Ask for the shape of the challenge.

Straightforward once you find the right weapon, and famously obtuse about its second half — the difficulty is knowing that half exists at all.

The EMMI zones are one-hit deaths with a counter window measured in frames, and the bosses expect dodges on reaction rather than pattern.

Steady, honest pressure plus a map that makes you earn the right to know where you are standing.

Aim is only half of it — the generation means the run you get may simply not contain the item you needed, and the game will not tell you that either.

Short and dense, and almost nothing in it is labelled — you learn what an item does by eating it and finding out.

Heavy attacks with no cancel, instant-death platforming, and guilt fragments that tax you for dying exactly where you were already struggling.

Sekiro’s deflection on a 2D plane. Chip damage means blocking is not a plan, and every boss is a rhythm you learn on frames rather than a health bar you widdle down.

The most welcoming fighting game ever made, sitting on top of the most undocumented one — the defensive techniques that decide real matches are never mentioned anywhere in it.

Difficulty is a clock rather than a setting: everything you do to get stronger also makes the timer worse. Monsoon runs end in seconds when they end.

Parry-first combat with windows tight enough that blocking on reflex fails and blocking on rhythm works.