The original Hotline Miami was brutish, nasty, short. Its basic vocabulary was elegant enough to support a score-attack videogame but loose enough, creative enough to make you feel like that wasn't entirely the point. It was a marriage of Robotron and Lynch, Pollock with a machete going through the comedown of a century. It was about turning ugly uglyness into beautiful uglyness. If you lacked the hyperacute reflexes necessary to score an A grade in every level, you could still chase that feeling. Despite the bad-trip aesthetic and the bloody cruelty of it all, it actually represented a kind of harmony: pop art enhancing a game, a game enhancing pop art. It's a classic for that reason.