Don's Arcade

Carol Drive is hidden. The nickname “Sleepy Hollow” suits it well, with its surrounding barrier of small hills and its blanket of overarching leaves and trees. The only life on this cold October evening is the roving fog that is accompanied by the rhythmic chirping of crickets. The neighborhood is already fast asleep at six p.m. Nestled in the middle of the street sits an unassuming one-story house with a two-car garage. The small windowpanes of the garage are streaked with glimpses of light, illuminating the dark concrete sidewalk outside.
At seven p.m., the garage of Don Dapo, 30, hums to life. The roars of several arcade machines from inside break the night’s silence with each in-game narrator introducing each specific game title with a different opening cinematic and song. “So, what’s it going to be? The Third Strike, ya’ll, it’s Street Fighter Three,” one machine’s introduction music blared out.
Outside, a combination of light and fog glide toward the entrance of Dapo’s house. The beams from the headlights of various cars greet the closed twin garage doors. A dull crunch of pavement and tire signals the end of each car’s journey. The click of engines stopping, static noises from the radio and car door slams provided the background noise for the neighborhood. Passengers from inside the cars emerge and walk on the pathway along the side of the house. They move toward an old weathered brown door at the end of the trail. The door opens after a few knocks and light floods the group of travelers. Inside the garage, a tall, burly man sporting a leather jacket and an equally impressive handlebar mustache welcomes these passengers of the vehicles. The door is propped open and the people file into the bright caverns of Dapo’s double roomed garage. The arcade is open again.
From outside, any passerby listening in can make out the sounds of buttons mashing and exciting chatter. The sound contained inside by the closed garage and backdoor, barely escapes the driveway of Dapo’s home. Outside, he stands and looks on to the lit windowpanes of his garage, his breath visible in the cold night air. Dapo sighs contentedly at the current state of affairs: many players from the Southern California area are here in his home.
The unique appeal of Dapo’s arcade came from the fact that it doesn’t cost the players anything to come and play. The sessions are every week, on a Friday night, and players are alerted with a text message. Everything is on “free play” and players take advantage of this by playing until four a.m. “The crowd is separated by times,” Dapo said. “There is a crowd that comes in at nine p.m. and also one at 12 p.m.; that’s why I keep it so late.” Each space for the “Super Street Fighter Four” (SSF4) console set-up (there are eight set-ups, total) has a person either sitting down or peering over the player’s shoulder and lounging. Players either wait to play or watch the game. Each player reacts to the other’s moves, some in silence from concentration and others more vocal about their accomplishments.
“That link was so crispy,” an onlooker compliments the combo attack put together by one player.
“Man, that guy is too free,” another onlooker comments on the lopsided result of another match. Most players take their punishment in silence and the winners generally stay humble, even offering advice to others in defeat. It is two a.m. and the controller is still being passed around to the onlookers sitting behind them. The losers at each station happily pass on the arcade stick or point silently to the controller to encourage the onlookers to take their turn.




To reject the offer, players either hold up their hand or just mouth silently that they’re fine. At this hour, the same two people, with eyes glued to the screen and fingers tapping to each reaction, are playing two out of the four stations. Each set-up of the console section is littered with Coca-Cola cans and empty water bottles with arcade sticks on the ground and on players’ laps. As win streaks collect, so do the salt levels of the loser’s. The “salt” is the feeling of anger at the loss that was just suffered. The players are unaware, however, that tonight is the last night that Dapo will open his doors for free. The next time that “Don’s Arcade” opens again will be on Nov. 12, 2010 but for the fee of five dollars.

