Dude, mods are free. No need to blame the competition for your unwillingness to download a couple of files.
Also, what language are you translating from? I understand it might not be the most polite thing to ask, but we have an acute communication problem here.
Is Google Translation letting us down on understanding Kalan fully, or is it just me? I get the gist (you don’t like the challenge) but I’m not catching the nuance.
Thx
Edit Texaslav commented as I was drafting. Yep so I’m not the only one. Fair nuff
I translate from Russian using Deepl Translate.
Also, for example, I did not take part in the TMCC 13 Great Ball of Fire, because I rejected the Interior car, and I could have received a very sour review from the judge from the very beginning. In addition, this competition was compiled on the basis of 4.1, and a little (just a little) did not reach the cool challenge for.
For me to sit this one out was the classic car/realism hurdle. I respect that some people enjoy the realistic stuff, but it’s just not my thing.
The last challenge themed around 60s cars was TMCC12 - that one had a lot of vehicles that got rejected for realism’s sake, as you pointed out. However, there is actually a decent selection of period-accurate coupe bodies - it’s just that there hasn’t been a CSR set in that era since CSR 135, and that one was about everyday commuter cars.
Correction: TMCC 13 was the one themed around late-60s muscle cars. It was TMCC 14 (which I hosted) that had the subtitle “Great Balls of Fire” - it was set in 1995, not 1968.
If I had switched to the 4.2 open alpha by now, I would have given this CSR a shot. Alas, I wasn’t interested, presumably because I feared that a game update to LCV 4.13 (which hasn’t come out yet) would render it ineligible for judging.
That’s quite unfortunate - having work and/or study commitments leaves you with less time to design and submit an entry.
Anyway, I can’t wait to see the initial verdicts - it should be a blast!
1970 Venturi S5
How has this car managed to maintain such a low value for all these years? Who the hell knows. Maybe the guy selling it doesn't know what he has, but I mean look at the damn thing. Apparently the last person to own it was in it all for the looks- its an automatic, but hey for the era it still pulls. Maybe that's what tanked the value. Maybe the previous owner was going bankrupt and liquidating assets. Who really cares why- all that matters is that you get to drive a Venturi for less than a quarter million dollars.
Gearbox: RWD 3 Speed Borg Warner Automatic
Powerplant: V8 producing 283bhp
Suspension: Double Wishbone Front, Double Wishbone Rear
Driver Assists: Hydraulic Power Steering
Safety Features: New Safety Glass, “Crumple Zones??”, Collapsing Steering Column
Interior Features: Rear Seats, 4 Speakers, AM/FM Radio, 8 Track, Hand Stitched Leather
Trim Options: Borg Warner Automatic, Lucas Mechanical Fuel Injection
Through skillful use of 3D fixtures, you have made the Venturi S5 (unrelated to the real-life supercar manufacturer of the '90s) look incredibly voluptuous and futuristic - it’s built on one of the XKE/E-Type bodies, but the way you placed the fixtures has resulted in something that doesn’t look much like an XKE at all.
What kind of valve train did you use to get that power figure? At any rate, this is one of the best-looking cars you have ever made, from any era.
I had actually started on a car for this as well. I stretched myself thin though, trying to build 4 great cars in a month!! That didnt pan out well for me at all. I did the exterior, but when it was time for the interior, I waived the white flag.
I could have switched to 4.2 and created a viable entry, but even after the release of 4.2.12 I was worried enough about sudden fixture loss (especially for the interior) that I chose not to bother.
60s cars are my favourites, but I have absolutely nothing in my lore that fits in here and I am not going to start yet another brand for just a csr. If that had not been the case I would have entered.
It took Ze’ev longer than expected to get himself over to Gipple’s the next morning, with him arriving at about 5:30. He’d done his best to find clothes he didn’t mind clambering around dusty barns in, a pair of well worn jeans with paint streaks from when he restored the color to his new house on Goodwinter boulevard and a faded retro university sweatshirt he practically lived in during his time in fashion school. Storm was waiting for him in the rollback, obviously annoyed at being held up, but as they began their journey out of town he cooled back down. Ze’ev settled comfortably into his typical riding position leaning up against Storm in the center seat. They had repaired the passenger side floor a week or two ago, but this positioning felt more comfortable somehow.
“So where are we headed to first?” Z asked, scanning the tree line and houses as they passed for signs of barns that could hold hidden gems.
“Our first lead is just a bit north of Wildcat” Storm responded, impatiently serving into the berm to pass a slow moving tractor, “It’s a bit more on the tentative side, so I thought we could get this one out of the way first. Shouldn’t take us too long.”
