“Do what you love.”

Those words have rung true for me throughout most of my life, and certainly throughout the majority of my career.  Back in late-’95, before I took my first videogame industry job as a Tester, my college counselor basically told me I was an idiot.  I believe she called it the worst mistake I could ever make and that there was no future in it. She was certain of it, and I walked out of there wondering if I was indeed screwing up my life.

Well, I decided to ignore her and follow my passion for gaming instead, and it would end up being one of the best choices I ever made. It rewarded me with a great career, where I had the pleasure of working with some of the best and brightest people I’ve ever known.  That moment is one I often cite when faced with dream-killing negativity and seemingly insurmountable odds. And that struggle is at the heart of Sean Tiedeman’s The King of Arcades.

Although the title sounds similar to 2007’s The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters, this isn’t a documentary about two opposite, but like-minded players competing for Donkey Kong‘s high score.  No, this is about one man: Richie Knucklez, a passionate, energetic guy who equally loves his family, his friends, and ’80s arcade culture and game restoration.

In that sense, The King of Arcades doesn’t have the same level of dramatic, competitive tension that The King of Kong had, but is rather a fascinating and intimate look into classic arcade culture and those who put their blood, sweat, and tears into preserving those cherished memories.

It’s full of wonderful time capsule-like vignettes, featuring interviews with many iconic industry figures, including Atari founder Nolan Bushnell, Defender and Robotron creator Eugene Jarvis, and videogame “Father” Ralph H. Baer, to name just a few. They provide some historically interesting insight into the early days of videogames and their evolution, and are bookended by old commercials and news stories from when the arcade craze was at its peak. Some of them are hilariously cheesy, but they are all charming in their own right.

For those of us who grew up in the arcades of the ’80s, The King of Arcades does a very effective job at tapping right into that nostalgia. I got more emotional than I thought I would seeing graveyard after graveyard of game cabinets in dark sheds, closed arcades, and dusty warehouses. It reminded me of a scene from the 2002 documentary Scratch, in which DJ Shadow reminisces very similarly about old records in basements, unearthing hidden treasures, and the forgotten, broken dreams of artists.

That undercurrent runs through every scene here, and even during the happiest of times, there is a sense that it won’t last forever.  What I enjoyed most about The King of Arcades is that even when things do hit rock-bottom, Knucklez keeps his head up and finds a way to persevere.  It doesn’t feel artificial, either.  In a lot of ways, I think viewers will find that even if their personalities don’t match, they’ll be able to relate well with Knucklez.  He talks us through his younger years working a job he couldn’t stand, and how a physical ticking time-bomb inspired him to live life to its fullest and follow his dreams.

And follow them he does.  I often think back to how important arcades were for me, and how there was nothing that came close to walking into one and being hit by all of those beautiful cabinets and iconic sounds. Popping in The King of Arcades will bring back all of those memories that kept you coming back to places like Aladdin’s Castle, Tilt, and Golfland.

Although it’s not as cohesive as The King of Kong, this should still be on every arcade lover’s shortlist of DVDs to own. You can tell that those involved in the making of it respect and value videogames as much as Knucklez himself. And now I want to do nothing more than make my own dreams a reality, starting with the creation of our own indie game.  That, and maybe restoring an old arcade cabinet. If only I had the space!

Overall: B+

In terms of the DVD itself, I wrote previously about its packaging, and they did a nice job with the on-disc menus and extras as well. While I didn’t really care for the fact that two trailers precede the main menu, there’s a good amount of extra content to be had, which Kickstarter backers got a nice glimpse of during production.

The documentary itself has nice video and audio, and while the production value isn’t as polished as say, Indie Game: The Movie, it’s still tastefully done and fun to watch. Below are some menu system captures: