Nascar 09 sucks. I hate it. I didn't like any of the previous Nascar games and I don't even like Nascar in real life so I can't explain why I walked out of Best Buy with the game in a bag. That's a lie. I know exactly why I bought it. Its the same reason I intentionally make mistakes. The same reason I refuse to think ahead. I bought Nascar 09 because I wanted to play a racing game. Any racing game.
It was a setup. I figured that out pretty quick. But I couldn't tell who the set up was for, me or her. I barely talked to her at the bar and all of a sudden she's calling me at 2am? I bet Tim had something to do with this. It had his handwriting all over it. I could even picture the grin on his face when the idea came to him.
I was disappointed with Grand Turismo Prologue so much that I couldn't even boot it up without feeling despair. Forza 2 was stale. I wanted something new, different. Nascar had all the base requirements. Damage, Simulation level physics, custom paintjobs, real life race tracks, 16 player online racing. On paper, it should work like a charm.
I had met her before. She would hang out with us sometimes, watching old blaxploitation films, playing Fight Night on the PS2, cookouts. I tried to remember what she looked like. Blond..but not a true blond. The rest was a blur. But even as my brain worked overtime to convince me that her number appearing on my phone made sense, I knew it really didn't matter in the end. My brain wasn't running the show here. "Sure, come on over, I'm just watching TV". And that was it. Step taken. Pattern resumed.
As soon as I put the Nascar 09 disc into the 360, I know I've made a mistake. I don't want this game. Jeff Gordon explaining the ins and outs of the sport doesn't excite me. All the cars look the same. All the tracks look the same. The few road courses in the game just expose the flaws of the physics engine as cars hug the road during one corner and fly into the wall on the next. But I'm committed now. Maybe it'll get better. And hey, at least its a racing game.
I open the door and the first words she says is 'We're alone, right?'. I don't need to answer because the apartment is small enough to get a full view from 2 steps in. The MusicChoice channels on TV actually come in handy for once. My mind is split. Telling me that this is a pretty sweet situation here...but what happens tomorrow? She's stacked. And what the hell, she called me. But what happens tommorrow? Is this what you really want to do? Of course it is. Not really. It might as well have been the surgeon generals warning on the side of a cigarette box. Once you've opened the pack, you're going to smoke every one. And to hell with Lung Cancer.
I played Nascar for 2 weeks straight. I did the challenges. Raced in the three different series. I attempted to paint my car using EA's overly complicated and ultimately useless paint function. I went through almost a full season, gaining sponsors, gaining fame. And I felt like shit. I was going through the motions, trying to force myself into enjoying what was ultimately an empty game. But the game wasn't made for me. It does everything it promises and more. It looks good, it's deep enough if you take the time to get into it. But I'm not going to. It's my fault for buying into something I knew I didn't want. I should've waited for GRID.
I make an excuse why going to lunch wouldn't work and she doesn't push. It was an obligatory question anyway. One that neither of us wanted an answer to. The mutual blowoff is easy. Effortless. And that's what makes it hard. Devastating.
A week goes by and it's 2 am again. I recognize the number when it lights up on the phone. I hit 'Ignore'.
Score 4/10
