Getting Over It with Bennett Foddy gives you a bare-chested man wedged waist-deep in a black iron cauldron, a long-handled Yosemite hammer, and a mountain of garbage to climb. He is called Diogenes, after the ancient philosopher who famously lived in a pot, and he cannot walk, jump, or crawl. The only thing he can do is swing that hammer — hook it behind a ledge and haul, plant the head on a rock and vault, or wind up and catapult himself into the sky.
Then there is the part that made this game infamous: there are no checkpoints. None. Not one. Every metre you gain is held only by your grip on the hammer, and a single sloppy swing near the top can send Diogenes tumbling, bouncing and sliding all the way back to the tree stump you started at. Hours of work, gone in about eleven seconds, while Bennett Foddy calmly narrates a passage about disappointment over the top of it.

Nothing about the input is hidden or complicated. The difficulty is entirely in the physics: the hammer has weight, the pot has momentum, and the game never smooths over a bad decision.
The climb is not a landscape so much as a landfill. Boulders and trees give way to abandoned playground equipment, stacked furniture, industrial pipes and assorted debris — discarded assets bolted together into a tower. Every obstacle has been named by the community, and every one of them has ended somebody’s run:
Foddy narrates the entire climb himself. He explains why he built the mountain from recycled junk, muses on the culture of digital detritus, and reads out quotations about failure whenever you lose serious ground. The tone is calm, warm, and quietly infuriating — he is not mocking you, which somehow makes losing forty minutes of progress worse. It is one of the very few games where the voice-over is genuinely part of the difficulty, and part of why players kept recording their reactions.

Getting Over It is an open homage to Sexy Hiking, a rough 2002 freeware game by the Czech designer Jazzuo that had circulated for years as a private joke among indie developers. Foddy, who teaches game design at NYU, decided its design was worth taking seriously and rebuilt the idea properly. He released it through Humble Monthly on 6 October 2017 and on Steam that December, where it reached well over 2.7 million players, became a streaming phenomenon, and won the Nuovo Award at the 2018 Independent Games Festival.
It also created a genre. Games built on the same cruel bargain — hard controls, no checkpoints, catastrophic falls — are now called Foddian, and the line runs directly from here to Jump King and Only Up!
The mountain does end. Past the ice and up the cable tower, one good launch carries Diogenes off the top of the map and into space, where you bounce off drifting asteroids and float upward as the credits roll. Then the game asks you a question: are you recording this? Answer no, and you are let into a chatroom shared only by other people who have actually finished — a small, strange, permanently private room that no walkthrough can hand you. Speedrunners have since reduced the whole climb to a couple of minutes. Most players who finish it take several hours, and most players never finish it at all.
Go slow. Almost every catastrophic fall starts with a fast, panicked swing. Small, deliberate mouse movements keep the hammer where you can see it; big flails send the pot spinning with momentum you have no way to cancel. The players who finish are not faster than you, they are calmer.
Learn the hook before anything else. Most of the mountain is climbed by placing the hammer head behind an edge and pulling gently toward yourself, not by launching. Save the big wind-up swings for gaps that genuinely cannot be crossed any other way, and always ask what happens if this one misses — if the answer is the Snake, do it the slow way.
Treat falls as practice, not punishment. Sliding back to the tutorial hill means you get to run the early section again, and that repetition is exactly how Devil’s Chimney stops being frightening. Rather than restarting instantly in a rage, sit still for a moment, work out which swing actually killed you, then climb back up deliberately. And when you are tilted, stop — nobody has ever cleared the ice while furious.