April 6
I found myself taking the train to Suehirocho. I stepped out of the station and walked up the small stairs at exit 4. I thought about all the times I had been at the top of the stairs waiting for a friend. Now I was my own friend. To my left was the skeleton of Akihabara Gusto. It was something else now, as was the Sunkus convenience store that proved so useful a bathroom when needed.
Nowadays I recommend the secret bathroom next to Carl’s Jr in Akiba. There is an unmarked door that is a public restroom. It feels like magic any time you use it. And you’re cheating the system when you don’t even order a hamburger next door.
I hadn’t been in Akihabara in years, on account of a global pandemic. It would turn out I would end up there twice more in the span of ten days. Today however I just took stock in 2023 Akihabara.
The Super Potato shelfs were as bare as I expected. Almost no PC Engine games remained. Of course Radiant Silvergun was behind glass and the price was double what I had paid for it. Had I ever even played that disc? I thought about my own question.
I reckon I haven’t.
I’d buy and put 3 credits into the Switch port, then continue to not turn my Switch on for the rest of the year.
I missed the junk bins of Sega Saturn games that adorned almost every game store in 2006. Back then the Saturn was just about 12 years old, most of the games 10. Now it is 17 years since those days. The world keeps turning. You’re lucky to find one copy of Virtua Fighter 2 these days.
Lucky Star and Haruhi main themes would be blasting out of every store. IdolM@ster had taken over arcades. Thanks to the book/forum thread/TV show/movie Densha Otoko, normal women were walking Akihabara trying to find a man. Maid Cafes were trying to more personably trap those men into emotional loneliness.
But that was 2006. Here in 2023, what did I see? I saw waves of tourists. I would hear my first “Mom! It’s SpyXFamily!” Each time I go now, I take note of what has changed.
Like I’ve said in more words, Video Games have left Akihabara. Maybe they’ve left Japan. This fills me with sadness. Then again my hobby is so much older than before. I hear there are 16 year old kids that want a Nintendo 64 for Christmas. I quake for the parents forced to ebay to indulge that idea. There are 21 year olds that almost know as much about the Dreamcast as I do, so I am told.
It’s not like all my game knowledge ever turned into anything.
There are a few arcades left, particularly Hey, which seems only exist as a symbol of Square-Enix’s good will. I read an article about another one of the tiny Radio stores closing, then remember I’ve never spent money there in 30 years.
I gufaff at the prices of Retro Video Games now. What video game do I even want now? Buying video games now feels like inertia at this point. I’ve never found enough friction to say enough is enough. Every video game ever made is on my laptop at the least. Seeing a friend mess with their depression-bought AstroCity made me think it would be too much work to ever have one, nevermind again the cost in all this plastic and silicon.
Back on April 6th I went into Friends. Friends is a retro game shop that is like an old friend. It was the preferred game stop of insert credit and then select button. It is quiet, carpeted. It is just outside of Akihabara, a mere 30 seconds from Suehirocho Station on the Ginza Line. It exists in a non-descript building on the 2nd and 3rd floor. Just above on the 4th floor is an establishment offering school-girl themed handjobs. Only as I write this do I connect that establishment has also existed for 17 years.
The rooms in the building are maybe 8 tatami big. That’s like a college dorm room for two. Always there was Famicom music playing from a tiny Aiwa stereo. It felt reverential. You had to respect the shelves.
This last time the Super Famicom section looked like a German man had come in and said “I’ll take one of everything.” His girlfriend eyes-glazed would have wondered when they were gonna see a real Geisha. Their Sega Saturn was reduced from a wall of bookshelves to two shelves. I don’t think they even had a Dreamcast controller.
I felt emotionally this was the last time I’d ever be in Friends. This beautiful charming game store had changed, and somehow the schoolgirl themed handjob place in the same building had stayed with it.
In the name of inertia, remembrance, and a museum fee (as I sometimes call it) I bought Ico for Playstation 2. Specifically the greatest hits version with the awful yellow and gray double label.
This story resolves in its unresolvement. I’d play Ico and Shadow of the Colosus via streaming. That copy of Ico went immediately into a dark box, its purpose immediately unknown outside of being the last game I purchased at Friends.
Let 2024 be a year that I visit arcades, always to play for the last time. Let me outside of February 29th 2024 always think better of buying another video game.
NEXT: Lil’ Whip Lil’ Whip
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