One of the SIX remaining Domed Cities containing what is left of the human race. Here the population go about their lives and try and find happiness in a doomed world, which is where entertainment comes in… Entertainment like The Petrol Head races.

The Climate died, refugees fled flooded, baked lands. The lucky ones made it to the few dome cities. The domes were sealed. No passports. No way in. No way out. The storms lashed long enough that eventually the hammering from those outside went away…

Inside the O-ZONE, metropolis life has grown and tech has prospered. Robots do pretty much everything, including entertain. Hot Rod ROBO-RACES around the streets have long been one of the chief forms of entertainment here, with incredible vehicles travelling at monstrous speeds. If they crash and burn, no lives are lost. Explosions and uber-violence and mangled robot bodies are part of the fun. Part of keeping people from noticing that, in fact, they’re prisoners in this place until they die.

It’s a nihilistic thrill for a nihilistic world. And over the decades the sport became self-sustaining. Robot mechanics and robot designers built to design the roboracers. For a while there was even a rare breed who did all three - the PETROL HEADS. Once a legendary breed, they were all smashed to pieces against the walls or burnt or exploded.

Except a few rare survivors…

The Petrol Heads were designed by marketing teams and via focus groups to appeal to certain demographics. Their names and looks were chosen with absolute precision. Except one.

One was made from spare parts and was such an ugly, big, unwieldy design that they didn’t even know what to call him. So no one bothered giving him a name.

That’s why he became ‘Petrol Head.’

And after watching all his brothers and sisters ‘die’ in the brutal races, Petrol Head decided to retire and lock himself away in his junkyard. Away from the humans who cheered as his brethren broke apart and burnt and scattered on the roads. That was decades ago. New designs came along and got sleeker, faster, deadlier. Even if Petrol Head wanted to get back in the game (he really doesn’t) he couldn’t compete. He’s old and heavy and - much like the human race - past his lifespan.

In a Climate Crisis-ravaged future metropolis, an old, grumpy, obsolete, smoke belching, cigar-chomping, ROAD-RACER ROBOT is one 12-year-old girl’s only route out of the city with a secret invention that could save humanity.

Decades ago, PETROL HEAD was created to build racing cars in a city FULL of racing cars. Now every cutting edge, way-moresleek pedal-to-the-metal robot in the city of O-ZONE is coming after his obsolete robo-ass - at high speed. It’s a race to the planet’s finish line!