They say looks aren’t everything, but sometimes you stumble across a game whose initial screens and promoted visuals require a deeper look. And when it comes to games, from personal experience, a platformer whose own premise describes itself as housing “chunky polygons” is one you’ll naturally gravitate towards. A game whose appearance will immediately conjure a visage of many a 3D platformer borne not of Nintendo or even Sony’s making. The kind of releases, finding a home on either company’s home consoles, whose age and snapshot of early 3D game design is likely more prevalent than the enjoyment one admittedly felt at the time. Releases whose main protagonists/mascots/characters were not Mario, Banjo, Sonic, Crash or Spyro, but instead graced our screens with characters such as Bomberman, Croc, Glover and…a robot on one wheel.
Frogun is a game all about rigid, polygonal level design, arguably-clunky controls and a period in platformers' history where it was less about reinvention than it was simply appeasing the budding community still eager for more of these types of releases, regardless of end quality. It’s a game longing for a return trip to the late-90s. Where platformers saturated (if not dominated) and whose aesthetic charm and challenge to 100% all there was to invest in could usually suffice. That generation-hopping venture does mean we sacrifice plenty of modern day qualities, but it’s Frogun’s commitment to that style of design that makes this by far one of the more interesting demos to take out of this latest round of playable demos via the Steam Next Fest.
Of course I’m well aware of the optics from those having grown up devoid – or simply disinterested – with this particular genre and style of game. So too I’ll happily concede that just one look from any one screen here, may well cause people to recoil in disgust or at the very least, confusion as to why such a game direction evokes any intrigue to begin with. This is no pixel-art indulgence, nor is it some low-poly style that masks the deliberate restriction with an appealing use of color/lighting/world design. In fact, Frogun’s presentation is entirely dedicated to that very limitation on detail. To a time where platformers had just taken that first bold, brave step into three dimensions…and were still figuring things out along the way. Where skyboxes and background patterns in a game like Super Mario 64 or the original Spyro the Dragon were, on occasion, more mesmerizing and speculative than the levels themselves. But is this new form of nostalgia all that surprising in current year? After all, how long have been blessed/inundated with titles aiming to replicate the feel and vibe of 16-bit SNES/Genesis-era great’s? If that’s the case, Frogun isn’t the first to push this new wave of appealing to our days glued to our N64/PlayStation consoles, nor will it be the last.
So then, what is it about Frogun that is so appealing? If this nostalgia-pandering especially feels inevitably predictable, more so than it does surprising and uplifting, surely that works against the game, no? Well, that’s the thing; personal history may well play its part here, but developer Molegato have in a way recognized that platformers of yore were indeed as much burdened by their limitation as they were beneficiaries of them. You take one look at the ample ninety-degree corners and general structure to Frogun’s levels, but so too you eventually catch sight that maybe you can find a way to “skip” certain parts. To cut off a few seconds in the pursuit of that time-focused collectible. So too the level design is comprised of blocks atop other blocks, yet that limitation means a steady flow of well-timed jumps and usage of your frog-themed lasso-turn-grappling hook is key.
There are secret routes to work out and in turn, floating platforms to navigate and deduce where they end up taking you. Frogun’s music and overall sound accompaniments, if a little repetitive, still has that little jingle that plays when a level is beaten or a collectible is finally acquired. The design is rigid, the controls aren’t fluid by any stretch, but amidst these limitations, that satisfaction of accomplishment doesn’t waver. It’s no wonder that the more I play of Frogun, the more I’m reminded specifically of a game like Bomberman 64. A game I’m far more critical of now than I was in my younger years naturally, but whose charm and feeling of victory – that aforementioned end-of-level sound-bite – still makes me smile. Conquering all of Black Fortress as a kid felt nightmarish, but eventually uplifting to master. The tricks and trip-ups may be gone, but the satisfaction remains.
Back then, you could argue any such awareness of limitations was irrelevant, but here that’s not the case. Frogun is honest about what kind of game it wants to be and it’s perhaps such a bold intention where respect is more prevalent than confusion. I haven’t delved too deeply into Molegato’s pitch, but as far as I’m aware, there are no long-winded segments describing Frogun as a game about “loss/hope/love/friendship/the beginning/the end” and so on. Nor do you boot up the demo and find you’re immediately greeted with some unnecessary warning that the game covers sensitive topics surrounding mental health or the like. There are no allegories, no ham-fisted metaphors, no reference to the environment, to politics, to one-dimensional “bad people doing bad things being bad because they’re bad” ramblings. Not that games can’t tackle any of the above – and pull it off superbly when executed right – the point is Frogun is confident in what it wants to be. It’s not trying to make excuses for its deliberate, intended presentation, not is it seemingly ashamed or worried about its perceived look. And that honesty is refreshing to see.
That of course doesn’t mean Frogun is entirely absolved of its narrowing of scope. A completion list for every level on its own would be appreciated, so that one knew what collectibles were missing and where rather than pooling them all together and having you guess/remember which levels still required a second/third visit. As for its menus and user interface, one can hope the developers will find a more suitable font and layout – one aspect of ’90s design all crowds, myself included, are fine to see confined to history. And that’s before we even tackle the figurative elephant that is the feel of gameplay. A control scheme and manner of responsiveness that generally seems one step away from frustration. Least of all in those frantic, split-second, platforming-hopping moments. Where grappling onto a surface – so too the indicator to denote what’s reachable and what isn’t – isn’t the smoothest experience.
A consequence of the powers that be – of how cynical and tired we all feel with the way certain corners of the gaming industry have been led and turned into – that doesn’t mean Frogun’s charm is in any way diminished. Appealing to but the most ardent of platforming fans it may end up becoming, the game’s honesty and impassioned intentions do lend themselves well. Excursions up and around its 3D levels that are not without a challenge to overcome and interesting experiments with traversal to work out. Proof that even the least-graciously aged of 3D platformers still hold some charm and value literal decades on. Frogun in a way is a testament to that decades-old staying power. If nothing else, Molegato’s rekindling of simpler times with this genre are much appreciated.
