Shitbox Rally 2024 - Journey to Holsia (Completed, Final Stage Released)

I can only agree, an Automation car looking better than most IRL neoclassics.

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THE SPY KIDS GO TO HOLSIA

The Spy Kids are back for a third round of interplanetary rallying! And by the Spy Kids, I mean Shay Hirvonen. The 2024 edition of the rally will be in the country of Holsia, and with the route promising to be much safer than Crugandr the services of Lazar and Alexis aren’t needed.

So instead, Shay has decided to take her LA art friends on a road trip. Megumi and Amanecer have little in the way of mechanical nous and are just there to sightsee the closest thing there is to a living 1930s. Shay can’t do everything on her own, though, so her mad scientist friend Petra is also along for the ride.

Driver: Shay Hirvonen

Age: 19

Appearance: 160cm, blonde hair, wears cottage-core outfits, winter sweaters, or androgynous clothes.

Description: Soft and cuddly on the outside, sharp and devious on the inside. Is better with her hands than anyone else on the team, and probably anyone else this side of the Olympics. When she’s not in soft-core mode, she will step on you, and you will like it.

Vehicles: Jaguar E-Type, Mercedes-Maybach S650 (with upgrades), VW Kombi (with upgrades), Bugatti Chiron, Pagani Zonda F Roadster

Mechanic: Petra Kennedy

Age: 18

Appearance: 155cm, blonde, half cottagecore, half band shirts

Description: Petra is the closest thing you will find to a mad scientist this side of an interdimensional portal. She owns a “pest control” company, which is just her being a pyromaniac, complete with a collection of explosives and various other flammable items. She once blew up several rooms of her school, and thus is on several lists. She also has an entire room dedicated to Minecraft merchandise, and can shoot a target as well as Shay.

Tourist #1: Megumi Tetsuya

Age: 18

Appearance: 155cm, Japanese-Canadian, sometimes looks like a painter, sometimes like a fashionista, always like she should be in Paris.

Tourist #2: Amanecer García

Age: 18

Appearance: 165cm, black hair, underground punk chic or Mexican dresses

Description: Alexis’s cousin. Much stronger than she looks. Knows jiu jitsu, and can throw a punch and parkour over the resulting keeled over opponent. Not as communist as her cousin, and only speaks three languages instead of nine.

The Car

Once again, it’s an SUV. This time, however, it’s relatively new, and rather fancy. Sort of. It’s a Volkswagen Touareg, with one of Ferdinand Piëch’s crazy contraptions in the engine bay. The V10 TDI is shoved in so tight that it needs to be removed for everything other than basic maintenance. How Shay found one for $2000 is a mystery.

Fortunately it’s the most reliable part of the car. So Shay and Petra decided to put a bigger turbo and more boost into it. The injectors also needed replacing to handle the low quality fuel oil in Holsia. The actual fixing, however, was reserved for the collapsed air suspension. And the electrics. And the locking rear differential. And the gearbox.

So now Shay has a road rally rig ready for Holsia, with 405 bhp, 731 lb-ft of torque, and a suspension and driveline straining to handle it all.

One of these, but worse. And with 400bhp.
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TEAM FIRULAIS
A Rather Cold Meeting

(Yes, I couldn’t get any pictures… That’ll be for later)

Vladivostok, Russian Federation.

After 4 of the Team’s Members made the long trip to what used to be the USSR, they’d meet up with Ángel, the one who had the car since they bought it. They expected him to have done wonders with it, swapping it with a V8, getting a racing transmission, getting rid of that NASTY interior… You know, making a race car.

As soon as they arrived to Vladivostok… They got the disappointment of their lives.

Ángel was waiting for them at the local airport, and they found the Aurora in similar conditions to those when they bought it. Ana immediately had to ask…

Ana:“What have you done !? We left you in charge of the build, and you’ve done nothing !”

Josué:“As long as I’ve Hurd, you were planning on giving it a touch with the paint, and get it to be as fast as it could…!”

But before Tomás and Andrés would’ve made their complaints, Ángel quickly replied.

Ángel:“Well, at least I’ve done more than what the eye’s able to see. C’mon, come here, when I get you to my apartment I shall tell you.”

Josué:"Sure, you cripple."making reference on how Ángel has only one eye (Ángel lost the other one).

He said that, not even remembering he hadn’t done anything to the interior. Of course, when his teammates saw that, they refused to come in, and took a Taxi to Ángel’s residence instead.

When they arrived, Ángel took the time to explain. After all, his Team isn’t necessarily patient with him.

Ángel:“OK, as you might have seen–”

Josué (irritated):“What have you done Ángel…?”

Ángel:“Let me explain. As you can see, It seems like If I hadn’t done much.”

Andrés:“That’s quite obvious.”

Ángel:“Guys, let me explain. Remember when we got the car, in Finland ? Remember how the engine sounded more like a Lawnmower ?”

Josué:“Let me guess… You’ve swa–”

Ángel:“Rebuilt it.”

A wave of silence was present. But Ángel didn’t let himself get intimidated by disapproval of his team.

Ángel:“Josué, before you launch yourself to complain, tell me something. Do you know how to swap an engine ? Do you even know how expensive it is to get a new engine ? Do you know how much it took me to make what I’ve done to this car ?”

Josué remained silent, probably meaning he didn’t have anything to say. And therefore, that Ángel was kinda on his point there.

Ángel:“With so little budget, it’s hard to make anything. But I’ve rebuilt the engine and the transmission. Isn’t that enough ?”

Again, another silent moment, indicating approval.

Ángel:sigh"Now, come in, I don’t want you to freeze to death."

Inside Ángel’s apartment, the discussions got a lot smoother, but there were still concerns.

They didn’t know how would they get to Holsia. Did they have to go somewhere ? Would they be teleported ? Someone would pick them up ?

In any case, the talk was about the supplies. Ángel made sure to bring as many spare parts as he could in a space that wouldn’t be too large. Maybe he’d preferred to install a Roof Rack instead of Installing Rally Lights and Painting the Bonnet black.

Josué didn’t have anything to say, after all, he had been left stumped by Ángel in their small discussion about the car.

Andrés had brought some food. Tomás had brought some Camping Tents, but unfortunately, there were only 4. So someone would have to sleep in the car.

Knowing that it was his responsibility to fix the interior, Ángel volunteered to sleep in that disgusting interior. But he wouldn’t be lonely, as Ángel and Andrés would swap between tent and car across the stages…

Ana, meanwhile, had bought an unusual supply: Alcohol. As she was a heavy drinker, she filled whatever little space was left in the Aurinko with booze. This, added to everyone’s luggage, meant there was little wiggle room inside the car.

And after that was settled, the team would make a last thing that day: Seeing how everyone drove the car.

Everyone got OK with driving the Aurora… Except Ana.

Ana:“OK, boys, are you ready ?”

Andrés:“Ready for what, death ?”

Tomás:“For a Rollover, perhaps.”

Ángel:“Well, I’m ready, so, off you go.”

Ana put the pedal to the metal and got into drifting in the residence’s parking lot.

For everyone, it was a rather scary experience. Specially for Ángel. Not only he had nothing to hold onto… But also, he’d have something else to worry about later.

In one of her drifts, Ana accidentally hit one of Ángel’s neighbor’s car with the driver side of the car… The alarm of the car went of as soon as the back bumper fell, along with a trim piece of the Aurora.

Ana:“Oh, gosh.”

Ángel (nervous):“Ana, Run ! Run !”

They effectively fled the scene and didn’t come back until darkness fell.

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Maaaaan those specs are really impressive! Impressive power and high gas mileage? I guess that’s what modern 10s parts can do for a car. I would be utterly confounded by its design too if I didn’t know what a Mitsuoka Viewt was. Good luck with the rally, though I doubt you’ll need it.

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MACHINAS CON PASSIONE’S SHITBOX ADVENTURES PART 3
Intro - BRAND NEW DAY

October 21st, 2023.

Family had been the first thing on Ryouchi’s mind for the better part of 20 years now. Whether it was Machinas Con Passione, Katou Racing Engines, or some muddled collaborative effort between the two, he’d been under the thumb of his family’s influence his entire racing career. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, he was looked after, he’d never found himself wanting for much, anything that was affordable was bought, any seat that was free could be arranged with a few handshakes, and even if nobody wanted him, all he had to do was say the word and he’d be in a racecar before he finished the sentence.

Ryouchi was knocking on 20 years spent racing, and despite his youth found that all the experience in the world could never erase or make up for a certain inadequacy. Ryu grew up on the same hopes and dreams anybody in a racing family came up with, get to F1, win a title, get a trophy wife and retire before the gray hairs settle in. In each of these pursuits Ryouchi had been met with abject failure. It had taken him just 3 years to flunk out of Formula 2, he had admittedly won a title in Formula Vee, all of 12 years ago, and the less said about the trophy wife search the better.

