The sad state of arcades

Sorry for the lack of updates lately – didn’t I mention that I was going to be on vacation for the past week or so? I know…I didn’t – my bad. But one good thing (depending on how you look at it) that came out of being away from the blog was that being on the boardwalk gave me the idea for this post.

I’ve been playing video games since I got an NES all the way back in the 80s. Many days and dollars of my childhood were spent buying and renting games but were also spent amongst the rows of cabinets and machines of arcades.

Some of my most enduring memories of vacations to the shore are of all the different arcades on the Ocean City boardwalk or of the year I finally convinced my mom I was old enough to walk all the way down to Jilly’s by myself. After my dad and I finished our usual game of mini-golf at the course next to Wonderland, we always followed it up with a trip to the arcade next door. There was even that one year that a virtual reality place popped up on the boardwalk (it was either gone next year or in some ridiculously out of the way shop). Though this years’ family trip was as relaxing and fun as always, being on the boardwalk reminded me of just how painfully far arcades have fallen.

As much as I enjoy my Xbox 360, the biggest culprit in the downfall of the arcade scene is without-a-doubt the home console market. Once console technology caught up with and surpassed what bigger, bulkier arcade cabinets could do, gamers collectively decided that staying home and playing games was a much simpler option than actually having to go outside.

I can’t remember the last time I saw an arcade somewhere besides the Ocean City boardwalk and, after this year, it seems like it won’t be long before they’re all but gone from there as well. One of the older arcades on the boardwalk (remembered by my mom for having a small, rideable train out front) was gone and turned into a t-shirt shop. Another arcade called “The Zoo” had disappeared (most likely replaced by a t-shirt shop, if I could only remember for sure what block it was on) which I remembered because it had a bunch of pool tables in the back. Yet another arcade which had some of the more unique cabinets on the boardwalk (seriously guys, they had a Super Off-Road cabinet) was also, most likely, turned into a t-shirt shop.

Even the arcades that hadn’t been turned into t-shirt shops were shells of their former selves. The arcade me and my dad used to frequent after mini-golf? Nothing but racing game cabinets and shooters like House of the Dead or Time Crisis. Even Jilly’s looked like the decline of the arcade industry had finally taken its toll. The newest cabinet they had was either some random DDR incarnation, a newish Time Crisis game or a Guitar Hero cabinet (I hope the irony of a GH cabinet being in an arcade isn’t lost on anyone). At least there was still pinball and skee ball. In fact, the majority of the time I spent in Jilly’s was playing the various pinball machines that inhabited the rear of the arcade.

Perhaps I’m just getting old (I feel old as I write what’s basically a “I remember back when…” piece like this) but I almost feel bad for the younger generations of gamers who will never even step foot in an arcade, let alone know the feeling of awe and excitement that came with a trip to one as a kid. Aside from offering a seemingly endless supply of interesting and unique games, arcades also offered gamers something that many needed more than a pocket full of quarters – social interaction. Arcades offered gamers the chance to socialize with others who shared the same interests. You could say Xbox Live offers gamers the same chance at interaction but finding civilized, normal people to play with by chance on Xbox Live is like trying to find…well…I can’t even complete the analogy because nothing is more difficult than trying to find non foul-mouthed punks who will totally own you at Modern Warfare 2 on Xbox Live.

They say that death is a natural part of life and that all good things come to an end. Arcades have been on their way out since home consoles rivaled the power of cabinets, but it’s still tough to see an entire industry that I so closely associated with my childhood looking so utterly pathetic and beaten. If arcades can’t make money on the O.C. boardwalk, where would they? I’m not saying they should all close up shop and stop fooling themselves, but I think seeing how sad most-to-all arcades look these days makes me feel that I’d rather never see another one again than see ones I loved so much looking so sad.