When writing reviews for Car of the Week, I'm always acutely aware that I'm playing pretend: I'm pretending in a virtual environment to be a professional reviewer with real racing experience that has no trouble bringing a car to and keeping it at the limits. As such, I always try to be conscious of my target audience and medium when I write; I can't exactly slam my head into the back of my seat and make a convoluted face holding onto the steering wheel for my life and then write, "OH MY GOD THAT ACCELERATION IS INSANE OOF! HAHAHAHAHAHA!" in a written review of a car in a video game, nor can I ascertain how much towing capacity and wading depth a
2011 Ford Raptor has, or what kind of swag a
Ferrari F8 would afford someone pulling up to a fancy hotel. After all, the digital world is very different from the real world, having very different limitations and priorities. And because standards and expectations are so different in a game, sometimes I can come to conclusions that would make me sound completely insane if expressed in the real world, like how a
2017 Ford GT feels soulless and boring, and that the
Mazda RX-8 is one of the best sports cars ever made. But if I were to take my role–playing of a professional reviewer more seriously, I'd try to sugarcoat my harsh opinions more, perhaps by saying things like, "playing pretend isn't Porsche's forte", because the Mission X makes absolutely zero sense to me as a Gran Turismo 7 player.
In the medium of a video game that ought to be played for pleasure and maybe even an escape from reality, Porsche presents the Mission X to us players almost like an advertisement to drum up interest and hype for the eventual successor to the 918 Spyder.
They pumped out a release video showing off the car on YouTube to coincide with the car being added into the game, and they'd proudly share with us in the car's description page trifling details like where its headlights draw inspiration from, or how a stopwatch can be installed in front of the passenger seat for whatever reason. As a GT7 player however, what I'd like to know before any of that is, "how much does this weigh?" and "which wheels on this are being propelled?" You know, the very bare basic of questions that usually don't bear asking. Except, Porsche would rather tell us that the Mission X has built–in video recording capabilities than the mass of the damn car. This is Gran Turismo 7 on the PlayStation 4 & 5; a 1956 356 Carrera would have built–in video recording function. It's called the Share button, and it's on every DS4 and DS5 controller.
The only hint of the Mission X's all–governing mass figure lies in a single sentence of the car's description: it is claimed to have a power–to–mass ratio of 1PS/kg. From this, we could infer from the Mission X's 1,360PS (1,341HP, 1,000kW) figure and conclude that the it weighs 1,360kg (2,998lbs). However, if we pay for the privilege of PS+, we can attempt to verify this hypothetical mass figure: Create an Open Lobby, set the minimum mass of entrant cars to 1,361kg, and, oh, what's this? The Mission X can still enter! In fact,
the Mission X remains eligible all the way until the Minimum Mass is set to no lower than 1,601kg (3,530lbs), meaning that the Mission X's actual mass is 1,600kg (3,527lbs), and that Porsche and/or Polyphony Digital outright lied to our faces about how much the Mission X actually weighs. It breaks my heart to see this kind of shenanigans from a car bearing the Porsche emblem, because that's the company
I had previously praised for being honest with their mass figures by quoting kerb mass instead of dry mass, and the Mission X's undisclosed mass figure veiled behind a paywall feels like a bitchslap of betrayal. It's one thing not being able to meet a performance target, but to then obscure basic facts and tell a bold–faced lie that Porsche have achieved said target is a scumbag move both in the real and virtual worlds alike,
especially when said lie could endanger others.
Here's some free information for a change: In the hugely popular Amazon series, "The Grand Tour", the predecessor to the car the Mission X previews, the 918 Spyder,
set the fastest lap time among its "Holy Trinity" rivals—the McLaren P1 and LaFerrari—around Algarve International Circuit, despite the Porsche being the heaviest with the least combined power of the trio. That might,
might, be testament to the wisdom of Porsche engineers making the 918 drive all four of its wheels, making it much easier to handle than its boneheaded rivals that try to put down almost a thousand horsepower through just their rear wheels. With that being said, can anyone in any world tell me why the HELL does the Mission X, with over 50% more power than the 918, drive 50% less wheels than the 918?! While Porsche are tight–lipped about which wheels of the Mission X are driven, it's depicted in the game as being RR for some unfathomable reason, and even asking anyone to imagine what that does to the handling of the car ought to be a crime, to say nothing about actually subjecting someone to have to wrangle it around a track.
