It's intriguing to revisit an experience as violently, exhilaratingly unfair as 16-bit Sonic today. One design concept that commands a lot of regard at present is "flow" - briefly, that supposedly Zen-like state of heightened appreciation when a game is just challenging enough to keep you hooked, but not so challenging that you lose patience. I can't imagine anything further away from that than the average 2D Sonic level (on your first attempt, at least), thanks to the infuriating way Sonic works against itself.
The game's exquisite pinball handling and smooth-scrolling raster graphics are an incentive to let go, to revel in the sense of velocity, but to tumble down even the gentlest rise is to risk being sucked into a series of loops, ramps, warp tubes and bumper pads - power-ups fleetingly, tantalisingly visible in alcoves as terrain traps loom out of screen-right. For every second you'll spend plunging through the infrastructure you'll spend another jumping frantically to scoop up dropped rings, following a head-on collision with a malevolent drone. It's certainly an acquired taste, next to the stately unfolding of the average Mario game.