It’s hard to say where he first got the idea. Ryu was always a passionate kid, and was more than happy to make the most of what he had through his career rise, having even been able to grow a bit of an ego into his Formula 2 career before reality sunk in and he found himself trading his wins and podiums for points and prayers. A few years racing in the states found him able to pick up the pieces, but for all the little wins and the bits of respect he found himself earning, he could never shake off a feeling of missing something from when he first got on the plane to america.

He knew he had to strike out on his own if he ever wanted to reach his goal. The little wins gradually ate away at the young man, and he gradually recoiled from the team as he started setting the pieces in motion for him to strike out onto his own. He’d gotten himself a manager, the renowned former Barrister Lola Hart, later in his F2 career, and would be seen staying up until the wee hours of the morning discussing contracts with her and drawing up plans for the 2023 season. A few handshakes, a moving of some dollars and an auction or two to get some run down facilities and vehicles later, Ryouchi Katou Motorsport was born.

Ryouchi sits at the desk he now calls his own, hunched over a weathered, yet well maintained book as he writes the latest passages of his hopes, dreams and ruminations down into what has been his closest friend for the past 5 years, his diary. Though everyone else in the trailer he called home had called it a night, Ryouchi found himself unable to sleep owing to the knot of anxiety and doubt that formed in his mind ahead of the crossroads he found himself in.

Ryouchi sighed to himself as he kicked his feet up upon the desk as he gave his weary hand a break, staring into the ceiling and reflecting upon where he’d been in his career. He returned to his previous position as he thought out what to write for his final entry of the day, the light prick of stubble stinging his finger as he ran his thumb across his chin. That’s a first. He thought to himself, and collected himself once more before placing pen to paper.

“There’s a lot of change in the world. Not least of all in the automotive one. The old school blocky, practical and restrained designs have gone out the window in the pursuit of everyone chasing that futuristic look. Between the 2030 headlights, 2040 consoles, 2050 powertrains, everyone’s looking ahead these days. In the world of racing, I’ve seen the change happen first hand. I used to always give Alessio shit for his schtick about change and eras but, hell, even though I’ve only been here a few years, I’ve seen the whole world, seen philosophies I could never have dreamed of, and yet… I still struggle to find a place for me. I know what I want but… In this industry, if you’re not the next big thing, you’re nothing at all. I had that chance already, and blew it. I crashed one too many times and before you knew it, the money ran out. The patience ran out. The hype ran out. And I was out the door.

If it wasn’t for my family, I’d probably be pushing carts or working a field somewhere. Being the “son of a legend” has its perks, I guess. Well, famous names can only get you so far in this business, and I don’t know how much further I can get on name value alone. They think of me and my mom’s the first thing they see. The first thing I learned when I started racing was that my actions aren’t just my own. And, well, that much is true, but any action I make is overshadowed by 30 of hers.

I’ve tried to make the most out of the situation I’m in, using the last of my cash to open a small team using some dated cars with a few friends I can trust. It’s hard, probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done, we’re constantly in the red and I can’t go two minutes without getting a call from Lola, though on that front, I don’t think I mind very much… Well, either way, we’re competitive enough, at least. No titles to contend for, but I get the feeling we have at least a bit of respect. Respect will get us a place in their hearts, but money is what’s gonna get us on the track. I’m not sure what the right way forward is now, but, well, I’ve winged it before. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Ryouchi Katou sat at his desk, putting the final touches in his diary the night before the biggest race in his life. Though the pages were wrinkled and frayed, the diary having been a present from Lola for his 19th birthday, the American driver found it to be a valued friend as he found himself in various stages of his young career as a racing driver, thinking of it as someone he could go to and yap on about whatever was on his mind that day, week, month, or even year.

Checking his phone to realize he’d been writing for a good hour past his bedtime, Ryouchi scrambled to hide his keepsake somewhere safe as he tried to make up for lost time by quickly shoving it under his dresser and diving straight for the bed as if racing the against the clock to get to bed before time itself could. Before he could get to sleep, though, he found his mind occupied with the various messages from Giacomo, Hikiko, and others had sent his way- all still left on read, and mulled over what the future held, as he was prone to do. He’d sent out a few feeler emails to any interested Formula One teams a few weeks ago, and last he’d heard, he could expect a response in the next few days. He took a deep breath, and found sleep came quickly as he anticipated the big day ahead.

It was seemingly no time at all that Ryu found himself embedded in the all too familiar experience of the interior of a cockpit. In the stressful environment of needing to hit target after target, Ryouchi found a comfort in the familiar smell of fuel, the sting in his eyes, the aches in his arms and legs from running circuit after circuit, the sensations of his body being flung about the cockpit, the G-forces wringing the life out of his neck as he clung to the wheel with his very being. The feeling of determined solidarity, crunching at the bit, a slave to the numbers and data that his every move generated, obsessed with the single motive of speed for hours on end. This is what Ryouchi lived for.

Everything was going according to plan during his first session as a Formula One driver, he’d outperformed expectations and had seemingly all but guaranteed a call up to a race seat, which is why the most terrifying thing in Ryouchi’s mind at the moment was the awful vibration shaking him to his very core every time he made a right turn. He hadn’t said anything earlier, not wanting to look like an amateur and hoping to show the team he could hang with the rest of the grid, but it became apparent that something was terminally wrong.

“Last lap Ryouchi, last lap.” Came the voice over the radio, cold and calculated as ever. Ryouchi breathed a sigh of relief, taking comfort in knowing his first practice session had gone off without a hitch. That was, however, until he glanced in his mirrors, the realization hit him as his left side was taken up by his rear tire, fully delaminated and headed straight for the wall ahead of him. Ryouchi’s world became a jumbled mess of panic and muddled prayer as his car pitched onto its side at over 200 miles an hour, dooming both car and driver to an impact neither would survive.
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Algarve, Portugal.
October 22nd, 2023.
Ryouchi awoke from his nightmare with a sudden jolt, the fright flinging both himself and his blankets off the bed, with both hitting the ground with a painful bang.

“What was that?”

“Sounds like sleeping beauty finally woke up.”

Ryouchi could make out a few muffled voices from outside his bedroom, which had taken the place of a motorhome in the pit garages of the Circuito De Algarve. As Ryouchi slowly recalled where he was, one glaringly important detail struck the youth as he came to from his nightmare:

It’s race day.

Ryouchi could only groan at the realization as he heard a knock on his door. He had little time to reply before he found the door slowly swinging open. In a scene straight out of a b-grade horror film, Ryu was met with the familiar sight of the one person who found joy in tormenting him so early in the morning, his little sister Koharu. Though the siblings had spent a lot of time apart during Ryu’s stint in Formula 2, owing to Ryu’s need to travel the world and Koharu’s need to get a good education, the two siblings remained as close as always, much to the joy of Koharu and the looming dread of Ryouchi.

The thing is, though Koharu had grown into quite the ambitious young adult, she found that school wasn’t necessarily all that eye-catching. During her freshman year, she found out she had a natural talent in her chosen field of music, starting a band (“light music club”) with her best friends and getting into mosh pits on a near weekly basis. One way the two would keep in touch during Ryouchi’s racing career would be the “accidental” booking of Koharu’s band at the local venue Ryouchi would be racing at, though that wouldn’t be the reason why Koharu was about a minute away from exploding the local power grid just to make enough noise to possibly wake up Ryu. Through some finagling, Koharu had managed to convince their mom to let Ryouchi take her to Portugal for the race for Koharu’s career week, leading to the predicament Ryouchi found himself in now.

Unfortunately for Ryouchi, though, this gave her the perfect opportunity to act as an alarm clock for her brother. Ryouchi, upon noticing the giant amp she’d placed mere inches from his face, sighed and resigned himself to the inevitable. Knowing his time was up, and that he’d gotten to live a good 24 years, Ryouchi asked one final question of his executioner on his day of reckoning. “So, it’s the bass today, huh?” The prisoner uttered. Though he couldn’t see her, Ryouchi knew his sister was beaming from ear to ear, and that the time of his demise was near. “You know it. Can’t let sleeping beauty miss his big race. Dig it!”

At that, she gave her bass a hearty slap, and, owing to the mess of pedals she’d connected to the thing, the normally dulcet tones found themselves violently twisting and warping into an oppressive wall of sound that assaulted every fiber in Ryouchi’s very being. Ryouchi thought he felt his heart stop for a second as the reverb was hard enough to bolt him a good inch off the ground. Ducking for cover, Ryouchi flopped under the bed as he tried to recover from the utter violation of his eardrums.

“Alright! I’m up! Jesus!” Ryouchi screeched. “Why did mom let you bring that thing here?” A small trickle of blood escaped Ryouchi’s ear as he looked up at his sister. Koharu merely shrugged as she wheeled her amp out of the room, satisfied at another job well done. Ryouchi could do little more than sigh. Lacking the energy to get moving, Ryouchi slowly clawed his way to the kitchen, needing his daily caffeine boost to get up off the ground.

