Road Rash II

"After I went deep into addiction, I was able to laugh at Hell's Angels."

So, you see, I can trace my obsession with this game back to the day after I turned twelve years old. For no particular reason, I was strolling through the Barbie Aisle at Toys R' Us. Suddenly, without any sort of division or warning, I was greeted by a huge bin of Genesis games. Two for ten dollars. Yes indeedy, the toy conglomerate was sacking most of its Sega section to make room for this thing called the PlayStation, which apparently had a few games that could be enjoyed on said instrument. Drastic clearance sales started up at my local Toys R' Us -- proud Genesis titles that once boasted incredible $50 price tags were now being sold for a tenth of that. Had it not been for my perilous venture into Cootie Central, I might not have gotten probably the last new copy of Road Rash II in the entire state. Nestled between abundant multiples of lesser titles such as VectorMan, Final Fight, and Eternal Champions was a lone copy of Road Rash II, which is probably the greatest racing game of all time. Yes, I'm including the Gran Turismo and Ridge Racer games as well; in fact, only the great RC Pro-Am could hold a candle to this game. Regardless of whatever I knew at the time, I bought this along with the horrendous F-15 Strike Eagle II. I played the latter for about a week before casting it away to the shoebox in my closet that I kept under my old TransFormers crap. The exact opposite fate met with Road Rash II, suffice to say.

I could overuse the word ''great'' until all my fingers snap in two like soggy popsickle sticks. I could praise Electronic Arts, the publisher/developers, for their great services to all of mankind. I could praise this game to the point where CJayC's computer would refuse to store it due to excessive fanboyishness. I could probably fill up my 40-gig hard drive with this single review if I took that route. While I have been a slouching, sweating, mouth-breathing Road Rash fan since the day I took it home, this will be a true test of my will-power if I am able to find anything in this game that I could whine about; like the way Gary Steinman mercilessly tears into the newest Non-Squaresoft RPG in any given OPM magazine. Alright, let me gather my notes here...

Where to start? ''Road Rash'' is a Biker term for what happens when you scrape yourself against the asphalt as you're screaming down a freshly-paved Road To Nowhere. Your skin will have an unmistakable sore on it, as if you've accidentally pressed your thigh against a belt sander. While this is mostly irrelevant, I'd like to clarify that fact before I sink into the story. As hinted before, there are these piss-and-vinegar Bikers, right? And they hold these races. You, as a mostly anonymous newcomer to the Biker Scene, must claw your way to the top of the food chain by winning as many of these races as you can, gaining the respect of your plentiful rivals, and getting enough cash to upgrade your wheels and stay in competition. What sets the Road Rash games ahead of the pack (no pun intended) is the balls-to-the-wall cheeky spirit that it carries. There is also quite a motorcyle racing game in there, too. No other game has captured so knowingly the raw, white-knuckle feeling of roaring down a country road, barely strapped onto your crotch rocket, trying to fight the G-Forces as you roar around a corner and miss an obstacle by nanometers. These races are magical in the way that they inspire furious trash-talking when you crash and burn, nervous, cold sweats as you roar through deadly chicanes and hairpin turns, pressing the poor Genesis buttons as hard as you can, and pure, unbridled elation even if you barely clench a victory. All in the span of five intense minutes.

At first, Road Rash II doesn't appear to be anything special, but very, VERY few good games give off a magical aura upon viewing of the title screen. Write in your name or favorite four-letter word to properly designate your character, and off you go on the Circuit. After getting some helpful advice (i.e. ''Don't veer off the road'', ''My bike's better than yours'', etc), the first race loads up almost instantaneously. Of course, you start off dead last -- in 15th place. You also start out on a crappy sports bike with crappy handling and crappy acceleration. Don't let these setbacks bother you that much and you won't feel as discouraged if you get toasted. Suddenly, you're off, and with that quick exhiliration of speed that all great racers deliver straight-up, on the rocks, you become utterly sucked into the race.

As in most other motorcycle racers (Sorry, Excitebike doesn't count), the perspective is unchangeable from a position directly behind your butt. That's fine. The rear end of your bike is a fine vantage point; any other perpective would have been annoying. How come? You'll soon find out as the flag goes down and all the bikes in front of you roar to life at once; this is a game about precision and making the most of the tiny sliver of road you have to work with most of the time. The A button makes you go, B makes you stop. As the luscious 16-bit scenery flies past you, you must advance through the ranks on treacherous two-lane roads, usually with two other people jammed against either side of you. Sweeping turns can spell doom if you wander too far beyond the solid white line; oftentimes when you poorly handle a turn, you simply lose traction on the road and the bike slips out from under you. Careful -- your bike will blow up if it takes too much damage.