They crossed through the intersection that was the town of Wildcat, turning onto one of the unpaved roads. Z had expected to be out in the woods to find these cars, but he hadn’t realized just how back country some of Storm’s contacts would be. The rollback bounced along the dirt road , which by now had dwindled to no more than two rutted trails as they passed mailbox after beat up mailbox.
“Are you sure we’ll actually find something decent out here?” Ze’ev was getting a bit worried that Storm’s informant may be leading them into some sort of trap to get a hand on some K fund cash.
Storm sighed, “At this point I’m having doubts myself. Here’s the address though. Maybe the car’s held in there?”
A shiny aluminium shed sat off to the side of the property they had pulled up to, probably the only thing that was new at the place. The house was little more than a square, shingle sided box and the fenced in yard was littered with bits of detritus from backwoods living. Ze’ev flinched as two huge dogs came careening around the side of the house, barking loudly, and only stopped a foot from the fence by their leashes.
“You stay here. I’ll handle those two and get that lazy git to come out here to show us the car,” Storm murmured, trying to not set the dogs off again. He stepped out of the truck, deftly hopped the fence, and trotted up to the door, completely ignoring the dogs sniffing around his legs. “Toddwhistle you lazy ass, get yourself out here!” he shouted, triggering another round of barks from the dogs. Storm then walked back and leaned up against the truck, waiting the whole 10 minutes that it took this Toddwhistle fellow to come out and greet them. He was a greasy string of a man, a few years younger than both Z and Storm, and the skunky smell that wafted over to them gave a reason as to why he was so hard to rouse.
“You two here about June?” he said, slouching his way past his dogs and out to the truck. Storm had climbed out now as well and tried to keep his distance from Toddwhistle while not seeming too repulsed.
Storm laughed, “if that’s what you call the car we talked about then yes, that’s what we’re here about. Z, meet the mess that is Wally Toddwhistle.”
“Hello,” Z barely offered in greeting, keeping his hands distinctly out of reach lest any sort of handshake be expected.
“Hey,” Wally replied with equally as much discomfort as Z was showing, “June’s just over here, got her nice and cleaned up for you.” He started walking towards the bright aluminium shed that stuck out like a sore thumb. Storm followed with Z trailing a bit further behind, simultaneously curious and dreading what he might find inside. The interior of the shed was much cleaner than Z had expected and thankfully didn’t have the same stoner smell that emanated from Wally. There was still a decent bit of clutter they had to maneuver around to get a good look at the bottle green early ‘70s hatchback that was parked in there.
While Wally had claimed he had washed “June”, it was clear that that only meant picking up the area around the car and the few things that had been stacked on top of it. The car was still covered with a fine layer of dust that masked the deep green of its paint and the tyres looked like it hadn’t moved in years. However, this didn’t deter Wally from hyping up the car’s UK and Italian heritage, boasting about its V12 engine and “superlegger” (superleggera) aluminium body work and wood trimmed interior. Then Ze’ev finally popped the question at the forefront of both his and Storm’s minds,
“So how much do you want for this Braunton Valcavera anyway?”
A smirk slid over Wally’s greasy face and he quoted his price, which prompted Storm to cuss him out and Ze’ev to stare at him with wide eyes. “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at Wally?!” Storm bellowed, looking as if he was about to punch something.
“Hey man,” Wally drawled, looking like a smug cat that just cornered a mouse, “Y’all know that’s what it’s worth and” he pointedly stared at Z, “I know that he has the means to pay it.”
Storm’s anger finally broke with that comment. He whipped around and started pushing Z back towards the door< “Let’s get you out of here. You don’t need to bend to his price just because you have the means to. I don’t think that ‘June’ suited you anyway.” Z quickly nodded his agreement and they both practically bolted back out to the truck.
“I know what I have and what it’s worth!” Wally shouted after them as they started to pull away, “You won’t find another like this around here!”
Bin reason: Over Budget
(@Arn38fr The Valcavera has decent stats and middle of the pack performance, However, being $900 over budget did it in. Even without that, it would be on the lower end mostly because it just doesn’t feel very premium. The attempt at a shooting brake was good, but the proportions felt stubby, like a British Leyland car a bit. The tyres are really low profile for the era and more appropriate suspension tuning would have allowed for a more realistic square tyre set up. Also you resized the licence plates, a big styling no no.)
As they drove away, Storm was still shaking with anger at what had transpired, “That brat thought he could get away with playing you just because you’re the K heir. No more friendly discounts for him next time he’s at my garage.” Z was slowly trying to shake off that encounter, trying to calm Storm down and keep him from speeding too much.
