Of every kart racer seen in this critic’s days, be it movie-licensed slop or venerated masterclasses, it’s impressive to see a new premise among them. Mascot racers like Diddy Kong Racing and Crash Team Racing will frame their campaigns around foiling one of their cartoonish villains, but that’s just window dressing for exotic races and occasional boss fights on wheels. Coffin Dodgers poses a less-contrived setup: what if you raced like your old life depended on it? Though the answer given here is underwhelming, Milky Tea Studios weaponising a “boomers refuse to die” joke earns a few chuckles.
The Grim Reaper has set his sights on Sunny Pines Retirement Community to harvest souls that are halfway in the grave. The spriest and most confrontational among them who – naturally – think they’re too young to die challenge him to motorised scooter racing. The catch is simple: winner gets more time before leaving this mortal coil. Interestingly, he accedes to these terms against seven distinct geezers with a specific rule of his own: culling the weakest one or two performer(s) after three rounds until the last one alive faces him in a final showdown. By the time it’s over, you’re surrounded by zombified husks who were once called neighbours.
Again, it’s a solid hook to build on – mechanically and comedically. A shame this tutorial presages its dire state. When control is wrested to the player, these driving mechanics immediately rear their ugly head. Locomotion is kinaesthetically dreadful thanks to an inconsistent framerate. One also doesn’t drive forward or backward so much as they propel in that direction, and steering is about as smooth as a senior trying to moonwalk. Even characters bouncing off obstacles feels wonky; slamming into certain things head-on could be less detrimental than snagging the corner of something else.
Anyone who’s ever touched a kart racer knows the routine: a few laps around a track, drive through floating boxes to acquire a randomised power-up, and use those items alongside other moves to win. In better racers, said “other moves” make each track feel unique – like mastering neat shortcuts and avoiding goofy obstructions; in this case, there’s hardly any of the former and a few mediocre examples of the latter. Its best track involves driving beneath Sunny Pines, wherein one particular portion reinforces these geezers’ inevitable end. Others are just unimpressive extras, like avoiding a UFO’s tractor beam that glides across the middle of the road.
If these rusted parts don’t catapult your ennui to the stratosphere, then maybe mastering its systems in five minutes will. It’s odd because – initially – Milky Tea set enemy AI at a solid starting position. Their unscrupulousness organically pairs with the stakes at hand. Once you start collecting coins and upgrading scooter parts, though, competition doesn’t keep up. The team forgot to have enemies improve and adapt; moreover, given how the worst losers effectively return as zombies, there was opportunity to explore disparate NPC attitudes between still-living and undead racers. Perhaps even personal feuds from beyond the grave could inspire them to specifically target living drivers or even assist Reaper in subtle ways. Alas, they’re just as ineffectual and one-note as these mechanics.
Likewise, its arsenal could’ve been more than the clichéd assortment of rockets, bubble shields, oil slicks, and so on; that said, it’s funny to see an Amish farmer mag-dumping his Uzi while at the wheel – thematically pairing with his desperation. The one nuance that harnesses comedy and feels fresh is close-quarters melee (a la Road Rash). It’s a simple dynamic of either button-mashing with your club or charging up a knockdown swing should it connect with anyone on your immediate left or right. While initially a cane by default, your garage enables each retiree to purchase and sport a weapon more fitting to their current hobby, personality, or previous métier. Unfortunately, it won’t be utilised much after upgrading your vehicle.
That’s among its most frustrating qualities too: any scintilla of mechanical inspiration takes a back seat to everything else. Where’s that… something with any semblance of a skill ceiling, like chain-boosting in Jak X: Combat Racing or skilled drifting that dates back to Crash’s prime? Here, these systems hinder one’s potential to learn new tricks. A prominent example is the inability to swap or discard unwanted power-ups, which can result in awkward moments like unloading an Uzi before a slot opens up again. A standard boost & ramp-jump seems worse than remaining grounded, almost as though an invisible hand artificially limits flight distance. It’s like there’s a speedbump around each corner to limit any half-decent tactic.
Strategic limitations also apply to this assortment of simplistic tracks. In Milky Tea’s defense, though, each layout is beholden to its interconnected world. Between Sunny Pines’ stretches of retirement homes, nearby farmland, and so on, these maps are following the same pathways as those in its overworld; unfortunately, that’s also among the easiest explanations as to why every area is so bereft of shortcuts. The burning question now becomes: why shoulder such a burden when a campaign and time trials on specially-designed maps would’ve worked just fine? Perhaps that hypothetical alternative could’ve also breathed more life into this world; imagine elderly folks doing Pool Pilates in the background or the main cafeteria adorned with prune juice fountains. That stereotyping probably goes overboard, but at least that grabs attention.
Ironically, about the only place to find presentational consistency and creativity are these character models. Even with an antiquated version of Unity Engine, there’s enough detail between these old-timers to recognise their silhouettes. Aside from aforementioned melee weapons or silly scooter customisations, the rest of the world just feels cobbled together. There’s undoubtedly many storefront assets here, but that’s a non-issue if used with proper intention and craftsmanship. A similar argument could’ve applied for its sound design and soundtrack; instead, Milky Tea opted for basic effects and an OST over-reliant on strident repetition. It doesn’t take long to see the limits of a racer that’s selling for $11.99 (standard), which itself feels like a cop-out.
Harsh as that may be, these considerations come with acknowledging the price disparity between it and aforementioned genre titans. It still falls short bearing that in mind. The campaign (as any character) runs near an hour; and though also populated with time trials and free roam, no one seemed to ask who’d be excited to continuously revisit these spots. Even by indie standards, content is lacking in both substance and personality.
Trite & shallow gameplay dates Coffin Dodgers further back than Sunny Pines’ own retirees. Sure, certain aspects earn due praise, be it 2- or 4-player splitscreen multiplayer or its genuinely original pitch; moreover, said concept successfully fuses mechanics and comedy on rare occasion. That can only do so much against its crusty audio/visual design, gravely unpolished mechanics, and a personality with only the slightest pulse. Put simply: The Grim Reaper shouldn’t have given these old fogies a chance.