The Mission X is completely undrivable without TCS. Don't just take my word for it;
Ex–World Tour driver Tidgney recommends TCS even when the Mission X is wearing Racing Soft rubber, which is
three whole compounds up from the Sports Soft the car comes default with. It's so incalculably awful on Sports Hard tyres that it breaks the PP system of the game. I personally drive it on TCS 2/5 on said Sport Soft tyres, and even then, it feels every bit as lairy and unwieldy as a
Dodge Demon without aids. It wheelspins well into the 200km/h range on TCS2 in the dry. It's always at the limit of its tyres' grip, so much so that
even cresting a gentle hill—such as the one right before the triple high speed sweepers of Dragon Trial Seaside—with TCS on 2/5 is enough to send the car spearing off into the barriers. On cold tyres, it wouldn't even need the crest of a hill to kill its driver;
my Mission X lost itself going in a straight line in the dry, WITH TCS ON AT 2/5, on the slight downhill straight between Turns 1 and 2 of Red Bull Ring. And while it's normally very taut and flat in the corners, the rear tyres of the Mission X don't like to be leaned on too much. If the car is steered too hard in an attempt to fight the understeer when rolling on the accelerator pedal for high speed sweepers (such as Turns 2 & 3 of Watkins Glen, or most of Tokyo East), the car is prone to suddenly penduluming and fishtailing like an air–cooled 911, which blows my mind because the MX is much better balanced as an EV,
with a weight distribution of 45/55. I suspect there's some shenanigans going on with rear steer and/or torque vectoring that causes this suddenly nostalgic behaviour in the MX, because it also acts unnaturally if one side of its wheels are placed off–track, giving that sensation of being sucked off the paved road by the grass or gravel. I haven't noticed any rear steering with the Mission X in Scapes, though.
The most egregious part of driving the MX, of course, is the sheer distance it needs to adequately slow for a corner, better measured in time zones than distance boards. To illustrate my point, I did a quick little experiment wherein I brought three cars—a first gen 911 (a
1973 901 Carrera RS 2.7), an eighth–gen 911 (a
2022 992 GT3 RS), and the Mission X '23—to Watkins Glen, and I'd approach Turn 1 at full speed and try to take T1 as quickly as possible with all three cars bone stock with their default tyres.
Despite both 911s varying greatly in overall speed and capabilities, there was only about 30m in difference between the braking points of the 901 and the 992; the 901 braked at around 320m before the corner, while the 992 needed to brake around 350m. That's an increase of just 30m across 50 years of evolution of the 911. Now, take a guess how much longer a 2023 Mission X needs to slow for the very same corner under identical conditions than the 2022 992 GT3 RS.
It needed to brake around
660m away from T1.
The Mission X needed to apply its brakes fully 310m further away from the 992 GT3 RS just to make the damn apex of the turn! The distance boards only go up to 400m because no one expects a car to need that long to slow for the turn! 400m is usually just a wake–up call that the corner is approaching, especially in a GT3 racecar that usually brakes closer to the 250m mark on Racing Hard tyres. And yet, the Mission X had to brake WAY before it even approaches the first distance marker for the turn. It's asking me to brake even before I can
SEE the damn corner I'm braking for! I've even had to count the number of catch fence stakes, each 20m apart from the other, to even give you that 660m approximation! Because of these impossible–to–judge braking distances, I've had to, for the first time in playing GT games, go full n00b mode and turn on braking zone markers to help me when driving the Mission X. They're usually not very precise at all, but they're very poignant and
VERY necessary reminders nonetheless for just how obscenely long the MX needs to slow for a corner, where there otherwise would be none.
To be entirely fair, the Mission X would be a technological marvel in its own right if it materialised into the real world behaving exactly like it does in Gran Turismo 7: 1,600kg is unbelievably, impossibly light for a performance EV that has a thousand kW and enough range for 10 laps of Red Bull Ring at full tilt. Its top speed of 328km/h (204mph) ought to sate all but the clinically insane of Autobahn cruisers. It's just that, in Gran Turismo, there really isn't much that gives players a sense of speed; all we get is wind noise, which gets mostly drowned out by the electric motors at full blast. Absent any feelings of g and not even having the periodic reminder of speed that is shifting gears ourselves, the way in which the Mission X gathers speed is not just akin to getting sucked into a wormhole; it's also paradoxically stealthy. I think that most of the complaints about the car not stopping well is down to just how unaware we as players before a TV screen are of how quickly the Mission X is flinging us through the straights of any given circuit and into its corners. It does LMP1 speeds on the straights, naturally leading players to fall back onto their LMP1 instincts with braking and cornering, but the Mission X has only road car brakes and tyres. Excellent they may be by road car standards, those brakes and tyres are completely disproportionate to the straight line speed the Mission X has. The Mission X actually has
slightly higher minimum corner speeds than even the stripped out, winged track toy, the 992 GT3 RS, but it never
feels as agile in the corners as the 992 because it's
SO MUCH goddamn faster than the 992 in a straight line. In other words, I think the Mission X is so unreasonably, irresponsibly fast on the straights that it completely warps all understanding and perception of distance, time, and speed in my head, and I highly suspect this is true for most other players as well.
