I Died: God is a Street Fighter II Machine

I knocked on heaven's door. A Street Fighter II machine answered.

I found myself among the lights, smells and screams of the arcade, and it was painful. To the untrained eye, a modern arcade looks similar to how it’s always been, but to an old-school gamer, it’s nearly unrecognisable.

I’d been efficiently parted with my electronic cash, and my kids were running about brandishing a plastic card loaded with gaming credit that was rapidly depleted. Their joy quickly turned to disappointment at how soon it was over, and the fact that they were left with a balance that was just short of one final game.

Once that calmed down, it was time for their next disappointment - the tickets. All that hard work playing meaningless half-minute dopamine-hit games yielded 550 virtual tickets. Expectations soared as we moved to the environmental-disaster prize area, but their faces dropped again on the realisation that 550 tickets were enough for a small bouncy ball, a plastic bracelet or a chocolate bar so small they’re usually sold in multi-bags. Even if no one lost the bouncy ball or snapped the bracelet, this junk would be forgotten by sundown.

“Take the chocolate bar and let’s go,” I say optimistically.

But I know it’s not that easy, the next 15 minutes must be spent gazing longingly at all the better prizes and asking, “Can we get that for 550 tickets?”

It was time to check out. I slide a bouncy ball in my mouth like a cyanide pill and slump into a dark corner of the arcade to die. A final resting place where some teenage worker can’t heroically Heimlich-hump me while others record it on their phones.

As the breath leaves my body, my arcade gaming life flashes before my eyes. At the skating rink, watching in wonder at big kids playing wood-panelled Galaga and Pac-Man machines. Coins heavy in teen pockets walking down rows of matching machines in the big ‘90s city arcades. Work breaks in Japan sat on stools at low cabinets, stinking ashtrays and a bewildering game selection. Painfully, watching the slow death of arcades before a rebirth as modern atrocities, and returning as a father.

Guile? Have you been at the arcade with your kids as well?

Then, I arrive at the arcade pearly gates, and it’s there to meet me. Standing proud, concave six-button layout, God of arcade heaven - Street Fighter II: The World Warrior. I weep at its imperial beauty. On-screen flashes the countdown with a beaten Guile inviting me in. As I reach for the 1-player button to cross into arcade heaven, I hear a concerned little voice from beyond.

“Dad!… Is 550 tickets enough for the Nintendo Switch?”

I then realise a man this irritated can’t enter arcade heaven. I cough the bouncy ball across the sticky carpet. We leave the arcade, my overstimulated kids cry along the street, and the prize bracelet snaps, spewing its plastic beads into the gutter. Yet, all I can think about is the majestic Street Fighter II machine and why there’s only one true arcade god.

You see, there were great arcade games before SFII and a few great games after, but only one transcended its joystick and buttons to generate a culture all its own. While this probably differed around the world, in Aotearoa, New Zealand, there was a moment in the 1990s when Street Fighter 2 was omnipresent. It achieved an unprecedented cultural reach that would lead to enduring cultural references. And wherever there was an SFII machine, there were two games at play, Capcom’s masterpiece on screen and the game of those hanging around it.

A classic Kiwi dairy. The SFII machine is long gone, energy drinks still available.

Varied Locations - Fighting Anywhere

Of course, there was SFII in the large city arcades, it was a boom time for arcade culture, and that was great for practice, but the real action was out in the wild. SFII machines were at takeaway shops, bars, pool halls, and video rental stores, rich kids could even rent one for a weekend, but the true playerz were at the local dairy. The suburban Kiwi convenience store where wars of attrition were fought, legends were made and loitering teens were chased away by shop owners with brooms.

Perfect Timing

Released in 1991, SFII was entrenched in NZ by 92/93, and the timing was spot on. PC gaming was still niche, and there hadn't been a significant uptake on 16-bit consoles. For most Kiwi kids, formative gaming experiences were happening outside the home. SFII rode that wave until the mid-90s. The PlayStation and N64 shifted gaming to lounge rooms and arcade machines, especially in isolated locations, lost viability. Now, in the 21st century, with potential gaming opportunities available everywhere, including in our pockets, an apocalypse is required for us to huddle around an arcade stand-up again. It’d almost be worth it.

I can sonic boom all day Ryu.

Showdown with a Stranger

This was local multiplayer in its purest sense, strangers brought together by fate to share a moment in time, shoulder-to-shoulder fighting each other on screen. Waiting for their fish and chips to be cooked, often not a word exchanged. The winner continues, and the loser walks away 40 cents poorer and pride dented. When you stepped up to take the joystick in hand, you represented your mates, your family, your school and your area. To others, we looked like kids playing spacies, but to have been there and felt the intensity, it was much more.