“Hopefully the next stop on your list won’t be as bad?” he asked, hoping to get Storm’s mind focused on something other than Wally, “Where are we headed to next?”
This seemed to work somewhat as Storm’s hands loosened on the steering wheel and the truck slowed back down to just 5 mph over the speed limit, the usual pace that Moose County residents took roads at.
“Actually yeah,” he said with the ire fading from his voice, “the next one’s up in Mooseville, nice old lady who’s thinking about downsizing and moving to Ittibittiwassee Estates. I think you’ll get on better with here than you ever would with that bastard Wally.” They both settled in for the short drive north and by the time they reached the lakeshore town it was just about sunrise. The house they pulled up the drive of this time was a tame craftsman style with an attached 2 car garage and was in so much better condition than the previous one, though the wind and fine grit sand from the dunes nearby made the edges of the structure rounded by time. They both dropped out of the truck, careful to close the doors quietly since they were in an actual neighborhood now, and padded up to the front door. It was Z who rang the doorbell this time, noticing the fluttering of a fluffy cat jumping off the windowsill at the tinkle of chimes inside. This lady liked cats, it seemed, so he thought she’d be all right. A few moments later the door opened inward to reveal a petite older woman in a dress shirt, lightly pleated skirt, and fuzzy slippers. She carried herself with the dignity of someone trained in ballroom dance, beckoning them in with a voice tinged with a light French accent, ”Ah, you must be Ze’ev, and you Storm. I am Miette Lucidoux, but everyone calls me Luci. Please. come in and make yourselves comfortable.” They followed her into the quaintly furnished front room and settled themselves on separate chairs. Luci disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a glass of water for each of them, “I was just about to start making breakfast for myself. You boys like biscuits and gravy, no?”
“Yes, we do. That would be very nice of you Luci,” Storm replied, acting so much more tame than Z had ever seen him. His usual casual attitude was gone and it made Z feel odd. They sat in silence while Luci bustled away in the kitchen, Z slowly petting the cat he’d seen in the window, which had wandered over to him as soon as he had sat down. When Luci returned a second time, she had on a pinafore style apron and was carrying a huge tray of biscuits, gravy, what looked like fresh squeezed orange juice, and place settings for all three of them.
“Oh I see that Gruyere has found you. He knows when nice people are about, she said as she set the tray down in front of them and settled herself into the slightly overstuffed sofa, “ Go on, tuck in.”
They did so with relish, neither of them having eaten anything before starting out for the day’s car hunting. The biscuits were closer to croissant texture, buttery and flaky, while the gravy was closer to a thick au jus with appropriate hints of spice. Luci also seemed to be digging in with gusto, a sharp contrast to her poised demeanor just a moment before. When they had all finished, Luci whisked the tray back to the kitchen and returned to her seat on the couch.
“Mrs. Lucidoux, we….” Z started, but Luci cut him off.
“Call me Luci, please. And if you must, it would be mademoiselle,” Luci corrected him gently but firmly, “You two are here about my cars, are you not?”
“Yes, you told me that you were working on moving into Ittibittiwassee and were trying to downsize what you were taking with you,” Storm said politely.
“And you must be anxious to take a look at them. Second door on the left in the hall opens into the garage,” she replied, standing up again, seemingly unperturbed by the constant ups and downs of the morning, “Let me go retrieve the paperwork on them from my study. And don’t let Gruyere follow you in there, he’s a minx at hiding in places you don’t want him to.” She left the room quickly. Storm shot Z a sharp look and took off towards the garage. Z followed and once they were both alone he whispered, “What was with that look back there? Did I do something wrong?”
Storm sighed and shook his head, ”Yes, but also not really. You had no way of knowing and I should’ve warned you. You see, she’s like us. And she’s bitter over the fact that her partner never got to see the marriage equality we have today. That’s really why she’s moving, too many memories here.” Z blinked and made a silent “oh”, as he heard Luci’s footsteps behind them in the hallway. The lights flicked on, illuminating the two cars before them, one an off-white ‘90s sedan with mud flaps and the other, which was closest to them, was a powdery blue shooting brake with a roof rack on top.
“Ah, I think Storm mentioned over the phone that you were looking for a GT car, right?” Luci said, gesturing in front of them, “That would be my 1965 Boisseau Cadieux. Nice piece of French style, isn’t it?” She walked both of them through the eccentricities of the car with the care of someone who intimately knew the car. It was interestingly an American powered vehicle with an unusual frame that let it sit slightly lower and be more rigid than other estates of its time.
