I literally woke from a dream this morning with this music in my head. I don’t know what that says about me.
Sunset Riders shares the same lifeblood as Turtles in Time: both Konami arcade games from the same era, both co-op titles with entirely respectable SNES ports, both with the same flavor of music. Sunset Riders can’t match the satisfying feel of whacking foot soldiers with your weapons and then grabbing them to hurl them at the screen, but there’s a special kind of pleasure that one gets by dodge-rolling away from a hail of bullets.
Years before firing two guns whilst jumping through the air was cool, I was leaping away from slow-moving projectiles and returning fire with dual-wielded sawed-off shotguns. Sunset Riders may not be quite as polished as a John Woo movie, but it kinda sounds like one when you put it down on paper.
Except, I don’t know– is John Woo noted for his cartoonish, appalling racism?
The game’s primary antagonist, Richard Rose, is a caricature of a British aristocrat, and he’s not really racist (he’s a stereotype, but from what I understand it’s all right to stereotype against the British–Americans, too–anybody post-global-empire, really).
But check out those other blokes. “Chief Wigwam?” “Paco Loco?” It’s a little embarrassing to play this game. If you have, you may remember that Chief Wigwam suggests you “Get ready for pow-wow” before he begins to leap about maniacally in a parody of a war dance while showering you with throwing knives (I know, I know–they couldn’t have sprung for tomahawks? Really sold the whole deal?). Boy, at least he wasn’t called “Chief Scalpem” or something, huh?
Anyway. Racism aside, Sunset Riders is a pretty fabulous time, and though it’s not widely available at the moment, I’ve run across it a couple of times when browsing SNES games at flea markets and garage sales. This is another title that I’d pour quarters into unrelentingly if it made its way to my local barcade.
Here’s another track or two that illustrate the game’s awesome boss tunes:
This one is the music that accompanies the fight with “El Greco,” who takes on your group of gunslingers with nothing more than a metal shield and a bullwhip. Aboard a moving train. Why has no one made this into a film yet?
And this music is from the game’s attract mode, which introduces the four playable characters and maybe gives a false impression of how mellow and Western the game’s music is going to be. I remember this piece quite clearly from my time in the arcades as a youth.
And finally, here’s an OC Remix by arranger “Dr. Manhattan” that takes the absurdity of the game to heart:
Our culture is obsessed with things returning from the dead. Why not the video arcade? About a month ago, Ars Technica published an article that almost sounded too good to be true–and, reading it, I was somewhat skeptical. I have fond memories of time spent in arcades as a youth, but I was never privy to the true heyday of the video arcade in the ’80s. I wasn’t willing to believe that arcades could make a comeback, for one reason and one reason only: I wanted it to be true, and so of course it was never going to happen.
Then one opened a mile from my house.
Last night, I took a couple of my friends and went to check out the Joystick Gamebar, and after a night of cocktails, quarters, and aching wrists, I’ve changed my tune.
To borrow a line from my personal friend Fox Mulder: I want to believe.
Joystick proved to me, in a few short hours, that establishments like this really have a shot at success, and there are a handful of factors that make me believe that we’re going to see more and more barcades pop up in the next couple of years.
First, booze goes a long way toward making an establishment profitable. Let’s face it: a place like Joystick isn’t going to be making its money from quarters, especially when they do the honorable thing and keep the price of a game cheap. (X-Men arcade? 25 cents. Galaga? 25 cents. Street Fighter II? 25 cents. In fact, the only game that cost more than a quarter was Rampage: World Tour, which clocked in at a hefty 50 cents.)
Beer and cocktails, however, can bring in the money at a respectable rate. Joystick has several original cocktails (including one with homemade chai soda!) and a very palatable beer selection (Brooklyn Lager on tap!). By ensuring that an individual could come for the drinks and the friendly atmosphere and have a good time without inserting a single coin, a barcade can ensure that its livelihood isn’t dependent on the games it has to offer, even if those are a big part of attracting its clientele.
Some of the arcade owners in the Ars Technica article seem to attribute the recent revival of the arcade to the fact that nostalgic gamers are now old enough to be drinking, and that the bar/arcade model is viable now in a way that it didn’t used to be–but I don’t think that nostalgia entirely explains this transition. After all, haven’t huge numbers of gamers been old enough to drink for a decade (or two)? Sure, I’ve got fond memories of my uncle’s Space Invaders cocktail cabinet, but that thing was an artifact even when I was a kid. I’ve got a different theory.
I think that the rise of mobile gaming has created a sea change in the way our culture as a whole (and not just gaming culture, but pop culture in its entirety) views the gaming experience. Over the last three or four years, buying a game for a buck and playing it for twenty minutes or so before letting it sit, forgotten, at the back of your iPhone has become the norm–and this isn’t just something gamers do. It’s something everybody does.
That’s right. I think that you can thank Angry Birds for the resurgence of the arcade.
Arcades died off in droves in the mid-to-late ’90s, when the calculus of price-to-enjoyment-ratio shifted as a result of the increasing complexity of consoles. As prices rose to catch up, gamers started asking themselves: “Do I really want to drop a buck on six minutes of Tekken 2 when I could have an infinite number of minutes for fifty bucks?” If you were going to fool around with Yoshimitsu more than a couple of matches, you started to think that maybe it might be more worth your time to invest in a PSX copy. Eventually, the only way that arcades could entice people to spend was by giving them things they couldn’t possible get in their living room, like motion sensing technology, big dancing mats, or plastic guitar controllers.
With the rise of smartphones, however, something changed. Games became cheap–woefully cheap–and the touch screen interface immediately suggested to developers a simplistic mode of play. Whether you think Angry Birds, Cut the Rope, and Tilt to Live are simplistic and boring or pure and beautiful, there’s no denying that their gameplay aesthetics harken back much more to the arcade games of old than they do the AAA console titles into which we invest our big bucks.
And it’s not just gamers playing mobile games, as I said–it’s everyone. I teach middle school students that have never picked up an Xbox or Playstation controller in their lives, but they come into class decked out in Angry Birds gear like that flippin’ red avian was Mickey Mouse.
Our whole culture has come to value simple, pure gaming experiences for a very low entry fee. And I know that mathematically, this doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but there’s a huge difference between the following comparisons in a person’s mind:
$1.00/play vs. $50.00/infinite plays
$0.25/play vs. $0.99/infinite plays
You can buy Galaga on your iPhone for $2.99, or, for the same price, you can have twelve plays in the arcade. Which gives you more value? The answer to the question isn’t really the point–the point is that your answer to the question doesn’t automatically paint you as either “gamer” or “uninterested.” When games are simple and cheap, anyone can invest a little time in them, “gamer” or not–especially if they’ve had a couple specialty cocktails.
Hopefully, between the booze and the changes in gaming aesthetic that have occurred over the last couple years, these barcades/gamebars/arcade-taverns that are starting to emerge in cities across the nation are a permanent fixture in the urban landscape–but I, for one, am not willing to leave this to chance. I submit, dear gamers, that we need to get out to our local game bar and give them our quarters!
If anyone wants to meet me at Joystick, I’ll be the guy at the Galaga machine in the corner.