Ask for the shape of the challenge.

Combat is scored on the beat and will still let you win off it. Playing to the rhythm is the difference between a rank and a mess.

Legible in ten seconds and physical after ten minutes. The ceiling is not comprehension, it is whether your arms can still be in two correct places a second from now.

Death is frequent, instant and immediately retried, and every puzzle is solvable from what the room shows you. Nothing here is hidden from a patient player.

Gentler than the first game and better taught. The co-op campaign is where the difficulty actually lives, because it needs two people to see the same solution at once.

Hard for exactly as long as it takes the idea to arrive, then trivial — a game of realisations rather than of skill.

Gentle to look at and quietly ruthless to score — the tile you place carelessly on turn ten is the one that ends the run four hundred turns later.

There is no fail state, only the quiet friction of guessing where somebody else would keep their mugs.

The only thing gating progress is knowledge inside your own head, which makes it unspoilable once and unplayable if you look it up.

The purest execution test in the catalogue and one of the cheapest failures — nothing is lost when a run ends, which is exactly why people attempt the same map four hundred times.

Document checking against a clock, where the rules change every morning and a mistake comes out of the family’s rent.