Confessions of a Former Arcade Kid

Last week I wrote an article about a new venue in Florence, The Arena. It's owners called it the "21st century arcade" and "the ultimate gaming center".

The "21st century" it may be and "gaming center" is quite an accurate term, but "arcade" brings together distinct memories of which I can't say The Arena reminds me.

I grew up near the end of the arcade era. In elementary school, Mortal Kombat had just hit the streets and everyone was going nuts for it. After all, when you punched your opponent, they bled. To my generation of gamers this seemed like the equivalent of the assembly line, the personal computer. It was real, sort of. I remember begging my mom to take me to Myrtle Square Mall, where they had the largest arcade at the beach and two BRAND NEW Mortal Kombat II arcade games. Kids from 8 to the early twenties were gathered around it. I couldn't even see the game, but I could hear it. Scorpion's coarse command of "Get Over Here!" and Sho Kahn's ominous voice of approval as another animated fighter met its end by way of fatality or fell to its doom in The Pit.

The few occasions I was able to scoot to the front I found myself quickly sliced in half, sprayed with acid or set on fire. In any case, I got deaded pretty soon.

So, I played other games. Primal Rage, Time Crisis, NBA Jam, House of the Dead. The blinking lights, pretty colors and cacophonic stereo of music and noises was heaven for a kid with advanced stages of A.D.D. and A.D.H.D. One aspect that was pleasantly absent was the ruthless banter like one finds in the online gaming community. In the arcade, you took victory and defeat with a dash of cool collectedness. You wouldn't dare insult a fellow player's mother or their ancestry unless you really knew them... or were an ass. And let me tell you, blogreader, arcades had their asses, but they were easily recognizable and few in number. You could smell them because they hadn't taken a shower OR washed their hands in weeks and they stunk of sweat and Mountain Dew. They were few in number compared to amiable gamers who would give you some assistance. I remember several gamers, who after noting my lack of skill in MKII, wrote down codes and gave me tips on how to beat a particular character.

I submit that this is not the case in online games. They don't see the person they're insulting and so it's easier to be an ass. After all, you don't have to back it up.

I say that if I had managed to beat a gamer in an arcade and then proceded to strut around the arcade a la Ric Flair meets The Church Lady, I would have gotten pushed to the back of the crowd and shunned from said gaming community.

Gamers, my friend Justin Johnson noted, have always been a reclusive people and arcades were places where they could gather, in person. Arcades were places with coin slots and fat guys sitting in front of prize walls with crappy prizes. Arcades didn't just have the latest video games, but skee-ball, air hockey and the ever rare but always adventurous ball pit. Arcades were a carnivalistic experience. You never knew what kind of new stuff you would see. It was like automated street performers. Each one had to offer something unique to get your attention and, usually, they did.

The Arena features Xbox Live, PS3 and a Wii system. While I admire their effort and while I see the possibility that kids will flock to these games in droves, I must say that an arcade is what I long for. I don't mean a place crowded with fighting games and first person shooters, but interactive games. Games that are just as much fun to watch as they are to play. The arcade is on its way out unless it can come up with something that video game systems and online accounts can't offer. They have to give us a reason to leave the house, which is getting harder and harder to do.

Although I've got my fingers crossed, I'm prepared for the ultimate demise of the arcade. I have been for a long time. Yet, every so often I'll stumble into a place that seems to have gotten it right and I feel a quiver go down my spine. Usually, it's not too crowded. I wonder, how is this still around? Then, I spend a couple of hours pounding away at buttons and twisting joysticks. It can be relaxing.

Of course, those places are few and far between. In a way, I feel like the psyche of the American has grown away from arcades. It's like getting into Beta or something. But I am a dreamer, blogreader, and I'll dream until someone stomps said dream out violently with a big, black boot and yells, in a thunderous voice, "Fatality."

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