Super Meat Boy Forever Review: Is the Auto-Runner Worth It?
Discover if Super Meat Boy Forever lives up to the original. Read our review covering the new auto-runner mechanics, 2.5D graphics, and brutal difficulty.
By Team Gimmie
Updated September 2, 2026
Super Meat Boy Forever: A Brutal, Beautiful Mess Worth Your Time and Torment
The feeling of your thumb pulsing against a controller, the skin slightly raw from hours of repetitive motion, is a sensation few games can evoke as effectively as Super Meat Boy. It has been over a decade since the original blood-splattered cube of meat leaped onto our screens in 2010, setting a high-water mark for indie platformers that many have tried to emulate, but few have surpassed. It was a game about precision, momentum, and the kind of "just one more try" addiction that keeps you awake until 3:00 AM.
Now we have the long-awaited sequel, Super Meat Boy Forever. If you have been searching for Super Meat Boy 3D, you are likely reacting to the game’s move into a 2.5D perspective. While the action still takes place on a two-dimensional plane, the world has gained a rich, layered depth that makes the carnage feel more visceral than ever. But beneath the fresh coat of paint lies a fundamental shift in how the game plays—one that has sparked plenty of debate among the hardcore faithful. Is this a worthy successor to the crown, or a step too far into the unknown?
The Art of the Automated Death Loop
The biggest shock to the system in Super Meat Boy Forever is the move to an auto-runner format. In the original, you had total control over Meat Boy’s every twitch. In Forever, he is always on the move. Your input is limited to jumping, sliding, diving, and punching. On paper, this sounds like a simplification—a move toward mobile-style casual gaming. In practice, it is anything but.
By taking away your ability to stop and think, the developers at Team Meat have essentially turned the game into a high-speed rhythm of survival. You aren’t just platforming; you are conducting a frantic, bloody orchestra. The precision is still there, but the window for error has shrunk to almost zero. Consider the buzzsaw-laden corridors of the early industrial levels: you have to time a jump to clear a spinning blade, mid-air punch a flying enemy to gain a tiny boost of horizontal momentum, and then slide under a laser grid—all in the span of about three seconds.
If you mistime a single input, Meat Boy is instantly reduced to a red smear. But this is where the genius of the series remains intact. Death is not a punishment; it’s a lesson. You respawn at the start of the screen almost before you’ve realized you died, with your previous attempts marked by lingering bloodstains on the walls. These red streaks act as a grim roadmap, showing you exactly where you failed so you can adjust your timing by a fraction of a second on the next run.
