Anyone who knows me, knows I love Sega Rally on the Saturn. In fact, it’s not just my favourite game on the system; it’s my favourite game ever.
And while I sank hours into the game back in the day, it wasn’t until returning to the Saturn scene four years ago that I started to delve deeper into the gameplay mechanics that separate Sega Rally players from Sega Rally experts.
The battle to defeat UNK was won back in the mid-’90s and now the only rival I had was myself. Well, me and that red b*stard on Forest.
When watching Nick’s documentary, hearing the effort the team went into when making the game, and watching Fujimoto delve into his own personal Rally memory archive, I felt like I owed it to them all to do better. To go faster. To defeat myself.
Now, I am by no means the best there is at this game, there are people out there far quicker than me by several seconds, with times ranging from the 3’13″s through to the 3’15″s.
However, my personal battle has been breaking into the 3’16″s and, in doing so, breaking my own long standing personal best of 3’17”76.
I know the courses inside out, I could race them in my sleep and absolutely love talking through the intricacies of each stage with other Sega Rally fans, detailing the lines in and out of bends and the gear shifting methods used.
Of course, as with all Sega arcade games, there’s a hidden depth to Sega Rally that becomes more apparent with repeated and dedicated play.
Anyone can pick up a Sega game, play it, and enjoy it, but to master them involves unearthing the in-built tricks and mechanics left behind by Sega’s geniuses. Just ask SaturnDave about NiGHTS into Dreams.
As highlighted in PandaMonium’s amazing, nearly five-hour-long Sega Rally documentary, the key to faster times is not only those straight lines in and out of bends, but utilising speed bumps off rival cars, wall hits on Mountain stage, and timing your launch perfectly to catapult your chosen vehicle off the start line.
Learning the patterns of the rival cars is key to success, and they soon become markers for your progress on the track, although they have the capability to ruin a perfect run in a heartbeat and have you reaching for the restart button.
Last night though, I finally reached the 3’16’s with a 3’16”70, after two close calls with a 3’17”36 and an agonisingly close 3’17”02. I got so frustrated with the latter time, I didn’t even capture the replay, but it spurred me on to not just go again; but go faster.
Sega Rally is a game that once it gets its hooks into you, you can’t shake it. Even when you’ve switched it off for the night, it lingers, making you re-think your run, replaying it in your head, nagging you for “one more go.”
I genuinely can’t think of any other racing game that has this effect on players, and it’s testament to Miziguchi-san and the Sega CS team he assembled to rebuild Rally from scratch on Saturn, creating something that in terms of sheer gameplay has surpassed even its arcade original.
Whether you’re a long time fan of the game like me, or someone who has come to the game via Nick’s sensational documentary, there’s no denying that when you start playing Sega Rally, you can’t stop because the game won’t let you.
It’s a timeless, addictive racer with near infinite replayability value where ultimately the true rival is yourself.
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