Dashing Donuts ($1.00) is mostly what you think it is; the time-tested practice of rolling a donut down a hill. Ever since we were cavemen, hooting excitedly at the prospects of this newfound mode of transportation, industry, and sport, the wheel has fascinated us. Both mankind and the idea have evolved over the years, now allowing anyone to electronically partake without ever leaving the couch, but it’s the darling simplicity of it that continues to intrigue.
Here, it’s also ratings manipulation at its finest, or, at the very least, some very disingenuous reviews by other players (i.e. friends and family). At almost 100 ratings (as of this post), which is in itself an already questionable feat, given that most other indie games fail to reach that mark even months after release, the game sits prettily at nearly a perfect five-star rating on the Xbox marketplace.
Which is just… wrong. I’m not saying that developer Kaczynski Software has created the worst racer I’ve played; the controls aren’t overly-complex (you can steer, obviously, and slow down / speed up), or particularly good, but they suffice for the job at hand. Is it a basic, visually bland, and completely unexceptional racer, though? Yes! Emphatically so. Far from a 5 / 5 or anywhere near it, let alone a hundred ‘people’ doing their best to say otherwise.
The actual ‘racing’ part is just as dull, with you silently (No music? In a racing game?) slaloming down any given course, hopping over, sliding under, or otherwise avoiding any hazards encountered. It boasts unlimited tracks, though the same few hazards and assets are recycled throughout, making it more about how much of it you can stomach, rather than a ‘thrilling feature’ box you can check off.
It truly is as unexciting as it looks.
As such, Dashing Donuts should be skipped, despite what the ratings may say. There is nothing groundbreaking here. No records will broken on the race track, though it is the first well-reviewed (albeit based on a hundred lies) racer that is both incredibly boring and utterly forgettable. All coincidental, of course, no foul play suspected.