* * *
It’s January 10, 2010 and Dapo stood outside his car. He opened the door to his 2005 V6 Ford Mustang, stepped inside and turned the key to the ignition. The sounds of the car firing up and the monotonous drone of the engine drowned out his thoughts and prevented him from spacing out. He opened the garage with the click of the remote, and the opening door revealed the late winter sunset. It was an ordinary Friday afternoon, but Dapo didn’t know what to expect from the night after he invited nine people to his house. He was setting up, getting ready. He parked on his driveway and killed the engine, walked back inside his garage and picked up a broom. Dapo stood still, staring off into the confines of his garage, before taking a deep breath and began sweeping the floor. The weathered brown wooden walls provided the perfect blank surface for his eyes to fixate. “Why am I doing this? This is kind of weird.” The same thoughts kept entering his mind while he swept the same spot before finally shaking his head and went on to the rest of the garage floor.
He checked his watch, -“4:50 p.m.” - only 30 minutes before people would be arriving and yet Dapo had already spent 30 minutes sweeping half his garage. He walked to the other half of his garage, turned on the lights and began to power up his arcade cabinets. The familiar hum of the consoles inside each machine clouded his thoughts. The thoughts of if anyone would even come tonight kept popping up. This would be the first time he had ever done an event around his house and around his cabinets. He looked at each machine, all ten, organized into two rows. Dapo finally sat down at one of his cabinets, “Street Fighter III: Third Strike,” and pushed down gently on one of the two small green buttons in the middle of the control board. He took a breath before he took hold of the small green Japanese stick. He moved his character in the game mechanically, all based off muscle memory, as his face continued to blankly stare at the screen. His thoughts were wild on the expectations of tonight, reacting to any noise that wasn’t a part of the background music of each the cabinets around him.
Finally, a knock on the garage door snapped him out of his trance and he let go of his stick. He moved the small light pink button of his garage door opener, revealing two individuals-- “Josh” as he was known on the Street Fighter forums, and Josh’s friend, Harry. Dapo extended his hand and welcomed them to his place before finally sitting down at the one set-up for the game that this gathering was based upon, Street Fighter Four. The main feature on the floor was an old white computer monitor hooked up with an Xbox console with two arcade sticks.
Dapo picked up his controller, a tournament edition “MadCatz” arcade stick, and pushed the top button to start the game. The actual stick, a red board with six white buttons arranged in two rows with a white ball-top stick on the left, was the only equipment used to play. He looked on as Josh picked up the stick next to him and joined him in a match. “Oh man! Why isn’t this stick working? Something is wrong!” The two guest alternated complaints against Dapo’s equipment or play style. The frustrated loud slap on the arcade stick became more frequent as the losses mounted. A small frown formed on Dapo’s face as he listened to the two people complaining about his equipment, his abilities and his console set-up. He was supposed to beat these guys because he had the most experience in the Street Fighter genre. He even had the cabinets.
An hour passed and the rest of the invited group knocked on the garage. Except for those he invited-- Dapo’s former neighbor and friend, Leo Umehara, and his friend from the arcade days, Al “DimeX” Wallace, the rest were “scrubs” or inexperienced players. These three were levels ahead of the rest but it was expected. With more experience in the basics of the game, more time playing games by the brand Capcom, the main company behind Dapo’s fighting game cabinets; they were clearly at an advantage. What else was going to happen? The sounds of buttons clacking from both sides of the garage greeted Dapo’s thoughts and opinions of these new players. His house was finally filled with people who were interested in playing his cabinets and games. It was 11:00 p.m. when Dapo announced last game.

