"Expression," I whispered, gripping the controller. "It's about expressive freedom ."

The arena was silent, save for the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of a mechanical keyboard. On the screen, Paul—a digital athlete with suspiciously flexible hamstrings—hung from a single high bar.

Below him lay a literal "ninja obstacle course" of spinning sawblades, high-tension trampolines, and a very unforgiving concrete floor. This was level 4-12, the one the forums called "The Bone Crusher."

I flicked the thumbstick. Paul swung his legs with the grace of a gazelle, then tucked into a triple-backflip. For a moment, he was poetry in motion, a master of lifelike physics. Then, my finger slipped.