Summary
There’s something special aboutaplatformerthat doesn’t just ask players to jump across floating blocks, but actually makes them think while doing it. These games hide brilliance beneath bubblegum visuals, obscure indie launches, or quiet marketing pushes.
Some twist physics in unexpected ways, others build entire puzzles into movement alone, but all of them share a knack for designing levels that feel like puzzles, playgrounds, and personality tests rolled into one. Theseunderrated platformersdon’t just shake up the genre with a fresh coat of paint; they do so throughincredibly clever level design.
Most platformers throw in combat to pad things out.Tinykinskips that entirely and instead gives players a swarm of adorable bug-eyed creatures to do the heavy lifting—literally. ThinkPikminmeetsTony Hawk. The level design isn’t aboutbeating enemies, it’s about navigating everyday spaces from a toy-sized perspective.
Each room is a supersized domestic environment—kitchens, bathrooms, bedrooms—packed with multi-layered traversal puzzles. A pencil becomes a bridge. A toaster becomes a launchpad. With different types of Tinykin in tow—ones that explode, carry heavy objects, or build ladders—players are constantly rerouting their plans mid-jump.
The verticality is especially clever. Every space has secrets stacked upon secrets, rewarding curiosity and encouraging players to scale impossible heights by chaining together clever Tinykin combos. And since there’s no health bar or enemies to worry about, the platforming feels pure. It’s about problem-solving through movement, and that’s rarer than it should be.
Genre
Platformer, Adventure
At first,Outlandfeels like a stylish 2D action platformer with a gorgeous color palette. But then the polarity system kicks in, and suddenly every movement becomes a split-second calculation. Inspired byIkaruga, players can shift between light and dark energy, absorbing bullets of the same color while dodging or neutralizing those of the opposite color.
This isn’t just a gimmick layered on top of the level design. Itisthe level design. Spikes, lasers, enemies, and even platforms often require mid-air polarity switches, sometimes within fractions of a second.A combat instancebecomes a dance of switching alignments while maneuvering through labyrinthine spaces filled with patterns straight out of a shoot-em-up. When boss fights kick in, the whole screen turns into a kaleidoscope of chaos that demands muscle memory and logic to survive.
Housemarque is better known now forReturnal, butOutlandwas their early masterclass in merging genres. Platforming, bullet hell, Metroidvania progression—it all flows together in a way that still feels ambitious years later.
Backtracking usually gets a bad rap, butShantae and the Pirate’s Cursebuilds its entire level structure around it—and somehow makes it feel fresh every single time. As players collect new pirate gear, earlier islands open up in unexpected ways. The Scimitar lets players bash through rocks, the Pirate Hat becomes a glide mechanic, and each upgrade recontextualizes what looked like filler at first into a tight platforming challenge.
Unlike its predecessors,Pirate’s Curseditches animal transformations and leans into a more refined Metroidvania formula. Each island is a self-contained dungeon with layered design—vertical climbs, switch puzzles, secret routes—and progression rarely feels forced. Even when players revisit old areas, new gear turns familiar terrain into new puzzles, with combat sections tucked organically into the flow.
It’s easy to miss how meticulously planned the level design is because the tone is so breezy. But behind all the puns and pirates is a layout that respects the player’s memory—and uses it against them in the best way possible.
There’s no hand-holding inKnytt Underground, no minimap pointing the way to the next checkpoint. Instead, it invites players to feel small in a world that’s enormous, atmospheric, and unapologetically nonlinear. The platforming itself is built around momentum and morphing—players can turn into a bouncy ball to slingshot through tight spaces, or chain wall jumps across precarious vertical shafts.
What makes the level design clever is how it makes playersearntheir intuition. There’s no traditional objective structure, but thereisa logic to every room’s layout. Some areas become shortcuts only once players unlock certain abilities, while others hide secrets in plain sight that only become accessible after understanding the physics engine well enough to exploit it.
It’s a game that frustrates early on, but rewards the kind of player who remembers what was just barely out of reach an hour ago. And when the pieces click together, it feels less like solving a puzzle and more like speaking a new language.
The Mawdoesn’t look like a game with smart level design. At first glance, it’s justa cartoonishalien vacuum cleaner following a nervous buddy around. However, that surface simplicity is what makes its mechanics hit harder when they evolve. As players explore, the Maw eats literally everything and changes form based on what it consumes.
Swallowing fire monsters lets him breathe flames. Eating flying creatures grants lift. And each new environment is built around whatever bizarre mutation Maw has most recently digested. It’s not traditional platforming, but it cleverly uses its protagonist’s expanding moveset as a puzzle key. Players have to think ahead: What’s edible here? What ability will it trigger? And what parts of the level are suddenly accessible?
This was one of Twisted Pixel’s earlier projects, and while it’s short, it feels like a prototype for something bigger. Like a riff onKirbymechanics with environmental design that’s more contextual than most modern mascot platformers.
Here, there’s no UI screaming for attention, no giant arrow telling players where to go. InUnravel Two, it’s all about reading the world. The game’s level design is a masterclass in visual storytelling, where clever puzzles emerge from natural environments—falling logs, tilted branches, dangling wires. The yarn mechanics aren’t just for show; they define the core of how players interact with each level.
Where the firstUnravelleaned into solitude, the sequelturns co-op into something intimate. Players control two Yarnys joined by a single thread, meaning every puzzle is a duet. That bond—literal and metaphorical—is what the platforming revolves around. One Yarny anchors while the other swings. One jumps, the other pulls. Some of the smartest challenges involve players creating yarn bridges mid-air or slingshotting past hazards in perfect sync.
There are moments where coordination feels like choreography, especially in the timed chase sequences. While the game never gets cruel, it assumes players are paying attention. That’s where the cleverness lies—in the way it quietly teaches, then tests.
On paper,A Hat in Timeis a love letter to 3D collect-a-thons, but what really makes it shine is how absurdly smart its level design gets once the nostalgia goggles come off. Every world has its own mechanical twist, from time manipulation to stealth sections to nonlinear objectives that nudge players toward curiosity rather than handholding them.
The standout is Chapter 2’s “Murder on the Owl Express,” which flips platforming into a full-blown whodunit where movement becomes part of the investigation. Another level, “Alpine Skyline,” drops the structure entirely and lets players navigate a sprawling mountaintop in any order, almost like anopen-worldMariolevel. Even the tightest platforming segments hide optional time rifts—mini-challenge rooms styled like dreamy obstacle courses.
Developed by Gears for Breakfast,A Hat in TimechannelsSuper Mario Sunshine’senergy more than it does its mechanics, but unlike most spiritual successors, it brings something original to the table: levels that treat traversal as storytelling, and vice versa.
