Fat Hitman

He is short, he is very round, he wears sunglasses at night, and he is the best in the business. Every level is a contract: a tight little room with one to three targets in it, a magazine that will not stretch to cover your mistakes, and a puzzle. Take them all out and the job is done.

Fat Hitman is a pixel-art precision platformer. Waddle, jump and kick off walls to get to the right spot, and the moment you are in the air, hold to freeze time nearly solid. A dotted line shows exactly where the shot will go, bounces included; let go and it goes there. You can shoot from the ground too, but you plant your feet and the clock keeps running.

The scenery is the other weapon. Bullets ricochet off steel, punch through plate glass and snap rotten planks. Crates splinter and fall on whoever is underneath, brick walls crack and crumble, red barrels blow holes in walls and in anyone standing near them, vending machines tip over, and safes, chandeliers and neon signs hang on single ropes over exactly the wrong people. Riot cops keep their shields between you and them, bodyguards shoot back (slowly), and anyone innocent who wanders into your line costs you.

Twenty contracts across five cities: rooftops under a swollen red sun, a rain-soaked neon downtown, a building site under sodium floodlights, the last train out of a subway full of saws and lasers, and a casino penthouse where the Don is waiting. Each one pays out for speed, spare bullets, headshots, trick shots, accidents and the odd kaboom, and earns up to three stars. Spend it on a silenced pistol, a revolver that goes through two things, a shotgun with enough kick to fly on, a sniper rifle, ricochet rounds, a laser sight and a vest. The score is slow, dark synth and a heartbeat that gets louder when time stops. Restarts are instant. You will need them.