The last Accolade: Early 90s Arcade Scene

It's Saturday afternoon, my friend and I are walking aimlessly around the mall. We have some time to kill before the evening showing of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 3. Tired of gawking at the usual suspects, I ask my friend if he has any change. “Yeah,” he responds. I gesture my head towards the back end of the mall.

My friend smiles, and we both dash towards Castle Arcade.

The movie ended up sucking (really, really, bad), but we left happy because we got to play our favourite arcade games. Not only that, we each administered swift beatings to all challengers in Darkstalkers, Samurai Showdown and Super Street Fighter II, respectively.

Walking into any arcade in the early nineties, you'd find the rooms packed with dedicated patrons, onlookers, and local game freaks. The scene was alive with all manner of characters from different backgrounds, the sounds of slotted quarters, and frantic button mushing.

The newer machines would always be surrounded by bodies of anxiously waiting video game fanatics. Every time you'd loose a bout or a game, you'd have to squeeze through a group of people to stand aside – but not before placing your quarter on the cabinet. The silver coin was a token confirming you'll return after the next round got served.

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The gritty museum-like appearance of rows of cabinets in the bigger arcades was always a spectacle to behold. The new games were usually in the front: this was a key place because it always made the arcade look crowded. Midway stood the less popular games; the more obscure titles could be found there. The back was crammed with all the oldies. Classic arcades that begun it all: Pac-Man, Galaga and Donkey Kong. Squeezed between the new and old games, were car simulators, flashy pinball machines, and odd card games like strip poker.

The, now elusive, arcade cabinets were not only found in malls, but also in various convenience stores. I remember parking my bicycle outside a random gas station, and going in to buy a popsicle, only to emerge half an hour later because I played Golden Axe. That's also how my first bike got stolen. 

What can I say... great times!

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Within the mecca of all the computerized sounds and frantic yells, my friends and I would let loose. It wasn't strange to come in with a group and take over a game for an hour or two. That's how champions trained. Sometimes strangers would step up to prove their skills. And after and hour or two, we would become friends -- sometimes. In fact, I still have good friends that I met exclusively at the local arcades.

The nineties grudgingly rolled on, and so did the game industry. Home systems were beginning to slowly take over. Hardware accelerated to a point were it was on par with the most advanced arcade boards. Slowly but surely the last greased joystick would fall apart. And with it an entire industry of arcade distributors, technicians, caretakers and fans.

Lost but not forgotten

Once Internet enabled worldwide connectivity it was lights out for the local arcade scene. Gamers could now play from the comfort of their own home. Gamers could now be a part of a bigger digital sphere.

However, there's a lot to be said about facing an opponent who is standing next to you. In that situation, a hurled insult could net you beating, or better yet, a digital confrontation with you strongest characters. Either way, you'd walk away only to come back after some significant playtime at another arcade (or with your friends).

My local arcade no longer exists. It's a clothing store with a pocket-sized pizzeria attached to it. Every now and then when I walk past there, I instinctively reach for my wallet to see if there's any change jingling inside.