![]() ![]() ![]() The music didn’t hurt, either: all throaty synth bass, thudding kick drums, and pulsating leads, it gave a woozy synthwave sheen to the game’s grindhouse filth. This death-life loop made the game’s twitchy toughness - you can’t take more than one hit before dying, and everything moves in a coke-driven rush - a gratifying puzzle, rather than a frustrating morass of loading screens and unskippable cutscenes. Like Super Meat Boy, it leavened its unforgiving shootouts by letting you instantly start over upon death, meaning that a botched level could immediately be given another go. ![]() It was a paranoid high of a game that gave tightly-wound arcade shooting a jolt of queasy, feverish surrealism. 2012’s Hotline Miami arrived fully-formed like Athena from the head of Zeus.
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