Lost quarters and lost art.

As an art form, videogames are objectively fascinating. They blend together so many facets of art and design, from narrative storytelling, through to the minutia of user interaction, and on to 100 hour experiences. They pull together mediums in to unified experiences that respond to and interact with the playing audience in a manner that is unlike anything else.

Now whilst i could (and undoubtedly will at some point) write about the medium as a whole and in the modern sense, I want to focus on a unique time and structure in this artforms legacy, the arcade cabinet.

In truth I was born a touch too late to truly experience arcades in their prime. Especially being born in Britain where our arcades always leant slightly more towards the "teaching kids to gamble" kind of machines, as opposed to the neon lights and lightguns of those heady hollywood arcades we'd see snippets of on screen.

That's not to say that myself (or many 90's British kids) were completely deprived of these unique pieces of art, we still got a good share of everything from Times Crisis to Sega sit down racers. In so doing we were lucky enough to experience these interactive sculptural instillations.

But even in the 90s it was a waning art form. Expensive to produce, bulky to manoeuvre, and increasingly risky to buy from an arcade owners perspective, as more and more of us gained access to games that didn't require a trip in the car or a handful of quarters to access.

Now whilst that shift to at home gaming brought about many incredible things, the death knells of the arcade saw us lose something unique. The arcade cabinet was more than just a big box holding electronics and a screen, each one had the potential to deliver experiences in ways modern homogenised systems simply cant. From the control schemes determining not only interaction but immersion, to the surround standing as sculpture to draw you in, they were interdisciplinary showcases of interactive art.

What's more they created an atmosphere any gallery would die for, one full of diverse but collective participation in the art, a social space that reflected and catered for the varying wishes and needs of a multitude of participants, across genres and across demographics, the arcade in and of itself held a heady mix of 17th centruy coffee shops and the Paris art salon. Ideas and theories flew alongside cathode ray fantasies. The dedication of precious floor space to a new cabinet and the removal of the old sparking acclaim or outrage from the participants.

A myriad of instillations and artworks spend a huge amount of time and energy trying to engage a viewer to one quarter of the level these cabinets would. To create artworks defined by the user experience, to make something in a way that engages and spreads conversation.

In truth I feel we lost something before we even knew we had it, something truly unique, a modern evolution of art as experience, which even its contemporary form struggles to truly reflect everything those arcades could encompass. It is more than just a parallel to the cinema v streaming discussion, this was not simply the transition from one screen to another, this was a loss of interaction and shared experience.

A type of experience which if it had been able to flourish would have defined a new form of social space, one in which art was both individually and collectively participated in, removed from pseudo intellectual barriers and high price tags, an artistic experience of joy, rewarding exploration, and interaction.

(Image from Time Traveller by Rick Dyer and SEGA, a unique cabinet with the first holographic 3D display seen in a videogame. Created in 1991 using mirrors and CRT screens, this would have absolutely blown my mind as a child, and even as an adult i find it incredibly cool)