Please cancel Forza Horizon
Its a joke on what the locals have to go through when the Horizon Festival is happening in the Forza Horizon series.
To Whom It May Concern at the Forza Horizon Event Office,
I hope this letter finds you well—and preferably at a complete stop, with your parking brake engaged.
I am a long-suffering resident of this once peaceful city that you all have decided to turn into your personal arcade racetrack. While I can appreciate the thrill of speed, loud engines, and seeing a Bugatti do donuts on my front lawn, I must politely ask: have you people completely lost your minds?
Let me break down a very normal Tuesday morning in the life of a city resident during a Horizon Festival:
• 7:00 AM: A Lamborghini flies past my house, airborne, I might add, after launching off a conveniently placed ramp (aka my neighbor’s garage).
• 7:05 AM: Someone in a souped-up Subaru drifts around the roundabout. It’s not even a full circle anymore—just a “slightly curved suggestion.”
• 7:15 AM: I try to leave for work. I’m immediately rear-ended by a Ford Bronco going 130 mph—driven by someone with the gamertag “xX-T0kyoSlideXx.”
• 7:17 AM: The Bronco is now doing burnouts in my vegetable garden. My tomatoes are traumatized.
I understand the Horizon Festival is “all about freedom and style,” but there are only so many times I can replace my mailbox before I begin mailing legal threats instead. And let’s talk noise pollution: every time I try to watch a movie, some maniac in a twin-turbo V12 decides it’s the perfect moment to set a new land speed record outside my window. Fast X has nothing on you people.
Furthermore, my cat now lives under the couch permanently. She thinks the revving of engines is a sign of the end times.
Therefore, I kindly request—no, beg—that you shut this chaos circus down, or at the very least relocate it to a nice, uninhabited wasteland like the moon. Or Florida.
