FM3 With Microsoft Wheel; A Virgin's Review
Discussion
I got my Microsoft Wheel yesterday. The girlfriend was out so I gave it a blast for the first time last night:
With visions of immediate elevation to soft furnishing driving god flashing before my eyes, I clamped the wheel to the coffee table, built a sofa-and-cushion racing seat and settled down to immerse myself in my first realistic (living-room) FM3 race.
Well the first 5 mins was simply hilarious; my initial fantasies of a domestic-vehicular-deity was donkey-punched out of my mind by my extraordinary lack of talent. My brain just didn't seem to comprehend holding a steering wheel and hovering behind the car 'Mario Cart' style; I was weaving around and spinning from the get go like a rabid drunken lunatic with a club foot.
It turns out it is possible to crash without making double figure progress - and I mean meters rather than MPH. The interior cam did not really help as having two steering wheels in my periphery simply confused me more (am I ill?) so I moved to the bonnet cam and managed to make it to the fist corner without any further calamities.
I thought it would help to choose a car most similar to my real life motor, the Z4MC (I have a Z43.0C), but it did not help, it was, in fact a big mistake. I crashed. A lot. It seems a moderately powerful RWD with no assists was a bad first move with nigh on 10 years and tens-of-thousands of virtual miles of pad related muscle memory to shake off (that’s my excuse anyway). This was not like sitting in my real life motor, maybe the cat on my lap was not helping with the sense of realism, but, my purring passenger aside, even with such 'familiar' surroundings subtlety and finesse were not part of my truly inept repertoire - tyre smoke, under-steer and huge, embarrassing accidents were.
Even at the bargain basement ebay price that I paid for my wheel I was wondering if I had made a mistake. I began to ponder its resale value while attempting to salvage my now horribly savaged driving ego by reviewing my options. I discarded my feline companion, spitting some form of groundless accusation at my poor undeserving fur bag, readjusted my seating position to a more ‘in front of the telly – oh God, my girlfriend is going to murder me if she sees what I have done to her highly prized and well considered living-room furniture arrangement’ sort or orientation and changed my chariot of choice to my R3 Evo X monster. My thought processes went something like this; it is 4WD - even a blind ape with a control method more akin to ‘inserting’ rather than ‘driving’ could not crash it with a pad, so how hard could it be for me (and I like to think of myself as a none-too-shabby pad jockey) with a wheel?
I crashed. Again.
Repeatedly.
Somehow narrowly avoiding the girlfriend catching me crying, foetal, in front of my telly, rocking back and forth in shame, surrounded by shattered glass and bits of Xbox Steering Wheel, much of it still protruding from the warranty-voiding hole in my prized plasma, mocking me, mocking my failure, I composed myself, poked the rewind button for what seemed like the 50th time that ‘race’ (I had yet to leave the grid) and tried the more gentle approach.
Hallelujah; I had successfully negotiated a corner without incident; of course the rest of the pack were nearing their 6th corner by the time I had completed this glacial manoeuvre, but I had managed it and it felt good. Of course the joy of such a momentous occasion caused a bout of now over-familiar over-enthusiasm for the second corner, and the jarring sound of metal-against-wall vomited forth from my 5.1 speakers once again, provoking yet another release of fiery rage, but I had managed it. I had negotiated my first bend with a wheel!
Re-reassessment of my situation was required. My driving position was still too poor, so another bout of Xbox-Feng-Shui ensued, now rendering the room beyond repair (by this point I had already made peace with the inevitable loneliness this would result in. The cat had already (probably permanently) vacated the house due to shouting anyway, so there was only so much grief I could feel.) I picked a nice wide track, a standard Ferrari 360 and opponents many classes below my prancing horse, and set off.
And it all snapped into place. It all made sense. Gentle, smooth, controlled inputs worked; a teasing of the accelerator, a caressing of the brake pedal and an inappropriate-touching of the wheel made the drive a pleasure to behold. I completed the first lap without a single off, at good pace too, and IN THE LEAD! I started to play with the inputs, provoking a little over-steer on one corner and then carrying huge drifts through the subsequent bends with aplomb, talent and vigour. I was back. My ego restored. My initial apprehension and remorse vindicated.
Driving was fun again and what fun! The wheel - now resting on my lap, my elbows perched on the chair arms - an extension of me, I, cocooned in cushions and practically wearing my TV with its nose crushing vicinity (I am sure I now have a tan), completely immersed in my final lap. Loving every second; grinning like the village idiot on laughing gas, I now understood virtual driving nirvana. Could it get any better than this? It could get a lot worse:
Suddenly I was aborted, violently, into jarring reality.
“What the f
k have you done to my living room?” SWMBO was home.
With visions of immediate elevation to soft furnishing driving god flashing before my eyes, I clamped the wheel to the coffee table, built a sofa-and-cushion racing seat and settled down to immerse myself in my first realistic (living-room) FM3 race.
