It wants to break you.
But between you and those three innocent yellow discs lies approximately 200 units of pure, unfiltered malice.
For the uninitiated, Supaplex is the spiritual successor to Boulder Dash and the intellectual cousin of Dig Dug . You play as Murphy, a little red ball of anxiety, tasked with collecting "Infotrons" (yellow discs) while avoiding killer electrons, boulders, and exploding mines. supaplex level 90
If you grew up in the 90s, you probably have a list of gaming moments that define your childhood. Beating Bowser. Finding the Triforce. Landing a 720 kickflip in Tony Hawk .
You have exactly to collect. That’s it. It wants to break you
So, here’s to Murphy, the little red dot who walked (and exploded) so that future puzzle heroes could run. And here’s to the 0.1% of players who actually beat Level 90 legitimately. You have my respect. And my suspicion that you might be a robot.
![A mental image of the maze: Tight corridors, Zonks lining the walls, and no room for error.] Most Supaplex levels give you room to think. You can drop a boulder, wait for the dust to settle, and take a sip of your juice box. Not Level 90. You play as Murphy, a little red ball
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Level 90 is where the game stops being a puzzle and starts being a psychological evaluation. When you first load Level 90, it doesn’t look like a death trap. It looks like abstract art. A labyrinth of solid stone walls, snaking passages, and a staggering number of deadly "Zonks" (the purple spinning things that end your run instantly if you breathe on them).
Then the game loads —which is somehow even worse. A Eulogy for Murphy In an era of auto-saves and microtransactions, Supaplex Level 90 stands as a monument to brutalist game design. It doesn’t want to teach you anything. It doesn’t want you to have fun.