a sprint scenario quickly wanes. Also, while getting the G70 GR4 to break composure is a challenge, it becomes wildly and violently unpredictable if one side of the car is dipped into grass or gravel beyond paved tarmac, so drivers would be wise to avoid cutting corners too much. In terms of alternatives, the Lamborghini Huracán Gr.4 or a Subaru WRX Gr.4 are both similarly rock solid, stable drives, and while they don't have the straight line surge of the Genesis, the Huracán conserves its tyres and fuel better, while the WRX is softer and thus more forgiving to drive.

The Genesis G70 GR4 is a proven meta pick in certain scenarios, but it's more than just fast; it's stable, easy to drive, difficult to upset, and is even accommodating to beginners. Be they a seasoned competitor or a gentleman racer looking to learn the craft, the Genesis G70 GR4 truly makes lives easier and better, and should be viewed as an object of envy. In short, it is truly a luxurious racecar.

GT7 W64: Alfa Romeo 4C Gr.3

The short–lived Alfa Romeo 4C was probably too small a car to serve as the basis for a GT3 racecar in real life, but Gran Turismo's rough equivalent of said GT3 category, Gr.3, has accommodated so much more eccentric a racecar than a puffed out, ballasted up 4C, making it look downright at home. But where in the hierarchy does the sole car wearing the storied Alfa Romeo badge stand in Gr.3?

Alfa Romeo Orlen 4C Gr.3 by Z4E_Midnight85

#alfaromeo #orlen #4c

[SuperGT 2005] #30 Reckless by HennyGingerale

#supergt #2005 #reckless

The first thing that strikes an onlooker with a 4C Gr.3 is, of course, its comparatively tiny size, even with the flares and bulges. Being a rear mid–engined, tiny sports car, it's almost a foregone conclusion that the 4C would serve almost a Lotus Elise like niche in Gr.3, being the extremely lightweight, but severely underpowered surgical knife of a car that would compete against the bigger goliaths with reckless agility and unreal frugality, but take either a quick look at the Balance of Performance tables or a 4C running amongst its peers, and that seemingly foregone conclusion quickly fades away: the 4C is only the 9th lightest and the 16th least powerful car in the zany Gr.3 category with v1.48 Mid–Speed BoP applied, rendering it rather prone to being lost in the shuffle when it comes time to pick a meta car. For a supposed cornering car, it has a surprising ability to sniff unsuspecting rear bumpers: my GT500 NSX struggled to rein in the 4C in the wake of the latter's miniscule slipstream around Grand Valley, and Alex's 4C set a faster lap in clean air than my F1 GTR aided with some slipstream... around Monza. The 4C also has a strong top end possibly owing to its lack of drag, making it punch above its weight on tracks that explore the speed limits of Gr.3 cars.

But that is not to say that the folks at Polyphony Digital will give up that illusion of an agile car that quickly: the 4C has a front end so sharp and responsive that it seemingly reacts more to a driver's brain waves rather than their hands. With a full rearward brake bias of +5, weak ABS, and downshifting as aggressive as the caricature flares of the 4C, its rear end comes around just a slight bit under hard braking into a corner, transitioning over seamlessly to the intuitively progressive turbocharged engine when it comes time for propulsion to carry that momentum. Of course, as a short wheelbase RMR car, the 4C will wear its rear tyres out more than its fronts—about twice as fast on the outside from my time flogging it around Sardegna A—but the 4C's personality doesn't change all that much even as its tyres wear down, being mainly limited by front grip. It's only in extreme wear cases, at about 10% life left on soft tyres, does the 4C start becoming squirrely. In terms short and sweet like the lifespan of the production car, the 4C a delight to toss around corners in spite of its spec sheet.

...if the course fits the car well, that is.

Looks can be deceiving, and the tiny RMR sports car is hardly the ideal cornering Gr.3 machine. To illustrate, I'll be comparing it against the car that has been the closest thing to being my go–to car in Gr.3, the 2017 Porsche 911 RSR, and I took both cars out onto the qualifying Time Trial of last week's Daily Race B at Maggiore GP. The 4C is just a bit more prone to power oversteer out of corners, and the fictional car is violently allergic to kerbs, grass, and sausages, with the whole car seemingly surrendering all semblance of grip and control and going completely limp the moment there's an imbalance of traction on one side, often resulting in a rather embarrassing meeting with the inside barrier at a perpendicular angle. Tracks that necessitate heinous track cuts or kerb riding, such as Maggiore and Dragon Trail, might as well be minefields for drivers in a 4C, while the 911 simply wafts past these road imperfections as though a gentle, passing breeze.

