'Screamer' may be have one of the most punishing learning curves in racing, but the payoff couldn't be more rewarding.

Milestone

Screamer appeared out of nowhere in March, and probably disappeared from wider gaming consciousness as quickly as it arrived. It shouldn’t have, because there’s a great chance that once you play it, you won’t be able to let go.

I’ve repeatedly gone back to spend minutes, hours, or days between the likes of MotorSlice, Absolum, and Mixtape. It came at the perfect time: I needed, and still need, my fix of Forza Horizon 6. I’ve waited for five years for the sequel, and even after the franchise lost a lot of its team — including co-creator Gavin Raeburn — I’ve sunk 1,000 hours into Horizon, and I have every faith it’ll be great.

Screamer has more than taken the edge off the delay, even though I never expected it to be The One. Against the odds, it stuck its shaky landing. Maybe it isn’t a shock: Screamer is from Milestone, the Italian developer behind RIDE, MotoGP, and the superb Hot Wheels Unleashed. Like HWU, Screamer proves to be one of the nicer racing-game surprises of the last few years, because it confounds expectations of what enjoyment actually is. Who thought hating yourself could be so empowering?

Screamer feels like one of the purest PS3/Xbox 360-era racing games, thanks to its Auto Modellista-style stylishness, the careful course design and focus on precision akin to Initial D: Special Stage, and the demanding controls of the Wipeout series (while we’re here, and seven years on, Sony: give us Wipeout Alpha Collection).

The game’s biggest gamble is the main reason you need to try it for yourself, because it’s so bizarre: your steering feels fundamentally limited in turns, as the left analog is only for minor adjustments. Instead, it uses twin-stick drifting, which is hard to learn and occasionally awful to master.

Its early, one-note, quick-as-a-flash tutorial missions might turn a lot of people off in the critical first hour, but stick with it. You’ll also crash a lot in your opening races, to the point you expect a Pointer Sisters soundtrack. Still, after a few events, everything starts to click, but this isn’t the only “problem” with Screamer’s learning curve.

Through its frankly ridiculous mechanics, it throws almost too much at the player, such as combat systems, character abilities, boost management, aggressive AI, and weird menus that confuse things further. But zen is both an art and a feeling. It only takes one immaculate drift to make you appreciate success, and its rougher edges are forgivable.

Screamer is less about racing and more about dancing: the sheer feeling of speed, combined with a very meticulous approach to flow through its brilliantly designed courses, is a triumph. Battles jump from pure racing to messy combat, and with its 60fps cyberpunk anime gloss, you find beauty everywhere, even if you’ve effectively wrapped yourself around a tree.

Admittedly, Screamer’s storyline is absolutely insane, seeing you initially play as the Green Reapers — Hiroshi, Roisin, and Frederic, a more unlikely trio you will literally never see in another game — before switching between teams of all persuasions and nationalities, touching on some surprisingly serious themes along the way.

It also has a hilarious habit of deploying Chekhov’s gun: every odd situation — for example, exploding in a fireball or effortlessly talking to people who speak different languages — is explained away with exhaustively silly ideas. There’s also a corgi called Fermi who can drive. My biggest criticism of Fermi (and perhaps Screamer in general) is that he’s described as having “a myriad of talents.” Someone fire the copy editor.

Screamer is annoying, frustrating, and, on thankfully rare occasions, soul-destroying, but takes itself seriously when it has to, and opts to do everything but in all other circumstances. Look past its garish color scheme, weird story, punishing learning curve, and rough-around-the-edges PS3 aesthetic, and you’ll unlock a game — a sensation — that’s utterly magnificent, rewarding you for everything you surrender to it.