Getting Over It with Bennett Foddy is dreadful.
I don't mean it's a failed attempt as a game, and I don't mean dreadful in the sense you might think. (The game is polished and does what it sets out to do in a brilliant fashion.)
I mean it fills me personally with dread as it inches it's psychological tricks and relatable philosophical banter into my head.
I recommend the game, no doubt. I have not finished it. I might never finish it. So far I've reached the bucket. There are parts of the game I absolutely hate.
Below is a personal view on this whole thing. And by personal I do mean I reflect on my life.

I do graphics related stuff in the game industry as my job and in my free time. Mostly in the form of 2D artwork. Before it became my career, it was my hobby and passion. I turned it into something I do daily.
This game hits really close to home with it's musings about challenge and failure.
Without being too detailed, generally my self-esteem is really low and I doubt everything I do. I find art to be, well, an endless climb. The summit is always beyond new obstacles, and realizing these problems pushes me back to study the basics yet again to find new ways to approach the issue. And once I conquer this new field, it reveals something more difficult. This general feel leaks into my personal life as well. A huge issue.

Playing this immediately linked up with my emotions. The last two games that made me feel this kind of frustration were Devil Daggers and solo running Dark Souls when I had no idea what I was getting into. Both of those games being far more kind than this. The tree at the beginning where I would try to get used to the basic jist of the controls and physics. The devil's chimney where I was stuck for 45 minutes at first. The church and gift that made my heart wrench and race, adding an element of anxiety where I start expecting the unexpected as well as evaluating whether I should stop altogether.

Despite this I found myself trying again and again, failing over and over. With each retry everything went a little faster. I am in no way naturally good at playing games, and as of this writing I've put 12 hours into this game. My failures are no longer mentioned, they are expected. I feel the same agony when I try and disappoint myself applying color theory, or when drawing circles over and over, or when I draw the same face from dozens of angles, or when I look at lighting and how objects reflect light. Every mistake I repeat over and over, sometimes even consciously. A few moments in the game I would think "Maybe I should drop in that hole, just to see how it feels. Just to see how quickly I pick myself back up."

I wonder. Am I obsessed with challenging myself, or am I just addicted to failure?
Have I limited this obsession and addiction to just games and art while leaving my personal life behind?

This game made me think. And I learned something about myself.
The reason why I think I may not finish this game is because I feel I have learned and I feel satisfied.
And I feel like I do not need to see the end, for in the most important struggle of my life the end is unreachable.
That feeling is already well known.

I am intrigued however. I'll try not to spoil it for myself. Maybe I'll try to reach the end.

EDIT: After sleeping and thinking about it, I felt I should spend a little bit of time to climb.
I managed to reach the end. 13 hours and then some.
I crave for more, and I expected exactly that to happen.

Getting Over It with Bennett Foddy is dreadful. I don't mean it's a failed attempt as a game, and I don't mean dreadful in the sense you might think. (The game is polished and does what it sets out to do in a brilliant fashion.) I mean it fills me personally with dread as it inches it's psychological tricks and relatable philosophical banter into my head. I recommend the game, no doubt. I have not finished it. I might never finish it. So far I've reached the bucket. There are parts of the game I absolutely hate. Below is a personal view on this whole thing. And by personal I do mean I reflect on my life. I do graphics related stuff in the game industry as my job and in my free time. Mostly in the form of 2D artwork. Before it became my career, it was my hobby and passion. I turned it into something I do daily. This game hits really close to home with it's musings about challenge and failure. Without being too detailed, generally my self-esteem is really low and I doubt everything I do. I find art to be, well, an endless climb. The summit is always beyond new obstacles, and realizing these problems pushes me back to study the basics yet again to find new ways to approach the issue. And once I conquer this new field, it reveals something more difficult. This general feel leaks into my personal life as well. A huge issue. Playing this immediately linked up with my emotions. The last two games that made me feel this kind of frustration were Devil Daggers and solo running Dark Souls when I had no idea what I was getting into. Both of those games being far more kind than this. The tree at the beginning where I would try to get used to the basic jist of the controls and physics. The devil's chimney where I was stuck for 45 minutes at first. The church and gift that made my heart wrench and race, adding an element of anxiety where I start expecting the unexpected as well as evaluating whether I should stop altogether. Despite this I found myself trying again and again, failing over and over. With each retry everything went a little faster. I am in no way naturally good at playing games, and as of this writing I've put 12 hours into this game. My failures are no longer mentioned, they are expected. I feel the same agony when I try and disappoint myself applying color theory, or when drawing circles over and over, or when I draw the same face from dozens of angles, or when I look at lighting and how objects reflect light. Every mistake I repeat over and over, sometimes even consciously. A few moments in the game I would think "Maybe I should drop in that hole, just to see how it feels. Just to see how quickly I pick myself back up." I wonder. Am I obsessed with challenging myself, or am I just addicted to failure? Have I limited this obsession and addiction to just games and art while leaving my personal life behind? This game made me think. And I learned something about myself. The reason why I think I may not finish this game is because I feel I have learned and I feel satisfied. And I feel like I do not need to see the end, for in the most important struggle of my life the end is unreachable. That feeling is already well known. I am intrigued however. I'll try not to spoil it for myself. Maybe I'll try to reach the end. EDIT: After sleeping and thinking about it, I felt I should spend a little bit of time to climb. I managed to reach the end. 13 hours and then some. I crave for more, and I expected exactly that to happen.