While the 4C gives drivers neck–snapping initial turn–in, it doesn't have the same turning ability of the 911 at the same speeds, and it's much less communicative when approaching said limits, resulting in a confidence inspiring, if not frantic turn–in, only for the steering wheel to suddenly feel like it has hit a brick wall mid rotation. The 911, while not as ferociously responsive initially, is much more gradual and communicative with its grip limits to me, and have I mentioned the 911 turns more at the same speed? All this is most evident at high speed sweeping corners like turn 13 of Maggiore, the deceptively scary right kink leading onto the home straight of the West End Layout with minimal runoff area. It's a flat out corner in the 911—but there isn't much wiggle room in the racing line if the turn is to be taken flat. The 4C has without fail, asked of me to lift for the turn, even if for a barely noticeable moment and a tiny smidge, and this is even with as perfect a line as I could manage. I had considered the possibility of the gung–ho 4C being faster at that point, or just having its downforce more biased to the rear, but the 911 and 4C share identical downforce values according to the game, and the 4C similarly asks me to lift much more for Turn 8 than the 911; the final left hander in a complex of corners before the gentle chicane leading onto the back straight.

While the svelte 4C isn't nearly my top pick for Gr.3, it is nonetheless a solid option if the track suits the car, even more so if the event heavily rewards frugality with tyres and fuel. And, hey, that's a lot more than what can currently be said about the brand's real life racing efforts in F1. That's got to amount to something, right?

GT7 W59: Suzuki Jimny (K14C Engine Swap)

As COTW regulars and readers might well already be familiar with, the wildly popular 4th–generation Suzuki Jimny is equipped with a 658cc 3–Cylinder engine churning out just 63HP (47kW) to conform to Kei class limits in its home market of Japan—you know, the very limits that Suzuki themselves were wink wink "pushing" as early as 1995 with the facelifted Cappuccino?

Safe it is to say then, that Kei cars today are very clearly kneecapped straight from the factory, and for customers who don't enjoy driving on automotive crutches, the Jimny is also offered with a 1.5L 4–Cylinder engine producing a halfway–decent 100HP to lug around its near 1.1 tonne body. This grade of the Jimny is known in its home market as the Sierra, and is the sole engine offered in export markets. Here in PDLand, Kei–compliant Jimnys are instead offered an option to swap their R06A engines for a meaty K14C 1.4L Turbo 4–Cylinder sourced from a 2017 Swift Sport, perhaps serving as a pastiche of the Sierra trim to go along nicely with the wide body fenders that don't go quite as far out as the ones bolted onto the Sierra. At 109,180 Credits, it may be the single cheapest heart transplant in the game, but said operation is still largely locked behind the prohibitively expensive task of being Collector Level 50, and when combined with the cost of a base Jimny, the package is still VX Viper levels of money, all for a car that tops out at 168km/h (104mph) at Suzuka's relatively short home straight. Is it worth it?

KZFxC YH Moty’s Jimny 2023 by tsubo_ms-14s

#kzf #rarry

As is very often the case with engine swaps, simply carving out a car's original engine, throwing in a more powerful one in its place, and leaving everything else as–is creates a lopsided contraption that isn't very wieldy nor useful. In the case of the Jimny, it already has troubled and suspect on–road handling even with its original engine, and so dumping in an engine that produces some 217% more power only serves to highlight and exaggerate all of the car's original problems, plus heaping on new ones such as "the original gearbox is way too short for this kind of power". That said, the base 63HP Jimny does have a hard time reminding its driver of the respect it requires when being driven, and giving the Jimny well over double that finally makes it feel like a "real" car—one that I'm much more awake driving and in turn, readily respect.

