As a typical human being with a typical vulnerability to mind-sicknesses, I find that I'm pretty interested in...well, decay. Not tooth decay; that shit hurts. Not the post-death decomposition the meat sacks we call bodies, either; that's messy and smelly.
Rather, I'm interested in the worn-down corners of the world. I like to observe how humanity bullies Nature and confines himself to small, filthy living spaces made of steel and concrete. These dwellings, in turn, become tired-looking and dingy with our mere sweating, stomping, spitting presence.
The smattering of arcades left in North America today are sad, chill venues, but the truth is, they were never pretty. Arcades have always been seedy, darkened little boxes lit with lewd flashes of neon light. Where there's a cold emptiness now, there was once the humid smell of the desperate sweat coming off fanatics desperate to attract mates through high Donkey Kong scores.
So what's more depressing than a North American arcade? An arcade in stern, silent North Korea.
UK:Resistance's picture gallery is fascinating and frightening. The broken-backed chairs. The ancient games. The kicked-in, burned-out cabinets. A few of the machines don't even have pads or joysticks but are still active. My guess is they're used by the North Korean Government to assess candidates for the upcoming psychic warfare scheduled to embroil the world.
That cowboy game has some pretty interesting cabinet art. I think it's one half of the cover for Brokeback Mountain.
Related Links:
One Crazy Summer of Arcade
Street Fighter IV Maybe Hitting An Appropriate (And Tragic) Number of Arcades