Waiting for him were his fellow F1 rejects, and soon to be co-drivers, Rod Mackenzie and Thibault Prosper. The two were well respected racing drivers in their own right, though their differing personalities and career paths made for some clashes on and off the track. At the end of the day, though, the two were consummate professionals…. To an extent.

Thibault, on one hand, had enjoyed a mild F1 career, spending 5 years in the top flight of motorsport, and would find himself peaking with Haas in a reserve role during the 2020 season. The Frenchman was well respected in racing circles for his icy demeanor and stone cold racecraft. F1 had been a failed side project for The Terminator, a nickname earned in his formative years, as his real bread and butter, was Rally, where he’d spent the majority of his career honing his craft and earning the respect of his peers and of the greater world at large.

Though he’d been relegated to last during most of his recent racing career, Thibault very much remained the textbook definition of a professional throughout. Staying clean shaven, waking up early, exercising constantly, and showing up to anything 30 minutes ahead of time “just to get on top of things.” Thibault would’ve been a real catch for any racing team if he wasn’t 33 years old, which in racing terms meant he was old and decrepit. While it was true that father time was knocking at his door, Thibault still had the desire he’d say any racer should have, and would likely find himself at the highest level of motorsport for some time.

Meanwhile, Roderick, known as Rod to his friends, was much older and fully fed up with the idea of needing a diet plan to finish 12th. He’d once been known in his younger days for his supermodel good looks and eye-catching charisma, and while the supermodel was definitely still there, he’d been sequestered away underneath a thick beard, tired eyes and a receding hairline that was more salt than pepper. Roderick had gotten his start in sports cars as well, and originally met Ryouchi as a driver coach when he was driving in Formula 2. Rod had won plenty in GT cars, and after 20 odd years of sitting in the victor’s circle, had finally realized that winning wasn’t all that it was cut out to be when you’re constantly doing it. As such, he was very much here to build the team more than his own personal glory, and was already hard at work finishing his third donut of the day as Ryouchi made his way to the kitchen.

"Mmmph ‘’ is all Ryouchi can muster as Rod places a freshly made cup of espresso on the floor in front of his shambling corpse. “You really outdid yourself.” Thibault noted as he nudged Ryouchi with his foot. “Normally I give Roderick some shit for sleeping in, but you actually beat him for once.” Ryouchi sat up as he took a sip of his Espresso, the scalding heat seemingly having no effect on him as he asked his teammates for the time. “It’s 20 minutes to lights out. Get dressed.”

Ryouchi nearly choked on the coffee as he jolted awake, the news apparently having more of an effect on him than the coffee did. “Fucks sake! Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?” Ryouchi shouted as he scrambled to his room, desperate to get dressed in time for the race start. Rod scratched his head, meekly telling Ryouchi that they’d tried multiple times, to no avail. “The bass was actually our last resort.” Added Thibault. Koharu, watching the chaos unfold, was astonished to see “top level professionals” at work, and asked if things were always like this. The looks Rod and Thibault gave her were more than enough confirmation that yes, everyone here is a mess.

Ryouchi, finally getting dressed after nearly tripping over himself multiple times, was just about to completely bolt out of the motorhome when, as if to meet him, the door to the rv swung open, nearly slamming into him,and if it weren’t for his reflexes honed through years of training as a racing driver, it probably would have. Nearly tripping over himself as he stopped, Ryouchi quickly collected himself, coming face to face with his manager, Lola, as he did so. Lola, none the wiser, was pleased to see her client dressed and ready to go ahead of time.

“Ah, raring to go as always, I see.” Rod audibly scoffed, but let the conversation play out. It was all Ryouchi could do to stammer out a reply of “O-oh. Uhh, yeah. That’s me, raring to go! Heh.” a visible bead of sweat trickled down Ryouchi’s forehead. Thibault sighed loudly, placing a hand on Ryouchi’s shoulder as he tried to comfort him. “Hey, take your time, Ryouchi. Rod is starting anyway. Take your time.” Rod chipped in from the kitchen, “Yeah, don’t forget about us, Mr. Superstar!” Ryouchi snorted at that, and, nodding to his crew, stepped out with Lola to go over their negotiations.

Lola and Ryouchi walked in silence for a few moments before Lola spoke up, straight to business as she always was. “Well, Mr. Katou, I’m pleased to report that our feeler we sent out has been received well by some teams, in particular, Haas are interested in hiring you as an American driver, and, a bit surprisingly to me, Alpine also sent a rather receptive email back. Good thing I negotiated that little sponsor package for us, eh?” Lola turned to Ryouchi, only to find that he’d stopped moving when she mentioned Haas. “Ryouchi?” The driver awoke from his trance upon Lola calling his name. “What? Oh, sorry. My head was… Somewhere else.”

Lola held back a chuckle at that. “Dreaming of your first race already?” She teased. “I guess. It’s gonna be hard, though. It’s…” “It’s like you’re so excited, but so anxious at the same time, right?” Ryouchi’s eyes shot up to meet hers. “Uh… yeah. How did you know?” Lola smiled at him, recalling her own past for a moment. “That’s how I felt when I got this job.” Ryouchi smiled back. “Who would’ve thought? Maybe drivers and managers aren’t so different after all.” Lola gave Ryouchi a light punch on the shoulder, the two enjoying the moment before getting back to business. “Alright. What’s the catch?” Ryouchi asked. Having been in this exact situation before, he knew first chances, let alone second ones, were never free.

“Well… That’s the thing. Alpine wants you to drop everything to test their Hypercar, and from there they spoke about Simulators and reserve roles…” Ryouchi nodded along as Lola explained, seemingly intrigued by the offer. “And Haas?” He prodded. “Well, Haas are actually interested in putting you right into a reserve role, but they said that your situation with Ferrari makes things awkward for them. A race seat is… unlikely.” Ryouchi mulled the options for all of two seconds before choosing Alpine. Lola shrugged. “Fair enough, but they want you in France by tonight. I can take you to the airport, if you’d like.”

Ryouchi and Lola had reached his car, a 1992 Honda Civic SiR-II that had been lovingly restored and maintained by Ryouchi as his present for his 17th birthday, though it had really been a present to his inner child. Lola, of course, knew none of this, and waited patiently as Ryouchi was lost in thought again. Realizing he’d been staring at his childhood dreams for all of 20 seconds, Ryouchi snapped back to reality and addressed his manager, right as the cacophony of engines coming to life began mere meters away. “Tonight, huh?” Ryouchi looked up at Lola, whose bronze skin and green eyes shone in the sunlight as smiled gently at her client, as if to say that no matter what he chose, she’d back him. Ryouchi wanted more than anything to open the door. He wanted his future back. To become the driver he should’ve been, to snatch the reality he’d always envisioned as a child.

As he thought this, the faces of his comrades, friends he’d known for years in Rod and Thibault, came to mind. Ryouchi knew that opening the door would effectively leave them to dry. If he got in the car today, there’d be no team tomorrow. Ryouchi, visibly shaking, opened the door, and made his way to Formula One.


Circuito De Algarve, Katou Racing Engines Garage.

Tryhard.

Koharu was fond of having a bit of banter with the team in the odd chance she did get to visit, and when she first saw Thibault race in person, that was the nickname she’d given him. It seemingly rang true as The Frenchman found himself audibly gritting his teeth through the treacherous, undulating Circuito de Algarve, struggling to take his aging Ligier JS P2 to a decent position as he found himself engulf in a swarm of the latest and greatest, a field of cars all running the renowned Oreca 07.

Though externally, the difference between these two cars was merely aesthetic, the 3 year age gap in car design felt more like 30, as the uphill battle the trio of Katou Racing Engines had faced throughout the season made it readily apparent why the Oreca design was the class of the field, and why the Ligier used by the team had been bought at an auction.

Nevertheless, the fact the grid was relegated to using the same engine was the only reason the team was able to perform such a stunt, though the disgruntled engineers sent by their supplier found the venture less than amusing, as there would seemingly be a new issue with the engine they’d crammed into the car every week, causing many a late night for the understaffed crew.

The problem of the week this time, and the reason why Thibault found himself straining at the limit, was the ECU overheating and sending jumbled messes of numbers and text to the team computer, with various ECU components, namely the power steering, malfunctioning mid corner only to fix themselves at the end of a lap. Thibault’s endurance was second to none, but even he found himself at his limit at an hour and a half in, and given the car was beginning to agree with him, as he slid out of the final corner, he signaled to the team that he’d be coming in, only to be met with silence on the radio.

In the garage, a frantic mass of people wandered into and out of the paddock, as they all sought to find where Ryouchi, who was due to take over Thibault’s stint, had gone. Everyone except Rod, at least, who sat leaned against the wall in the fence, uncharacteristically musing to himself as snippets of conversations long had played in his head.