Talking large, without fear of verification

“Yeah my cousin’s neighbour is the best Street Fighter player in NZ, he’d smash you hard out.

Before YouTube, before mobile phones and pretty much before the internet, outrageous claims were made without any possible verification. No matter how good you were on SFII, there was always someone’s cousin or brother or brother’s cousin or friend who lived down south that was apparently a lot better than you.

Mostly, you were informed of this indisputable fact from a foe who’d just lost their 40c to your handiwork. There were always rumours of SFII tournaments, but no one knew what was going on. Champions were localised, not just by suburb or area but even by individual machines. Find yourself playing at a dairy somewhere new and kicking some local ass, it was possible a nearby SFII legend would be alerted to your presence and come down to sort you out. What a time to be alive.

No place better for a dust up than in front of shady cats on a tug boat.

Seconds - Master and Student

Among the roundhouse kicks and trash talk, the practice of seconds offered a softer, social element to SFII culture. Fighting an AI opponent, each level is best of three rounds, so a confident player could afford to lose one round and still clear the level.

After winning the first round, a player might offer the second round to a friend or spectator to step in and play. Advice and encouragement could be offered, and this was the beautiful nature of seconds. Many a coinless young kid learned to play SFII by hanging around and being offered seconds.

Cheeky kids could ask other players for their seconds, but that wish didn’t have to be granted, players may oblige in the early rounds of the game, but would need all three rounds later to progress.

The Cheaps - Them Fighting Words

SFII offered the capacity for different styles and approaches by players. These could be power moves or something more elegant. But some moves weren’t pretty, were repetitive and just got the job done. Often, one character had a weakness that could be exploited by another. This style of play was often referred to as “the cheaps.”

Now, if you wanted to clock the game in 1-player mode, using the cheaps was acceptable. However, in versus multiplayer, accusing a rival of using the cheaps was a serious accusation, and to be used carefully as the fighting may spill off the screen.

In reality, we all pulled the cheaps on each other at times, using the same move repeatedly or targeting a defensive weakness. Or just be slightly ahead on health and jump around the screen like a maniac till the clock runs out. There were many ways to execute the cheap, and when 40 cents and bragging rights were on the line, no regrets.

I want to fly around the world, meet new people and fight them to near death.

Game Glitches - Beautifully Flawed

With thousands of playing hours being put into SFII, any mistakes in the game’s code were going to be uncovered, and they were, particularly in early versions of The World Warrior. An ability to exploit these glitches elevated a player to top-dog status. The best glitch play belonged to Guile and included his invisible throw, freeze stance and a frustrating move known as handcuffs, which would render his opponent frozen. These were no ordinary combo moves and required precise timing for a series of buttons.

These dark arts were passed along through spoken word and demonstration. Some kids claimed they were impossible, while rumours of other unknown glitches circulated. Attempting these moves could quite easily lock up a machine, requiring a full reset from the owner. Often, it was better to walk away than be the tenth kid that day to explain to an annoyed shopkeeper that you froze your Guile and couldn’t unfreeze him before the time ran out.

The ultimate dick move involved a glitch where the player could reset the machine mid-game using a series of buttons, perfect for wiping out two credits the moment before you lose.

The Machine - A Showcase for Self-Expression

Myself and my SFII playing partner, Joe, thought Guile was the coolest character with the raddest moves, so surely everyone else would feel the same. It turned out not. A former special forces pilot with an eye on revenge and a mean haircut wasn’t for everyone.

Players identified with different characters and found ways to be deadly with them. Frequent players also required a secondary character for use when they faced an opponent already using their regular choice.

Players came from different cultural backgrounds, and in many cases, this could be represented on screen through character selection. This added to the mystique of SFII and the feeling that it was for all of us.

There were some cool SFII console ports, but it wasn’t quite the same.

When we see groups of teens staring at their phone screens, it’s hard not to think back to when we all stared at the same screen. A quaint, more innocent time when we could all enjoy a violent video game. Ultimately, SFII brought people together, sometimes they’d end up pushing each other or someone would get called a dick bag. But we were together.

It also inspired us in different ways. Chun-Li’s thighs inspired me to live in Asia when I was older. Guile inspired Joe to use more hair gel and wear camo print.

Then, it all slowly moved on. SFII evolved, we had Championship Edition, Hyper Fighting, an expansion of characters and other developments. But for most, the purest form of Street Fighter will always be The World Warrior. It was the perfect arcade game at a perfect moment in arcade gaming history.

Street Fighter II will forever be the one true arcade gaming god because, for a divine time, it was the only game.