"If I don't want the rear screen or the car fridge, can I get a discount?"
A reader left this comment after reading a Gasgoo article titled "Car Fridges Are Used Only 5% of the Time—It's Time to Stop Piling Features into EVs." The reader argued that since automakers market "fridges, screens, and recliners" as standard, allowing consumers to opt out for a discount is its own form of subsidy.
Behind this comment lies a brewing controversy.
Recently, Deepal Chairman Deng Chenghao cited telling figures. Car fridges have an actual usage rate of just 5%. Rear entertainment screens and in-car karaoke systems are used fewer than ten times a year.
Gasgoo reported on these comments, drawing an explosive response. The overwhelming pushback echoed a familiar refrain: "I might not use it, but you can't not give it to me."
Why do consumers push back when automakers say the feature arms race should end? Who really holds the power in the feature wars?
The 5% Average vs. the 100% Individual
Reader comments reveal two distinct camps.
Supporters argue that low usage frequency doesn't make these features redundant. On long family road trips, camping runs, grocery hauls, or summer cold drinks, a car fridge transforms the experience. On rednote, 84% of users voted car fridges "practical."
Image source: rednote
One parent noted their child used to fuss constantly in their old gas car. Now, a rear screen playing cartoons turns the backseat into a peaceful zone. The parent also opted for a streaming rearview mirror and a high-performance chip, finding the upgrade worthwhile—especially the mirror.
"It's the difference between zero and one," another user wrote. They likened the dynamic to satellite connectivity on Huawei phones: How many people actually use it? Yet they gladly pay for it. "I turn on my home TV maybe twice a year, but I still bought one. In modern society, who doesn't buy a bunch of useless things?"
Detractors, however, targeted the actual user experience.
For daily commuters, fridges often cool too slowly, drain the battery, and eat up space. They also require opening multiple doors to reach. "If you don't want to use it, it's not you being picky—it's the design failing to treat you as a real user."
A domestic-brand owner was even more specific. The product manager, he complained, always adopts an "I know what you need" attitude. His recent upgrade came loaded with a jumble of features—yet no charging wallbox. He wanted long-range AWD and a rear seat that folds flat with one button. Instead, he got air suspension, soft-close doors, reclining rear seats, tray tables, screens, a fridge, a glass roof, light signals, and hidden door handles.
Image source: Li Auto
He also urged the development team to decouple the rear screen's audio from front controls. On highway drives, if he plays music while his child watches cartoons, the entire cabin must listen to the rear screen's audio.
The two camps seem at odds, but they highlight the same issue. Consumer demand is layered, yet automakers apply a one-size-fits-all standard. Behind the 5% average usage rate, a subset of users relies on the feature 100% of the time.
"I might not use it, but you can't not give it to me" sounds like a demand for more features. Yet it may also mean: I want the option when I need it. Conversely, asking to pay less for unwanted features challenges whether consumers can reject a pre-packaged bundle. The two sides aren't arguing the same point, but both circle back to one thing: the right to choose.
Piling on Features Isn't About Understanding You—It's About Selling Cars
Automakers decide which features go into which trims and packages. Consumers can compare, buy, or walk away, but usually only from a set menu. If a feature is locked behind a premium tier, those who want it must often buy a bundle. Those who don't can rarely strip out the associated cost. This gives automakers direct control over product definition.
Where do consumer expectations come from? At launches, automakers turn features into visible, pitchable selling points. In a 2023 community post, Li Auto framed fridges, rear screens, and reclining seats within the family-road-trip narrative, dubbing them the "new three essentials." It's a clear example: marketing responds to existing demand, but also shapes what consumers think a car "should" have.
Image source: Li Auto
Feature lists are more tangible than chassis tuning, energy consumption, or system integration. They are also far easier to explain at a press conference. For automakers, they create quick differentiators; for buyers, an easy way to compare. Once these two forces meet, features become part of the purchase expectation. When low usage gets summarized as "the feature arms race must end," consumers naturally ask: Who put these features on the spec sheet? And who gets to decide they should be stripped away?
Why are automakers obsessively piling on features? Because the core technologies have become indistinguishable.
Once range hits 600 km and acceleration cracks the five-second barrier, differences in the three core electric systems are hard to feel. The industry leans on the most visible, viral feature lists to create memory hooks and premium pricing. Put bluntly: piling on features isn't about understanding you—it's about closing the sale.
The logic is simple: more features make buyers feel they are getting more for their money. Amid a price war, loading up on features becomes a crucial lever to prop up the pricing structure. Automakers built the narrative that "more features equal better value" with their own hands.
Having trained consumers, automakers cannot unilaterally retreat. Buyers now expect a fridge in anything priced above 250,000 yuan. For an automaker to suddenly declare fridges useless is to contradict itself. Changing course would require re-educating the market—a costly and time-consuming process.
The deeper driver is cost pressure. In the first half of 2024, auto manufacturing revenue exceeded 5 trillion yuan. Yet total profits fell nearly 20% year on year, with margins shrinking to 3.6%. The combined net profit of 15 major listed automakers came in under 21.1 billion yuan—a drop of 14 billion yuan. When automakers cry "stop piling on features," it is essentially a plea for cost relief.
From Feature Arms Races to Precision Features
Consumers, not automakers, have always been the main characters in the feature wars.
Automakers cannot just talk to themselves. They need to research real consumer demand rather than spinning their own logic. Beyond being "fully loaded," a car needs character. This is measured not by the volume of features, but by their precision. Items like fridges and large screens should be standalone options. This returns cost and space to those who don't want them, while refining the experience for those who do.
That reader's comment might point the way forward: if you don't want the rear screen or the fridge, you pay less. This is a form of subsidy in its own right. Let consumers choose what they want, rather than having automakers decide "I know what you need."
Rational consumption is fine, but no one likes being lectured or having features quietly stripped away. Automakers cannot stand on a moral high ground to school their buyers.
The industry is shifting from feature arms races to precision features. On-demand options, differentiated positioning, and giving consumers the final say on what stays and what goes. That may well be the competitive battleground for the second half of the EV era.
Should the feature piling stop? It should. But how it stops, what gets cut, and who makes that call—the answers will not be found at an automaker's press conference. They are in the consumers' wallets.
