ホーム
"Letters from the New York Otaku"
By David Cabrera
#45 - The Summer I Lived Initial D
No, really, it kind of happened. Nobody even got hurt!
A couple otaku tendencies from previous columns got me thinking, particularly paying big money for anime-related videogames: a way of trying to experience the world of one's favorite series first-hand. “Have I ever really done that?” I wondered.
The closest I ever got to that was the Initial D arcade game. It's been years, and I don't know what it's like anymore (the current version of the game doesn't exist in America). But I have fond memories of a game that was just like the manga racing world in which it took place: the way you could fling the 86 around a hairpin turn like a paper airplane with a flick of the wrist.
As someone who loves both games and anime/manga (common, huh?), that kind of feeling is really rare. But it was a little more than just that.
In the few months that Initial D was popular, there were just two machines on our Chinatown stomping grounds and maybe three more in the rest of the city. One had a broken steering wheel, so it wasn't good for much. The other was an adventure.
I rarely went into the shady, seedy, downright suspicious pool hall on Grand without an Asian buddy in tow. When I went alone, sharp glares from the staff made it clear they weren't pleased to have someone who looked like me-- whether I had money to spend there or not. I didn't care. Initial D was in the back. The back was the part of the place I cared about.
In a dark, sweaty corner, there was a line about five or six deep to play Initial D. The level of competition was unbelievable: even the mediocre players were far beyond my own level, or that of anybody else I'd ever played against elsewhere in the city. The more pretty-boy the player looked, the stronger he was likely to be-- very anime, right? The best player wore a shining silver mesh shirt, gave all his opponents a kilometer headstart, and pulled maneuvers in his cherry-red 86 that we didn't even know were possible.
We were the weaklings at this pool hall, but the veterans were more than willing to take us on. We spent $30 every Saturday night watching, losing, learning the tracks by heart and exulting in our precious few wins... often against each other.
It was the most in-character way to play Initial D: in a dark, nearly secret location, young men with nothing better to do-- many with fabulous hair-- spent their nights battling their way down Japanese mountain passes to blaring Super Eurobeat. When I look back on it, though I probably didn't realize, I was never closer to actually sinking into the world of a fiction than I was in the Initial D days.
Eventually the machines broke down from overuse—they weren't cooled sufficiently for the summer heat, and left on for at least 12 hours a day-- and were tossed out. I checked out the pool hall a few more times, but by then it was even shadier and less welcoming. Maybe it was a front for criminals after all...
Today there just aren't arcades anymore in America. I'd really like to play that Gundam pod game: I bet it gives you the same feeling.
The Summer I Lived Initial D
2012年5月18日(金) 10時49分
《animeanime》
注目ニュース
Even people who don't know or care about Japanese animation or cartoons have heard at some point about those crazy Japanese cartoons
One of the things that American fans often say about Japanese anime is that the situations are much more honest than the same situations in American animation.
Sadly, I have never set foot in a maid cafe, nor have very many American otaku. Aside from temporarily at anime conventions (where they're very popular attractions!), they don't exist here.
Last time I was in a convention dealer's room, looking over the anime box sets, a friendly stranger turned to me and recommended Squid Girl. Then, as she paid for a few other series
What can't you try and sell American anime/manga fans? Note I'm not asking what American otaku aren't willing to buy: that's actually a long list, one with “anything that looks old” at the top.
