Can you remember what a Defender joystick feels like in the palm of your hand? Or  the inertia of the control-wheel for a game of Tempest? I think I could identify the exact sound of the extra five tokens you get from putting a five dollar bill into Aladdin‘s Castle vending machine. The tokens were bronze colored, but I can’t recall if they were perfectly round or, as I think, slightly octagonal to distinguish them from quarters in the machine.

So many memories of arcades are blends instead of discreet, because for lots of boys my age, we went as often as we could get away with it. I’m not sure what are from my own senses versus TV or movies, and now nostalgic recreations of arcades on TV and movies. I know that “my arcade“, the aforementioned Aladdin‘s Castle, was a dark windowless shop in the Colonie Center mall. It was dark or black and low lit, mostly from the cabinets in an unimaginatively laid out square lining three walls. The banks of games in the middle maximized the floor space for efficient money removal. Even though eventually it would be eclipsed by the much grander arcade at the new Crossgates Mall, I honestly can’t remember anything except that it was bigger. By the time Crossgates was a destination, I had “outgrown” the arcade as the cool place to be in the mall.

When I look online at the dates of the “golden age” games I played, it’s clear that most of my arcade game memories are from before I finished junior high. That means that the formative friends of my youth: James, Danny, Ralph, and Adam post-date these memories. Only Rick Miller might have been an arcade buddy. He did live near the mall, and we might have been able to walk there, though I can’t remember if my parents would have let me bike to his house at that age?

The arcade cabinet was probably the first place I was able to project my mind into where I could shape the reality, where my choices mattered. Even books, TV, and movies, no matter how much they engage the imagination, could give me such a sense of agency the way five minutes of Star Castle did. I also think there might have been something perfect about the size of a classic arcade cabinet to me. The box was big but not intimidating to a 10 or 11-year-old boy. Standing there in front of it, it seemed like the right button combination could open it up to an entire universe inside, like a Narnian wardrobe. 

(It’s a complete coincidence that the lead character in the movie Tron is named Kevin Flynn.)

I still play. I have an Xbox, and a Switch that keep me connected with friends and family during our weekly games of Minecraft or Rocket League. There are brilliant games, like Red Dead Redemption or Inside that are as artfully beautiful as great movies. The Dark Souls games push the limits of my physical abilities as much as any workout ever has. There are games, like Animal Crossing, that are just plain relaxing after a tough day. Games like Fortnight or Minecraft keep me engaged with the worlds of the kids I care for at work. I’m actually surprised at how many parents say they don’t play or understand the games their kids play. It’s odd to realize that most people in my generation let go of video games the way they gave up baseball or football; as activities for young people. I expect that I will be hitting the A button or the right trigger on a controller at a time when I can no longer remember how to take care of my own bodily functions.