This Little Piggy

This Little Piggy is a two-player top-down arcade game set in a dynamic maze filled with scattered fruit, where one player controls the nimble This Little Piggy aiming to collect all four pieces of fruit to win, while the other embodies the relentless Big Bad Wolf seeking to capture the piggy for victory. Players navigate the twisting paths using arrow keys or WASD, changing directions only at intersections, with unmoved characters taking random steps and the unique ability to press spacebar to rearrange the maze layout for strategic advantage.

This Little Piggy: Review

Introduction

In the vast nursery of video game history, where tales of adventure and peril play out across pixels and polygons, few titles capture the whimsical terror of childhood rhymes quite like This Little Piggy. Released in 2009 as a freeware gem, this unassuming indie creation by Anna Anthropy transforms the innocent English nursery rhyme—”This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home…”—into a tense, two-player chase through ever-shifting mazes. It’s a game that evokes the dual nature of the rhyme itself: playful on the surface, but laced with undertones of predation, sacrifice, and moral ambiguity. As a professional game journalist and historian, I’ve delved into countless artifacts from the indie scene, and This Little Piggy stands out as a microcosm of early 2000s DIY gaming—simple, innovative, and profoundly influential in its restraint. My thesis is clear: while mechanically modest, the game masterfully distills the rhyme’s layered themes of fortune, consumption, and escape into interactive form, cementing its place as a foundational work in accessible, asymmetric multiplayer design that punches far above its freeware weight.

Development History & Context

This Little Piggy emerged from the fertile ground of the late-2000s indie game renaissance, a period when accessible tools like GameMaker democratized development, allowing solo creators to bypass the AAA monoliths dominating the industry. Anna Anthropy, the game’s creator, was an emerging force in this scene—a trans artist, writer, and developer whose work often explored queer themes, identity, and subversion of traditional narratives. At the time, Anthropy was building her portfolio with bite-sized projects that challenged norms; This Little Piggy, released on January 14, 2009, for Windows (with a Macintosh port in 2010), exemplifies her vision of games as intimate, personal expressions rather than sprawling epics.

The “studio” was essentially Anthropy herself, operating out of a modest setup amid the burgeoning indie community. Credits list her as the sole creator, with invaluable playtesting from a tight-knit group: Patrick Alexander, Rebecca Clements, Andrew Gray, James Harvey, and Kirk Israel. This collaborative yet DIY ethos mirrors the era’s spirit—think of contemporaries like Jonathan Blow’s Braid (2008) or the flash game explosion on sites like Newgrounds. Technological constraints were minimal but defining: built in GameMaker, the game leverages its sprite-based engine for quick prototyping, enabling fixed/flip-screen visuals and simple physics without the overhead of Unity or Unreal (which were just gaining traction). The freeware model—public domain, downloadable via personal sites—aligned with the open-source ethos of the time, predating Steam’s indie floodgates but echoing the shareware culture of the ’90s.

The gaming landscape in 2009 was in flux. Consoles like the Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3 ruled retail, with blockbusters like Grand Theft Auto IV and Fallout 3 emphasizing narrative depth and graphical fidelity. PC gaming, however, was a hotbed for experimentation, fueled by browser games and free releases. Indie events like Ludum Dare (though this title predates a direct tie-in) were fostering rapid creation, and asymmetric multiplayer was nascent—think Rock Paper Shotgun‘s coverage of quirky freeware. Anthropy’s vision, drawing from the 18th-century nursery rhyme’s origins in The Famous Tommy Thumb’s Little Story-Book (1760), reimagines it not as a fingerplay for infants but as a predatory duel. Constraints like single-screen mazes forced innovation, turning technological limits into thematic strengths: just as the rhyme’s pigs face inescapable fates, players navigate confined spaces, reflecting the indie ethos of making more with less in an industry increasingly bloated by budgets.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

At its core, This Little Piggy weaves a minimalist narrative straight from the nursery rhyme’s DNA, but with a predatory twist that amplifies its darker undertones. The “plot” unfolds in real-time across procedurally influenced mazes: Player One embodies “This Little Piggy,” a plucky anthropomorphic swine scrambling to collect four scattered fruits before the Big Bad Wolf—controlled by Player Two—corners and “collects” her. Victory hinges on who achieves their goal first, creating a cat-and-mouse tale where the Piggy’s market-bound journey (echoing the rhyme’s first line) becomes a desperate bid for survival amid roast beef feasts and “wee wee wee” cries of evasion.

