Video Game Evolution
Virtual realism is changing what it means to drive and race
The track announcer's words, delivered with a slightly Auto-Tune twang long before anyone will actually hear of Auto-Tune, hang in the air.
0:00 / 0:00
"Prepare to Qualify!"
Tensions are high at Fuji Speedway, where I've crashed countless times at more than 200 mph. Each impact — at any speed, in fact — sees my Formula 1 car vaporize in a fireball. I concentrate to dodge brutally slow-moving competitors (no blue-flag-waving marshals here), negligently unprotected trackside advertising boards, and strange pools of standing water. The latter is apparently one of the Japanese Grand Prix's inherent hazards, though there is never a raincloud above. No matter; I have a healthy stack-of-quarters budget to repair the car and get back out there. My career record is filled with successes — and more than a few DNFs, usually the result of the local video arcade's closure. Or, if racing from home, a dog in need of attention. Or a mother who thinks an hour staring at my 13-inch black-and-white television, at a car made from 2D scaling sprites, is quite enough.
Thirty years later I'm a much better driver, though not at this moment: My 2015 McLaren F1 car exits flat out from Blanchimont at Belgium's Spa-Francorchamps circuit and snaps sideways at more than 180 mph. As it spins toward the outside wall, I instinctively lock the brakes, pull my hands from the wheel, and brace for a huge impact.
Illusion-busting laughter seeps in from the right, though I can't see its source until my electromechanically actuated seat stops pitching and yawing, my steering wheel stops shaking, and I lift the Oculus Rift virtual-reality headset from my eyes, an incredulous smirk on my face. I can't believe how, with the Oculus on my head and this simulator seat gripping me, I see and almost feel the McLaren's cockpit exactly as real drivers Fernando Alonso and Jenson Button do: The switch- and light-covered steering wheel is in front of me, exactly where it should be in terms of height and distance. Additionally bizarre: I look down at my body and see it "wearing" an official Sparco-made McLaren F1 Nomex suit. I can only mutter, "Whaaaat the … this is … crazy."
Chris Considine, owner of CXC Simulations in Los Angeles, keeps chuckling. "Hey," he says, cuing up online-racing service iRacing's menu. "Have you ever raced a prototype at Le Mans?" I've only completed a handful of miles at La Sarthe using other games. Moments later, I barge wheel to wheel into the Porsche Curves, trying to beat other human drivers via an internet connection while still marveling at a 360-degree field of view and stunning sense of depth perception. I also check my mirrors constantly in an effort not to impede others who are on flying laps and know the circuit's layout better than I do, which I prudently assume is all of them. Real rules apply here; demolition-derby antics will earn you a poor reputation amongst competitors and, worse, thwart your advancement up iRacing's licensing ladder. A virtual-career killer, in other words.
CXC's Motion Pro II simulators range from $49,000 to well in excess of $200,000. Clients include pro racers, automakers, corporations, pay-per-use entertainment companies, and dedicated enthusiasts.
Millions of racers have come a long way from arcades, Atari, and Pole Position, or whatever their racing title of choice was in the 1980s and first half of the '90s. They've already experienced and taken advantage of advancements in hardware, software, and computing power that in the previous 15 years, give or take, catapulted virtual driving from a fun, primarily solitary juvenile pursuit to an experience no longer banished to bedrooms, basements, and dorms. It keeps improving, too, and legitimately benefits real-world drivers, engineers, and teams, from weekend track-day devotees all the way to the top of the professional ranks.
