GTA Online – Scramjet Review: The Rocket-Powered Deathtrap You Didn't Know You Needed

TL;DR

The Scramjet is a rocket-boosted, missile-spitting death trap that costs as much as a small island. It’s bonkers, it’s fun, and it will absolutely get you killed. 10/10, would launch off a freeway again.

What’s the Vibe?

Pure, uncut chaos with a side of explosive fun. The Scramjet is for those who think car safety is for cowards and would rather launch themselves into orbit than drive sensibly. It's bonkers, it's brilliant, and it's more dangerous than a drunk clown with a flamethrower. Buy it if you enjoy constant adrenaline, don't mind dying spectacularly, and have $4 million lying around to blow. Otherwise, stick to something a tad more... grounded. But if you're the type who prefers 'staying alive' and 'not spending four million dollars to do barrel rolls off a freeway,' maybe stick to something a tad less… deranged.

Performance Breakdown:

Speed & Maneuverability Test:

We start at the Casino, and the Scramjet's already itching for chaos. I tap the gas and we’re off – a bullet through the veins of Los Santos, darting down the winding ramps and straight into the sewers. It's dark, it's damp, and it smells like the inside of Trevor's boot, but the Scramjet doesn’t care. It’s gripping the corners like a cat on a caffeine bender, fishtailing like a drunk at a disco, and bouncing off the walls like a hyperactive pinball.

Emerging from the underground like a bat out of hell, we launch onto the highway – straight into oncoming traffic. Now, the Scramjet is a rocket-powered death wish, weaving through cars, trucks, and at least three very confused pensioners in their rusty old Astros. The handling? It’s less 'precision' and more 'hold on and pray,' with the back end skittering all over the place like it’s auditioning for a Tokyo Drift sequel.

Then, we cut across the median, dodging a semi that’s hauling God-knows-what, and slam onto the other side of the highway. Now it’s a straight shot, pedal to the metal, rocket boost engaged. The speedometer’s pinned, the world’s a blur, and all I can think is, "If I sneeze right now, I’m going to end up embedded in a billboard."

Top speed? 130.75 mph. But with the booster, it feels more like 200 mph – and just as deadly. Steering at that speed? Imagine holding a firehose that's been set to 'launch you into space.'

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The Getaway: Tonga Drive to LS Customs

We hit the store on Tonga Drive with a three-star wanted level and the Scramjet parked out front, engine idling like a junkie itching for his next hit. Cash in hand, cops screaming down the street – it’s time to boogie. I slam the gas and the Scramjet bolts forward, rear tires screaming, and we’re off.

First, the side streets. Civilians dive out of the way, cops hot on our tail. A quick handbrake turn and we’re dodging a roadblock like a rabbit on crack. But this isn’t your average getaway car – oh no. We flick the switch and launch straight over the barricade, clearing two cruisers and landing with all the grace of a coked-up gymnast.

Now we’re on the freeway, and it’s a buffet of chaos. I hit the booster and we blast through oncoming traffic, weaving through cars at a speed that’s less ‘calculated getaway’ and more ‘how to die spectacularly in 10 seconds or less.’ The Scramjet’s handling is a fever dream – one second, you’re threading the needle through a gap barely wider than a toothbrush, the next you’re fishtailing like a drunk salsa dancer on a frozen pond.

Then, the big finish. We swap sides of the highway, dodge a semi, and finally hit the rocket boost one last time. The world blurs, sirens fade into the distance, and the needle’s pinned at 130.75 mph – or as I like to call it, ‘terminal velocity for the criminally insane.’

LS Customs is in sight, but so is a final roadblock. I line it up, flick the switch, and launch us right over it – leaving the cops behind to watch as the Scramjet soars off into the sunset like the world's most unhinged fighter jet.

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Offroad Getaway: Convenience Store to Altruist Camp

Store’s hit, alarms blaring, and the Scramjet’s sitting outside like a powder keg with wheels. Cops are already swarming the streets, but we’re not going that way. No, we’re taking the express route – dirt, mud, and enough rocks to break every bone in your body.

I floor it, and the Scramjet rockets forward, launching off the curb and straight into the dirt trails. Suspension? Nonexistent. We’re bouncing around like a toddler in a moon bounce, the tires struggling to grip anything that isn’t gravel or a cactus.

Cops are hot on our tail, cruisers fishtailing behind us as we swerve around boulders and launch off ridges. The Scramjet’s rocket booster is both a blessing and a curse – hit it at the wrong time, and we’re doing barrel rolls into a ravine. Hit it just right, and we’re flying over a police roadblock like a homicidal kangaroo on meth.

Halfway there, and the cops are getting desperate. Helicopters circle overhead, and now it’s a full-blown offroad rally – only with machine guns and the added bonus of being wanted for grand larceny. The Scramjet’s jumping function is earning its keep, leaping over fallen trees and plowing through fences like a psycho on pogo sticks.

We finally crest the last hill, the Altruist Camp coming into view, and the Scramjet’s engine is howling like a banshee. One last boost, and we sail over the ridge, landing smack in the middle of the compound. The cultists scatter, the cops are left in the dust, and we come to a screeching halt next to a blood-soaked altar.

