Sometimes you just need a beach day. And sometimes it doesn’t even matter which beach.
That was the mood I found myself in one morning recently. So I hopped on a train for two hours until I saw sand. Stepping off the platform, I was awash in nostalgia for a place I was visiting for the very first time.
I learned what was true of the beach towns I grew up with in the US seems to be (mostly) true of ones here in the UK. Their weathered facades and food stalls have perpetually seen better days. The good ice cream shops almost always have a queue. Seagulls on the promenade will snarf your chips if you get complacent. And the moment your feet sink into the soothing sand, nothing else matters.
Across continents emerges another trans-Atlantic truth: there’s nothing like the charm of a trashy beachside arcade. And this place has several of them.
That’s not to say there aren’t some key differences. When beachside amusement centers brand themselves as “family” destinations, I was used to that meaning “for kids” in the States. They generally focus on attractions like carnival games, bumper cars, drop-claw machines and the like. These UK arcades have those in spades but their game floors are also packed with slot machines and adults-only gambling areas to flank the toddler horsey rides and air hockey tables. Apparently when Brits say an arcade is “family friendly” they mean the whole fuckin’ family.
I did notice another difference: Saltwater taffy, or the lack thereof. I couldn’t have imagined a beach town without it but now I can imagine it well. The candy shop owner I spoke with had never heard of it, at least. (I’ve since learned that seaside rock sticks are the closest equivalent)
Of course the fish and chips are brilliant, though. That’s not a given in the American seaside towns I visited growing up.
Overall, this was every bit the beach town experience I was hoping for. At the arcades, the themed shooting galleries are on point. Brum and a London double decker race add some nifty British flair, juxtaposed with the Americana stylings of a hot rod-themed burger stand and an animatronic Uncle Sam. Truly, this is a great melding of beach town cultures.
Of course the odd Sega cockpit cab is a classic fixture of any decent arcade, and that’s also true here. I was overjoyed to find OutRun 2 SP and Cool Riders, games I hadn’t played in days and decades, respectively. Both have been neglected for years. SP’s steering column is loose and wobbly, and its gear shift paddles off kilter. Its projection screen is emblazoned with decades of burn in. Meanwhile, Cool Riders’ handlebars feel mostly stable but its bikes constantly veer to the left. Both are still enjoyable to play, if only just.
That’s just as well. Perhaps something would be lost if those cabinets did work properly. Annoying as they are, I believe their quirks can be vital to the charm of beachside arcades. When I visit places like these, I’m not there for pristine gaming experiences. I’m there for the vibes. And if well-loved and well-worn Sega racers don’t exude peak summer beach vibes, I don’t know what does.
If it helps, we can think of their broken mechanisms as unique difficulty modes.
So that’s all I got for this one. Here’s some other cool shit I saw:
Stay cool, fools!
The Virtua Planet 