Backseat Drivers

Backseat Drivers challenges players to reimagine how driving works—by splitting control between two people who can barely function together. One sees but can’t touch. The other controls but sees nothing. Communication becomes your greatest tool and your biggest liability. The game’s premise is simple, but the execution is pure chaos as every movement depends on shouted commands, guesswork, and a lot of accidental turns into oncoming traffic.

A Machine Held Together With Tape and Hope

The car you drive is old, unreliable, and not built to survive the trip ahead. From the start, it’s missing pieces and prone to failure. Doors come loose, steering wheels spin without effect, and dashboard lights blink out just when you need them. You don’t just drive—you adapt. Players must work together to patch, replace, and jury-rig solutions mid-ride. That might mean installing a toaster as a gear shift or slamming a VCR into the dashboard to keep the headlights on.

Core Mechanics That Keep Things Interesting

·         Asymmetric gameplay built for two players

·         Environmental variety: highways, mountains, secret bases

·         Randomized breakdowns and part malfunctions

·         Swap-in parts that change how the car behaves

·         Communication-based chaos with endless replay potential

No trip goes exactly the same, and even a familiar route becomes unpredictable when your brake pedal is made of kitchenware.

The Road Is Not Your Friend

Backseat Drivers places you in escalating challenges, where roads twist, obstacles appear out of nowhere, and your car breaks down more often than it moves forward. You’ll dodge falling rocks, speed through tunnels, and try to understand each other under pressure. If the passenger panics or the driver mishears, disaster follows. But if you both click—just for a moment—you’ll feel the rush of pure, barely-controlled teamwork. And then probably crash into a tree.

Laugh, Yell, Repair, Repeat

What makes Backseat Drivers memorable isn’t just the absurd mechanics or broken car parts—it’s how it turns miscommunication into gameplay. Every failed instruction becomes a joke, every ridiculous repair becomes a shared story. You’ll curse each other, laugh uncontrollably, and somehow keep going. The more you play, the more nonsense parts you unlock, turning your vehicle into a rolling monument to your shared dysfunction. And somehow, that’s exactly what gets you to the finish line.