Them Duke boys are at it again, tearing through my beloved Hazzard County like a wombat trapped in a trash can. Roscoe! Get in that hunk of junk you call a car and catch them delinquents! Ah swear, Roscoe - If brains was money you'd be flat broke...
Ah, beg yer pardon, folks. Didn't see yah there. Allow me to introduce myself. The name's Jefferson Davis Hogg, though most folks just call me Boss. Ah'm known around these parts as the chief commissioner of Hazzard County. The big cheese, as they say.
Ah see you've gotten it in yer minds to look into a little game that's all about my adventures with them pesky Duke boys. Called Dukes of Hazzard: Racing for Home, or so I'm led to believe. As the local judge and jury, it's my duty to pass a final verdict. Well, as they say in the courthouse - this one's guiltier than mongoose wearing snakeskin boots!
Now don't get me wrong - there are some bright spots in this ragged ol' mess. Take the introduction, f'rinstance. Whosoever built that there intro deserves a big jug o' moonshine and a box of fine cigars. It's the same as you'd find in that thar TV show they made about us back in the 80's. Shot for shot, no less. They even made sure to include that great theme song written by that nifty balladeer Waylon Jennings. Ah shure do like that kid.
It's your job to race through 27 of the ugliest levels I've ever had the displeasure of laying my eyes on. The roads look like garbage, the grass looks like dirt, the trees all look the same, and the cars look like shabby boxes. Don't look nuthin' like beee-yutiful Hazzard County at all! See, them game designers tried to make a racin' game - 'cept it seems they used an engine that even that old devil Cooter couldn't fix. Ah swear, I'd rather kiss a crocodile with a cold sore...
You'll get to drive all sorts of auto-mo-biles, from that nasty ol' General Lee to Cooter's beat up tow truck. You might even get behind the wheel of my imma-cu-late white cadillac. But it don't seem to matter which car you drive, they all handle about the same - real damn bad.
Controlling them cars is tougher than a possum with a toothache. Ah do believe it's like driving on snow covered with oil sinking in mud. You skid around every corner and crash into walls left and right. I don't know what in tarnation they were thinking!
Thank heavens, after you beat a level, you get to see more of that great video stuff. All your favorite characters are here, including yours truly. You'll see rendered versions of crusty ol' Uncle Jesse, my trusted deputy Enos, that frisky Cooter, pea brained Roscoe P. Coltrane, and of course that sweet little thing Daisy Duke. And though it causes me much pain to admit it, even Bo and Luke Duke look good.
And sound good, too. Lots of talent from that TV show are makin' cee-lebrity appearances in Hazzard. Tom Wopat (Luke), James Best (Roscoe), Ben Jones (Cooter), and Sonny Shroyer (Enos) play their parts well. But the music shure ain't what I recall. Where's the washboard? Where's them spoons? More banjos and less 'lectric guitars would have made me a happier Hogg. Did I mention I play a mean jug?
Another big ol' problem with this sinkhole is that you only get to drive on 6 different roads throughout the whole game. To make matters worse, you can barely tell one from another, and you'll often drive up and down the same durn road and over again. Ah swear, this game's more repetitious than a pair of stuttering twins!
Now rumor has it that you can play this game with one of your friends, but I tried that myself and found it painful. Ah swear, painful. The already choppy graphics are choppier, and the already frisky controls are friskier than a rabbit in the springtime. Ah'd rather play tug-o-war with a one-armed grizzly bear.
So them's the facts. This here Dukes of Hazzard game ain't worth more'n a couple of minutes of your time, and I shure wouldn't recommend wastin' any precious money on it. You might as well just go out and watch old reruns of myself catching them rascally Duke Boys.
Ah beg yer pardon, but I must retire to my courtroom...Roscoe should be back soon with them cantankerous cousins any minute now, and you can bet all the oil in Texas that they ain't gonna weasel their way outta' this one. Yeeeeeehaw, my foot!