The floor is lava. Everybody knows the rules. Get across twelve rooms of the house by couch, armchair, coffee table and whatever else is not the floor, in socks, before Mum gets back. Every room fits on one screen so you can see the whole problem before you move, which means every splash is your own fault. The jump keeps rising while you hold it, a press a moment early still fires when you land, and you get a few frames of grace after walking off a cushion, because a game that is honest about physics is a game nobody finishes. There are toy bricks on the rug. There are always toy bricks on the rug.