#REDNECK RAMPAGE WALKTHROUGH MORTUARY FREE#

Xatrix Entertainment has left no stereotype of the American South untouched in creating Redneck Rampage. You can play downtown in a small southern hamlet, blowing away slow-talking, evil shopkeepers and their hairy-backed good-old-boy sidekicks, or you can choose to fight your way through the outskirts - barns and livestock pens populated by the hairy-backed, coverall-wearin', scattergun-totin' fellers, as well as a multitude of chickens, hogs and the occasional space alien. First of all, as the name Redneck Rampage would suggest, the setting is outdoor rural America. What's new is the specifics of the game - they're very entertaining. Just as in Doom or Quake, the object is to run frantically through various settings picking off the bad elements before they pick you off, finding new weapons and power-ups along the way. There really is nothing new in the approach Redneck Rampage takes to the first-person shooter. It's the Airplane! of first-person shooters. And that's what you get in Redneck Rampage - a clever spoof of the Doom genre. It's a fact that when a style - in movies, music, art, video games - has been done long enough that it has grown familiar, the final step is into satire. But the game itself doesn't do much to push the genre forward, doesn't do anything new to speak of.

#REDNECK RAMPAGE WALKTHROUGH MORTUARY FREE#

In Redneck Rampage your mission is to free the back roads of the American Deep South, which, as Bubba and Skeeter indicated, have fallen into the clutches of some ugly green 'furriners' - aliens that is, lizard folk.įrom a story standpoint, Redneck represents a new twist on an aging genre - an infectious twist, too: I defy anyone to play Redneck Rampage for even a few minutes and not step away talking like Jed Clampett. You've seen shooters set in dungeons you've fought your way through city streets and the saloons of the Old West. So goes the simple premise of the off-color new first-person shooter, Redneck Rampage, the creation of Xatrix Entertainment. 'Hold onto yer butt, Skeeter, I'm openin' up a can o' whoopass on them boys!' Seems them dang ole space aliens done landed on Buford's farm.'

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