“And here we have the maintenance records and the title,” she said softly, seemingly partially lost in thought, as she spread them across the wide hood of the car.
“Storm, am I seeing this right? The title looks like it’s in French,” Z asked, puzzled, “Are you sure this is the most recent copy of the title Luci?”
“That is the only title for her that I have. She was brought over grey market in the ‘70s and that’s all they gave me,” Luci seemed puzzled, “Is there something wrong with it having a French title? I haven’t had any trouble with it before now.”
Storm’s eyes fell over her perplexed face in a look of resignation and sympathy, “Luci, if we don’t have a US title for your Boisseau here, we can’t legally transfer it over to Ze’ev if he buys it. Luci looked crestfallen at Storm’s words.
“Ah, I guess that makes up my mind for me then. I always liked her better than our sedan anyway, really rumbles when you get her going. I will just keep her with me and let my granddaughter have the other car. She will have something to really look forward to when she gets her licence.” Luci packed the title and other records back up into their folder and went back up into the rest of the house,avoiding eye contact with both of them as she left.
“Let’s give her a minute to compose herself,” Storm whispered, looking down through the window at the unique interior of the Boisseau.
Ze’ev followed his gaze over to where the glovebox was lying open, a set of initials lightly carved into the inside of the door, “Yeah, I think this is for the best anyway. Let them stay together.” When they thought enough time had passed, they went back into the house, politely thanked Luci for her time and her delicious breakfast, and set off towards their next lead.
Bin Reason: Incorrect Naming Scheme
( @jermiat The Boisseau Cadieux would’ve been a decently good competitor if the car had been named correctly with CSR145 instead of CSR144. It had fairly competitive stats, a nice design with a quirky, very French feeling interior with an almost floating dash, and relatively ok realism. The use of a Mopar sized engine in a French shooting brake was a novel idea, but it was let down by an oddly gear limited top speed, quite wide tyres for the era, and the unusual choice of semi space frame in a shooting brake body shell. I like the obvious Facel Vega styling influence, but the fit and finish on some areas, like the interior, leave something to be desired. The plate holder on the rear is cavernous for some reason, and the roof rack seems superfluous when you already have the giant boot a shooting brake provides. I also feel like some finesse with the roof shaping in 3D could’ve helped the shooting brake styling be a bit more refined and not feel like a typical estate car of the era. Going with a traditional coupe shape would’ve also been a good play here. Overall and interesting car, but not up to muster with the rest of the field, regardless of the naming error.)
Luckily the next car they were set to take a look at was only a few miles east and they arrived there slightly ahead of schedule, the previous trips having taken much less time than Storm had planned. It was another nondescript suburban house they pulled up to with a detached garage this time. Storm was the one to ring the doorbell this time and was greeted by a plump woman in her mid forties, obviously not who he was expecting.
“Is Garrett Riker there?” Storm asked politely, his usual casual aire finally returning.
“GARRETT!! Get down here!” the woman shouted back into the house, “There are people here to see you!” A boy of not more than 15 came barreling down the stairs that led into the entryway, sliding to a half just behind what was evidently his mother. He then froze under the gaze of both Ze’ev and Storm who were both surprised at Garrett’s young age. He dropped his eyes to the floor, pushed past all three of the adults and motioned for Z and Storm to follow him into the garage. The red car they found inside was not what they were expecting to find.
It was a stubby, awkwardly proportioned thing with bulky yet simplistic styling. The wheels on it were absurdly in board, making it look like it was missing wheel covers like would be on a Nash Metropolitan or so. The tyres were also super low profile and when Storm asked Garrett if they were original to the car he just said “dunno”. In fact, that was all this kid said in response to most of the questions Storm and Ze’ev asked him. The only info they were able to pull out of him was the name of the car, a Red Rambler, and yes, his dad had said that it was a GT car. Storm was obviously getting frustrated with the kid and Z tried to calm him back down, “At least we have the type of car it is and the VIN number, let’s see if the internet can give us some more info on it.”
“Sure, do that.” Storm snapped, “But I’m getting the district impression that this car is some sort of kit car masquerading as a luxury GT.”
They found info on it sure enough, distressing info. Apparently those rims and tyres were standard, and the performance specs for it were abysmal.
“I wonder what engine it has…” Z mused,“Well we have to get the hood open to check the vin anyway, so let’s get it open.”
They deftly found the latches to release the hood and as soon as Storm had the hood up he growled, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. There’s your answer to the poor performance.”
