Oh, that's simple.
I'd make a brutally unfair 16-bit platform shooter and advertise it as a charming, family-friendly test of skill and perseverance. Reviewers would call it "challenging but rewarding." They always do. It's amazing what people will endure if you tell them the suffering is building character.
The first stage would be delightful. Cheerful music. Bright colors. Enemies that politely announce themselves before wandering toward the player with all the urgency of a distracted mall security guard. Players would relax. They'd trust the game.
Then, somewhere around Stage 2-3, the floor would stop being a floor.
No cracking animation. No ominous rumbling. No suspicious discoloration in the tiles. You would simply step forward and discover that your faith in basic environmental stability was the real obstacle all along.
Checkpoints would exist, of course. I'm not a monster.
They would simply be placed in locations that suggest optimism rather than provide assistance.
The bosses wouldn't have attack patterns so much as unresolved psychological baggage. One would become invulnerable halfway through the fight because it's "setting healthy boundaries." Another would only expose its weak point while criticizing your reaction speed and asking if this is really your best effort.
Power-ups would encourage strategic thinking through carefully balanced consequences.
Triple Shot? Wonderful. Your jump height is now comparable to an arthritic tortoise.
Extra Health? Excellent choice. You now accelerate with the enthusiasm of refrigerated pudding.
Temporary Invincibility? Lasts three seconds. Four, if you're an exceptional person.
You probably aren't.
The instruction manual would reassure players that every trap is clearly telegraphed to attentive individuals. This would be a lie, but an inspirational one. It would also recommend taking regular breaks to reduce stress and maintain perspective, which is adorable considering the circumstances.
By the final stages, players would either develop reflexes bordering on the supernatural or assemble an entirely new vocabulary of profanity. Both outcomes represent meaningful personal growth.
The credits would thank them for participating in this completely voluntary experience and note that, statistically speaking, the overwhelming majority performed below expectations.
I would describe it as a love letter to retro gaming.
Everyone else would describe it as Exhibit A.