Well the first 5 mins was simply hilarious; my initial fantasies of a domestic-vehicular-deity was donkey-punched out of my mind by my extraordinary lack of talent. My brain just didn't seem to comprehend holding a steering wheel and hovering behind the car 'Mario Cart' style; I was weaving around and spinning from the get go like a rabid drunken lunatic with a club foot.
It turns out it is possible to crash without making double figure progress - and I mean meters rather than MPH. The interior cam did not really help as having two steering wheels in my periphery simply confused me more (am I ill?) so I moved to the bonnet cam and managed to make it to the fist corner without any further calamities.
I thought it would help to choose a car most similar to my real life motor, the Z4MC (I have a Z43.0C), but it did not help, it was, in fact a big mistake. I crashed. A lot. It seems a moderately powerful RWD with no assists was a bad first move with nigh on 10 years and tens-of-thousands of virtual miles of pad related muscle memory to shake off (that’s my excuse anyway). This was not like sitting in my real life motor, maybe the cat on my lap was not helping with the sense of realism, but, my purring passenger aside, even with such 'familiar' surroundings subtlety and finesse were not part of my truly inept repertoire - tyre smoke, under-steer and huge, embarrassing accidents were.
Even at the bargain basement ebay price that I paid for my wheel I was wondering if I had made a mistake. I began to ponder its resale value while attempting to salvage my now horribly savaged driving ego by reviewing my options. I discarded my feline companion, spitting some form of groundless accusation at my poor undeserving fur bag, readjusted my seating position to a more ‘in front of the telly – oh God, my girlfriend is going to murder me if she sees what I have done to her highly prized and well considered living-room furniture arrangement’ sort or orientation and changed my chariot of choice to my R3 Evo X monster. My thought processes went something like this; it is 4WD - even a blind ape with a control method more akin to ‘inserting’ rather than ‘driving’ could not crash it with a pad, so how hard could it be for me (and I like to think of myself as a none-too-shabby pad jockey) with a wheel?
I crashed. Again.
Repeatedly.
Somehow narrowly avoiding the girlfriend catching me crying, foetal, in front of my telly, rocking back and forth in shame, surrounded by shattered glass and bits of Xbox Steering Wheel, much of it still protruding from the warranty-voiding hole in my prized plasma, mocking me, mocking my failure, I composed myself, poked the rewind button for what seemed like the 50th time that ‘race’ (I had yet to leave the grid) and tried the more gentle approach.
Hallelujah; I had successfully negotiated a corner without incident; of course the rest of the pack were nearing their 6th corner by the time I had completed this glacial manoeuvre, but I had managed it and it felt good. Of course the joy of such a momentous occasion caused a bout of now over-familiar over-enthusiasm for the second corner, and the jarring sound of metal-against-wall vomited forth from my 5.1 speakers once again, provoking yet another release of fiery rage, but I had managed it. I had negotiated my first bend with a wheel!
Re-reassessment of my situation was required. My driving position was still too poor, so another bout of Xbox-Feng-Shui ensued, now rendering the room beyond repair (by this point I had already made peace with the inevitable loneliness this would result in. The cat had already (probably permanently) vacated the house due to shouting anyway, so there was only so much grief I could feel.) I picked a nice wide track, a standard Ferrari 360 and opponents many classes below my prancing horse, and set off.
And it all snapped into place. It all made sense. Gentle, smooth, controlled inputs worked; a teasing of the accelerator, a caressing of the brake pedal and an inappropriate-touching of the wheel made the drive a pleasure to behold. I completed the first lap without a single off, at good pace too, and IN THE LEAD! I started to play with the inputs, provoking a little over-steer on one corner and then carrying huge drifts through the subsequent bends with aplomb, talent and vigour. I was back. My ego restored. My initial apprehension and remorse vindicated.
Driving was fun again and what fun! The wheel - now resting on my lap, my elbows perched on the chair arms - an extension of me, I, cocooned in cushions and practically wearing my TV with its nose crushing vicinity (I am sure I now have a tan), completely immersed in my final lap. Loving every second; grinning like the village idiot on laughing gas, I now understood virtual driving nirvana. Could it get any better than this? It could get a lot worse:
Suddenly I was aborted, violently, into jarring reality.
“What the f
k have you done to my living room?” SWMBO was home.Edited by spandexx on Friday 6th November 14:19
wy906 said:
I bought a new MS wheel too, but have not yet tried it, hopefully this weekend.
It’s firmly clamped to my ironing board for the added height-adjustability.
PS, good report btw.
Now THAT is an idea! This may permanently ruin my already well damaged relationship but I'm going to give that one a go. She can iron on the carpet right?It’s firmly clamped to my ironing board for the added height-adjustability.
PS, good report btw.
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