Z rounded the front of the Rambler and was appalled at the tiny chunk of iron sitting in the engine bay. He quickly found the VIN plate, ran the number, and his face fell even further, “apparently that’s the original engine too, 2.4 l i4 making a measly 128 hp.” Z had to stop Storm from slamming the hood down and bending the prop rod in anger.
Storm rounded on Garrett, who was obviously shaken, and spat, “How much do you want for this ‘GT’ car anyhow?”
Garrett gave them a price, shakily explaining that his dad had said they were rare and that’s the price he wanted for it. Storm’s anger flared even hotter at that and Z had to physically put himself between Storm and the kid to keep things from escalating further.
“Garrett, while I understand that the price your father told you to ask for it is about right by what the hagerty guide suggests, it is way too high for what the car actually is.” Ze’ev said as calmly as he could with the burning anger of Storm right behind him, “You tell him that you’d have a much better chance of selling it for a more…economical…price. We’ll get out of your hair now.”
Z dragged a fuming Storm out of the garage and into the truck before things could get worse and they drove back towards Mooseville. Storm grumbled the whole way, “Blasted kid. Just parrots out ‘dunno’ to everything we asked and then had the audacity to ask that much for what was obviously an economy car.”
Z sighed, “Yeah he was a bit naïve to think anyone would pay that much for one. Definitely not a GT car though, and the only reason they can command a high price like that is because there were so few produced and even fewer actually sold.”
“I can see why,” Storm snapped, his anger easing slightly, “the company that made them vastly overcharged for them, just like he was.”
“Hey, it wasn’t fully the kid’s fault, and I would’ve bought it anyway, even if it had been more sensible. Too muscly and the bright red would be a huge beacon of where I was at all times,” Z tried to soothe Storm’s nerves back down to somewhat normal, “let’s go get malts or something to take a break from all this. We’ve been going pretty fast this morning and I’m not in that big of a rush.”
Storm’s mood brightened at the mention of malts, “fine, but I’ll pay for them this time. I don’t want people to get the impression I’m mooching off you.”
Z laughed, “Oh that’s not the impression they get from us at all.” They both visibly relaxed as they calmly made their way back into Mooseville.
Bin Reason: Quality spam, too expensive for what is essentially an economy car stats wise.
(@Admiral_Obvious The Red Rambler fails pretty much on all accounts to meet the challenge prompt. The only good stats it has are driveability and fuel economy, both of which probably come from it being woefully underpowered. The rest of the engineering choices leave me baffled as well. Why are the wheels so far inside the body? Why did you think 55 sidewall was appropriate for a car in the '60s? Why does it have a semi clad undertray and positive camber? And why the heck did you think an asthmatic 4 cylinder making less than 150 hp was fine to put in a GT car? The use of the full budget for such a mediocre car is also a product of misplaced engineering and pure quality spam. The Rambler’s looks are super plain except for the interesting headlight set up, which I actually like. Otherwise it feels bland and encroaches on muscle car design, which was specifically advised against. Also the use of the Subaru SVX dash surround in the interior was a bad anachronism that hurt the design even more. Overall just a badly designed car with woefully misplaced priorities.)
I could not stop laughing the moment I first saw it - it looked and felt almost as out of place here as the infamous Blue Star from CSR 142. In fact, this was what I thought of it after seeing exactly why it failed to make the first cut:
In short, the Red Rambler was the closest thing to a meme build in this field, but whoever made it deserves full marks for audacity, ironically or not.
Wow, I think that this was the best bin writeups I have ever seen!
This has to be the most thorough write up of the bins stage that I’ve ever seen
The vast majority of European countries issue registration plates that are: 520 by 110 or 120 mm
In game size : 510 x 128 mm.
So, to my mind, a height factor of 0.9 is correct.
I rarely ever consider resizing plates in terms of width and height, and would rather resize and/or move the plate holder instead if it’s the wrong size and/or misplaced.
I was wondering why the plates always looked so big to me.
Yeah unless the ruler is not accurate either, I also resize the plate to us specs 6"x12". It’s always just a lil off depending on which plate fixture I roll with. Would all be hilarious if the ruler was also scaled wrong, then how would you really know?
I wanted to make something completely different. I had fun building it, but had strong doubts it would’ve made it past round 2 at all.
Was a bit surprising it got instabinned, but, again, I had fun trying to shoehorn something completely different into a classic GT car contest. The only thing I regret is the fact that I didn’t choose cross ply tires.
P.S. Quality spam isn’t that bad anymore.
Man, I always miss the fun CSRs.