Rod thought back to the promise Ryouchi made to him earlier in the year. In that dilapidated office, a room that had once been a poster child for the same office layout every middle aged dad seemed to lust after was now a mildew riddled, bare floored cubicle, where two men sat at a table that had clearly been bought second hand after the fact, discussing the terms that would see Rod join Ryouchi’s branch of KRE. Ryouchi, clearly out of place in an authoritative role, had enlisted the help of an arbitrator, his manager, Lola Hart. She’d provided the lengthy binder the two men sat hunched over, having to stand off to the side owing to the lack of chairs available.

Ryouchi paused for a moment, visibly sweating, and, looking up at Lola briefly, steeled himself before he spoke to Rod. “Ah, Of course, I’ll be invested long term too. I mean, it’s not like we have a carpet to pull out from under you. ” Rod let out a snort at that, smiling at the admittedly corny joke as the tension in the room seemed to die down a little.

“Well lad,” the veteran started. “I won’t lie, building the future is something that’s been on my mind for a while. I mean, I can see we’re far from that point, but in a few years, with a kid like you? I think we can really build something… Starting with a new office.” Lola smiled cordially at Roderick as he signed the contract, binding his and Ryouchi’s careers for the time being. “An office today, our dreams tomorrow. Welcome to Katou Racing Engines, Mr. Mackenzie.”

Back in the garage, Roderick could see the dreams he had of finally fostering a home for the next generation gone. A chance to build something with his own two hands, to do the one thing he’d never done, win a race in his own car. A single word described the promises Ryouchi had made, Rod thought to himself. Lies.

In that moment, Koharu walked up to the vet, looking as worried as the many team members scurried about the garage in a frantic search for Ryouchi. “He won’t pick up his phone…. Rod?” Koharu, normally full of energy, found herself completely drained and lost for confidence in the chaos of the situation of Ryu’s disappearance. Looking to Rod for answers, she got none. The two sighed deeply, nearly in sync, before Rod looked down upon Koharu, and reassured her. “He’s alright, if I know where he is. I can only hope I’m wrong, kiddo.” Rod sighed again, as the roar of a low flying jet thundered past overhead.

Circuit Dijon-Prenois, 2 hours later.

Ryouchi arrives at the Dijon circuit, still wearing his Le Mans Series Fatigues, and in a hurried blur of movement and emotions is in the car within 10 minutes. Lola, on the other hand, is met by the head of Alpine’s human resources department himself, a man who perfectly fits the description of the most corporatized “man-in-a-suit” archetype one could draw up, Claude Perot. “Ms. Hart. I understand you represent Ryouchi?” Lola nearly hesitates a bit. Despite her years of experience in negotiations, she still finds herself getting nervous whenever meeting with particularly lofty figures, but she quickly steels herself and meets Claude with the same steel-cold professionalism she met any other client with.

“Yes. I’ll be handling any negotiations involving him. I’m glad to make your acquaintance.” Claude chuckles at this. “Please, there’s no need to be so formal, Ms. Hart. You’re my guest here, and on such short notice! I’d say we’re off to a great start so far.” Lola gave a curt nod. Lola was prone to keeping a very robust wall of professionalism in her interactions with others, especially during negotiations, though this time she found herself letting loose some of the tension held in her shoulders, as if a part of her knew she could only do so much to influence Claude ’s opinion.

Though Claude was impressed at the moment, everything dictating the way the interaction would go in the coming moments hinged on the man exiting the pits as they spoke. The sound of Ryouchi speeding off left them covering their ears for a moment, before Claude resumed the conversation. “Truth be told, we’re not running a particularly kitted out car at the moment. If Ryouchi ran something in the 1:12s we’d be impressed.”

Lola opened her mouth, but was cut off by the sounds of tires squealing in the distance. Had Ryouchi binned it so early? Lola looked over to the engineers to see them hurriedly talking amongst themselves, though about what exactly was unclear. Lola’s veneer of professionalism was lost for a moment as she rushed over to the pit garage, trying to get a closer view of the track herself. Her fears were quickly put to rest by the thunderous growl of Ryouchi’s Alpine coming across the front stretch, ready to set his hotlap.

“I’ll never be passed over again.”

“I know who I am, that’s all I need.”

“I’m scared.”

Thoughts scrambled Ryouchi’s mind as he began his hotlap of the Dijon circuit. The car was fully incomplete, Ryouchi could feel it in every little instability that rocked the car in the wide open sweepers that made up the opening part of the lap, the section having spun him out entirely earlier due to the tires not being warmed up before being assaulted by his signature brand of racecraft. His breathing became ragged and the adrenaline in his veins palpable as he rapidly made his way to the hairpin.

“I drive for myself. That’s how it’s always been. Me vs. The world. That’s how it has to be.”

“I refuse to lose. Not to anyone. Not to myself. Not again.”

“I’m not fast enough. I never was.”

Thoughts scrambled Ryouchi’s mind, thoughts that had been swirling around for the past 3 years, ever since his racing fund ran out. Ever since his future blew up in smoke. He crossed the finish line, and waiting for him there, waving a checkered flag, was the boss himself. Were they calling the test off so fast? Ryouchi’s mind became a blur as he pulled into the pits. The mechanics muttered amongst themselves, quickly stopping as soon as the Alpine’s engine shut off. It was all Ryouchi could do to avoid shaking as he stepped out of the car, where Claude stood waiting for him, holding out a hand for Ryouchi to shake. He smiled at Ryouchi as he looked up to meet his gaze, the single sentence Ryouchi had waited his entire life to hear leaving his lips:

“Welcome to Alpine, Ryouchi.”

Early 2024. Months later.
Giacomo sets his plan into motion.

It was many months ago now that Ryouchi had left MCP entirely, and in that time the buzz the youngster had created had the racing media in a frenzied rush to publish story after story to turn the rumor mill for both Ryouchi and the MCP team. Giacomo was always one to lavish in the attention, but when the veneer of admiration wore off, leaving a portrait of an eerily empty home full of disheartened staff and broken hearts, media interest soon waned in the lack of any sensational headlines or dramatic stories to follow, leaving Giacomo very disappointed.

As such, life moved on. Though MCP may have been in a sad state, Giacomo knew it was his duty as it’s heart and soul to continue the fight. Giacomo took it upon himself to get the team back together the only way he knew how: Winning. Though it wasn’t ever Giacomo himself doing the winning, he knew his strong suit was in being the brains of the operation (it was in his extremely deep pockets) and the man behind the legendary outfits that took on races around the world from the Daytona 500 and the 24 Hours of Le Mans knew he could make lightning strike again. He knew he could win the 2024 Shitbox Rally. No, he does not know it’s not a competition.

Luckily, Giacomo knew of a site where you could buy great products for cheap. A site with the strictest quality control regiments on the internet. A site where you can make your dreams come true for just the price of shipping, and the site that was listing a rejected Le Mans Prototype for just $1,700!

What’s the worst that can happen?

MCP PROLOGUE - BRAND NEW DAY - FIN

5 Likes

MACHINAS CON PASSIONE’S SHITBOX ADVENTURES PART 3 - EPISODE 1 - SURVIVING LIVERPOOL

Liverpool, England.

3 weeks out from Shitbox Rally ‘24.

Ah, Liverpool. The closest you can get to incomprehensible without leaving the safety and security of the mainland UK, the one place on planet earth that directly names the sun on it’s no-fly list, and the town that we find our lovable protagonist Giacomo Scarfiotti setting the pieces in motion for what is sure to be Machinas Con Passione’s great return to motorsport, the 2024 running of the Shitbox Rally. In what is his third crack at the race, Giacomo has, allegedly at least, finally gathered up the information and knowledge gathered from the trying 2022 and 2023 runnings to realize his grand vision: complete and utter domination!

This, of course brings us to the question that should really be asked of Giacomo in any situation, that being “What the hell is he doing now?” The answer to which could be found at the center of the dilapidated garage the Italian businessman now found himself occupying, where sat a vaguely car-shaped figure that was kept secured under a torn tarp that had been stained in multiple places by the various pools of differing substances that were collecting around it. Giacomo, who had arranged to meet his contact in said garage, slowly took in the scene as the eerie nature of the building’s concrete walls, buildups of black mold and mildew and dank stench began to eat away at his normally abundant self confidence.

A beat of sweat visibly trickled from his brow as he stood awkwardly in front of the tarp, unsure if this was the “exquisite beast of nature, the defiant act of GOD’’ he’d paid 1700 dollars for, but the very real fear that he had been scammed for an admittedly meager sum was what drove Giacomo’s anxiety higher than any possibility of a boogeyman coming to get him in the dark garage. It was at that moment, at his most vulnerable, that a loud crash rang out from the direction Giacomo had entered, scaring the daylights out of every atom in his body as the Italian blindly leaped for his life, unknowingly diving headfirst into the tarp and crashing through the window as he tried to save what little cash he had left.

