Two stars, would not cross again
The townsfolk of Valmora all have a hat and an opinion. On crowds, constables, the radio and an ordinance about crossing the road during a period of mourning.
Port Saffron would be a strange place to race through if nobody lived there. So people live there: tourists, porters, pensioners, a man selling postcards, a mime, a builder on his break. Our rule for every one of them was written at the top of the first sketch.
Getting out of the way
Pedestrians in Rally Mortis are, on the whole, very good at diving. They see a black sedan coming sideways down the promenade and they remember an appointment in the opposite direction. Most of the time they make it, with a yelp and a complaint.
I was told this was a pedestrian zone!
My chiropractor will hear of this!
Two stars, would not cross again.
The game is for adults and it does not pretend that cars and people mix well. But it treats the whole thing the way a newspaper cartoon would: loud, inky, and over in a moment. The town keeps count on the statement at the end of the race, in the most bureaucratic language we could find.
Ordinance one
The Federation of Valmora has laws, and the will has opinions about them. The first one you meet is pinned to a lamp post in Port Saffron:
Ordinance 1: Pedestrians crossing during a period of mourning do so at their own expense.
There is also a radio advertisement for something called Mandatory Pedestrian Cover. Walk with confidence. Briefly.
The constabulary
The town has police, and the police have a radio, and the radio is the best running commentary we could have asked for. Constable Hobday reports what he sees, a little behind events:
Suspect is driving a black sedan, badly. Correction: very well.
Roadblock on Fourth. Bring the good cones.
Radio Valmora
And every evening, Radio Valmora reads out the Noise Registry: who is leading the race for the fortune, who has dropped out and what the weather intends to do about it. Its presenter has the calmest voice in the Federation and the worst news.
Good evening, Valmora. The Noise Registry, then the weather, then the funerals.
A world feels real when it talks about you behind your back. Ours never stops.