As I play DeathSprint 66, I'm no longer in a small demo room tucked away in a hall in the Koelnmesse at Gamescom. I'm instead transported into a dystopian gameshow, racing on-foot across a track that's hellbent on killing me. Laser traps of all shapes and sizes threaten to slice me to smithereens with one wrong turn, while I also have to contend with menacing twirling blades that jut out on walls, and competing bot racers that aren't above shoving me.
I fall into a flow state as I try to survive, drifting around tight bends, hitting Surge to boost, and taking note of the direction of traps as I wall-run and propel myself over to a higher track. When I land on a rail with a well-timed jump, gliding across it and avoiding several traps in a row as I go, a sense of satisfaction washes over me. The fluid, fast pace of the race, coupled with the chaos swirling on screen, constantly keeps me on my toes. I'm so invested in reaching the finish line, in fact, that I even notice myself leaning in my seat to mirror the direction of every twist and turn of the race.
