Saturday Soapbox: The Arcade Fire Dies
Martin laments the decline of the UK arcade.
It's these excesses that would arguably get the better of Suzuki, the multi-million folly and subsequent flop of Shenmue ensuring that his output diminished to the point that, upon his imminent departure, there's little fanfare; a strange fate for someone who was once as entwined with the character of SEGA as Shigeru Miyamoto is with Nintendo.
Suzuki's future seems more modest as he works with YS NET on Shenmue Town and extends into social and mobile development, asking no longer for 50p pieces that fuelled his arcade creations but chasing the change that swills around the Android, iPhone and other handheld markets.
The arcade's own excesses were equally unsustainable, and so long and steady has been their decline that it's sadly unsurprising that when the biggest of their number in London goes under it barely registers. The reasons for the downfall are many and obvious; the rise in power of home consoles negating one side of the arcade's attraction, the ascent of online gaming negating the other, more social draw.
Like Yu Suzuki's own trajectory, the arcade's future in the UK now seems more modest. Venues persist, though they're shadows of the multi-tiered carnivals of old, and whereas arcades used to present a slice of the future they now serve a more retrospective and esoteric purpose, acting as museums that preserve a moment that's passed.
Exeter's Arcade Barn is one such time capsule, run by enthusiast Shaun Meldon from an unmarked corner of an industrial estate. Here you find an evolving line-up of cabinets in pristine condition and free-to-play, a small cover charge allowing paying punters an entire day spent snooping around the various machines. A loose cut-off point of 1990 reinforces the retro flavour of the collection.
Elsewhere, London's Casino Leisure arcade - sitting on the more sedate end of Tottenham Court Road - offers a more contemporary collection, although it's more hardcore in its concerns. Beneath the rattle and hum of fruit machines on the top floor there's an ever-changing line-up of cabinets taking in the latest 2D shmups and brawlers, with arcade boards often kindly donated by a dedicated community.
Both are vibrant and well supported, though a long way from the bustle of the Trocadero in its nineties heyday. A part of our history has been lost, and a once-important pillar of gaming has disappeared while suffering the ignominious fate of going un-mourned. It's worth taking some time to pay our final respects.