* * *
It had been nearly ten months since Dapo opened his garage door to people. A month earlier in early October, Dapo declared that he was going on a hiatus from hosting, creating a thread called ‘“Don’s Arcade’, dead?” on the forums of Shoryuken.com, the main forum for his news and posts on the happenings of the arcade. I look at my phone; it was 7:15 p.m. I stare at the already empty and dark neighborhood. A man wearing white and black athletic clothes walking a pile of white fluff that almost looks like a dog finally disturbed the tranquility of the street. The branches permitted only small glimpses of pale yellow glow from the streetlights. Two cars parked on the driveway, the same black Ford Mustang and basketball hoop stood outside the closed garage doors. A small grass trail leads to the darkness of the backyard where the weathered wood backdoor is located. The houses around the arcade have one or two lights on, mostly rooms on the second floor or the living room.
I knock on the door and Dapo, fashioned with slicked black hair and large black glasses to go with his mustache, greets me with a smile. Dapo walks me through his reason for opening up his home for others. “I like doing this for the community; I’m a Street Fighter guy for life. I like bringing the culture together and there’s a demand for it,” Dapo said. This time, the sessions will come with a charge. He cites electricity for his reasons but slides in that he also wants to see if he can profit a little from the exchange.
“I’ve always wanted an arcade and this is my opportunity to have one every week,” Dapo said, snapping his fingers at every sentence to bring emphasis. “Like a lot of people, I’ve dreamed of running an arcade, so why not?” The pressure to charge the people, who come to the arcade, had already been evident for the last 10 months. Dapo began his hiatus after a series of disagreements between himself and a few patrons over respect. The main issue revolved around two members who allegedly had constantly bad attitudes or put down Dapo in his house. Even though the two apologized or explained that some of it was done in good fun, Dapo had enough of the bad feelings. “Even without the incident, this needed to evolve into a more legitimate arcade. I don’t know if I could do this for a long time or how long I can,” Dapo said. Dapo, smiling pointed to a clipboard with lists: “People who paid” and another titled “Money matches,” for those who wanted to put a little money at risk after a loss. Dapo’s motivation for charging does come with the responsibility of knowing people may complain for something that was once free. “It’s a grind but it’s definitely worth it, but it’s work too,” Dapo said, “I’m doing all this by myself and I do feel a little guilty but this is still an experiment.”
Dapo leads me to the door between the house and the arcade garage. There are four “Super Street Fighter Four” console set-ups on one side and the nine cabinets of Dapo’s own version of the “Capcom 5” on the other. What were once eleven cabinets in the space are just nine because of the two Dapo set up at a smoke shop owner for some profit. The last game on the right side of the room is “Capcom vs. SNK 2”, a game that was made as a cross-up between two large fighting game brands (Capcom and Shin Nihon Kikaku). The game is unique because it features several different grooves, or fighting styles, to choose from for every character in the game’s roster.
Next to it is “Vampire Savior,” a very artistic game with characters such as a clone of “Little Red Riding Hood,” except there are guns and bombs, as well as a werewolf that fights with dashes and claws. “Street Fighter 2: Super Turbo” is the “old school” cabinet that Dapo takes the most pride in. This original game helped the popularity grow for the franchise of “Street Fighter.” Being the first game to launch the franchise into popularity, it strictly relies on the very fundamentals of the fighting game genre, the spacing of characters between each move, pushing the correct button to counter the opponent’s moves or just pacing back and forth to bait out any mistakes.
The last cabinet in the row—Dapo’s favorite— is “Street Fighter III Third Strike”. Third Strike is widely considered as one of the most complicated fighting game systems with the addition of parrying attacks, which makes blocking optional. The last game that finishes the “Capcom 5” in Dapo’s collection is “Marvel v. Capcom 2,” another cross-up between popular franchises (this time, Marvel and Capcom). This particular versus game is popular for its high speed and high execution, the ability to correctly push buttons in the time it requires with the order that a specific combination attack demands. Using strategy and mix-ups, the game can swing on one side in an instance and is popular for the amount of hype it generates. For the last game, Dapo chose to include “Puzzle Fighter,” a cute game much like “Bejeweled” where the goal is to match colored gems and create garbage gems on the opponents side.
Dapo catches me staring and offers his reasons for why his cabinets are important to him. “I view my cabinets as my babies and I get angry when people do complain about the joysticks and take it a little personal but I am getting used to it. I view the cabinets and the garage itself as an accomplishment because I had to clear out all the junk in that small space for everything,” Dapo said. “Even when I was giving these games for free, they still complained.”
On the other side of the garage, the idle stations of “Super Street Fighter Four” loop the same introduction and catch phrases. A large white sign is draped over the wall next to the door, “Arcade Rules – If there are 3 or more people waiting for a match, then everyone plays only one 2/3 round match and then loser gives up his/her game and gets backs into the rotation.. Level up!!!” Another large sign right below it advertises drinks and prices that Dapo allows his visitors to buy. “Thirsty?” it reads.

* * *

I come back the next week to see if the more people showed up to the arcade. To my delight, there is definitely an improvement from the sixteen attendees of the debut. Each station of the SSF4 console set-ups are occupied with two pairs of intense eyes staring at their characters on the screen. There’s a small crowd huddled over the Japanese “Third Strike” cabinet but I opt instead to open the door and walk outside to the street. The bells chime from the last house on the street, “Dong, dong, dong, dong…. Dong… dong… dong.” Al Wallace, one of the original nine people, stands outside with a crowd of arcade patrons, his hands in his pockets. A tall black man, donning a heavy burly jacket and jeans, Wallace is busy discussing the matches that just happened inside the garage. Wallace, 33, was one of the original Torrance arcade goers, starting with “Street Fighter II: The World Warrior” in 1991, and is very familiar with the old “Street Fighter” scene in the city.
“Mother fuckers used to come in that were like 25 years old,” he says. “I saw Bikers and gang bangers that had strats [guns]. These motherfuckers were no joke; they were smart, good and had good execution. It was really crazy because there were so many different styles of playing. I could tell if someone was going to give me trouble just from the way they moved their character. Back in the day you could tell really well and if you weren’t good, you’d get fucked up by everyone.” He approaches the game in a very old fashioned way, playing not to be social but to win. The attitudes are much different in this new age of fighting games and Wallace calls himself a throw back with his public showings of saltiness.
“A lot of people play for friends. I’m not like that,” Wallace said. “I like more of the mind games, the mix-ups, the execution and just making yourself better. It’s a learning thing; you constantly learn new things. It’s very frustrating but also very rewarding when you get something tight off, like aw fuck, that felt so good.” Wallace is one of the regulars at Dapo’s and has a reputation for being very angry after a loss.
“I’m not saying it’s impossible to play your best while being nice. I’ve always looked at it as a compliment when people get salty when I beat them because then I know you tried your best,” Wallace said. “If I beat somebody and they look at me and smile and go, ‘Good game’, I wonder if they’re trying their best. If someone calls your shit cheap, it’s a badge of honor. People don’t get it when I say shit like, ‘Your character’s over-powered’, but it’s a back-handed compliment on doing something I couldn’t deal with or seen before.” Wallace, regardless of his anti-social antics, recognizes the potential in Dapo’s house as well as the changes the sessions have gone through since its inception.

