Driving in video games is usually about speed. You floor it, you drift, you win. But Does Not Commute is different. It’s a paradox wrapped in a 1970s aesthetic. Developed by the Swedish powerhouse Mediocre—the same minds behind Smash Hit and Granny Smith—this game isn't actually about driving at all. It’s about memory. It’s about the consequences of your own past actions literally crashing into your present.
Honestly, it’s stressful. But in a good way.
The premise is deceptively simple. You start in a quiet, stylized suburb. You’re told to drive a car from point A to point B. Easy, right? You do it in five seconds. Then, the game rewinds time. Now you’re a different person in a different car, going from point C to point D. The catch? Your first car is still there, driving the exact path you just took.
By the time you’re on your thirteenth vehicle, the neighborhood is a chaotic swarm of your own previous bad decisions. If you took a wide turn with the ice cream truck three minutes ago, you’re going to have to dodge that same ice cream truck now while driving a moped. You are your own worst enemy.
The Brilliant Narrative Layer Most People Miss
A lot of mobile games treat story as an afterthought. Mediocre didn't do that here. Each driver in Does Not Commute has a name and a tiny, often weird, backstory snippet. You aren't just "the blue sedan." You are Mr. Baker, who is suspiciously late for work. Or you're a woman transporting a mysterious, glowing green substance that definitely shouldn't be in a residential area.
These vignettes create a bizarre, interconnected soap opera. As you progress through the levels—moving from the suburbs to the city, the docks, and beyond—the stories evolve. You realize the "Commute" isn't just about traffic. It’s a dark comedy. You see relationships falling apart, corporate espionage, and some light sci-fi horror, all told in two-sentence bursts before you hit the gas.
The game uses a "strategic temporal" mechanic. That’s a fancy way of saying you’re building a puzzle while the pieces are moving. Because the game is on a global timer, every second you waste maneuvering around your past self is a second you don't have for the next car. It creates a frantic loop. You'll find yourself shouting at a ghost version of yourself because "Past Me" was a terrible driver.
Why the Physics in Does Not Commute Matter
If the cars handled like Mario Kart, the game would be too easy. Instead, they feel heavy. They have momentum. Boats (yes, there are boats) drift with a frustratingly realistic lag. The developers used a top-down, slightly tilted perspective that makes depth perception just tricky enough to be annoying.
The Car Variety
- The Commuter Sedan: Your baseline. Average speed, average brakes. It’s the one you’ll be most frustrated with when you realize you parked it in the middle of an intersection.
- The School Bus: A literal tank. It’s slow to start, but once it’s moving, it clears everything in its path. If you drive this early in a round, you’ve basically created a mobile roadblock for your future self.
- The Hot Rod: Fast. Way too fast. It’s great for saving time, but one tiny tap on the wall and you’re spinning into a fountain.
- The Ambulance: People tend to panic with this one because of the sirens. Don't. It handles better than you think.
There is no "undo" button in the middle of a run unless you want to sacrifice time. If you crash, you can hit rewind, but it costs you one second of your total pool. In a game where you might finish a level with only three seconds left, that penalty is massive.
Strategy: Surviving the 1970s Traffic Jam
Most new players make the mistake of trying to be too fast. They treat Does Not Commute like a racing game. It's not. It's a logistical planning simulation.
If you want to actually finish the later stages like the Industrial Zone or the Airport, you have to think about lanes. Even though there are no "rules" of the road, if you treat the right side of the street as your outbound lane and the left as your inbound for every car, you reduce the chance of head-on collisions.
Speed boosts and armor power-ups appear on the map. They are tempting. They are also often traps. Veering off-course to grab a "Turbo" might save you two seconds on the current car, but the weird path you took to get it might block the path of three future cars. Is it worth it? Usually no.
Common Pitfalls
- The "Great Wall" Effect: Parking a large vehicle in a narrow alleyway during the first few turns. You will regret this.
- Ignoring the Text: If a character's bio says they are "distracted" or "drunk," the car's handling actually changes. The game simulates the character's state. Read the flavor text.
- Over-Correction: The steering is sensitive. Tap, don't hold.
Technical Excellence and Visual Style
Mediocre is known for their proprietary engines. Unlike games built in generic versions of Unity or Unreal, Does Not Commute has a specific "crunchy" feel to its physics. The lighting is particularly impressive for a mobile title from that era. The way headlights cast long shadows across the pavement as you turn corners adds to the moody, cinematic atmosphere.
The music deserves a shout-out too. It’s a mix of lounge jazz and "spy movie" scores that perfectly matches the 60s/70s aesthetic. It starts calm. As your time runs low, the tempo feels like it's mocking your failure.
It’s worth noting that the game follows a "premium" model within a free-to-play shell. You can play the whole thing for free, but you can't use checkpoints unless you pay for the full version. Honestly? Just pay for it. Trying to beat the entire game in one sitting without checkpoints is a recipe for a broken phone.
The Long-Term Appeal
Why are people still talking about this game years after its release? It’s because it’s a closed loop. It’s one of the few mobile games that feels like a complete piece of art rather than a gambling machine designed to suck your wallet dry.
There are no loot boxes. There are no "daily login bonuses." There is just you, a dozen quirky characters, and a very crowded street corner.
The difficulty curve is steep. By the time you reach the final "Mayhem" levels, you aren't just driving; you're conducting an orchestra of combustion engines. The satisfaction of a "clean run" where no cars touch is one of the highest peaks in mobile gaming. It’s rare. It’s hard. It’s incredibly rewarding.
How to get better right now:
If you're stuck on a level, stop trying to go fast. Focus on making every car’s path as boring and predictable as possible. Hug the curbs. Avoid the center of the road. You’re building a highway, not a stunt track. If you can master the art of the "boring drive," the time-management aspect of Does Not Commute solves itself.
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Check the map before you start the first car of a round. Look at where the goals are for the upcoming cars (indicated by small icons). If you see that many cars will need to pass through a specific bridge, make sure your first few cars over that bridge stay strictly to one side.
Go download it if you haven't. It’s a masterclass in game design that proves you don't need complex controls to create deep gameplay. All you need is a steering wheel and the haunting realization that you are the cause of all your own problems.