by Jed Pressgrove
Getting Over It with Bennett Foddy comes from that type of game developer who desperately needs you to think he’s smart and aware.
The game takes a classic challenge (climbing a mountain), makes it ironically difficult (you play as a guy in a pot who can only use a hammer to swing and push himself to new platforms), and taunts players with patronizing songs like “Poor Me Blues” and “Whoops a Doodle” when they lose progress.
Foddy himself speaks to you along the way. He opens with some talk about the “intensity” of starting over, such as having to redo one’s homework after accidentally deleting it, to prepare you for the ordeal he has created. “Feel free to go away and come back. I’ll be here,” Foddy says.
In terms of mechanics, the developer takes his inspiration from a Jazzuo game called Sexy Hiking, and he points out that some players never get past Sexy Hiking’s first obstacle, a dead tree. He then shares this view:
“There’s a sense of truth in that lack of compromise. Most obstacles in videogames are fake — you can be completely confident in your ability to get through them, once you have the correct method or the correct equipment, or just by spending enough time. In that sense, every pixelated obstacle in Sexy Hiking is real. The obstacles in Sexy Hiking are unyielding, and that makes the game uniquely frustrating. But I’m not sure Jazzuo intended to make a frustrating game — the frustration is just essential to the act of climbing and it’s authentic to the process of building a game about climbing.”
Here, Foddy pretends that he and Jazzuo know something intimate about climbing. It seems Foddy has never known the pleasure of, say, climbing a tree as a child, which can be challenging without being frustrating. The frustration of these games is that they transform climbing into something that is strange at best and idiotic at worst.
Who knows whether Foddy’s observations are sincere, but they’re certainly annoying in their oversimplifications. In another bit, he philosophizes about “trash culture,” i.e., the idea that the Internet churns out material that we’re ready to throw away within seconds, all so we can go on to the next trivial bit of content. This culture welcomes “friendly” games, but Foddy points out that games were once more demanding. “Players played stoically,” he says, “Now everyone’s turned off by that.”
With that quote, Foddy romanticizes the past and denies part of the present. Has he ever watched the Angry Video Game Nerd, a satirical YouTube sensation that represents the rage of many youngsters who threw their controllers during the 1980s and 1990s? And has he seen the influence of Dark Souls in modern gaming?
Foddy’s lack of historical credibility recalls Davey Wreden’s insufferable commentary in 2015’s The Beginner’s Guide. Wreden, Foddy, and others (like David OReilly and Toby Fox) represent a wave of smart-assed artists whose contempt for the status quo leads them to create games that would be better off as show-and-tell projects in game-design class. If there’s anything the indie gaming world needs to get over, it’s these guys.