OC HIGH / Student News and Views : The World Tilts in the Arcade

Wandering through the maze of flashing lights and high-pitched screams in an Anaheim arcade, I feel as though I have entered a different level of reality, where people float about more like ghosts.

There is something almost surreal in the way people line up, as if under a hypnotic spell leading them to play, then walk to the change machine and automatically return to the same game. I can almost swear there is a path beaten into the carpet.

A stranger to this video game ritual, I wonder about this obsession with the machines.

It doesn’t take me long to realize that victory is the operative word. For some, the goal is to improve each time they play, ultimately conquering the game. Others meticulously hone every move.

Although many players have victory as a common goal, their methods of getting there are numerous. Some fasten themselves to stools in front of the screens, winding their legs around the posts, almost becoming part of the shiny aluminum frame. Others, in a state of zoned concentration with mouths agape and perched on one tense leg, fail to even blink.

I notice as I head through this labyrinth of machinery that there seems to be a flow of people going in one direction. Turning the corner, I find myself surrounded by people in a tiny, darkened alcove. As I glance around, fiery-colored words jump out: Mortal Kombat, Killer Instinct, Primal Rage.

I am entering the heart of the arcade, where players flow in and out like pulsating blood. The air is thick with heat and tension. Every set of eyes is locked onto a screen, as if getting nourishment.

What are they “feeding” on? Craning my neck, I catch a glimpse of the image of splattered blood on the screen. I realize that the hunger existing in this dim chamber isn’t for victory alone, but for violence and blood.

Children as young as 7 watch with malicious glee as a character on the screen slices his opponent in half. I think I have found the secret to the video game obsession--but after 15 minutes of watching arms being torn off, I wish I hadn’t.

Before I had entered this kingdom of darkness and noise, my idea of video game fun had been Pac-Man. My confusion in this new land, however, results not from the characters or the gore, but from the number of people sharing this common blood lust. The jet fighters I had loved as a child have been deserted for hatchet-carrying warriors; it seems the philosophy is, the more blood, the better.

As I head toward the doors that encase this tomblike place, I know that even though I have at least a partial understanding of these people, I could never join them.

Shielding my face, I emerge into the sunlight.