Gran Turismo 7 and the Death of the CaRPG

This is not in any way a new phenomenon, and is unfortunately par for the course as games shift further and further to perpetual monetization, creating systems designed to pull on as many psychological levers as possible to extract a constant flow of money from its audience. But conversations and controversies about these games often focus on the immediate costs and consequences. This car is too expensive. This time limit is too tight. And that’s understandable, as these complaints aren’t wrong and the games would be better if they were reversed. But the perfect version of Gran Turismo 7’s progression, where the rewards are plentiful and grinding is eliminated, would still be infinitely worse than what came before.

Racing games are constantly facing a design struggle where the moment to moment play is simultaneously extremely limited and theoretically infinite. Ultimately, no matter what, the game will consist of driving a car around a track, for as long as the game is intended to last. The game designer’s role is to shape those hours into a coherent structure. Gran Turismo games of yore used a structure now affectionately referred to as CaRPG (sometimes, it’s an ill-defined term applied broadly), short for “car role-playing game,” where both the permanence and limited nature of resources were used to give context to races and impress interesting decisions on the player. Do you upgrade your engine to have an easier time in one specific race? Or do you compete at a disadvantage to save up for a brand new car, which would be cheaper in the long run? At their best, these progression systems functioned not just as external structures providing context and narrative to a freeform simulation, but as organic difficulty modes allowing players to tackle the various challenges in the ways that they found most comfortable.

In many ways, Gran Turismo 7 is far more generous than this old system. The initial progression showers you with a large selection of free cars, and the journey to credits is both frictionless and varied. Unless you really want a specific car from the dealership, you never have to spend a single in-game credit to engage with the primary campaign of the game. The problem with Gran Turismo 7 isn’t that it’s stingy, or selfish—although it certainly is these things—but something far more inherent to the way it structures its play. Superficially it retains similarities to the old CaRPG formula, as you still compete in races to buy cars, balance upgrades and maintain your garage. Yet its nature is changed completely, from one about carving your own path through a challenging racing economy to one about leaving your PC on overnight to farm credits. You can no longer sell your own cars to make money. The most expensive cars have limited purchase windows. No longer does the economy give context to races; the races give context to the economy. The systems may be built from the same parts but the tail now wags the dog.

But what is to be done? Good manners dictate a piece like this end with some kind of call to action, or note of optimism for brighter futures. But that isn’t happening. The toothpaste is not going back in the tube and they’re not going to make PS2 games again, nor should bringing back PS2 games be the cornerstone of anyone’s opposition to corporate exploitation. But it doesn’t have to be that deep, these are only videogames after all. And sometimes videogames were better before.

Jackson Tyler is an nb critic and podcaster at Abnormal Mapping. They’re always tweeting at @headfallsoff.