In the chaos, two voices, one masculine and another feminine, could be heard by what was left of Giacomo’s consciousness. The feminine voice stood out first. “Fuckin’ hell Loris, you’ve only gone and killed the man! That’s a payday and a half you’ve just cost us, mate!” The masculine voice, apparently named Loris, could be heard grunting as he apparently tried to get up from under something he’d knocked over, throwing whatever it was at the wall after. “How was I s’posed to fuckin’ know he’d not turn the bloody lights on! They’re only right next to the damned door!” Loris could be heard stamping his way over to Giacomo, who sat laid out between the passenger and driver seats as he recovered from his leap of faith, small cuts beginning to bleed over his exposed skin. Loris peeked in from the passenger side, making direct contact with the somehow still conscious Giacomo.

Loris seemingly needed to take a second to process the sheer stupidity of what just happened, and after going through a visible mental reboot tried to start a conversation with Giacomo. “Erm, so, Alright then, ah… Giacomo, right? We’re the Lynwoods. Luci and Loris. Sure you’ve heard of us. We messaged on Skype if you’ll remember.” Giacomo nodded with a sheer desperation that seemed to suggest that the mere action took every fiber of his being to even process, scared and adrenaline shot as he was. Loris sighed and tried to ignore the fact that the man was probably dying in front of him, and continued his sales pitch. “Right. Cool. So, would you mind getting up out of the car then so we can chat? I mean, y’know, if it’s not a hassle or anything mate.” It can be left unsaid that it was a giant hassle for the man that had probably received a concussion bad enough to kill men, but Giacomo simply shuddered to life as he crawled out of the windshield, onto the hood, and head first onto the floor as he slid off owing to the significant amount of blood he had lost.

The feminine voice Giacomo had heard earlier, apparently named Luci, made its way over to him now, and Giacomo could see a young woman in her late 20s looking down at him, visibly concerned. “Fuck’s sake, Loris, we can scam anybody else and get off scot free, I don’t wanna kill the man!” Giacomo looked over to Loris, who he thought couldn’t have looked less concerned if he tried, proved Giacomo wrong by shrugging and nudging Giacomo with his foot, wiggling his eyebrows at the woman who stood to his left. Loris squatted down to address Giacomo, patting him on his now bloody head as he tried to seal the deal. “So…. Since that window is gonna need replacing, think I can get an extra… dunno, 300? D’you think so?” Giacomo stook up a shaky hand, a thumbs up securing the 300 dollars that would pay for Loris’ new shoes. It seemed the start of a beautiful relationship.

Speaking of…

THE TEAM

Name: Giacomo Scarfiotti

Age: 51

Role: Financier, Navigator, Mascot

Nationality: Italian

Description: 5 foot 8, Spiky white hair with a GODLY Goatee. Uses glasses on occasion.

Background: The man, the myth, the legend, Giacomo Scarfiotti is wholly convinced he has finally found the winning combination of the best car, the best drivers and the best looks to win the contest outright…. That is until he realizes the Le Mans Reject he’s buying for cheap is really a shoddily made bodykit conversion for a car that barely made it to the junkyard.

Name: Loris Lynwood

Age: 27

Role: Driver, Scammer.

Nationality: Scouser

Description: 6 foot, brown hair with a buzzcut and a beard he is quite proud of, thin build with plenty of tats.

Background: Loris never knew luxury growing up. With his parents not expecting twins, the financial burden of keeping the lights on and providing for the young family took a toll on the young Loris, and he quickly found himself involved in shady dealings to keep the lights on. He’d make a living through these ill-gotten gains for much of his young adult life until a near-death experience encouraged the young Scouse to change his ways…. For all of five minutes. While Loris was proficient at procuring money, saving it was another deal entirely. While it was nice to have a big pile of the green stuff, that money could be much better used to get another tattoo of a knife or another pair of expensive shoes, why, it’d be a waste to just let it sit there!

In his younger days Loris was no stranger to lifting parts and fixing up cars for his own enjoyment, and has made a habit recently of stealing cars from local junkyards and either attaching random bits of bodywork to undriveable cars or stealing parts like turbos and cats from the ones that do still work before listing them on ebay for dirt cheap. Loris knows it’s risky business, but he never fully left the gang life behind, so there’s always an army of sneakerheads around the corner in the event of buyer’s remorse. As for his racing career, Loris is much more fond of street racing, but takes up the rally partially due to thinking Giacomo is shitting him, and partially to escape a particularly powerful victim of one of his scams. Better to be in the states on some other guy’s dime than at home at the mercy of some gang leader.

Name: Luci Lynwood

Age: 27

Role: Medic, Moral Conscious

Nationality: Scouser

Description:

Background: Luci is Loris’ twin, and many would argue his better half. Though she’s not above helping Loris scam people or writing up blurbs for his Ebay listings, she really is a pleasant person when you get to know her, and finds her motivation in helping her brother out of a desire to see him succeed more than for a love of chasing the bag. Having grown up with Loris, Luci exhibits many of the crafty traits about her that her brother does, but is infinitely more in tune with her basic common decency and isn’t nearly as insufferable as her brother.

Personality wise, she’s not as naive as Giacomo but not as book smart as Maria, she’s definitely a “glass type full” type of girl and enjoys making new friends. As for how this prepares her for a rally taking place on a different planet entirely, it doesn’t. If there was a page in the yearbook for “most likely to die at a shitbox rally” every nomination is her.

Name: Maria Vecchi

Age: 22

Role: Brain, Medic.

Nationality: Sicillian

Description:

Background: The very same Maria Vecchi from the original shitbox rally, Maria finds herself helping Giacomo out after a chance meeting in Liverpool causes her last shred of humanity to awaken as she senses he is very much in financial danger. Though not fond of the idea of going life and death with whatever mysterious diseases can be found on another planet, she knows that Giacomo will be going regardless of what anyone tells him and that if anyone is going to look out for that asshole, it’s better off being her.

Maria, having changed her alias to the very inconspicuous Marie Vecchi after MCP’s first meeting in Crugandr, has since undergone geniune, if not shady, medical training and is actually prepared to provide competent levels of medical attention if needed. As for her personality, she’s kept the sharp tongue fron her last appearance and isn’t particularly fond of anything or anyone. She still carries the connection to the infamous Vecchi mob family, but is still as disinterested in Mafia life as ever.

THE CAR

The car is a first gen, exclusive, top of the line version of the Arrows Arnoux, a top level trim by the tuning company Lynwood, a one of one exclusive example of what the brand can offer buyers. That is to say it’s a complete trainwreck courtesy of being created purely for the purpose of scamming gullible buyers like Giacomo. The bodywork is roughly sautered on bits of iron found at the scrapyard, and considering that it was purely made to finance Loris’ vaping habit it may have been undervalued given the effort put in to make it. Being set for 1700 does make it an easy catch, though. Either way, with an engine, wheels, and functional seats it is indeed a car that drives, and it’d better if it wants to win the rally.

The Equipment

As usual, MCP is LOADED TO THE GILLS BABY WOOO

Giacomo is not letting the Nick Jonas CD go, but other essentials include:

  • Giacomo may have a minor severe concussion but he is still drawing like a man possessed, he brings his notebook and pens from the previous rallies.

  • Loris brought his rap CD and will be peddling it at the first sign of attention. Along with this are copious amounts of ciggies cause you’ve got to have a smoke laddie.

*Luci brought the CD Player because Loris forgot about it.

  • All of the medical supplies Maria could steal on such short notice.

  • All the tools, but without Chad there’s no way man.

Machinas Con Passione’s Shitbox Adventures Part 3, Episode 1 - BRAND NEW DAY - FIN

Epilogue - Guess Who’s Back?

Liverpool, Lynwood Twins Garage.

After handing the Lynwoods the last of his cash, Giacomo went into a brief, 3 day long coma owing to the severe levels of brain damage the poor man had recieved. Though Luci had done her best to ensure that he wouldn’t die on their couch in the meantime, the most that they’d gotten out of Giacomo was mumbling about his extraordinarily deep pockets, with bits and pieces regarding something about racecars and his first class flight that was leaving at the end of the week.

With Loris very much interested in that last part, the twins decided to make a house call for a doctor they could get to at least wake Giacomo up for long enough to get them that first class flight, if nothing else. After a brief 5 hour wait, a knock on the door signaled the arrival of their doctor for the day, and when Luci opened the door and saw nobody there, she quickly slammed it shut, thinking she’d been pranked by the neighborhood shitheads again.

Lo and behold, however, when Luci turned back around a short figure wearing scrubs paired with both extremely fashionable haircut and the trendiest glasses she’d ever seen. The doctor took a moment to take in the living room before she spotted Giacomo. Within seconds, both the glasses and her giant duffle bag hit the ground, as a blood-curdling shriek erupted from the diminutive doctor.

Was he hurt that bad?

