Every six seconds, another street racing game is produced. At least, that's what it feels like nowadays, what with your Need for Speed Undergrounds, Midnight Clubs, Street Racing Syndicates, Juiced's, and what have you. However, unlike the latest racer to hit the streets--Kemco's Top Gear RPM Tuning--some of these other games are actually good. The latest entry in Kemco's once-excellent and now progressively irrelevant Top Gear racing franchise is an obvious attempt to cash in on the street racing craze by providing bargain-basement production values, unlicensed cars, and about as much excitement as a half-lit sparkler. Sure, it may be twenty bucks, but as the old saying goes, "You get what you pay for."
Paul Walker this guy ain't.
It's apparent from the moment you boot up Top Gear that the game really doesn't have a lot to offer. You're presented with a couple of play modes and a scant selection of available cars, none of which exists in real life. Each car has its assorted statistics and racing styles, so some have better handling, while some are speedier, and so on. You can even rename your cars to something realistic, if you so desire. The "RPM Tuning" in Top Gear RPM Tuning refers to the game's main draw, which is the ability to customize your cars like crazy. Each car can be tweaked mechanically and aesthetically with all sorts of body kits, wheels, engines, exhaust systems, and such, all of which can be bought and placed on your car. There's a semi-decent variety of stuff, and all of it has a solid effect on your car. Better spoilers will increase your downforce, cooler-looking body kits will increase your "fame" rating, and so on. However, the list of available customizations still pales in comparison to pretty much any other customizable street racer on the market right now.
You earn the money to buy your assorted customizations by playing through the game's adventure mode, which features a ridiculous story-based series of quests that so horribly and desperately mimic The Fast and The Furious that they transcend funny and become just plain sad. You play as a mysterious up-and-comer on the local street racing circuit named Vince Riker, a hero so trite and lifeless that by the end of the adventure you'll be begging for Paul Walker to show up to drolly exclaim "Mia, I am a cop!" just to inject some life into the whole fiasco. Yes, he's that boring. And what, precisely, does Vince's adventure entail? It mainly consists of lots of half-baked setups for assorted street races set against a backdrop that includes feisty Latina racers, a grizzled old war veteran-turned-mechanic who resembles Kris Kristofferson a whole lot, cops, fast cars, and intrigue...or something. The whole thing just doesn't make any sense at all. Are you supposed to be a cop? What exactly are you on the hunt for? What is this "RedSet" thing the game keeps bringing up, yet continually forgets to explain until the very end? Oh, who cares! All you need to know is that none of the story is interesting, well told, or fun.
The worst parts about the adventure mode are the mission structure and the atrocious placement of save points. Frequently, you'll find yourself taking part in three-race championships, where you have to earn a certain number of points to win. In each of these, there's always some goofy little race you'll have to engage in before or after the championship, so there are actually four races. The problem is that what you need to do to progress seems to always come right at the end. If you have to win the championship to move on and you don't, the game sets you back about four races. If you win the championship but then have to evade the brain-dead-but-plentiful cops that are chasing you in the next segment and fail, you have to start the championship all over again. Considering some of these segments can take upwards of a half hour each, after a while you'll probably just want to give up.