Needless to say then, a heart transplant begets much more costly trouble down the line, involving specialty aftermarket parts like suspension, gearboxes, differentials, and tyres, to say nothing of the hours of tinkering and testing required to get the maladjusted car to drive right. At this point, one must ask themselves the question of: "Why would I even bother swapping the engine if I can pour in the same amount of effort into the car with its original engine?" After all, the Jimny's smaller, original engine weighs less, and if given a performance limit achievable by both engines, why bother spending that kind of money on an engine swap to begin with? It's not like the K14C engine of the Swift Sport is a racecar engine with unreal fuel efficiency.

Yes, the larger K14C engine weighs more than the R06A engine—21kg (46lbs) more according to the game, to be precise—but said increase doesn't have nearly as big of a hit in–game as it arguably would in real life, because the mass increase from engine swaps in this game don't affect the mass distribution of the car at all—it's just magically distributed across the car evenly, meaning that a big, hulking engine up front isn't going to cause the car to push much more with understeer as one might expect. With the mass disadvantage made almost irrelevant, the K14C engine I find is just a better engine for track use, simply because I find its torque to be much more evenly distributed in the mid to top end, where track cars spend all their time, and is so much more pleasant to drive for it. The R06A engine on the other hand, was set up from the factory for low end torque to facilitate crawling and climbing on harsh terrain, and the game simply doesn't give us players enough tools to meaningfully change that, relegating it to always being a short–shift engine. Helpful if the event heavily rewards fuel efficiency, but overall it's just slower everywhere else, even when tuned to roughly the same PP level.

If going all–out on tuning, of course the K14C Swift engine will have a higher power ceiling than the diminutive R06A Jimny engine, and it's in this application where the costly heart transplant goes from an expensive statement to a bargain kit car: throw the full catalogue of GT Auto parts and works at it, and you end up spending more or less the asking price of a standard Gr.4 car for something that will not only comfortably outrun any Gr.4 car, but will do so while severely undercutting their PP ratings. Take for example Suzuki's own Gr.4 entry: the Suzuki Swift Sport KATANA Edition: it's one of the fastest Gr.4 cars rated at 652.00PP fresh from the Brand Central. My full works Jimny with the K14C engine will wallop that from Streets of Willow to Bathurst on the same Racing Hard tyres, while sitting at a mere 583PP!

Just... uh... watch out. The Jimny was never built to handle those speeds, and even with our very tame COTW Saturday–spec tune, the Jimny already shows more than a few hints of sudden and abrupt tail happiness on braking that my inexperienced tuner hands can't even mildly assuage, and it's a trait that will haunt the Jimny more and more the faster it goes. GT Auto's aftermarket parts are all aesthetic and give zero downforce benefits, which means that the Jimny can end up with acceleration well exceeding those of Gr.4 machinery, but with none of the downforce, all while having Kei car wheelbase and pushing aside enough air at speed to alter climates. It struggles past 240km/h (149mph), and it's stuck with five forward gears even with aftermarket gearboxes, making the grind races of both Tokyo and Le Mans a struggle if the AI feels like being selfish and doesn't leave the "I" part of AI at home. For folk wondering if the Jimny swap is a worthwhile investment, they might be better served trying out custom races for their money making scheme: a Jimny with a maxed out K14C engine and a full diet can still slip under 300PP for the Custom Race bait–and–switch method, and with just a quick and simple setting sheet switch, turns into a Gr.4–devouring menace, making it quite appealing in that regard.

Fuel economy aside, I'm willing to go as far as to say that the K14C Swift Sport engine is a straight upgrade over the original R06A of the Jimny in every aspect. Engine swaps may usually be pretty Frankenstein combos with lopsided results, but it's not like the base Jimny has much finesse to lose. Yeah, it's difficult to drive at speed, but what better flex is there than to beat purpose–built racecars with a shoddy DIY contraption falling apart at the axles? If that isn't your cup of tea, I think the Jimny swap is one of the most grounded and most usable engine–swapped cars, requiring only light adjustments to be a good drive. In short, I think it's a highly versatile swap that has something for almost everybody.