EPILOGUE - FIN

4 Likes

It’ll depend highly on how the hidden reliability cap shakes out.

I built it on Kyorg’s FTO body (which i think is the fatale iirc). All that’s left of it is the central cockpit area and roof. All the rest has been lengthened and rebuilt in 3D as is fitting for a Mitsuoka style rebody.

Judging from what I’ve seen of it, your entry is not based on either of the two largest versions of the '87 Fatale (which have a 2.67m or 2.69m wheelbase, but on one of the two smallest ones (2.25m or 2.51m wheelbases) - I reckon it’s the former, considering how light it is.

Yup. it’s on the 2.3 m one and has had the wheelbase stretched to 2.7 m. Most of that was to get the right hood proportions.

Less is More, Right?

Cunning Stunts returns

Hopefully for more cunning and stunting.

Last Year some refuse truck and an AWD Ute both with engine swaps and all sorts of adhock mods
This year a Motorbike that’s basically stock, aside from a wiring job because it needed a radio mount and to be dried off from the 2023 Sydney Christmas floods, which is how they even got a litre-bike for less than 3000 AUD.

The Motorbike is a 1996 Shuriken KRG1100. A formerly slightly more green and lighter Sports Naked bike with a tendency to 1 wheel, almost guaranteed to be one of the highest Power to Weight vehicles in the event. Lana White will be riding it the whole event

If the rulebook change allows for 'major spare parts' to not need to mounted on the vehicle, well...


Who said the support vehicle needed to be the train for a bike, or needed to be 2000 USD, or needed to be exclusive to your team. Meet Murray Harrison’s K78 Masakari Troopcarrier, his long suffering work van that’s been on a few too many adventures, but is more than happy to help out competition in need.

Other fun facts, Support vehicles don’t need to abide by the race route and thus would theoretically be able to take considerably more direct routes to broken down or impeded competitors.

6 Likes

POSTING THIS ON BEHALF OF NOCTURNE WHO IS NO FORUM MEMBER (Discord only)
in agreement with the hosts, I am the postman and only copy-pasting Nocturne´s texts. Nothing here is written by me and the team is not linked to the Rhino squad (just saying it extra “loud” to aviod confusion)

Company background:

Maxwell-Temple Company, founded in 1931, in Perth, Australia by Harold Maxwell and George Temple, has long been a frontrunner in four wheel drive vehicle technology. They got off to a successful start by procuring contracts for military trucks as well as 4x4 chassis for towing light weaponry. After playing an influential role in manufacturing military trucks the Australian armed forces would use once the Second World War broke out, MTC were left with a surplus of vehicles which it would quickly use to its advantage, becoming one of the largest worldwide manufacturers of off road four wheel drive light trucks designed for commercial, agricultural, and recreational uses.

In the 1960s, MTC would undergo a two pronged venture into the passenger car world. In 1963, they pioneered the dune buggy segment with the introduction of the Koala 1.3. More importantly, in 1967, they acquired a 50% stake in struggling South African conglomerate Vanguard Industries, with the other 50% being bought out a year later. Vanguard had long been known as a maker of utilitarian and economical but rather primitive family cars. The top brass at MTC, however, saw the unrealized potential for a market that would combine the go-anywhere nature of MTC’s Quadra four wheel drive system with the practical and economical nature of Vanguard’s existing automotive platforms.

The end result of this research and development was displayed at the 1971 Paris Auto Show as the 1971 MTC K-Type. Using the monocoque chassis of the Vanguard Capricorn compact sedan/liftback, the car featured the first generation of MTC’s all-new Quadra on-demand four wheel drive system. The success of the K Type line allowed MTC to expand its lineup in the late 70s to 3 separate all-terrain cars using Vanguard’s existing Capricorn, Scorpio, and Andromeda as bases. MTC was influential in helping Vanguard phase out its tried and true overhead valve engines in favor of the New Age series of overhead cam inline fours and sixes. Rising tensions in South Africa along with Vanguard’s continued plummet into irrelevancy lead MTC to controversially end production of vehicles under the long storied Vanguard nameplate after 1987. By the time MTC itself was bought out by Alliance Autotopia, the world’s largest automaker consisting of 9 brands with each their own storied past, in 1993, they were a blossoming manufacturer of offroad trucks/SUVs and all terrain focus passenger cars alike.

Car background

The 1999 MTC K Series was not a ground-up vehicle, but a holistic rework using the 1988-1998 K Series’s platform and chassis as a base, but more notably swapping the rear semi trailing arm layout for a double wishbone setup all around. This allowed for more precise handling compared to the previous generation. More importantly, the New Age Four got a second generation, now coming 16 valve double overhead cam layout. Variable valve timing was added in two different configurations, a first for an MTC vehicle.


The base model was the K18 Sport, starting from $14990, offering a 1.8L version of the New Age Gen II block with multi point fuel injection producing 120 hp at 5700 rpm and 127 lb ft of torque at 4200 rpm. Fuel economy was rated at 33/39/35 EPA rated city/highway/combined. Standard features included hydraulic rack and pinon power assisted steering, a four speaker sound system with a stereo AM/FM radio, driver’s side airbag system, and a cassette tape player, a five speed manual transmission with a four speed with overdrive button electronically controlled automatic being available as a $1200 option. Brakes are 250mm discs in the front and 290mm drums in the back, tires are P185/60R16 spec.

The next step up is the K22 X-Sport, at $17500, which added a more powerful 2.2L version of the New Age Four making 150 hp at 5500 rpm and 157 lb ft of torque at 4000 rpm. The variable valve timing on this engine is on all cams rather than just the intake. Along with the engine upgrades comes a Torsen based limited slip differential and Traction Aids I package which includes an anti lock braking system. Brakes are now 270mm discs all around, vented in front and solid at the back. Fuel economy for this model is 30/36/33 city/highway/combined.

At the top of the range sits the K22 Carbon hot hatchback, at $22500. The 2.2 is given a variable geometry turbocharger providing 10 psi of boost as well as individual throttle bodies. This allows the powerplant to make 230 hp at 5600 rpm and 270 lb ft of torque at 3800 rpm. Forged internals are used on this engine to accommodate for the higher torque it produces. Tires are summer compound P215/50R16 with alloy rims. Upgraded brakes and a Sony CD player are now standard.

A common rail diesel version with a 2.0 turbo making 105 hp at 3700 rpm and 172 lb ft of torque at 2600 rpm is available in selected markets in Europe and Asia.
Body styles offered include sedan, 3 door hatchback, 5 door hatchback, and 5 door estate.

Our Example

A 1999 K22 X-Sport with broken cassette player, needs new spark plugs, some rust on the underbody. Sold to Jacob for $2000 flat.

Our Team

Peak Performance
Jacob Kim, age 26, human, Korean-American, 5’7, 130 lbs, brown eyes, black hair
Amelia Ridgewell, 24, human, British, 5’4, 110 lbs, green eyes, blonde hair

3 Likes

A Tribute to my Grandpa who passed away earlier this week



I was originally going to enter the usual BetterDeals, but I've decided to enter a clone of my grandpa's car. He was a good man, I had a very special bond with him, and he was a car enthusiast.

It’s been a difficult week, but life goes on, and he was not in the best condition. I’m sure he’s in a better place now.
He had the nickname Fuist, so for this reason here is my team’s name.



Team Fuist



Of course, these are difficult times but that doesn't mean that we can have some fun.

The Drivers

  • Louis Abingdon
    36 Years Old
    British

Notorious driver from the GTC, Louis Abingdon tries out something new. Rallying is new to the man, but he’s up for anything. He has enough experience going into the grass and gravel, after all. He’s used to it.
In the GTC he was seen as the next big guy, but severely underperformed. He kept getting seats with teams hoping that he would do better, but it only ever got worse. Even with the best teams he simply could not compete, besides a few podiums.

He is a paydriver, so he funded the car. Don’t ask him where he got the money, he won’t say anything.

“People call me Abingoat, must mean I’m a good driver! I remember when I was in the driving academy, everyone was talking about me, till I got signed. After a lot of sabotage from my team and bouncing around many teams, I eventually had no seat left. So I thought, maybe I can test my luck on Holsia.”

  • Marceline Bond
    39 Years Old
    French

Another notorious driver from the GTC. The first female driver to ever compete in the series, she left many disappointed. A fan favorite, but she never picked up a win. A few podiums were there though.
The second woman to ever compete immediately outshined her by winning on her debut, proving that Bond simply was not fast.

After retiring, she struck a deal with BetterDeals to start up her own racing team, which has seen major success with a driver’s championship and a few results very close to one.

“When I was a kid I always had the dream to race, and eventually I got that dream. Unfortunately I simply didn’t have enough talent to compete with my competitors, I was always having fun. Eventually I noticed that my performances were simply not improving after many years, so I retired. Never regretted that decision. Thought it would be fun to get back behind the wheel though!”

