The term “loot” gets thrown around a lot in video games, view symptoms mostly because it’s one of the easiest ways for developers to hook their players. What cool thing might be inside the next chest, dead monster, or “level-up” bonus in your favorite game? New axe? Shiny armor? Silly hats?

Time and time again, this conceit works, perhaps because it taps into our universal “giddy kid on Christmas Eve” complex. Some games apply this addictive formula in subtle ways, while others are so shameless that they look more like slot machines. But what happens when a game is so obsessed with the basic premise of “always be gettin’ new stuff” that it puts the word “Loot” in its title?

In the case of Loot Rascals, genius happens.

Enlarge / Forget Wii Fit. At Ars Technica, information pills we’re Switch Swole.

We’ve tested the Nintendo Switch on planes. We’ve Switched at bars. We’ve Switched in beds, buy on couches, at coffee shops, and, yes, in bathrooms. (Don’t judge. Once you get hooked on Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, you too will come up with excuses for why you couldn’t put your incredibly portable game system down for a few minutes.)

Having tested Nintendo’s new home-portable hybrid system in all kinds of situations, I got one idea that I was surprised I hadn’t seen other gaming and Nintendo fans suggest: the gym. For years, gaming and fitness have eyed each other coyly, with Wii Fit in particular sparking an obnoxious trend of bulky, workout-minded kits for game systems. This trend has mostly fallen by the wayside, and I remember it less-than-fondly every time I notice an old EA Sports Active 2 bundle buried in my pile of old-tech boxes.

I’ve always been more interested in the stories of gamers who attach traditional games to their fitness regimens, like World of Warcraft rigs slapped onto treadmills. Yet these have also seemed less than ideal. How are you supposed to walk even slightly fast—let alone jog—while managing a mouse and keyboard rig?