The International Arcade


All of his senses were captured.

The wide room was poorly lit by a dozen different hues, scores of machines lined the white, plastered walls; barking and beeping the victories and defeats of their players. All conversations were done so by yelling at one another above the perpetual noise of the games. The air stunk of sweat and sugary sweets. Worn, blue carpet floors – stained sticky and black by spilled drinks over the course of the years—stuck to the soles of his red and white sneakers.
He chewed King Kandy’s cherry bubblegum, occasionally blowing an unconscious bubble. It had been long while since it had lost all flavour and become nothing more than a piece of chewable plastic.

“You’re going to do it! I can’t believe it you’re going to beat the high score!” A chubby boy next to him -with his army green baseball cap pulled backwards- yelled just loud enough for him to hear.
“Shut up, you’re ruining my concentration!” he replied
“Yeah, shut up! You’ll jinx it!” Another boy on the other side of the machine shouted.

All his sense were enveloped by the Arcade but his utmost concentration was dedicated to the machine.

A 1997 World Tournament, Special Edition Mr Krabby. His favourite game.

The International Arcade was the pride and joy of the town’s juvenile occupants. Kids would race straight after school to join the line for their favourite machines, sometimes the lines had kids who were playing hookey from school, but usually, it consisted of those the kids called “Part Timer’s”. A collection of adults old enough to be out of school but young enough to still want to play games at the arcade during their lunch breaks.

They were part kid, part adult.

(1)

One of the part timers who worked at Burger Khan was smoking a cigarette behind him, the smoke drifted upwards to form a vapour puddle on the white ceiling which was stained brown in spots from cigarette smoke. Originally he was waiting for his turn but seeing that the high score was so close to being beat, he joined the crowd that formed around the machine and began cheering on the kid. He was 15 minutes over his designated lunch break, but fuck it. It’s not everyday somebody beats the high score

The arcade had been there for three decades. Three decades worth of scores had lined up on the machines, some of the top scores were held by people long since dead but many by those whom had given up the gaming life and started living a ‘normal’ life instead.

The kid knew one day that he too would stop playing games and settle down—But before then, he would leave his immortal mark on the digital screens of the arcade.

Mr Krabby dodged black nets thrown by fishermen in yellow rain coats with green, rubber boots. Dozens of fishermen spawned at this high a score and the nets were faster and more accurate than usual. The fishermen still had the cartoony ‘!#$*’ swear in their speech bubbles when they missed though, but that’s all that mattered; they missed.

He will win the game and beat the top score! He had been trying to beat the high score for 2 years now but had only managed to reach the top 10, twice in that period.

He cleared the level making it to the ocean.

(2)

His score was currently 959013. He was still some 41987 points short. The high score was 1001000 held by 666.
SixSixSix was the tag for Chester Roth, a 39 year old veteran, arcade gamer. He was the world champion at Mr Krabby and Corona.

Suddenly a prompt appeared across the screen.

Bonus Level.

Y/N?

The fat kid who he had told to shut up earlier, pressed A without his consent. Ice shot down his spine and his swallowed his gum; nearly choking on it.

He wanted to kill the fat kid.

The screen went black with the words “Loading...” appearing in white print.

 Hatred burned within him as it only could within a child who had been so wronged.

The crowed booed the fat kid and the Burger Khan employee flicked his cigarette at him. One of the kids punched him in the arm and he ran away before he could be further assailed. He would have taken a swing at the kid himself had he not felt that if he left his place for but only a moment, he would lose his rhythm.

All the people around him knew it as well as he did; a bonus round this late in the game was sure to give him enough points to easily beat the high score, and then some, but it was pure suicide, madness. The fat kid knew what he was doing when he did it. The reward was completely outweighed by the risk.

He had played safe. That is how he had gotten so far, by never being greedy, by being disciplined. He couldn’t tell how long it had been since he had started playing, but he desperately needed to pee.

A tear formed in his right eye. He blinked it away. His eyes stung from the bright screen and badly lit room.

No! He could do this! He had come so far, he wouldn’t let the sabotage of one fat kid ruin the most important moment in his life.

(3)

The level loaded into a brown dock above the ocean waves.
The light blue, pixel sky was filled with white seagulls. Below the darker, blue ocean bellowed in rage. It was filled with grey sharks.

Mr Krabby had to make it from one end of the pier to the other while dodging swooping seagulls and jumping sharks. All the while collecting seashells. It was a pure nightmare.

He began.

This late in the game there was no room for error. His life counter was at x0 and the pier was falling to pieces behind him. Timing was critical, and difficult with the eminent crumbling of the dock behind him.