In a usual race, the first two clowns shouldn't be that hard to overtake; they contend about as poorly as the AI foes in Pole Position. As you get close to a rival, their name and their lifebar appear in the right-hand corner. Most go under ''typecast heavy'' names such as ''Slug'' or ''Vince''. As you catch up to the tougher enemies in 10th place and up, they will start acting increasingly aggressive towards your act of encroachment by trying to block you or nudge you in the wrong direction. Oh, and you're holding these races in broad daylight, in populated rural areas. The mean streets of the country will sometimes throw out a Lazy Sunday Driver to get in the way. Like most AI-controlled obstacles, they are unable to stop or take evasive action should you roam into oncoming traffic; this can be a thorn in the side and a great reason to stay on your toes throughout, especially when you get bumped into the path of a Soccer Mom. However, sometimes an aggressive opponent will maneuver his bike beside you and throw out a punch or two in an attempt to de-seat you and serve up an Asphalt Salad for you to enjoy. Don't worry, with a simple mashing of the C button you can send a flurry of slugs his way.

It is in this simple addition of combat that sets the Road Rash tltes in a class by themselves; this could have been mis-handled very easily, and it boggles the mind to ponder just how close Electronic Arts was to a disaster. After all, the only other motorcycle racing game I remember playing that had a combat theme to it was a lame dirtbike racer at Discovery Zone; the ''combat'' came into play when you shot Photon Torpedoes from a gun mounted on the front of your vehicle. I am not making this up. Other bikers did not have this ability and would fall to your powers like hardcore powerboat drivers before a throng of Greenpeace activists. However, Road Rash II manages to make combat enthralling and extremely dangerous at the same time. While this might be an appealing alternate strategy to winning -- bashing your opponents until their lifebar drains and they hit the dirt unconscious -- it is not at all easy to silence more than one rival this way, much less fourteen. To put an emphasis on realism, if you punch one guy without provocation (or even with), he might catch up to you a little later and slap you upside the head enough times to empty your lifebar, roughly two or three, and send your fool ass to the ground. If he's really pissed, he might come back with a weapon. Yes, the two licensed, real-life weapons, hereafter The Club and The Chain, can make a huge impact on the outcome of a race if in the hands of an experienced Rasher. Whereas a simple punch is short-ranged and weak, a long-range Club can whack for far more ass-demolishing brute damage. To procure a weapon, just stick out your fist as the weilder is preparing to hit you with his. Presto! Two of these blows, max, and he's pushing up daisies. If you protect someone who's being harassed by a foe, wedge your way in and take out the offender. The dude whose ass you saved will probably return the favor sooner or later. Of course, it's easier to go through a race without hurting a fly (save for the ones that get splattered on your facemask) and withdraw from violent confrontation. But there's no fun in THAT, right?!

Wrong. There's a lot of enjoyment to be found outside of pummelling fellow racers until they develop concussions. The non-violent approach to racing is all the more engrossing in the way that if your concentration breaks ONCE, you'll lose focus and probably be flattened against the trunk of a pine tree. Indeed these races are hard to the point where you'll smash your fist against the Restart button on your Genesis if you screw up once, provided you haven't torn the cartridge out of the console and thrown a Hail Mary pass in the direction of the nearest open sewage grate already. At times, it seems that simply shattering the offending item wouldn't do it justice. You'll be scootin' along, about to overtake the bastard in first, when suddenly you smack into the back of a Dodge Omni and are run over by it multiple times. By the time you return to your battered bike, bleeding profusely and most likely with no operable limbs, by dragging yourself along the ground with your eyelids, you'll be dead last by a wide margin. Such is life on harder difficulty levels. Of course you can't die in Road Rash II, and you certainly can't break limbs. Then this game would have transcended the realms of Reasonably Challenging and broken into OMG THIS IS JUST LIKE THE TURBO TUNNEL IN BATTLETOADS. I'm a suckler, fortunately, for games that are somewhat daunting so I get a genuine sense of accomplishment after I drag myself through a tough level. Road Rash II has no shortage of challenge, thankfully, and by the time you go toe-to-toe with the Svenson Brothers in Level 4, you'll be rugged as Sean Connery and made more out of crusty leather than organic tissue.

