Bring a lot of patience and your thinking cap, and this becomes a very enjoyable little PS1 title.
First, a little backstory: Frogger began its digital life as a Konami arcade game released in 1981. The goal was simple: guide a frog from one side of the screen to the other. The path to the other side, however, was anything but easy. The bottom half of the screen was an asphalt gauntlet of deadly automobiles that did their damnedest to crush your frog into goo, while the top half of the screen involved crossing a river with nothing but logs and turtles as stepping-stones. You could certainly say that the game introduced a new definition of "nerve-wracking" to arcade patrons in '81.
Fast-forward to 1998. My brother had received our family's first PlayStation as a birthday gift. Finally graduating to 32-bit gaming was a bit of a trade-off; we finally had access to this great new game system, but we had no games to play on it (and no income to purchase games). Luckily, some kind relative had the sense to buy him at least one game for the thing, and that game was Hasbro Interactive's Frogger.
Once my brother and I had stopped wetting ourselves over the fancy new three-dimensional graphics, we began the process of actually playing the game. I imagine that we were not part of Hasbro's projected demographic for this game; neither of us had never really played the original arcade game or any of its sequels, spin-offs or clones before, so this was mostly an all-new experience to us. The "Retro" introductory levels were clearly designed to simultaneously lure nostalgia-addled consumers into a false sense of security and provide a fairly impressive graphical overhaul to the core concept of the original arcade game.
In order to advance in Frogger, you must reach five baby frogs in a single level, which unlocks the next level. To unlock additional groups of similarly-themed levels, or "zones," you must locate a special golden frog hidden in one of your current zone's levels. In the case of Retro zone, this involves playing through all five stages, which also offers an excellent way to acclimate yourself to the rest of the game.
Although I was being awed by these shiny new polygons, I could never shake the lingering notion through the Retro stages that I was playing a game originally designed by men who were most likely my parent's age. It was just my little frog and this one screen that I had to navigate, over and over. Plus, it wasn't exactly easy or very rewarding for the effort; all you got for finishing a level was a slightly more difficult version of the same level. At this point, the only real changes from the original arcade version seemed to be the graphics (which, ten years later, haven't aged very well) and the silly backstory about rescuing baby frogs.
After many, many attempts of fumbling with the somewhat clunky controls, we finally cleared the Retro levels and began to unlock the meat of the game's content. At the risk of sounding corny, it felt like the whole world of 3D gaming was suddenly unfolding in front of me. Most of the game is comprised of gargantuan levels that make the Retro stages seem like a half-hearted warmup. I couldn't even see the baby frogs from the starting point anymore, which forced me to scout around and plan ahead with each new attempt. Add in some fresh enemies, new hazards, and the constantly-ticking timer, and the game made for some pretty frantic exploration as you desperately searched a level for each hopelessly-lost baby frog.
Of course, the game depends on the ever-present danger of losing your life (and progress) to provide any excitement, which brings us to the single most polarizing factor of this title: it can be HARD. Punishingly hard, in some areas. Since Frogger has no life meter, one hit from any enemy or hazard spells instant death, and you have a limited number of lives to complete a level. Many of the levels require complete memorization and near-flawless execution of the steps to reach a baby frog.
Various hazards that you'll encounter include: floors that fall out after crossing them, preventing any backtracking; slippery terrain that sends Frogger skidding straight into any number of unspeakable grinding mechanisms or endless chasms; random boulder landslides; stifling patches of darkness that greatly reduce your field of vision; scalding jets of steam/fire/noxious gas; more various deadly liquids than I care to recall; deviously-placed enemies that will sting, squash, chop and gnaw you into oblivion...and, of course, that freaking clock which always seems to run out only a few steps away from the last damn baby frog. Suffice it to say that death is the only certainty, and success is the exhilarating exception.
Despite all of this, the game can be rewarding in subtle ways. The soundtrack is excellent, and I found myself lingering in some levels just to listen to a particular song again. The levels themselves all have a pretty distinct ambiance and are interesting to navigate; the Cloud zone features a particularly boggling array of moving platforms such as birds, model planes and actual clouds. It's amusing to watch the various ways that Frogger can die (the first hundred-and-fifty times). And beating a level definitely offers a feeling of accomplishment just for the sheer difficulty.
So, while the game may not be extremely notable by itself, it did serve as my own introduction to 32-bit gaming, and as such carries a lot of nostalgia with it. If you're long on patience, short on cash, and like some strategy in your platformer, pick up Frogger. Hey, it's not as bad as everyone says...it's just not that great, either.