He summoned every ounce of his skill, mentally squeezing his brain to focus.

Time slowed down as Mr Krabby jumped over a large gap in the pier and he could feel the tension in the room rise as the orange pixel crab soared in the air.

A piece of the pier broke in front of the crab and he heard gasps behind him, but he had anticipated this and had jumped further than originally necessary in preparation of the scripted event.

He landed safely across and felt the air around him lighten as the crowd let out a sigh. Letting out a sigh of relief himself as he continued forward.

There were moments when he was sure it was over but he had persevered. He had kept to his stratagem; No greed, without need, and it had worked. He was safely over. The minute and half, it had taken him to clear the level had stretched into what seemed like hours but it was finally over.

The crowd was cheering as his points for the level racked up in white against a black screen.
He took a moment to relax as the numbers kept beeping up.

(4)

975000..

989150..

992010..

100000!!! The number flashed upon reaching the millionth mark then a victory tune played and everybody cheered.

The numbers kept going up.

1001090..  he had broken the world record

1019050..  and then some.

The numbers stopped. They enlarged on the screen and another, different victory tune played. He was grinning ear to ear, as wide as he ever had in his life. He was happier than the time he had gotten his guitar for Christmas(The one he played to get quarters for the machines). Happier than when his parents separation ended and they agreed to not get a divorce. Happier than the first time he had gotten a score high enough; that it appeared in the top 10. Now he was top. He had become the king of Mr Krabby.

He continued playing after the next level finished loading. He lasted another 3 levels and gained another 15000 odd points before dying. All discipline and concentration broken by the sheer happiness of holding the world record. Those 3 levels; he had been greedy and reckless but it was worth it. He really needed to pee.

He typed in his name above the 9 below it.

1: KID 1036088
2: 666 1001000
3: SIX 1000000
4: TIT 951521
5: KID 951002
6: KNG 850013
7: KID 800004
8: NAT 780518
9: JCK 777777
10: ASS 696969

On his victory march to the bathroom he was cheered with people throwing popcorn over him, like rice for a newly-wed couple. His mouth was still smiling while his bladder felt like it might explode.

He made it to the bathroom in time, but only just.

Coming out of the bathroom he grabbed his guitar which he had left at the mercy of the crowd, leaning against the machine. Nobody would steal from a king.
He fist bumped the Burger Khan employee who was finally having his turn and got patted on the back by another part timer while kids were walking next to him telling him how ‘Awesome’ he was.

It was good to be king.

(5)

He passed by other glittering games being played, Rage of Roads, Tekno Babble and Commander Sheen.

The lights painted his face in an 8 bit rainbow. He took in the hot yet sweet smell of the arcade and felt the ever so slight resistance whenever he lifted his feet off the sticky carpets. He took it all in. He would remember this day forever.

He left the main room of the arcade to go outside and wait for his Dad to pick him up. It was near enough time for him to come by after finishing work.
He slung the guitar over his shoulder and exited the arcade through the automated sliding doors.

The sky was grey and threatened rain, the sun had long since set.
The wind howled.
The road cracked, and full of potholes.
The lights of the nearby city, dull against the clouded, evening sky.
The air cold, and salty.

Seagulls squawked above his head crapping down from above. Greenish, white droplets splatted against the ground near him.
The grey buildings opposite the arcade were boarded up and painted orange by the street lights.
He could hear the angry hoots of traffic from nearby.
The after taste of chewing tasteless bubblegum for too long lingered in his mouth as if he had gargled with some sort of vile chemical.

(6)

It all seemed.. pathetic. The world outside the arcade was dead. He wanted to go back inside, to where things were bright and normal, where life was vibrant and happy.

He turned to go back inside as a black hatchback with only one working head light, rolled up to stop in front of the arcade.
It’s window rolled down.

“Get in.” His father said.

He opened the boot of the car and packed his guitar in before sitting in the worn, brown leather seat next to his father.

They drove down the road. The light fading as they got further away from the part of the area where the street lights still worked. An odd light blinked every now and again in defiance, flashing them orange, before submersing them all back into darkness.

The single headlight of the car painted the way for them as his father methodically dodged potholes; he knew were there even without the light.

“Did you have fun, son?” his father’s breath stunk of booze.

“Yeah.” he replied absent mindedly, his eye lids feeling heavy all of the sudden. The full strain of his effort in beating the high score, finally settling in.

Rain drops began to fall, splattering against the dirty, tinted windscreen as he slowly fell asleep while his father drove them home.

(7)