When one boxing glove-wearing frog eats another to turn itself into an evil slot machine, that’s nothing more than a phase change. That skyscraper-tall robot firing laser barriers is just three hovering hitboxes and a series of no-go zones. And so, as I played I gradually stopped noticing a lot of the glorious art, because actually interacting with Cuphead is so hectic, so stressful, that it just gets filed away by my right-brain as a distraction. I find it actively harder with a second player, if anything. And don’t think that local co-op will ease things up – dropping in a second player as Cuphead’s pal Mugman makes events onscreen that much harder to follow. You could hit levels that take hours to beat, and the finale is locked off until you beat every other level on “Regular” difficulty (i.e.
No level includes checkpoints and, barring one late-game match-up, there is no way to regain lost health. It’s absolutely uncompromising in its difficulty from the outset. You may have gleaned by now that this game is really, really hard. There’s no doubt that it’s gorgeous, and many people will be drawn to that, but that veneer conceals a very niche, hardcore design. I also feel duty-bound to point out that the way Porkrind the shopkeeper bellows “welcome” made me laugh every single time I heard it. It makes Cuphead feel truly out of time, and its bizarre mix of ‘30s aesthetics and ‘80s design more heady than ever. The sound work is an ideal match: a huge jumble of high-tempo ragtime, swing, big band, and jazz (the list of musicians is almost as long as the rest of the credits combined) pummels away wonderfully in the background of every fight.