No game has ever fought harder not to be played than Frog Legs. Crash after crash, I became more accustomed to the Steam page than the game itself. Alas, I got some work in and formed an opinion on the little game.
Developed by and published by Elliot Dahle, Frog Legs is a short nostalgia-bait that covers everything from Horror, Comedy, Puzzles, Boomer Shooter, and walking simulator genres, all at the same time.
There are many genres of games, taking various twists and turns to match the current trends, or to simply bank on nostalgia. Then, some games manage to be both unique and bank on nostalgia. Frog Legs is not that… It is a short over-30 over-30-minute game split into a few nostalgia-specific pieces.
Parts of the Frog Game
As I said, this game is split into many pieces. All in the name of parody and satire, each section throws completely new and nostalgia-inducing gameplay.
Frogger
We start, exactly where you’d expect, with Frogger. You control four adorable frog friends, hopping your way across traffic and water to safety. It’s charming and instantly familiar. But then, on your final attempt, things go sideways. The traffic speeds up to near-impossible levels, and the last frog, Bill, doesn’t make it. He dies. Horribly.
Tragedy
Cue the Oregon Trail vibes, but grimmer. The second part drops gameplay entirely, opting for a cutscene in a dead forest. This is the game’s grief-processing segment, where your frogs come to terms with Bill’s untimely squish. There’s nothing to do but watch and sit in discomfort. It’s bleak, weirdly effective, and very not what you expect from something that just asked you to dodge tires.
Frog Horror
PS2-era horror game with no budget. You wake up from a nightmare, the power’s out, and the only thing in your hand is a flashlight. There’s no combat, just vibes and dread. The game deliberately plays with horror tropes and even nudges the fourth wall, clearly aware of how far it has come from Frogger. It’s a playable, ambient haunted house, and for what it is, it works.
DOOM
What starts as a gentle puzzle segment suddenly locks and loads into a full-blown boomer shooter. Yes, Frog Legs turns into a low-res, high-octane FPS straight out of the early ‘90s. Think DOOM meets… Kermit. You’ve got chunky UI, floaty movement, and a series of corridors that would feel right at home on MS-DOS. It’s a blast. For a game that barely works, this part somehow nails old-school shooter pacing, and it’s just guided enough to keep you from getting stuck while still letting you feel clever.
Frog Boss Rush
Not done shooting yet. This part continues the DOOM-core energy with a boss fight. You’re handed a BFG—but don’t assume the “F” means what you think it does—and shoved into a fight that’s big on firepower but short on runtime. It’s the kind of over-the-top nonsense you wish the rest of the game leaned into more.
BOOM
Now it’s Frogger meets Galaga, somehow. This should’ve been the ultimate genre fusion, with twitchy dodging and shoot-em-up chaos, but the final boss sort of beats itself, robbing you of any real effort. You’re just there to watch the fireworks.
Cool idea, let down by its automation. Still, it’s hard not to appreciate the sheer ambition of mashing these two genres together.
Frog End
And then… it ends. No questions answered. No real resolution. Just the frogs sitting around, like they didn’t just fight a demonic hell boss powered by amphibian flatulence. It’s a weird, chill epilogue, capped off with a joke and zero emotional closure.
Feels on-brand at this point.
Ribbit & Tear
Frog Legs is the kind of game that feels like it was made on a dare—and maybe it was. It doesn’t aim to be polished, or consistent, or even stable. But what it lacks in structure, it makes up for in sheer chaotic ambition.
It’s seven games duct-taped together, soaked in nostalgia, then lit on fire by a fart joke.
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