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Home > Antistress > Super Rocket Buddy
Pull back, aim, release, and watch your Buddy fly across the screen in a glorious, flopping arc.
Developer: Kiz10
Antistress
Simulation
Action
Boys
- 4.6
- Score
There's something undeniably strange about Super Rocket Buddy. It's a game where, instead of firing missiles or projectiles, you launch your own ragdoll body - repeatedly - into walls, spikes, and occasionally a bullseye. It sounds dumb. It kind of is. And yet, I played through more levels than I meant to, trying to angle my poor elastic-limbed Buddy just right to hit the next target. This isn't your typical physics puzzler. It's more like a chaotic science experiment where the laws of motion are flexible, your character is disposable, and dignity goes out the window the moment you pull the slingshot back for the first time. Mechanically, it's simple: you pull back, aim, release, and watch your Buddy fly across the screen in a glorious, flopping arc. The challenge isn't just in getting to the target - it's in bouncing off walls, sliding through narrow gaps, and somehow landing with enough force and angle to hit whatever's waiting at the other end. Some levels feel like pure luck. Others feel oddly surgical. You'll go from overshooting by a mile to ricocheting off three corners into a perfect bullseye, and it all feels equally ridiculous. The ragdoll physics are intentionally uncooperative, so even when you think you've lined up the perfect shot, Buddy might twist mid-air, catch a ledge, and flop helplessly to the floor. And that's part of the charm - watching your failures unfold in the slow-motion chaos of limbs and gravity gone wrong. What makes Super Rocket Buddy stick (sometimes literally) is that it fully commits to its own nonsense. The level design keeps evolving, adding moving targets, rotating platforms, spikes, portals, and other nonsense that turns each stage into a cartoon physics sandbox. There's no score system, no time limit - just the satisfaction of eventually launching your squishy self into something that makes the level end. It doesn't take itself seriously, and it doesn't want you to either. You're flinging a human projectile around like a beanbag with eyeballs. And yet, there's a weird elegance buried under the absurdity. Timing, angles, and creative rebounds actually matter. And when you finally land that impossible shot after ten failed attempts? You'll smile, shake your head, and pull back the slingshot for the next one.
