As a prestige racing sim, Forza Horizon 5 is equal to Forza Horizon 4 in many respects. It’s got the same stellar suite of accessibility options, the same impossible balance between arcade thrill and simulation, the same gratuitous dopamine-drip rewards scheme. Forza Horizon 4 was the first racing title I sank serious time into, and I’m happy to echo the same sentiment as everyone else – 5 is a butt-ton of fun, too.
Yet, for all it’s splendor, it’s also a bit...well, it’s a bit much. I appreciate Horizon’s almost creepy desire to placate the player at each and every moment, because the relentless positivity is such a fun mixture with the weight-y, complicated mechanics. However, it turns out, there’s a thin line between relentless positivity and relentless positivity. In the world of Forza Horizon 5, every single person you meet – including the player character, who now has a speaking role in a series first – is your summer camp’s most agonizing youth pastor. Everyone is so chirpy, so irrepressibly gobsmacked by the player. Do anything with a car in Forza Horizon 5, anything at all, and these cult-like freaks will slobber over you with words that sound like compliments but feel like aggravated assault. A woman will lend you her grandfather’s car, ask you to drive it down a road, you’ll instead drive it through a guardrail and into a lake, and she’ll tell you that you are the automotive industry’s gift to mankind as she hands you a $10,000 check. It’s scary, like the entire world of Forza Horizon exists within the fumes of a planetary gas leak.
The moment Forza Horizon 5 goes from annoying to actually infuriating is when you realize they’ve compromised the entire open world experience of their open world game for the sake of AAA presentation – and that their AAA presentation happens to be accompanied by members of The Cult of Forza. Forza Horizon 5 is really, really eager to get you playing it’s epic, dialogue-heavy set piece races, to the extent that you can only squeeze 3-5 regular races/challenges in the open world at any given time before the game will – no joke! – literally slam the emergency break on your car as you’re driving it, slap an event unlock menu on-screen, and shriek, ‘TIME FOR AN EVENT UNLOCK, COMPADRE!’ with an emotional investment in your time that borders on hostility. It feels weird to have to ask, out loud, for a video game to please stop calling you while you are playing itself, but this is the situation.
When it shuts the fuck up, Forza Horizon 5 is a really, really fun time. When it doesn’t shut the fuck up, it's the most unsettling experience of your entire life.
Yet, for all it’s splendor, it’s also a bit...well, it’s a bit much. I appreciate Horizon’s almost creepy desire to placate the player at each and every moment, because the relentless positivity is such a fun mixture with the weight-y, complicated mechanics. However, it turns out, there’s a thin line between relentless positivity and relentless positivity. In the world of Forza Horizon 5, every single person you meet – including the player character, who now has a speaking role in a series first – is your summer camp’s most agonizing youth pastor. Everyone is so chirpy, so irrepressibly gobsmacked by the player. Do anything with a car in Forza Horizon 5, anything at all, and these cult-like freaks will slobber over you with words that sound like compliments but feel like aggravated assault. A woman will lend you her grandfather’s car, ask you to drive it down a road, you’ll instead drive it through a guardrail and into a lake, and she’ll tell you that you are the automotive industry’s gift to mankind as she hands you a $10,000 check. It’s scary, like the entire world of Forza Horizon exists within the fumes of a planetary gas leak.
The moment Forza Horizon 5 goes from annoying to actually infuriating is when you realize they’ve compromised the entire open world experience of their open world game for the sake of AAA presentation – and that their AAA presentation happens to be accompanied by members of The Cult of Forza. Forza Horizon 5 is really, really eager to get you playing it’s epic, dialogue-heavy set piece races, to the extent that you can only squeeze 3-5 regular races/challenges in the open world at any given time before the game will – no joke! – literally slam the emergency break on your car as you’re driving it, slap an event unlock menu on-screen, and shriek, ‘TIME FOR AN EVENT UNLOCK, COMPADRE!’ with an emotional investment in your time that borders on hostility. It feels weird to have to ask, out loud, for a video game to please stop calling you while you are playing itself, but this is the situation.
When it shuts the fuck up, Forza Horizon 5 is a really, really fun time. When it doesn’t shut the fuck up, it's the most unsettling experience of your entire life.