Dapo considers himself a bootleg part of this culture and takes pride in his own unique set-up at his home. “It’s a sense of belonging to a bigger whole as funny as that sounds,” Dapo said. “Being a part of the community, the fighting game community, and this network in Southern California, just to be a name out there; it’s flattering. Not a lot of people can do this, have an arcade.”
Established arcade owner Ken Tao, 39, sits in his small office of one of the most recognizable arcades in Southern California, Arcade Infinity. Because of the lack of people wanting to travel to AI his business is waning. With console releases for his biggest seller, “Super Street Fighter 4”, and with too few people coming to play his other new release, “King of Fighters XIII,” Tao’s business has hit a wall. “Top seller is KOF XIII but it’s really the only machine people keep playing. Super Street Fighter Four as well, but not as much,” Tao said quietly, thinking about what other machines also profit well. “Other machines do not top double digits in dollar profit.”
Tao mostly stares at his computer, mindlessly fixing arcade parts and sticks when he’s inside his office. Or sometimes he stays out trying to figure out a way to create a future for a business that has been going on for ten years. Located in Rowland Heights, Arcade Infinity is one of the better located arcades and because of that, the rent for the lease started at $4,800 and now stands at around $7,900 a month. As for electricity, it is at a cool $1,000 a month to operate and that was included in the charge of the rent. Diamond Plaza is one of the most profitable and popular places in Rowland Heights, which explain the expenses. The arcade makes only $2,000 more than the maintenance fees. Tao only makes around $10,000 a year from arcade profits. “We are very close to debt, just paying rent, electricity and staff,” Tao said. The only leases available for new arcades would be located in West Los Angeles, in cities like Carson and Rivera. With the arcade version of SSF4 announced, a new premier arcade could emerge in California. Unfortunately, Tao does not know how any business can come up with the money to get the new version.
“I don’t know the information of the new machine yet because they [Capcom] haven’t released it,” Tao said. “Everyone [other arcade owners around the United States] keeps saying they will get it, but no one knows.” To open a new arcade, one needs $250,000—even in bad neighborhoods. Leases are hard to come by as cities continue to deny any new business relating to arcades.
Outside the office, four rows of Japanese cabinets line the walls and the middle of the floor of Arcade Infinity. The vibrations of the machines shake the ground outside the office, a combination of loud Japanese pop and different game introductions. One patron, a tall white male with shaggy hair and glasses, moves to the beat of a music game. He motions his arms and hands with each scroll of the screen, stopping his movements only when the song eventually ends and the announcer congratulates his passing of the level.
Further down the row, cabinets sit side by side with small stools and benches in front of each one. Most of the chairs are empty aside from a couple onlookers who are playing a game. The rest of the cabinets display their introductions with its announcers all detailing the game’s features and titles. The showcase set-ups of “Super Street Fighter Four” and “King of Fighters XIII” made up the middle of the arcade. There is a large gap between all four of the machines where chairs and standing room allow for viewership of each game. The dark atmosphere presents a stark difference to the lighted garage of “Don’s Arcade” and its nine cabinets. The presentation of so many machines in Arcade Infinity provides a visual example of what Dapo needs to make his business dream a reality.
As the hours flew by, less and less people file in. The winners of each game stay at their stations and the same challengers keep putting in quarters but the variety of new people is nonexistent. This is normal on a slow Wednesday night, but even on weekends when it is normally busy, the crowd is thin as well.
Even with the dying popularity, California is unique for having what some people call the “Arcade Rave”, a term coined because of the many arcades that call the state home. In Southern California, there are five big arcades that get the most activity. Arcade Infinity is arguably the top of the list because of its lengthy existence. In the beginnings, it got its popularity mostly from word-of-mouth advertising as well as the forums that posted about its existence and excellence in quality. The other four: Denjin Arcade, Alex’s Arcade, Family Fun Arcade and Super Arcade, are well-known only within the community of fighting gamers.