GT7 W62 & 63: Red Bull X2014 Standard Car & Lamborghini Miura P400 Bertone Prototype '67

If you think about it, it's a pretty bloody amazing miracle that we human beings are capable of operating motor vehicles; after all, our fleshy prisons were never developed to be able to propel itself to dizzying speeds like 30km/h, and yet our brains can process audio, visual, and sensual information quickly enough to go way faster than that. Of course, without rigorous and routine training like the ones Formula drivers undergo, our spiteful mortal vessels will start to give out past certain g levels, but even the fastest of sanctioned racing machines can only pose a moderate challenge to our neural processing power through a screen. I can still notice things like grip limits, understeer, oversteer, differential locking, downforce imbalance, or, hell, even zonk out and daydream a little on the straights when driving an F1 car in a simulator.

Style edited from Nations Styled - Singapore by SomePlayaDude

#singapore #nations #gtws

Absent any building costs, fear of pain, and the rulebooks that result from the hinderances of reality, the Red Bull X series of racecars seem purpose–built to challenge that mental limit of processing speed in us sim racers, to seperate the truly gifted freaks of nature from the ones that simply work hard and dedicate. Even though the X2014 model is tamer on paper than the X2011 that preceded it, it's still capable of mind–bending speeds that is well past what my brain can handle. I am utterly incapable of even thinking to myself when attempting to drive it, let alone try to put any of it into words.

I cannot fathom where its grip limits are, let alone how to explore and find them in a safe manner. Don't ask me where it makes healthy torque; I don't even remember how many gears the thing has. Straights in most racetracks pass by faster than I can let go of thoughts of the previous corner; every bend feels like consecutive corners in the X2014, and it'd take a straight as obscenely long as Fuji's home straight for me to take a deep breath or two in before the madness begins anew. Yeah, the brakes work. The brakes work so well that it might not just be the car they stop. This thing has so much downforce that it can literally oversteer up Eau Rouge—no, I'm not talking about the back end of the car stepping out—I mean, the car can literally turn too much and hit the right hander apex of Eau Rouge at a 45° angle doing 320km/h if you thought common sense things like steering resistance and laws of physics would stop the X2014. Trying to drive this thing with common sense and experience with other cars will completely neuter the X2014—its magic is allergic to common sense. Just know it. Trust it. Keep the throttle pinned. Steer it into that corner flat out, but don't expect the steering weight to fight you, so be surgeon precise with it at 300km/h. Following another X2014? Cope, I guess. Death is just a restart, not an end.

Every microscopic twitch and imperfection of my input is magnified and displayed faster than I can even realise my mistakes. An imperfection that might have resulted in dipping half a wheel past asphalt in a typical Gr.3 racecar will see the X2014 taken clean off the circuit. At the end of each drive, I am drenched in sweat, I am breathing heavy, and I can hear my heart race, not at all unlike having just been through a life–threatening fight. This thing drives almost as though it were taken from some arcade racer, and yet it has more rooting in reality than your typical Vision Gran Turismo faff, easily vacuuming the track of marbles with utterly bonkers sci–fi make believe contraptions like the laser–propelled 2X. It's only at low speed corners where it starts to resemble a sane, normal formula racer, absent the downforce–generating fan of the X2011. At speed, though? Don't even bother with the default panning mode of Mode 2 when shooting photos of the car, lest you get an indistinguishable blur. Either bump up the shutter speed or use Mode 3.

Mode 2 panning at 1/60s shutter speed at Maggiore's Banky Boi corner. The X2014 was doing 140km/h.

The fact that there are people out there with the mental processing speeds to handle the X2014 and even the Tomahawks really made me realise just how hopelessly average I am, and it'd be a pretty depressing thought if that sadness wasn't mostly drowned out by respect for both the machine, its creators, and the people actually capable of doing it justice.

And then there's the 1967 Lamborghini Miura P400 Bertone Prototype. While the X2014 overwhelms with unreal capability and immediacy, the Miura almost literally swings the entirely opposite direction. Packing a "mere" 349HP (260kW) and weighing in at just 980kg (2,161lbs) in–game, it's certainly not fast in the grand scheme of things, but I would still argue that it, much like the X2014, is a magnifying glass for driver skill that greatly exaggerates even microscopic skill gaps between players. I say this because this is one of, if not the most difficult cars in the game to drive, giving drivers microscopic margins for error and demanding an unreasonable amount of knowledge and precision in its driver. In the hands of someone like me, it's downright hazardous to drive even at middling speeds with every precaution taken.

