Ride to Hell

As your bike is the most important thing in the game, Deep Silver want to encourage you to take care of it. While it’s impossible to truly destroy it, after too many wrecks you will reduce your ride to an ambling pile of sputtering chrome, making the brief revving minigame to get a bike started all the more difficult. Yup, you’ll need to take good care of your mechanical missus, from gassing her up to occasionally rubbing the SoCal soot from her chassis with a shammy.

And you’d better get used to fighting dirty too – firearms won’t be available until the game’s second act, as Deep Silver aim to encourage the more traditional means of biker combat at the beginning of the game. Of course, their definition of traditional means an assortment of flesh-ripping knives, nailboards and hatchets. Alas, the promised motorcycle combat didn’t get a look in today, but we’re assured that our desire to dispatch foes with a flailing bike chain while atop our chopper will very much be sated in the final game.

Ride to Hell certainly has the atmosphere of the 1960s nailed. From the 300 era-perfect songs (including, yes, Born to be Wild) Deep Silver have licensed, to the mushroom-induced hallucinogenic trips you can send hapless Ray on, this is very much the decade your parents have a hard time remembering. But it’s Ride to Hell’s cast of loonies and sociopaths that stole the show for us today. First up, there’s Dr. Blotter, a ‘freelance chemist’ who makes Dennis Hopper’s photographer from Apocalypse Now look like the pinnacle of sanity. Then there’s Sergeant Hollis, who runs ‘luxury imports’ from a nearby military base, ordering Ray to take a stash of cocaine to a nearby hippy commune, run by a certain Dizzley the Grizzley.

And just as we think we’ve had our fill of Ride to Hell’s colorful characters on screen, the lights flick on and we’re back at the bar, where the knuckle-stroking biker puts down his drink and moves towards us. “Hey little man, you wanna know what I think of your videogame?” He smells like leather and Jim Beam as he tells us. “It’s like my goddamn childhood!”

Jan 29, 2009