Moral of the story? The Scramjet’s not an offroad vehicle. But with enough insanity and a total disregard for human life, it’ll get the job done. Just bring a chiropractor.

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Climbing Mt. Chiliad: Grapeseed to the Summit

We start in Grapeseed, staring up at the towering hulk of Mt. Chiliad – a mountain that’s claimed more lives than Trevor’s van. The Scramjet’s not exactly built for off-road climbing, but hey, when has that ever stopped us?

I punch the gas and we’re off – wheels spinning, dirt flying, and the Scramjet fishtailing like a greased pig on ice. The first few slopes are a breeze, but then the rocks get gnarlier, and the incline turns into a vertical death wish. I hit the jump, and we go soaring over a boulder, landing with the grace of a brick in a washing machine.

Halfway up, the Scramjet’s engine is howling like a caged animal, and we’re bouncing around like popcorn in a microwave. A cop chopper buzzes overhead, spotlight blazing, and the roadblock up ahead is nothing but a line of cruisers and shotgun-wielding maniacs. Time for a little rocket action.

I flick the booster and we blast up the slope like a bat out of hell, clearing the cop cars and sending a few officers flying like ragdolls. But the top’s still a ways off, and the road is less a road and more a collection of rocks pretending to be a path. The Scramjet’s struggling, wheels clawing for grip, and we’re fishtailing so hard I half expect to see the Pacific Ocean before we hit the peak.

Finally, we crest the top, engine smoking, suspension screaming for mercy, and the view? Stunning. But the real beauty? The fact that we actually made it without dying. And that, my friends, is what we call a minor miracle.

Moral of the story? The Scramjet isn’t a mountain climber – but with enough horsepower, rocket fuel, and a blatant disregard for self-preservation, it’ll get you to the top. Probably in pieces, but hey – that’s half the fun

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Descent of Doom: Off Mt. Chiliad

We’re at the top of Mt. Chiliad, staring down a cliffside that looks more like a vertical death slide than a road. The Scramjet’s engine is still hot, smoking like it just escaped hell – which, to be fair, it did.

I take a deep breath, say a quick prayer, and punch the gas. The Scramjet rockets forward, and we’re airborne before the wheels even leave the ground. First jump – we sail off the cliff like Evel Knievel on a bender, the ground nowhere to be seen and gravity having a complete mental breakdown.

We hit the first slope, suspension screaming, and bounce like a cannonball off a trampoline. The car flips, spins, and for a brief moment, I genuinely believe we’re going to land upside down in a pine tree. But then – bam – we hit the ground, tires squealing, and the Scramjet somehow stays in one piece.

Second jump – we’re airborne again, this time with a rocket boost for good measure. Now we’re flying so high, we might as well be filing a flight plan with the FAA. The ground rushes up to meet us, and we slam down in a cloud of dust and rock, fishtailing like a maniac until the world finally stops spinning.

Did we blow up? No. Did we nearly die? Absolutely. But in the end, we hit the bottom of the mountain in one piece – albeit a piece that’s mostly held together by sheer adrenaline and questionable life choices.

Moral of the story? The Scramjet can fly, but it definitely wasn’t designed to. And if you’re taking it off a mountain, you’d better have a will prepared – and a really, really good insurance policy.

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In-Game Use Case:

• Speed Demon Getaways: The Scramjet’s rocket boost and insane acceleration make it perfect for high-speed heists and police chases. Just don’t expect to make any tight turns without sending yourself and half of Los Santos into orbit.

• Roadblock Breaker: Got cops setting up barricades? No problem. The Scramjet’s jump and boost functions let you clear entire roadblocks – or at least make one hell of a mess of them.

• Escape Artist: When the ground gets too hot, go airborne. The Scramjet’s vertical leap can get you out of tight spots – or into even worse ones, depending on your aim.

• Vehicle Combat: Homing missiles and machine guns make the Scramjet a mobile death trap for anyone dumb enough to tail you. Just remember – one wrong move and you’ll be the one going up in flames.

• Offroad Chaos: It’s not exactly a dune buggy, but the Scramjet can still handle rough terrain with enough rocket power and sheer madness. Just don’t expect a smooth landing.

• Stunt Jumps: Why stick to the ground when you can fly? Take the Scramjet off ramps, cliffs, or skyscrapers and see how far you can launch it. Bonus points if you survive the landing.

The Verdict:

The Scramjet isn’t just a car – it’s a four-million-dollar middle finger to logic and self-preservation. It’s fast, it’s furious, and it’s more unstable than a cat on a unicycle. It’s a car for people who think ‘landing’ is optional, ‘braking’ is a sign of weakness, and ‘safety’ is something that happens to other people.

If you’ve got cash to burn, a death wish, and a taste for absolute chaos, the Scramjet is your chariot. But if you value things like ‘survival’ and ‘not spending your life insurance on rocket fuel,’ then maybe keep your feet on the ground – and your car off the mountain.

What’s Your Take?

Alright, so what's the verdict on the Scramjet? Are you the kind of lunatic who thinks 'driving' and 'flying' should be interchangeable? Do you enjoy the sensation of being launched into orbit while dodging bullets and cackling like a maniac? Or do you prefer your cars to stay firmly planted on the ground without the added risk of spontaneous combustion?

Let us know – are you Team Scramjet or Team 'Not Today, Satan'?