* * *
The day is January 10, 2010 and Andrew Roquemore, 23, has convinced himself that going to “Don’s Arcade” was a good idea. He learned of its existence from a thread about an arcade opening in Torrance on Shoryuken.com and drove down his neighborhood in search of the house. Finally approaching the garage, he took the walk, completely inexperienced in how to play “Street Fighter” in a competitive setting. He took a deep breath, gathered his thoughts and with his Xbox console controller in hand, knocked on the garage door. Inside, six people he had never seen before are huddled over a computer monitor with the Xbox console right below it. The crowd in front of the television stood shoulder to shoulder, cramming their necks to look at the round being played.
Roquemore took his position between the strangers and quietly watched the match, and shifted his feet a little bit. He looked on with wide eyes at the exhibition of skill before him and gripped his controller tighter. When it was his turn to play, he shook his head, “no” and asked to see the rest of the garage. Roquemore slowly moved toward the other part of the garage and looked around the cabinets, pushing buttons and testing out the sticks. Coming back to the other room, he observed, from afar, the match on the computer screen. He looked around at the crowd of people in the room and stepped into the rotation again, after an hour of looking around the room. Finally, the “K.O.” of the match, which indicated his turn, erupted from the computer’s speakers. He slowly shuffled his feet toward the monitor and unplugged the stick and synced his controller in the Xbox.
The end of the night came too soon and Roquemore did not win a game. When he got home, he played online again. Later on, he moved toward playing the competition in the arcades to continue his improvement. “After you realize that everyone could do the same thing, you have to mix it up and find new tricks,” Roquemore explained. “I don’t run my mouth and I just want to win.” Roquemore and DimeX have been the only two who have been at the arcade since the beginning. Both have improved drastically because of the practice and exposure that “Don’s Arcade” provides on a weekly basis.

Roquemore is one of the more consistent week-to-week attendees. “For one thing, it’s the only gathering in Torrance. The location is huge for people,” Roquemore said. “You just know that there will be a lot of the same faces and some great players that are pro as well. You won’t just walk in there and just have an easy time, so the skill level is also why people come back.” Roquemore was one of the sixteen people to come through when Dapo’s opened again and has shown up for week two. He has already shown his relief about its return with an online post on the forums that stated only one word, “Yes.” Roquemore sits down and plays against a female player with his main character, M. Bison—a Thai character who wears a red suit, black boots and a flat red hat.
Next to him, an intense match erupts between a fiery player using Dudley, an English boxer character with a mustache, and his opponent who was using a Mexican-Indian, T-Hawk. The energy of the match catches Roquemore’s attention in between hits during his own match. “That’s not what I did, fuck!” the Dudley player said. “That’s some auto-correct bullshit!”
Roquemore turns back to his screen and listens in on the teasing behind him. His harasser tonight is his own friend, Garrett Dickson, who comments after each failed attempt to win against his opponent. “Don’t lose to the girl, Andrew,” Dickson yells. “She won’t fall for your shenanigans!” With the pressure on, Roquemore drops his combos and becomes another victim to the girl’s 36-win streak. Sitting back to the waiting section of the arcade, he immediately asks for the next match on the other stations.

Dapo rarely plays, fearing that his anger over losing may take away from the atmosphere and his hosting abilities. When he does push start, his character of choice is the trusty Japanese mainstay of Capcom, Ryu—controlled in Dapo’s own style of offense. His signature throw tricks, pressure attack strings and solid fundamentals make him a very difficult opponent. When the crowd thins out, Dapo picks up the arcade stick and begins to play with his attendees. He motions his stick forward, pushing the direction in a down-forward motion before he flicks it back up and watches as his character uppercuts his opponent into the air. As quickly as he motions the uppercut special move, he pushes down on two buttons, the medium kick and punch functions, and his character flashes a glowing yellow before he executes another motion, a double quarter circle motion, and slams on all punches. Ryu, on the screen, begins an animation where everything stops and he starts motioning into a charge animation, his face in complete focus to the move.
The character announces his action, “Metsu… Hadouken!” Dapo reclines a little in his chair as the big purple fireball emits through his character, Ryu’s, hands, landing on the juggled opponent’s body. The large flashing K.O. soon appears and the flashing yellow and orange streaks of victory meet the faces of the two players staring at the screen. “Ryu Wins!”
Dapo pauses to listen to the complaint of his opponent but was instead met with a of “good job.” He acknowledges this and moves on to the next match. “I’ve met a lot of people here; it’s flattering to see people come from Victorville, Palm Springs, Irvine and the OC drive here just to play games. I don’t see the big deal because I see it every day, the cabinets,” Dapo said. “I didn’t even know that people still played these games, the older ones at least.” He shrugs off another win and motions his stick, hovering over the rematch option before pushing the button to bring another match to the screen.