Game is played with mouse.
Getting Over It is pure suffering disguised as a game. You’re a dude named Diogenes (yeah, the guy from ancient Greece), chilling in a giant metal cauldron, and your only tool for movement is a long-handled hammer. The goal? Drag, fling, and propel yourself up a ridiculous mountain made of random junk—barrels, furniture, construction materials, and whatever else someone decided to stack up. It’s physics-based, which means every tiny movement either helps or completely ruins you. One bad swing, and boom—you’re tumbling back to the start like nothing ever happened. Bennett Foddy, the mastermind behind this madness, isn’t just letting you struggle in peace. He’s there, talking. A lot. Dropping philosophical quotes, deep thoughts about failure, and passive-aggressive wisdom while you’re mid-freefall. The worst part? His voice is so calm, it almost makes you think he’s rooting for you—until you realize he’s not. He’s just watching, enjoying the chaos, and throwing in commentary that somehow makes you both question life and want to smash your screen at the same time. The mountain itself is a nightmare. Every section demands precision, patience, and the ability to not completely lose your mind. There are no checkpoints, no safety nets, no second chances. You could be on the verge of victory, one perfect swing away from triumph, only to slip and plummet all the way back to the bottom. It’s brutal. It’s unfair. And yet, it’s weirdly impossible to stop playing. Every tiny bit of progress feels like a personal achievement, and reaching the top? That’s a moment of pure victory. Until then, it’s just pain, suffering, and the eternal question: Why am I still playing this?