About 50 hours into the game, while I was grinding achievements in a hypnosis-like haze the game had induced on me, I slowly realized the kind of man Mad Max is.

Mad Max is the story of a psychologically unstable man who forces his own view of justice and order on a disturbed yet otherwise functioning post-apocalyptic society.

Shortly after being ambushed by the warlord Scrotus the Immortan Jr., "the crazy eyed road warrior" Max, hellbent on revenge, goes completely out of his way: he topples down every single stronghold that probably without option declared allegiance to the tyrant Scrotus, he pillages every single isolated and obscure domicile where starving scavengers survive and get hostile only if anyone trespasses their territory and he creepily collect their private photos and diary entries, reading and cataloging every single one of them for god knows what reason. By the end of his rage induced rampage that he ironically performs in a chillingly and psychotically restrained composure, Max opts to kill a disabled and mentally handicapped man, Chumbucket, whose messianic delusions were ultimately exploited by Max to make him build his war-rig. As Chumbucket continually upgrades his life’s greatest work, appropriately named the Magnum Opus and have creepily ecstatic moments of joy as “his saint” Max drives it, he grows an unhealthy affection for him, most likely as a result of Stockholm Syndrome. The social bond that keeps the narcissistic-codependent duo together is Chumbucket’s orgasmic joy of having Max drive his car and Max perpetually feeding on Chumbucket’s unhealthy obsession.

Perhaps falling victim to his ever building, self-mutilating, caustic hatred, Max suffers from a psychological breakdown. He becomes the sole prisoner of his rotten psyche and gets trapped in his own subconscious; his personal limbo. At the very end of his saga, every significant person that were unfortunate enough to cross paths with Max inexplicably come back to life in this timeless mental Wasteland, perhaps as a manifestation of his guilt.

And Max spends his days here until eternity, where he was supposed to leave as soon as possible, surrounded by the unforgiving "Big Nothing" - the borders of his own subconscious, driving in his combustible, fire spitting mount restlessly, Chumbucket whispering praise in the wind behind him, with his inner demons only seeping out during fleeting moments as the red in his eyes.

10/10 I’ve never been into cars, now I'm dreaming of building one.

[h1]Spoiler Review for the Completionist[/h1] About 50 hours into the game, while I was grinding achievements in a hypnosis-like haze the game had induced on me, I slowly realized the kind of man Mad Max is. Mad Max is the story of a psychologically unstable man who forces his own view of justice and order on a disturbed yet otherwise functioning post-apocalyptic society. Shortly after being ambushed by the warlord Scrotus the Immortan Jr., "the crazy eyed road warrior" Max, hellbent on revenge, goes completely out of his way: he topples down every single stronghold that probably without option declared allegiance to the tyrant Scrotus, he pillages every single isolated and obscure domicile where starving scavengers survive and get hostile only if anyone trespasses their territory and he creepily collect their private photos and diary entries, reading and cataloging every single one of them for god knows what reason. By the end of his rage induced rampage that he ironically performs in a chillingly and psychotically restrained composure, Max opts to kill a disabled and mentally handicapped man, Chumbucket, whose messianic delusions were ultimately exploited by Max to make him build his war-rig. As Chumbucket continually upgrades his life’s greatest work, appropriately named the Magnum Opus and have creepily ecstatic moments of joy as “his saint” Max drives it, he grows an unhealthy affection for him, most likely as a result of Stockholm Syndrome. The social bond that keeps the narcissistic-codependent duo together is Chumbucket’s orgasmic joy of having Max drive his car and Max perpetually feeding on Chumbucket’s unhealthy obsession. Perhaps falling victim to his ever building, self-mutilating, caustic hatred, Max suffers from a psychological breakdown. He becomes the sole prisoner of his rotten psyche and gets trapped in his own subconscious; his personal limbo. At the very end of his saga, every significant person that were unfortunate enough to cross paths with Max inexplicably come back to life in this timeless mental Wasteland, perhaps as a manifestation of his guilt. And Max spends his days here until eternity, where he was supposed to leave as soon as possible, surrounded by the unforgiving "Big Nothing" - the borders of his own subconscious, driving in his combustible, fire spitting mount restlessly, Chumbucket whispering praise in the wind behind him, with his inner demons only seeping out during fleeting moments as the red in his eyes. 10/10 I’ve never been into cars, now I'm dreaming of building one.