I'm beginning to think I give frog-based games special treatment. Because I think this game is awesome, and everyone should play it.
Frogger was one of the titles I played again and again during my youth. I enjoyed the tunes at the beginning, which sound on-key. That's some real programming!
And it still sounds good. Looks good. Plays good. I like how Frogger is split into two scenes. First, we have to dodge Dodge Darts, or whatever. Hey, it's 1982 in this game. I think it's easy to jump into a car if you're following behind it, but that could just be me. I tried playing this with a Sega Genesis controller and thought it was slightly easier to maneuver Mr. Frogger. If you don't know, Atari and Sega controllers are interchangeable. This meant when I first got a Sega Genesis, whoever got stuck playing Tails had to use an Atari joystick.
Frogger always reminds of the Seinfeld episode. What I can remember, anyway, which may or may not be accurate. George tries to save the Frogger arcade cabinet, because it continues to hold his top high score from his glory days. I believe the story ended with George pushing the arcade cabinet in between heavy traffic, all shot from overhead, of course, until it gets smashed by a truck or something. "You couldn't beat the street in real life," said Jerry, "It's game over for you, my friend." Okay, I have no idea if Jerry said that. It just sounds like something he would say.
What I like about the top water scene in the game is the reversal in gameplay. I think it's this combination of flipped gameplay and mixed strategy, as well as a reward system (fly, lady frog) that makes this game great. In the river scene, instead of avoiding objects, we are now jumping onto them. And here the things are more interactive than the trucks and race cars. We have turtles that rise and sink, logs moving at different speeds, the hopping white "lady frog," and alligators.
Please note, if you have the difficulty switch set to A and you're on a log approaching the edge of the screen, you "splooch" against the "wall" of the screen. "Splooch" is the word they use in the manual, okay? And to be honest, it is a very satisfying "splooch" sound. I laugh almost every time I die in this game, for real. Maybe it's the flattened frog. I don't know. Either way, the sploochy A is harder, but involves more strategy, so it's fun that way. Take your pick.
My son has a box of Frogger magnets, which are cool; you can design your own scene with arcade pixel images. I showed him Frogger again after seeing the magnets. I got stuck on a log with nowhere to hop. I cringed, preparing for the splooch as my log floated off the screen. I came out safely on the other side. What?! How did I never . . . ? Obviously, the switch was set to B. See, in my memory, when I played Frogger as a child and teen, the frog always splooched on the screen. Apparently I always played it on difficulty A. Well, what do you know, this makes it easier. Thanks, son, for reminding me to play Frogger. What a discovery. And that's why you should always read your Atari manuals!
Finally, the game is satisfying because you get a sense of completion when you hop into the coves or puddles or toilets at the top of the screen. You know, the blue squares between the green squares. Oh--the manual says the spaces are "home bays" between "green shrubbery." There you go. As you can see, not everything in the game is detailed. I didn't even mention that. Everything else in this game is detailed. Very well. There, I mentioned it. If you need to point out that the turtles are only bluish and reddish ovals, and therefore not detailed, well, I will point out to you that they're actually terrapins, not turtles, to which you will inform me that the British classification of shelled reptiles is irrelevant here in the United States, and I will put on a British accent to confound you and it will sound more New Zealand and I will scream and run out of the room. You win. The point is that Frogger is a great jumping splooching totally still rad and playable and fun game today. Thank you.
Like I said, it's very satisfying to fill in all the "home bays." You can even score a fly sometimes. And you can jump into a bay with a rising alligator, if he hasn't emerged completely yet. That tip totally came in handy. See? Read the manual.
Note: I am aware of "The Official Frogger" for use with the Supercharger, and will play it should that day come.
Due to the great graphics and sound, unique gameplay, the variety of interactive elements, the rewards, and the regular sense of achievement, as well as being a true arcade classic . . .
I recommend Frogger to everyone.
Life game . . .
I already quit taking the new pill I started, after about a week and a half or so. Did the pill work? Well, it distracted me from anxiety by overpowering me with drowsiness, the kind that makes you fall asleep at the wheel. The pill kept depressing, negative thoughts at bay by clouding my head so full of brain fog I couldn't think much at all. And the pill made sure I couldn't feel depressed, because I was so busy kicking my legs and writhing in pain at the severe muscle cramps that prevented my drowsy, foggy head from falling asleep. So did it work? I really don't know. And I wasn't going to suffer anymore to find out, even if the side effects wind down after a couple weeks. I made it close enough. No thank you.
So what else you got?
Pills are not the answer. Pills treat the symptoms, not the disease. I need to get to the root of my depression.
But when I look, all I find is a well, a familiar well I dug a long time ago, and have been drinking from ever since. I can't remember any wells before then. I have been with depression so long that there is no root, there is only the source, dark and cold, forever springing from this endless well.
I had a long line, like a string, as a child, and carried it around with me. So did all the other kids. My line was long, and went out to all around me. But as I grew into an adolescent, I pulled it closer, until I held it so close it was hidden for a while. Then I showed it to some people who showed me theirs. We shared lines. Our lines were all connected.
Then my line was cut, short, frayed, hard. I was disconnected from everyone. My line was like a short, dead worm in my palm. They had cut it. They had killed it. And ever since, I've kept the line short, sometimes cutting it shorter myself, sometimes cutting other's lines. It's so short now it's like a whisker. But I'm told, like a whisker, it can grow back with time, and grow long and fine.
I like to be alone. I can finally breath and let my line out, small as it is.
My dog has a line that has never shrunk.
Mine can't grow back. I've shaved it so close. And I continue to shave it. For anyone to connect to my line, they must be very, very close to me, for it is so short. And for anyone to connect with my line is very, very hazardous for them. If they won't let go of mine, I may just hack their own line, and no one ever likes that, me included.
It's easier to stay away. I see other people's lines. Sometimes they seem foolish or desperate, waving their line, untrimmed, at anyone who will pay attention to them. Others are more refined. They will give you a glimpse of a line, a smile, but we all know it ends there.
If I could, I would grow mine wild and toss it into the air and the breeze would wind it around the world and I would know peace.
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