Therefore, to help ground my expectations and set a baseline, I thought I'd do my pretend reviewer thing and bring a comparison car that has much more comparable lap times to the Mission X: A
1970 Chaparral 2J, and I'm going to run them back–to–back on the same track.
Yes, the 2J is a racecar, while the Mission X previews a road car. But, I think this is a fair comparison nonetheless because, despite the game tagging the Mission X as a #Road Car, I call ******** on that tag. The Mission X in real life is, to the public's knowledge, a one–off, life–sized car model with little to no mechanical bits underneath. It doesn't even come with licence plates for crying out loud, nor can it be fitted with plates in GT Auto. I simply reject the notion that the Mission X is a #Road Car. And if it isn't road–legal, why shouldn't it be compared to racecars? If anything, Porsche have the advantage in this comparison test, because all Porsche had to do was to build a model car and pretend that it has a 1PS/kg power–to–mass ratio; Chaparral actually had to build a (however briefly) functioning car that extends beyond theory and speculation. Chaparral didn't just
say that the 2J had 509kW and weighs 821 kilos; the 2J
has 683HP and weighs 1,810 pounds. If or when the car the Mission X previews makes it to GT7 and gets chosen to feature on Car of the Week, I'll pit it against road cars then. The Mission X on its own is simply not a road car to me.
The mathematically inclined among you might have worked out that the Chappie has just a little over half the power and mass of the Mission X, giving them very similar power–to–mass ratios. Both cars have their own vices and quirks when driven quickly, but the Chappie is much faster around a racetrack, having braking performance proportionate to the speeds it can do, and has much more range on a full tank of fuel than the Mission X has on a full charge. Okay, yeah, the Chappie is on Racing Hard tyres, one grade up from the Sports Soft that come default with the Mission X. But I set a 1:19.9 around Red Bull Ring with little effort in the Chappie, and the absolute quickest time achieved by the very best players of the game with the Mission X and Racing
Soft tyres was a
1:20.6. I'm sorry, but when a futuristic make–believe car gets walloped by an antiquated box from the seventies in terms of outright speed, range, and ease of use, I find it impossibly difficult to even pretend to be mildly impressed by that or excited for what the future brings. Like... what is the Mission X even good for in this game?
At the end of the day, I'm playing pretend. I pretend to be an experienced racing driver and a writer who knows how to cite sources and when to use a semicolon. I pretend my opinions matter in a small corner of the internet I made. But what does it say about a car in real life if it is too cartoonishly quick and dangerous even in a video game?
MAYBE the sense of speed will be much, much more prominent in real life, what with NVH, g forces, and the fear of death, and people will be therefore more sensible with it in real life than we GT7 players are in the game. While I admit to the shortcomings of myself and my mediums, I very much like that this digital world eliminates a lot of real world pains and politics to place a laser–focus on the cars' own merits and driving sensations; no one is going to ban the sale or use of ICEs in this game, and I don't have to beg to be loaned a car to review, meaning I don't have a working relationship with anyone, be they car owners or manufacturers, and thus I can be entirely honest with my writing with nothing to lose. And my personal thoughts and opinions of the Mission X as someone who paid a million of his own Credits to judge it free of politics on its own merits across several racetracks are thus: I just don't know what the hell anyone is supposed to do with 1,360PS. I think the Mission X is just performance for the sake of it, just so that Porsche can remain part of the Holy Trinity. It's not something I want to drive nor find meaning in, and the thought of someone in the real world with way more money than skill and experience being able to buy something resembling it genuinely terrifies me. After driving the Mission X in the virtual world, I deeply suspect that, if I were a regular Porsche customer in the real world with a deep respect for the 911 and an even deeper love for the Cayman, that the Mission X would convince me that Porsche have completely lost the plot and all their marbles, completely evaporating whatever faith and goodwill I have for the company. The only thing they got right with the Mission X is its sole body colour of brown, because the car's a heap of ****.
Am I only pretending to care to justify being so harsh? I'll let you figure that out yourself.