Adding to the fun is The Man himself, just Doing His Job On The Highway Patrol (add in your own guitar riffs here). If you screw up once, ONCE, while he is on your tail, you'll be getting a ride home in a luxurious paddy-wagon, complete with complimentary Billy Club beatings and verbal assaults. Yes, all for a simple flat fee that comes out of the meager salary you get for racing. Out of money? Too bad. You're sucking up twenty-five to life for the heinous crime of being retarded in public. No weasling your way out of that, pal, unless you want to fight The Man and risk being fined even more after he dethrones you. If he ever shows up, this is the best possible opportunity to slap someone else off their bike and watch them get disqualified! FUN!!

This game is also fun to look at. Made during the heyday of 16-Bit gaming (1992; other people wildly speculate on the date), it's obvious that EA's development team wanted to deliver a product that appealed to multiple audiences, including eye candy-seekers. There's no lack of that here, either. Your bike's rear light goes off whenever you slam on the brakes in a hurry, trees swoop by giving a real sense of speed, billboards pop up that you can actually read (and not all are plugs for EA games). Your innards will leap into your throat when you see a POed racer approach you, brandishing his Chain like he'd rather beat your head in all day than mess around on his motorcycle. You can visibly FEEL yourself taking damage when you get pounded by an opponent; likewise you can enjoy a devilish smirk when you knock someone off his ass. The reactions are spot-on. Whenever you crash, however, it's quite a sight to be seen. Touted on the back of the Road Rash II box is the feature ''NEW! TOTALLY DEVASTATING FULL-BODY CRASHES!!!'' Whatever a ''full-body crash'' is, it applies here. If you, under some strange circumstance and/or twist of fate suddenly collide head-on with a Soccer Mom on her way to the grocery store, your bike will sail over the car and crunch into the ground with utter conviction. As for you, you can enjoy the sight of flipping through the air, arms flailing out as if to grab an invisible rope that will stop everything in the universe so you can be safe once more, seeing the luscious scenery zoom underneath you, then SLAM you meet face-to-face with Gregory The Groundhog and burrow your own ditch beside the road. At the visible force, it could probably irrigate and divert water in case of a flash flood rather efficiently. At a time like that, I remember how much it hurt when I tried to do a wheelie on my Huffy mountain bike and ended up flipping myself over onto the street, only the damage I take in the game is magnified by Dick Clark's approximate age. Ungodly amounts of animation frames are squandered here to convey the message that YOU ARE SCREWED and there's no worse consequence than this for driving like a dumbassed 14-year-old on a Motor-Scooter. It doesn't get much better than this, and there isn't much else going on in Road Rash II aside from sexy text menus.

There is no music in Road Rash II aside from the ditty over the main title screen, which suffices with style to burn. Yes, it's a wonder the composers didn't care to create more songs as background music, but I'll concede it would have retracted from the gritty feel of just the motorbike engines and the sounds of fists THWAPPing against sweaty flesh. Engine sounds, for the most part, sound the same, but the sound engineers one-upped most other 16-bit racing games and used the lack of variation between motors to make a nifty ''Doppler'' effect as the noise fades out as the source gets further and further away. Neat. Whenever you flail out a Chain and it manages to connect with the side of a rival's beefy skull, you will hear a magnificent KRAAKKK that totally confirms that the dude took some major brain injury. And that's all you'll be caring about when you're totally riveted to the screen, making every move as if it was your last.

This game is a masterpiece. It dances on the delicate line between arcadey silliness and hard-boiled realism with the devil-may-care attitude of a suicidal maniac. You will laugh, you will sneer, you will swear like someone in a Martin Scorsese movie. You will praise this game for its brilliance and despise the day it was created virtually in the same instant. But overall, when your retinas start to atrophy from the long-term affects of Rash addiction, you CAN and WILL assert with confidence that there is no better way to waste a Saturday afternoon, provided you don't have much of a social life. It's all worth it when you can truly laugh at a Hell's Angel because THEY haven't gotten into fist-fights at 80 miles per hour.

Reviewer's Score: 10/10, Originally Posted: 04/29/03, Updated 05/24/03