"It may not sound like it, but trust me. One of the many disembodied voices guiding me in this bold new society of extreme sports in the mountains is telling me that I can win a pizza delivery bike at the next event. She is also, knowingly or unknowingly, critiquing herself. Everyone here speaks as if they have been given a Red Bull drip and graduated from an English class taught by Chloe from Life is Strange. It's a bit much.

A little too much can be a good thing. The spiritual sequel to Ubisoft Annecy's 2016 "Steep," this is clearly a maximalist game, albeit an untamed jabbering one. In addition to the snow sports and wingsuits of its predecessor, the game also features bicycling and powered vehicles, which can be switched between in real time simply by pressing a button or moving the stick with your thumb.

The gorgeous world map, a patchwork quilt of real-world national parks, transforms from red rocky mountains to budding tundra to powdery white peaks. Event markers appear like energy drink pests, waiting for our park ranger protagonist to wipe them out with his shredding, sick bump catching, and other havoc-making feats. The marquee events, which are unlocked by reaching milestones in certain disciplines, are a particular highlight and offer a completely different geographical proposition. Also hidden behind the events are the ultra-technical pro line runs that require the audacity and dexterity of a super meat boy. There is definitely a lot of variety.

Occasionally, another disembodied voice guides us to a mass event where up to 64 players take a logistically absurd journey on bicycles, skis, snowboards, and rocket wingsuits. It's like speed-dating SSX, Dave Mirra Freestyle BMX, and Superman 64 with the entire sociopathic lobby of PUBG.

This melange of "Forza Horizon," "The Crew 2," and "Destiny" has more than Steep has to offer. With each event, Riders Republic throws in a new element here and there. New gear, new character levels, new events, money to spend on costumes, sponsors offering daily challenges, etc.

It's easy to lose yourself in this frenetic jet stream of progression and sprint with the flow. Do a race, listen to someone talk about how great they did, watch a short cutscene where snowboarding is unlocked, and then do another race.

Here's my advice. Don't think too much and keep nodding along with your X-Games brothers and winning stars. Because, like most communist republics of the 20th century, this republic is built on shaky ground.

It begins with a model of physics that underpins much of the competition on offer. Ubisoft Annecy's commitment to simplicity is evident from the initial over-caffeinated rasp, but by stripping each handling model down to basic terms, it takes much of the fun out of riding down a mountain on a MTB.

It took me a few hours to realize that there is no wheelie feature and no way to end it. Once airborne, there are a myriad of ways to finish off Isaac Newton, from 360 Superman backflips to no-handed tucks, but on the ground the GTA V cast has a wider repertoire of tricks than the denizens of this Republic. Not to be forgotten are the names of the riders.

It is impossible for an experienced studio to spend four years developing an extreme sports game and have no one think of the rider's appearance. So either a) Ubisoft Anesi doesn't want us to wheelie, or b) the dark codger-girly forces of the game engine make proper implementation impossible. Either way, it's a shame.

Subtle controls leave little chance of outrunning rivals, and berm round pumps, rider weight shifts, and front and rear brake control top my wish list. one: the line to choose. two: the bike you're riding. And third, and most importantly, where you're thrown out against the flow of other players, a massive 64-player event, let's remember.

Stunt control works much better under prolonged exploration, especially if manual landing is chosen. The fun of getting into position before takeoff and then grabbing and pausing like a maverick gyroscope will keep you occupied for quite a while. Certainly longer than a trick event where you run all over the world map. No, it's the racing that leaves you wanting more time to do more.

The bike events seem the flimsiest, but Snowsports is rather unscathed by its accessible controls. Collision detection with the ground is erratic in all disciplines, and whatever is attached to your feet has the potential to disrupt the line of the slope. Dead stop landings and race interference due to unseen geometry notwithstanding, it's all fun when you're in the snow. As for wingsuits, whether rocket-powered or naturally aspirated, they are what you would expect. It's fun to fly in a colorful circle, and there's nothing you can do about the insubstantial voices of this republic.

About the tone. Ubisoft Annecy is either making fun of the eerie exuberance of extreme sports culture, or it is a sincere imitation. Much has been said about the playlist, the Gangstas' Paradise cover, the Offspring song, and the feeling that the omniscient Steve Buscemi is wearing a backwards hat and looking down for approval somewhere above. What makes "Riders Republic" sound like the game developers are getting close to a cool representation is that medieval artists, who had never seen a lion, painted it on their coat of arms.

Between you and me, I would opt for a soundtrack composed entirely of disgusting coulio covers in exchange for mechanical tweaks. Instead, in exchange for the no-contact online race option, I urge you to serenade me with C U When U Get There. Let me hear you play 1,2,3,4 on the ukulele in exchange for rider-weighted controls that allow for delicate control and wheelies. Let me hear a cover of Rollin' With My Homies played by Mumford and Sons. If pressing the backtrack button would rewind the AI as well as me.

There is a tonal irritation. Occasionally, there is a drunken inaccuracy in the controls. But I'm not ready to pack my bags, shave off my soul patch, laser off my meaningful tattoos, and join the ranks of normies. Why would I care about winning a mass event if Riders Republic doesn't deliver on its premise? And why am I genuinely excited about a new ski with a higher number?

The truth is, it's because I've stopped wanting it to be the extreme sports game I want it to be and have come to embrace anarchy.

It may not be the perfect extreme sports game, but it is compelling in its own way. It's a simple, socially awkward jamboree of adrenaline and player improvement, with dubious tunes in the background. Put another way, it may not sound like it, but trust me, it is.