Private Wheels is a series of blog posts where I analyze the representation of the private vehicle’s concept in every Need for Speed game. In the previous post, I dissected Need for Speed II and criticized the game mercilessly for lacking cops. Apart from the game’s mechanical flaws, its most critical design blunders were of symbolic nature. It’s highly advisable to read the series in chronological order.
Need for Speed III was released the very next year after its predecessor, and the game’s primary achievements were: a) keeping up with technological advancements in computer graphics; b) saving the series from downfall by correcting the Need for Speed II’s mistakes. The game was highly praised, and the franchise was saved. Again I’d argue that the game’s mechanical aspects aren’t the sole reason for the public reception—Need for Speed III fixed not just the racing itself but also the symbolism.
Let’s address the elephant in the room straight away. It’s a massive elephant with red and blue flashing lights on its forehead. It’s a cop elephant. Yes, cops are back, and they are Need for Speed III’s primary focus. The opening cinematic explodes with siren sounds, accompanying the footage of police chasing luxe cars. In the manner of the Need for Speed series, this footage is highly fetishized—lots of close-ups, lots of angles, and lots of flashy glamour. Only this time, it also fetishizes the police siren.
It’s a clear statement—cops are now not a systemic nuisance and not only a manifestation of the rebellion. They are an adversary, a participant in the race. Therefore, they are also playable. Hot Pursuit is not merely a new gimmicky game mode introduced to spice up the experience—it’s the game’s primary mode, its thematic and mechanical focus.
As a racer, you have to avoid getting arrested at all costs and successfully finish the race, preferably in the first place, becoming the most wanted (literally, the game congratulates you on that). But as a cop, you are the hunter. You have to catch and arrest all of the racers before they finish their race. Playing as a cop in Need for Speed III isn’t a devaluation of the rebellion aspect—quite the opposite. Albeit the role reversal, the rebellion symbolism is pretty much the same. Maybe technically, you are protecting the law while playing as a cop, but you are practically above it—you are the weapon of vengeance, striking furiously the heads of those who dared to indulge their need for speed. And you do it by indulging your need for speed with aggressive and reckless driving, probably endangering other drivers even more. You are not protecting these simpletons driving their boring everyday vehicles; you are protecting your right to be the coolest, the sexiest, and the fastest on these roads.
Expectedly, playable police vehicles are also luxe sport class. A mechanical reason is to help the player to keep up with the racers. But the symbolical reason is what matters: you’re not playing those looser cops from The Blues Brothers movie—you’re playing a king-of-the-road type cop. Racers are trying to undermine your superiority and, therefore, must be punished whatever the cost! That’s why the actual act of “serve and protect” would be turning off traffic in the options before the race…
Important to note that the cop radio chatter becomes a part of the game’s soundtrack. It’s established by the previous games in the series that the music we hear while racing is an integral part of the game’s petite rebellion aspect. Need for Speed III’s music follows this principle with slight tuning into the musical trends—the breakbeat music now enters the realm of the rebellion (as it’s seen from the mainstream perspective, of course). But when being chased by the police or while playing the Hot Pursuit mode, an additional accompaniment joins the beats.
Cop radio chatter is vital not just for the feel of the chase but also as informational support. Dispatcher’s cold voice tells you where the roadblock awaits you, who amongst your opponents is chased and what’s their status, how many cops are onto you, and where they are. It’s not just a cool feature—it’s also an effective instrument in keeping the player in control at all times, even when standing against stronger forces.
When playing as a cop, on the other hand, you have additional tools for disposal—throwing spikes, placing roadblocks, and requesting backup. Radio chatter helps you with deciding when and where to use these.
This way, no matter who is the player—a cop or a racer—they are always in control. It becomes a matter of personal preference—whether you want to be Buster Keaton’s character, chased by ALL OF THE cops (by the universal idea of cops), and beating them with wits and dexterity, or if you prefer to be a Predator-like, well, predator, with a slightly more flexible behavior and technological perks. Either way, you are the king of the road—whether a hunter or hunted.
Besides cops, an additional statement the game makes in its introductory cinematic is the graphical breakthrough. Need for Speed III is the first game in the series that combines FMV with gameplay footage in its intro. It’s a clear equation—“looks like real.” In practice, it’s meant to be even better than real. The actual game’s focus is not realism per se (as in the first game) but visual “shiningness”: car surfaces glow and reflect lights, dust clouds rise behind wheels, the weather effects are vivid and juicy.
Mechanical realism tames in comparison to the original Need for Speed levels—it’s manageable and flexible. In most game mods, the player is free to customize their car’s behavior with a bunch of sliders. On the other hand, the game is far less arcadey than Need for Speed II—the tracks are far less surreal, and the physics are slightly more based in reality.
Need for Speed III fixed the mechanical balance as well as the symbolical. Driving feels real but arcadey enough not to become a nuisance. It feeds the illusion of supremacy—the player feels skilled from the get-go and becomes even more skilled with time without experiencing the burden of learning. Everything happens automatically, motorically, emotionally. Feeling, not thinking.
Also, you can change your car’s color! Isn’t it neat? With this basic customization option, any car you choose is not merely a car. It’s now THE car. YOUR car.
Thus, the Voltron of a private vehicle’s symbolic realm is assembled: atomized individualism (YOUR car), hierarchal status (you’re king of the road), Darwinian competition (hunter\hunted), and petty rebellion (a cop elephant in all its glory). When the symbolic realm is assembled, it just works—that’s why ads are so effective when done right.
The restoration of the advertisement logic is the primary success of Need for Speed III. Glossy, sexy, simple, and visceral—a functional realm of the power fantasy. It is the first Need for Speed game that managed to hit the bull’s eye in this matter. Unsurprisingly, the next game in the series will concentrate on cementing the newly established status quo and polishing and perfecting its aspects. Ironically, the product of such a less risky approach was sub-titled High Stakes.
Private Wheels posts:
- The Need for Speed (1994)
- Need for Speed II (1997)
- Need for Speed III: Hot Pursuit (1998)
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