Being the prototype of the first road legal rear mid engined road car, it's understandable that a lot of rear mid engined quirks and tendencies feel completely unaddressed and unmitigated in the P400. Even mild trail braking with default ABS will pull the rear end out screaming and thrashing, and there is absolutely zero safety measures in place to keep the Miura from swinging its tail out as though trying to whip itself if a driver turns too much on the brakes. Long, sweeping corners with deep apexes, such as... oh I dunno, the entire last sector of Fuji, are an utter nightmare to find and meet while babying the Miura's rear end. It forces drivers to have a smidge of throttle applied almost immediately after peeling the steering wheel off–centre for a corner—well before the apex—to keep some weight pressing over the rear tyre, more than a smidge if the revs are low. But be ready to ease off that throttle pedal when the car straightens out and the revs climb, because once this prehistoric NA V12 engine wakes past 7,000rpm, you'll get... you guessed it: explosive, barely containable oversteer.

According to the game, the Miura has 0 downforce front and rear. That's a lie: it has less than zero downforce—it has lift. The production Miura is notorious for being extremely floaty at speed in real life, and in the game, it's one of the very select few cars that is both old and fast enough where lift becomes a real problem. The steering wheel goes noticably numb and muted in just third gear at around 150km/h, and the car will aquaplane on thin air in 4th and 5th, with the steering wheel light enough to turn 90° on the final left kink of Deep Forest Raceway after the pit entry while the car understeers into the outside barrier. The Miura needs to be tipped into a turn earlier and earlier with alarming increments once it hits its stride in 3rd gear, and lifting just a hint, even for a barely noticable moment, gets the car pointy again thanks to its soft suspension (and hopefully full tank of fuel). But of course, be wary of doing this as well, because the rear end of the car doesn't get any friendlier at speed. In GT Auto, the only aero parts available to a Miura are custom rear wings that completely desecrate the look of the car, which means that even if you wanted to, there's no fixing the airy front end of the car; it can only be made worse.

The Miura is a completely impractical car, even in the context of a racing game, not just because it's a pricey LCD exclusive, but also because it requires a skill level so high that none but the most skilled drivers can find any consistency and speed with it. For plebs like me, a modern day car with less power and more mass, like an NSX-R, would be much faster over a few laps. There's an old saying that goes, "work with the car, not against it", but to do what the Miura wants to do would be to tap dance on a minefield with the devil himself after you cucked his wife in secret. For everyone else, the Miura has to be fought vehemently as though their virtual lives depended on it. If you can manage it, or even exploit its tail happiness, I can't help but to suspect it's unreasonably, unethically fast. It presents itself as an unreasonably tough test for drivers that might be bored of more mainstream offerings, almost akin to the demonic Kaizo Mario levels in the gaming world. I have a torrid time driving it, but at the same time, I find it difficult to dislike the Miura: it's a car that asks of its driver to be so hyper aware of everything that is going on with the car, from weight shifts, revs, yaw angles, speed, and traits like that are often associated with the best drivers' cars.

That is to say, instead of me critiquing the cars, the past few weeks have flipped the table, and the cars have criticised me instead. And, you know what? Both those cars, for polar opposite reasons, made every other car feel slower to drive; the X2014 with raw, sheer speed, and the Miura with how quickly it lapses the window of forgiveness to its driver. I might even be brazen enough to say that these two cars have made me a better driver.

GT7 W52 & 53: A Fortnight of Lamborghinis

I didn't want to review the "car" we had for Week 52.

I hate the all–consuming trend of S and CUVs. I think the vast majority of the people who buy those things have near zero use for any of the "Sport" and "Utility" of these Vehicles—if there's any to be found in those FF hatchbacks on stilts. I think most people buy these things just for show, and what car company is more showy than Lamborghini? When someone thought to put two and two together, the seemingly unlikely pairing of the words "Lamborghini" and "SUV" came together like air to a bird, the sea to a fish, and contempt to the contemptible, resulting in not the fastest running Lamborghini ever made, but the fastest selling one of the company's entire 60–year history. Yada yada, some context and history about Ferruccio Lamborghini never wanted to make sports cars, how the company made the "Rambo Lambo" LM002... Look, I get it. Doesn't make the Week 52 make any more sense or less of a poop stain to look at.