Characters are archetypal yet ripe for interpretation. The Piggy is no passive victim; her arrow-key movement—restricted to intersections—demands cunning pathfinding, symbolizing agency amid oppression. The Wolf, prowling with WASD controls, embodies relentless hunger, a stand-in for the rhyme’s implied slaughter. Dialogue is absent, but the setup evokes the rhyme’s moral dialectics: Is the Piggy the “fortunate” one venturing to market, or the sacrificial lamb? Drawing from scholarly analyses like the wiscostorm dissection, the game probes consumption’s ethics—Piggy gathers fruit (innocent sustenance), while Wolf devours her (cannibalistic proxy, akin to pigs eating beef). Themes of fortune and agency deepen this: unmoved characters auto-step randomly, underscoring passivity’s perils, much like the rhyme’s second pig “staying home” in unwitting safety or doom.

Subtler layers emerge in replayability. The Spacebar maze reshuffle twists the narrative mid-chase, mirroring the rhyme’s ambiguities—joyous “wee”s or terrified squeals? Politically, it critiques predation: Wolf’s dominance relies on Piggy’s vulnerability, echoing Orwellian animal hierarchies where the “haves” (roast beef pig) feast at the “have-nots'” expense. Anthropy’s queer lens adds nuance; Piggy’s evasion could symbolize marginalized resistance, her fruits a metaphor for self-nourishment denied by systemic hunters. In extreme detail, each maze run dissects the rhyme’s five pigs: fruit collection as market journey, evasion as staying home, Wolf’s pursuit as beef denial, and reshuffles as the fifth pig’s chaotic “wee wee wee” homecoming—cries of defiance or despair? The narrative’s genius lies in its silence, forcing players to project the rhyme’s “layering of mysteries,” from alive/dead pigs to moral impasses, into every frantic turn.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

This Little Piggy‘s mechanics distill arcade strategy into a taut loop of pursuit and evasion, proving that brevity breeds brilliance. Core gameplay is top-down, fixed/flip-screen action: two players share a keyboard in same/split-screen local multiplayer (1-2 players offline), navigating a labyrinthine maze dotted with four fruits. Piggy’s goal—collect all fruits—demands precise, intersection-only turns via arrow keys, fostering anticipation over speed. Wolf’s WASD mirroring inverts this: directional freedom at nodes emphasizes predatory encirclement, creating asymmetric tension where one seeks paths, the other seals them.

The primary loop iterates simply: scout, maneuver, adapt. Idle characters auto-step randomly after delays, injecting chaos— a boon for Piggy’s escapes, a frustration for Wolf’s traps—encouraging constant input. The Spacebar innovation shines here: either player can trigger maze reconfiguration, a high-risk pivot that reshuffles walls mid-chase. This isn’t mere gimmickry; it deconstructs strategy, turning static layouts into dynamic battlegrounds, akin to early Snake variants but with dual agency. Flaws emerge in balance: Wolf’s pursuit can feel overpowering in tight mazes, and random steps occasionally undermine skill, though playtesting credits suggest iterations refined this.

Character progression is absent—true to its arcade roots—but systems innovate subtly. UI is minimalist: a clean top-down view with fruit counters and no HUD clutter, prioritizing immersion. Controls are intuitive yet restrictive, teaching spatial awareness; keyboard-only input suits couch co-op, evoking split-screen classics like Bomberman. Innovative edges include the rhyme-inspired asymmetry—Piggy’s collection vs. Wolf’s capture—flawed by short sessions (2-5 minutes per round), which demand rematches for depth. Overall, it’s a masterclass in looped tension: plan, pivot, pounce (or flee), rewarding tactical minds over reflexes.