They claim to not be in a relationship but rumors have been going around for a while now…

They will be driving at aggression 1.



The Car

Abingdon has dug up a car that may or may not be considered a sports car, but he hopes for it to work well enough.



The 1996 Mars Fuist is a car from Mars in quite a weird place. It’s not exactly fast since it’s the V6 version and is a convertible, but for some reason it was quite popular and sold well. Weird. They’re very common so they’re easy to find for very cheap.

This one isn’t in the greatest condition, but the body is in great condition. The previous owner reported some weird stuff going on with the suspension, but Bond and Abingdon have done their best to fix some problems. Some limiters have been removed and it produces about 30 more horsepower than it did before, so it can move. Hopefully.
Besides the previously mentioned engine modifications and a fire extinguisher, the car is essentially stock with some questionable quality fixes to the suspension.

Is that it? I think that’s it.



Ride on Opa, we miss you. Rest in peace.

SR_2024_-Djadania-_Mars_Fuist.car|attachment (91.1 KB)

8 Likes

GECA - Interstellar


Simply put, GECA (Gothenburg Express Cycling Association, pronounced “GeeSah”) is a loosely coordinated group of road cyclist based in Gothenburg, Sweden, in turn split into various sub-groups.
GECA - Interstellar is one of these sub-groups (the others being GECA - Speed and GECA - Social) coined by Valentin Schrant as a justification for the support train being used in such magnitude.
They plan to ride some stages on their bicycles in a group of 13, while others are spent resting aboard the train.


The Crew:

:sweden: Valentin “Val” Schrant

  • Age: 25
  • Height: 7’3" (221cm)
  • Weight: 292 lbs (132kg)
  • Notable Features:
    • qualifies as being Albino (though with light grey-ish blue eyes)
    • hairdo that reaches all the way to his lower back
    • generally slender, well-defined physique, in turn covered in a dense “map” of veins
    • a metallic-looking strip of grey runs up from between the clavicles, up his neck to behind his left ear

His personality depends on how much trust he has in someone.
To unknown people, he generally is polite and friendly, though distant and rather defensive, possibly even stiff, having a hard time at casual banter until a level of trust is achieved.
Once trust is present, he loosens up considerably.
Still, he remains of the calmer type with seemingly infinite patience.
Vehemently refuses to do any drugs, including alcohol and cigarettes.

:norway: Njordal “Norse” Eikeland

  • Age: 29
  • Height: 6’1" (185cm)
  • Weight: 183 lbs (83kg)
  • Notable Features:
    • Brown, short hair
    • physically appears healthy, though not extraordinarily well built

Substantially more open to engagement with others socially, sometimes to the detriment of Valentin, with whom he has an intense bond formed over the years.

:sweden: Lars Andersson

  • Age: 43
  • Height: 5’11" (180cm)
  • Weight: 185 lbs (84kg)
  • Notable Features:
    • Thick, full beard
    • more broad in physique, as he has some “dead weight” to lug around

The resident dickhead of the group with very little in the way of a filter.
Has ZERO issues blaring out his opinion on things and frequently gathers counter-fire as a result of it, making him generally unpopular.
Him being part of the group at all is a legal thing, since he did pay the entry fees to GECA - Interstellar on time and in full.

:white_flag: Hugh Jass

  • Age: debatable. his ID claims 19 and he legally is of age and looks the part, but his “activity history” only really goes back about three months or so…
  • Height: 6’3" (190cm)
  • Weight: 144 lbs (65kg)
  • Notable features:
    • bright green, shoulder-length hair
    • equally green eyes
    • physically very much the “skin-and-bones” type

His demeanor is a mixed bag.
Socially, he generally is open to interaction and seen as friendly, but to others, it seems like he is stuck in his own little way of thinking as he constantly keeps talking using video-game related words, reinforced further by the occasional action of equally video-game-y looking awkwardness.

:us: Bill Kerman

  • Age: classified, appears mid 40s
  • Height: 5’10" (178cm)
  • Weight: 139lbs (73kg)
  • Notable features:
    • short, brown hair with receding hairline
    • light blue eyes
    • perpetually wearing some sort of sunglasses
    • identical twin to Bob Kerman (below)

His outward impression can be summed up as “stay away from us”, which has multiple GECA members be suspicious of him. Stern look, talks only when needed and when he does, he uses as few words as possible to get out of the social engagement. Generally tries to avoid being drawn into one as well.

:us: Bob Kerman

  • Age: classified, appears mid 40s
  • Height: 5’10" (178cm)
  • Weight: 139lbs (73kg)
  • Notable features:
    • short, brown hair with receding hairline
    • light blue eyes
    • perpetually wearing some sort of sunglasses
    • identical twin to Bill Kerman (above)

His outward impression can be summed up as “stay away from us”, which has multiple GECA members be suspicious of him. Stern look, talks only when needed and when he does, he uses as few words as possible to get out of the social engagement. Generally tries to avoid being drawn into one as well.


note: Below Characters largely act as filler and thus might not be as thoroughly established.

:sweden: Sven Johansson

  • Age: 23
  • Height: 5’8" (173cm)
  • Weight: 140 lbs (63kg)
  • Notable Features:
    • heavily crooked nose

In a sense a mix of Norse and Lars.
Outgoing and unfiltered, though not enough of an outright asshole to not apologize for any missteps.

:sweden: Astrid Nilsson

  • Age: 31
  • Height: 6’0" (183cm)
  • Weight: 132 lbs (60kg)
  • Notable Features:
    • bald (base color is black)

Recent breast cancer survivor with no intent of hiding the past. Generally calm, but daring when it comes to it. Joined GECA (especially GECA - Speed) for the thrill of speed with very little protection as it makes her feel alive as ever.

:sweden: Ingrid “Bag of Holding” Ericsson

  • Age: 38
  • Height: 5’6" (167cm)
  • Weight: unknown (she does not care)
  • Notable Features
    • the notable bit is the lack of notable features.
    • about as generic of a woman you can find

Dragged into this by Astrid, she has issues opening up to people, instead retaining her defensive “better not tell anyone” stance for possibly longer than is reasonable. Generally seen upon favorably by others due to her somehow being prepared for every eventuality there could ever be.

:sweden: Björn Olsen

  • Age: 35
  • Height: 5’10" (178cm)
  • Weight: 174 lbs (79kg)
  • Notable Features
    • by far the most muscular-looking of the group, actually having upper-body strength
    • reddish-brown army-buzzcut hair
    • left eye somewhat squinted

The “all show and little go” person, relatively speaking. By far the richest person in the group (second only to Val), but has little idea as to what his fancy equipment even is capable of at times. Still, he vehemently refuses to accept guidance on any matter, claiming to be “above the others” in terms of skill and expertise. Got a face full of fist from Astrid for downplaying the severity of cancer.

:jp: Hiroshi Tanaka

  • Age: 28
  • Height: 6’0" (183cm)
  • Weight: ~140 lbs (65kg)
  • Notable Features
    • google “Ryosuke Takahasi” from Initial D. I may or may not have plucked him out of his FC lol

The smart one. If there is a book-smarts thing to contribute to a given thing, he can provide. The only one to rival Val in performance because of a massive tactics advantage to him. Does not think fondly of his parents due to their authoritarian views regarding his future.
Apart from that, he generally is rather stoic and well-articulated.

:sweden: Erik Jansen

  • Age: 20
  • Height: 5’11" (180cm)
  • Weight: 170lbs (77kg)
  • Notable Features:
    • ginger
    • dreadlocks
    • obviously left-wing politically due to outfit styling (patches and such)

If there’s a topic, he is talking. Non-stop. Even if a given topic is not relevant to him or not in his field of “expertise”, chances are that he is adding his two cents to it.
Somehow still is able to listen to others, though him stepping onto them trying to talk is a strain to the way people think of him.

:de: Jan Wagner

  • Age: 23
  • Height: 6’0" (184cm)
  • Weight: 170lbs (73kg)
  • Notable Features:
    • dense, unkempt full beard
    • hair to mid-back

Jan is a mixed bag. Sometimes, he absolutely refuses to engage in conversation, preferring the sidelines. Other times, he rivals Erik in the amount of talking he does.


The vehicles

HSR B15.01 #001 “Robert III”


(locomotive only)

Continuing with the tradition of using the (arguably superior :stuck_out_tongue: ) rails instead of roads, Valentin has organized a full train through his line of work as the chief mechanical engineer at the Holsian State Railways.
The train in question will serve as accommodation for GECA as well as some degree of support for other participants in case cars are irreparably damaged or otherwise in need of aid.

2004 MHI/AMCW City Shuttle

Rented off of Team Shift Happens, this example is identical in both technical specifications and backstory to the one in use there. The only difference: This one has NOT been fiddled with to make 10 feet tall people fit. It is a regular city bus.

13 bicycles

[no image]
This is the whole point of GECA being here to begin with.
They want to do some of the stages on their bikes as a group, others remain aboard the train for recovery, simple as that.