No, I'm not going to sully my fingers typing its name out. I do all my research on it in an incognito tab on another browser. I don't even feel this filthy browsing for porn. When I had to take a photo of the car to announce it at the start of Week 52, I didn't even shoot my own car. I don't want this brain rot and hollow showboating invading my life, my personal space, more than it already has. Seeing one in real life makes me sick. The only solace I can take in the Week 52 being added into Gran Turismo 7 is that I can adamantly refuse to own one, not even for a fleeting moment to fill my otherwise complete CarDex. In fact, that one omission in the 497–strong list as of Version 1.45 is something I take pride in. Yeah, it might seem trivial to be so worked up about not owning an inconsequential car in a video game, but I take the same pride in not owning a Week 52 as I do not relapsing into old habits or being rude to a retail worker. Sometimes not doing something is in itself, every bit an achievement as actually doing something. Not owning a Week 52, especially when I had everything else, was an achievement to me.

Was.

Vic then comes along and chose the Week 52 for Week 52 of Car of the Week. He held my family at gunpoint, my balls in a vice, and threatened to LS— no, EV swap an RX-7 before my taped open eyes if I didn't honour his "request". And so, the folks at Lamborghini became 300,000 Credits richer as their hired guns shook down a fallen and tearful pretend reviewer. They stripped me of all my clothes and took away all my means of payment and transport, and as a final "F–you", the only way could make it back home in the sweltering, inhumane heat was a Week 52 with my name, ID number, and blood type printed into its upholstery... in my own blood.

A more able man might have tried to make Bloody Marys with spilled blood in my situation by reviewing the Week 52, but willing myself into a Week 52 felt like dipping my soul into a pool of radioactive acid. All I can tell you is that first and second are uselessly short—2nd gear tops out at exactly 100km/h, which should be all I need to mention to illustrate the one purpose they're there to fulfil. The thing wants to be short shifted at about 6,2, and is completely soulless both to drive and to listen to. It stops really well for something that weighs the collective guilt of mankind's worst tendencies*. Drag completely nukes this thing past 230km/h (143mph). The front heaviness of this thing is somewhat mitigated by what feels like brake vectoring on corner entry, which means to say that it pushes harder than delivering mother cattle after the initial turn–in. Vic opines it's faster through a corner sideways than straight. Ask him for the details. I'm just a broken shell of a man stripped of all dignity, purpose, happiness, and hope in life.

*The Week 52 weighs 2,197kg (4,844lbs) according to the game. Those figures could be dry humour, as is the case with most Italian performance cars in this game. I'm not going to sully my search history with trying to dig up its kerb mass.

In terms of raw pace, it'd struggle immensely just to keep up with a first gen Audi R8 V8. Can you imagine actually paying 911 GT3 money to get spanked by a Cayman GT4? I'd say I couldn't if I hadn't been forced into actually experiencing it. I SUPPOSE it's the third fastest four seater in this game behind the Porsche Taycan and Charger Hellcat, and it would outlast the EV Taycan and be much easier to drive than a Hellcat. To drive, though? There's nothing exciting or even remotely pleasant about the driving experience. It's completely devoid of any sense of occasion, quirk, or personality. And that just doesn't scream "Lamborghini" to me.

Not like the 2000 Diablo GT.

