T
hey’re a generous lot,
my employers in
Forza Horizon 4.
Bonuses I have been
given over my time in
the game include buckets of praise
every time I make other road users
fear for their lives, an actual house
in exchange for a minor favor, and
pretty much an entire garage full of
cars. Actually, scratch that: It’s
more like a car dealership. I’ve got
everything from retro bangers that
Simon from The Inbetweeners
would turn his nose up at, through
to an expensive supercar that spits
fire from its exhaust in a fashion
that makes me suspect it’ll fail its
next MOT. Still, I’m not satisfied.
The reason? My outfit. While it was
easy to make my Drivatar look at
least vaguely like the real me (I’ve got
a very generic hairstyle, I admit) and
to get my disconcertingly chirpy
satnav/AI chum to call me by my
actual name, getting away from the
default outfit has been more hassle
than getting off the M25 in rush hour.
Jeans and a promo tee? That just ain’t
my style. First, if you’re making me
use my chest as a walking billboard
for your racing festival, you’d better
be paying me for the privilege.
Second, dresses, skirts, and leggings
are where it’s at: scientific research
(carried out by me) has demonstrated
that elasticated waistbands allow for
at least 57% greater consumption of
chicken nuggets by volume. In short,
this kit has got to go.THREADS NOT TREADS
As a result, I become borderline
obsessed with the game’s Wheelspin
mechanic, which grants you a turn on
the wheel of fortune after certain
achievements. Prizes include hefty
sums of credits, new emotes, horns
for your cars, actual vehicles and new
threads. I rack up spins thick and
fast, because (brag alert!) I’m not“All I want is a nice skirt, some
patterned leggings, or even just a tee”
terrible at this game, as the AI likes to
primly remind me as it nudges me to
up the difficulty. The problem is, all I
bloody win is cars. So many cars.
How do you think I laid my mitts on
a Pagani Zonda C? I sure as heck
didn’t pay 2.1 million credits for it.
I hate to sound ungrateful, but
new rides are wasted on me: I’m
content with the first Bentley I won,
now tricked out with an obnoxiously
large spoiler, a holographic purple
paintjob and a gold bonnet. Subtle it’s
not, but it’s certainly easy to find in a
car park. All I really want is a nice
skirt, some patterned leggings or
even just a tee without some
godawful garish logo on the front.
In my bid to look like I’ve
managed to make even the briefest of
pitstops in Primark, I end up haring
back and forth across the British
countryside like a 17-year-old who’s
just got their licence, agreeing to any
and every deathrace, dumb stunt and
dangerous show-off feat going. The
cumulative amount of road tax I’m
paying skyrockets. And then, one
glorious winter day, the textile gods
smile beatifically down upon me, and
I’m gifted... a blue checked shirt. Yep,
the clichéd, much-ridiculed uniform
of the games journalist. I guess it’s a
start, at least.EMMA DAVIES
THIS MONTH
Experienced the ultimate
first-world problem: too
many cars.ALSO PLAYED
Tetris EffectShunning supercars for shopping trips in FORZA HORIZON 4.
THEN, ONE GLORIOUS WINTER
DAY, THE TEXTILE GODS SMILE
BEATIFICALLY DOWN ON METHE GAMES WE LOVE RIGHT NOW
NOW PLAYING
Sometimes, you’ve just got to
take what you can get.Let me guess... another car?
You shouldn’t have. No, really.