Hello, Freshmen. This is my last year at the university here, and I plan for it to mark my greatest triumph. Before I go, however, I have decided to pass my legacy of destruction on to you. Listen closely. Take notes. For while much has been written on the subject of skillful high-speed racing, as we all know, Gran Turismo 3 has no damage engine. And therefore conventional rules of racing do not apply. That's the cornerstone of my school of racing, the Gino School of High-Speed Competative Demolition.

Using my techniques, this weekend's tournament will be mine. When I was a freshman -- like you -- I was denied victory in the Gran Turismo 2 tournament because a senior from Theta Chi knocked me off the road. But this year, sweet vengeance will be mine. At ... any ... cost...

*   *   *

I roamed the campus center lounge trying to find him. Tony Kawai: Japanese kid. Good guy. Kinda quiet. Kept to himself after some rumored run-in with the police and a naked guy back at home. But this weekend, as the head of the Audio/Visual department and therefore the guy running the Gran Turismo 3 tournament, he was suddenly thrust into the spotlight. After all, only he knew which racecourse on which we would play the final tournament, and I wanted to practice my moves.

I finally found him in the garden outside of the Campus Center grill, near the wall that looks down over the patio below. He was sitting on a folding chair, quietly watching a flowering bush. I crushed it out of my way and a butterfly sailed off, apparently bringing the dude back into reality. "What are you doing?" I asked him.

"Thinking," he said.

I slammed my ass down on a picnic table next to him. "Thinking? What? Dude, this is college." I waved my hand in front of his face until he looked at me, then set my feet up on the corner of his chair. "About this racecourse..."

*   *   *

Okay Freshmen: Lesson Number One. Cornering.

And by cornering, I mean slamming your opponent into a corner*. Let's take a look at my diagram, representing a typical scenario. You're coming into a corner behind a goody-goodie driver, like maybe that bitch in a VW. As you can see here, he has already slowed his car in preparation for the perfect turn. That's his mistake. Because YOU do NOT slow down when you're coming into curves, not so long as a car is in front of you. Nor do you turn. Not in the Gino School of High-Speed Competative Demolition, you don't. Why waste that precious speed?*

As you can see in diagram two, in the next instant you've slammed full-on into the car that's turning. The net effect is wholly in your favor; After glancing off the side of his car, your car is now oriented correctly AND moving slow enough to take the corner. HIS car, however, is facing the WRONG way and has smashed into the wall where he has come to a complete stop! Furthermore, he has become an obstacle to all the cars behind him.

You may think this is dirty. But would you rather be a dirty winner or a clean loser? Trust me, I've been bent over the guardrail before and I know where I'd rather be when the Gatoraide is being dumped in the winners circle. NO MERCY. NO MERCY. NO MERCY. Stand up on your chairs and chant it with me Freshmen: NO MERCY! NO MERCY! NO MERCY!

*   *   *

"What's the racetrack, Tony!? TELL ME!" I cried.

Tony dangled over the wall, his glasses falling down a full story into the bushes below. "You'll just have to kill me," he said, calmly. I admired his tenacity but hated his guts. Snorting, I hung him up by a pantleg and left him there.

*   *   *

Allright Freshmen! We've looked at the proper way to corner, and we've looked at how you have to memorize every single curve and bend in the course like the shapely bottom of a fine fine woman. Only then you can unlock what I call the "destructive potential" contained within every inch of a racetrack.

But now we look to our opponents. Three words: KNOW THEIR WEAKNESS. That's right. If the punk bitch in front of you has a Dodge Viper, you know he can't corner. You know it. USE it. You know that he's got rear-wheel drive and when he's in the dirt he's as useless as a bra in a frat house. Remember rule number one: No Mercy! That's right, you shove that Viper in the dirt at every opportunity.

Sometimes I'll intentionally slow down just to ram him over into the dirt again. He's over there doin' more doughnuts than the county police and I'm six corners ahead, crying with laughter.

You've got to know your opponent's weakness psychologically as well as mechanically. Look your enemy in the eye. Find out his fears. Key in on his worst nightmare. Got that? His worst nightmare!

*   *   *

With that fool Tony not spilling the news on what the championship racecourse would be, I was going to have to get x-treme like Tony Hawk on this race. Come the end of the Trimester I was gonna graduate, so this was my last chance.

The guys in the Theta Chi building were having some kind of meeting, so nobody was watching the back window when I climbed in. As I slipped toward the game room, someone yanked the fire alarm. All the more convenient for me! The building had cleared out by the time I crept into the basement. The Playstation 2 was sitting innocently on a coffee table, nestled lovingly amongst some beer cans and a bra. I reached for the multi-tap in order to gank their PS2 memory card, sinking his chances of beating me with the Del Sol. Find out their fears, that's the lesson!

But I noticed, with a mix of hatred and amusement, that it had already been stolen.

[Gran Turismo 3 Week continues at the Daily Victim! One week of hardcore racing, backstabbing, and smack talk culminating in the big tournament this weekend. Which victim will win? Stop by all week to vote.]