2000 JGTC NOMAD Diablo GT1 by konezumiway

#2000 #jgtc #gt500

From the moment I had to launch it from a standing start, this thing BELLOWED out character, and I'm not just talking about the sound of the showpiece 6L V12 slung aft the cockpit, either. As one might expect from a naturally aspirated unit that's capable of revving to a dizzying 8,000rpm, the NA V12 engine of the Diablo is completely lifeless below 3k rpm, waking up in a dazed stupor only past that. The complete lack of life in those low revs, along with its very tall gear ratios, mean that it's much more advantageous to turn off the makeshift launch control that is TCS and just modulate the wheelspin off a standing start—not to mention much more fun and engaging. Push it past 6,000rpm though, and this thing instantly snaps from "mildly grumpy to be up early on a Saturday morning" to "fissed the puck off just because it can", almost as though an invisible turbo passed laughing gas into the engine's cylinders and the driver's lungs, and it's a violent transition in first and second gear. In the 5 or so seconds it takes the Diablo to get from 0–100km/h, it's already shown more character than the Week 52 could ever scrape together in its lifetime. Right from the moment the lights go out, the Diablo has already established its personality and preferences in a way that almost looks as if written by a manga artist trying to introduce and establish a new character: Make a strong, cinematic impression, convey the character's intention, establish the character's absurd power level in the dynamic, maybe pepper in hints of its quirks for flavour, and then slowly hint at its weaknesses in a pace the audience can digest while keeping their interest.

As previously mentioned, the gear ratios of the Diablo are not just tall, but also wide apart—a necessity when trying to reach 200mph with just five forward gears. This, combined with its peaky engine, means that every gear has to be wrung for every last rev it can muster before upshifting, lest the upshift drops the L532 engine below its awakening point of 6,000rpm. Wring each cog for all it's worth, and the Diablo will just barely stay above said 6k threshold with each upshift. In other words, bringing each gear to its symphonic limit is not just its own reward, it's also to avoid painful punishment, and it lights up my stupid lizard brain on both motivational ends like a Christmas tree set on fire. Despite not having a stick shifter for my T300RS and thus only shifting with the paddles, there's a nigh indescribable quality to the Diablo's shifts that just make them so stupidly satisfying to grab. They just feel smoother and a little quicker than most stick shifts in the game. I wonder if the dog–leg pattern of the gated shifter has anything to do with it?

Continuing where the 25th Anniversary Countach left off, the Diablo GT comically staggers its tyres front to rear as though a Top Fuel Dragster to keep itself stable: 245–335 in this case. Of course, front tyres so skinny would have better luck stopping Y2K than it would a 1,490kg (3,285lbs), 200mph–capable cruise missile, to say nothing of trying to stop and steer a rampaging Diablo at the same time. Braking isn't the Diablo's strong suit, and ironically for a rear mid engine car, braking and turning has to be largely separate affairs, all in spite of the fact that late model Diablos like the one we have coming with ABS. And if you thought trail braking it was bad, wait till you need to adjust the Diablo's turning radius deep into a corner: the differential is so tight that it's damn near impossible to get the front end to turn when not hard on the brakes deep into a corner!

"So, what's the difference between the Week 52 and the Diablo, if both Lamborghinis push with understeer heavily?", you might be asking at this point. The difference, dear astute, sexy reader, is that, in addition to its spine–chilling, bum–burning soundtrack, the rear mid engined Diablo has a playful side to it unlike the Week 52, and the magical part about having that playful split personality is that sometimes, that playful side wins. The problem with using a tight differential in generating understeer is that the more understeer you try to dial into it, the harder and faster the car goes sideways once the rear tyres lose grip for any reason—a situation not unfamiliar to drivers of the Diablo owing to its racecar emulating rear suspension setup making tar mountains out of molehills. Beware of cutting corners too much as well, because the Diablo's preferred portal to the underworld lies just beyond paved asphalt, and once there's a grip difference between the two rear tyres, all hell breaks loose. And, as stupid a notion as it is to powerslide and drift around a 1 in 83 classic supercar, the Diablo GT is... really controllable in a slide. Don't get me wrong: you still have to catch it the nanosecond it goes, but if you're prepared for it and are quick enough, and if the NA V12 is awake and angry enough to give you the torque, the Diablo GT is a shockingly predictable and controllable lunk to slide around. In other words, the Diablo has so much character that it feels like two personalities constantly fighting each other, whereas the Week 52 can't find a shred of emotion in it, even if it were piloted by asylum inmates.

After having experienced the Diablo and running its similarly brilliant Murciélago against it, I just can't fathom how anyone could accept the Week 52 wearing a Lamborghini badge, let alone want it. It's a licence to print money for VAG, not a car meant to be driven by drivers. And sadly, it's not a trend that started with the Week 52; rather, the Week 52 seems to be the culmination of a long lasting syndrome.