6 Likes

Team Imperials

Meet the Team:

:uk: Anya Essinger
:australia: Arthur "Reggie "Reymond

The vehicles:


5 Likes

Entries are now Closed!

To those who have a submitted car, please, do get your team posts in as quickly as possible. It helps the other teams who will be roleplaying.

I’ll be busy cooking up the starting area camp.

Pity, I designed a car, but didn’t have time to write. Good luck teams!

4 Likes

GECA - Pre-Race

March 29th 2024


Gothenburg Landvetter Airport; Landvetter; Sweden

Meetup of Valentin and the GECA - Interstellar participants only had minor disturbances. Jan Wagner, a member who flew out from Germany to partake reported having difficulties finding the remaining group, citing “lack of familiar environment” as the reason.
Outside of that, multiple questions were asked:

Sven: “When is our plane going. And WHERE?”
Valentin: “Our aircraft is ready whenever we are. I… chartered one outside of typical commercial flights.”

Lars: “Care to explain the reasoning behind FIVE pieces of luggage?”
Njordal: “Did you not bring whatever you need for the stage battle against Val?”
Valentin: “Bicycle, Guitar, Amplifier, Typical travel baggage there and cycling or music related ancillaries in this one.”

His answer effectively silenced Lars and his latent aggression, himself having brought along three pieces of luggage compared to most others having brought two.

Within Valentin’s Aircraft; somewhere near the north pole

The passengers seem highly impressed at how Valentin “somehow” procured a futuristic-looking business jet capable of cruising at Mach 3.3. Other than that, the flight was uneventful.

LA Int. Airport; Los Angeles; California; United States

The stopover at KLAX was necessary for legal reasons, as the actual destination does not have a suitable customs office for a direct flight. The “apparently unnecessary” deboarding was met with remarkably little resistance.

At the security checks, 11 out of 13 people were processed without any holdups.
Hugh Jass displayed unusual behavior in trying to effectively interact with the local staff members, leading to quite the amusement for the remaining participants and mild annoyance to local staff.
Example being the apparent inability to accurately place relevant items in the scanning tray, either dropping it straight to the floor on the first attempt and violently throwing them into the tray on the second. How items such as his phone survived remains a mystery to everyone involved, including me.
The other person with difficulties was Valentin:
Even before he was fully underneath the metal detector, it registered the highest possible value to them. An attempt at resolving the issue via taking off minor articles of clothing such as rings, shoes and a non-existing belt yielded no change.

TSA: “How the fuck do you peg the detector while being next to it?”
Valentin: “May I ask as to how detailed you want the answer to be?”
At this point, Valentin was already at work fishing out necessary documentation.
TSA: “Excuse me?”
Valentin: “In summary, I am part of a medical trial involving implants which as of now make up roughly 4% of my body weight.”
TSA: “Riiight… Let’s see what you have for alledged proof…”

This proof was sufficiently convincing, though required Valentin to undergo more extensive manual searches, linked in part to his guitar case being mistaken for a poorly secured rifle case.

After security was dealt with, the group reboarded the plane for a short, subsonic flight to their final destination.

Twin Suns Aerodrome, Nevada, United States

Upon landing at Twin Suns Aerodrome, Valentin led the crew over to where they would be staying until departure to Holsia.
Initial reactions, especially after having seen the aircraft, were rather modest as they did not expect to be housed in a small “trailer park” full of RVs.
Regardless, as far as I can tell, crew morale was decent.

4 Likes

Team Shift Happens


Shitbox Rally Starting Area, Nevada

  • March 31, 2024, 4 AM local time.

Kivenaal sighs as the bus crawls past the fences, beyond the Aerodrome, and into the outskirts of the Twin Suns Towing property, the primitive self-driving AI carefully weaving down the paved pathway and out into the dirt. The screens showed nothing out of the usual, with one showing :) and the other simply containing a bunch of “debug spew.”

He’d been up half the night making the rings for all of the teams. Language with an emergency teleport both to the start, and back to home, and a different ring marked with “SOS” designed to be used to call for help. He was tired, but at least the rings were done.

Behind him, he had the rest of the crew. Malavera hadn’t really helped when it came to why he was still tired - in fact, he might indeed be the reason Kivenaal hadn’t slept at all - but he was the reason Kivenaal was nervous right now. Or, at least, half the reason. The other half of the AI project came from Takaraya, who helped Malavera with the Self-Driving project. Also back there were Kaylie, Jayde, Kayden, Sariya, Manikihali, and Lauren, casually having an argument about who was the one responsible for squirting dish soap into the dishwasher, leading to a kitchen full of soap suds. Near them, Inaelus and Kasiya were just casually chatting about magic.

The bus parked itself at the waypoint, and Kivenaal shut it off.

“Right… Let’s get started,” Kaylie said, breaking the argument. “We’ve got a lot of mild renovations to do before people start showin’ up.”

The doors swing open, and the eleven aliens leave the bus, quickly swarming the campsite and getting it prepared for new arrivals.


Many hours later, the campsite was cleaned up, the grills were ready for cooking, the picnic tables had a fresh coating of paint, and the firing range now had a new set of targets to shoot at. More importantly, there were a line of cleaned-up RVs parked off to one side, intended for use by a friend and his group to rest the night, as well as the now-infamous sound-deadened portable toilets, and a bit of very basic camp lighting that was being powered by a cheap generator that Rukari had tinkered with so it’d run on used motor oil, something they had in relatively abundant supply.

“And now the waiting game begins,” Kayden quips.

Sariya shrugs. “Mani, don’t you go burning any of those steaks.”

Manikihali pauses in cooking only long enough to flip off Sariya with all four hands, then flips the steaks over.

Malavera, meanwhile, sets up his laptop and starts up his usual routine of ignoring everyone and playing an old arcade racing game, this time joined by Kivenaal on a near-identical machine, the two computers linked by a serial cable.

Kasiya and Inaelus both settle at one of the picnic tables, just enjoying the day. Soon, they’d be spending the night here in Jayde’s almost-infamous magic tent, and then the next day would be the drivers’ meeting and departure.

Takaraya, on the other hand, takes the time to unpack his new digital camera, putting a lens on it and taking a picture of the chaotic little group, catching a little moment as Lauren opens up a box labeled “snacks” and realizes it belonged to Kivenaal, as there was only one person who had a taste for honey-glazed, oven-roasted scorpions.

Jayde and Kaylie, in the middle of this chaos, were busy preparing more burgers and steaks for their group, just waiting for the first teams to arrive.


(OOC: Feel free to get team posts in if you haven’t already. This is just pre-race stuff in case people are interested in some interaction before the start.)

2 Likes

Team Highway Hooligans


SR Starting Area, Nevada

  • March 31, 2024, 8 AM local time.

Jake slides into the driver’s seat of their heavily modified Ishu Astrion, watching as Trevor drops into the passenger seat, and then Cody settles into the back seat with a groan and a door slam. The keys jingle as Jake plugs them into the ignition switch, makes sure the gearbox is in neutral, puts his feet on the brake pedal and the clutch pedal, then turns the key.

The engine rasps to life, the snarling V6 waking up and settling into a rough idle, before Jake stuffs the Astrion into reverse and backs out of the hangar.

“God damn, I can’t see shit with this giant fucking box behind us,” Jake grumbles.

“That “giant fucking box” contains food, camping supplies, tools, and a couple spare parts,” Trevor replies. “And it’s a fuckload better than a trailer.”

“Do we really have to be up this early? I mean, I fucking get it, we missed the rally last year, but-”

Cody’s complaint gets cut off by a savage charlie horse from Trevor, and a pitiful yell of pain from Cody.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Trev!”

“Your idea of early,” Jake quips, “is 4:30 in the afternoon.”

Trevor chuckles, watching as Jake slowly cruises into the campsite. “Damn! They really do go all out, don’t they?” Trevor says, seeing the lights on, RVs parked up, grill smoking away, and the little fiberglass shit-houses all lined up ready for the undoubtedly dozens of dumps to be done in their brief stay in camp.

After the car is parked, Jake shuts down the engine, and everyone bails out.

“That thing still fuckin’ stinks,” Cody grumbles.

“Twelve air fresheners can mask a lot, but all it’s doing is covering up whatever got spilled in the carpet,” Jake replies.

Trevor shrugs. “It ain’t that bad. Seriously, Ma once left a package of burgers in the trunk and then went on vacation with the family for two weeks. By the time she got back, that poor Sinistra Traville stank so bad that we were wondering if some mob boss hid a body in her trunk.”

As Jake notices the steaks being cooked, he smiles. “You guys reckon they’ll give us any?”

Kaylie looks over at them and laughs. “Of course we will. Kinda camp tradition at this point.”

With that, the Hooligans take their places at a table, each chowing down on steaks and burgers, while watching for new arrivals.

3 Likes