Spinning Point mode identifies certain twists on each of the game’s tracks and scores the player for performing spectacular spins around them, providing a score attack above and beyond the simple time trials more common to the genre. That the Revolution team acknowledged the brilliance of that invention by turning it into a feature is indicative of the love that went into the game’s creation and awareness of the manner in which players had exploited the first game’s physics to showboat (there’s nothing quite like overtaking your opponent and rubbing it in their face with a reverse 360 immediately afterwards).

But this was also a part of Revolution’s core mistake. In contemporary commercial and critical terms, it was preaching to the converted, a game that knew and appreciated its existing fanbase intimately, but that appeared to make no concessions to anyone who remained unconvinced by the original. By refusing to tone down and, daringly, toning up, Revolution became a supremely condensed, focused experience: unadulterated arcade racing, thrilla-second stuff.

Demanding and then rewarding dedication, it’s a game that takes no prisoners and epitomises the original principles of the series. An oversaturated, overactive, upbeat sugar rush, grabbing your attention and refusing to let go. Those who accept that, who discard their preconceptions and allow its purity and vigorously daft joyfulness to swallow them whole, should recognise it for what it is: the videogaming equivalent of the perfect pop single.