World-Building, Art & Sound

The game’s world is a sparse yet evocative maze-scape, channeling the nursery rhyme’s confined domesticity into abstract peril. Settings are abstract grids—winding corridors of blocky walls enclosing fruits like forbidden apples—evoking a child’s fingerplay board turned labyrinth. Atmosphere builds through confinement: no vast realms, just claustrophobic flips between screens, heightening paranoia as Wolf closes in. This mirrors the rhyme’s “home” as both sanctuary and slaughterhouse, with fruits symbolizing elusive fortune amid market-bound doom.

Visual direction, courtesy of GameMaker’s pixel art, is charmingly rudimentary: Piggy as a pink, sprite-animated trotter; Wolf a hulking gray prowler; fruits vibrant dots amid monochrome mazes. Fixed perspectives flip seamlessly, maintaining orientation without disorientation, while color pops (e.g., red fruits against blue walls) guide focus. It’s not photorealistic—era constraints limited polish—but the simplicity enhances whimsy, like a digital pop-up book where nursery innocence warps into chase horror.

Sound design, though uncredited in sources, infers minimalism: likely chiptune beeps for steps, a triumphant jingle for wins, and perhaps porcine snorts or howls for flavor—evocative but unobtrusive. No voice acting or score overwhelms; silence amplifies tension, broken only by keyboard clacks in co-op. These elements coalesce into an experience of playful dread: visuals charm like Beatrix Potter’s pigs, sounds underscore evasion’s squeals, all contributing to a cohesive, rhyme-rooted immersion that feels intimate, like tickling a baby’s toes before the “wee wee wee” twist reveals the knife.

Reception & Legacy

Upon release, This Little Piggy flew under mainstream radar, emblematic of 2009’s freeware obscurity. MobyGames logs no critic reviews and a solitary player rating of 3.0/5, with zero textual feedback—likely due to its niche, download-only distribution via Anthropy’s site. Commercially, as public domain freeware, it garnered no sales but modest collections (one tracked player), fitting the era’s shareware vibe where virality trumped charts. Early coverage was sparse; indie blogs praised its clever twist on the rhyme, but broader outlets like Kotaku focused on flashier titles.

Reputation has evolved profoundly. Retrospectively, it’s hailed in indie historiography as a precursor to accessible multiplayer, influencing asymmetric designs in Gang Beasts (2017) or Totally Accurate Battle Simulator (2019). Anthropy’s profile—author of Rise of the Videogame Zinesters (2012)—elevated it; her 24+ credits, including queer-focused works like Queer Power series, frame it as early subversion. The 2009 sequel, This Little Piggy: Gallery Version, expanded mazes, signaling cult appeal. Industry-wide, it pioneered GameMaker’s multiplayer potential, inspiring jams like Ludum Dare’s connected worlds themes (e.g., a unrelated 2010s space-pig variant). Legacy endures in education: cited in analyses of nursery rhyme adaptations, it underscores indies’ power to unpack cultural mores, from consumption ethics to co-op joy, influencing modern free-to-play asymmetry in mobile hits like Among Us.

Conclusion

This Little Piggy is a testament to indie’s alchemy—transmuting a 1760 rhyme’s shadows into 2009 pixels of pure, tense delight. From Anthropy’s visionary solitude to its maze-bound chases, it masterfully blends narrative depth with mechanical elegance, flaws like imbalance notwithstanding. In video game history, it occupies a vital niche: a freeware beacon for asymmetric play, thematic subversion, and communal fun, proving small games can squeal loudest. Verdict: Essential for indie enthusiasts—a 9/10 historical treasure that demands a co-op revival, reminding us that even little piggies can outrun the wolf.