Atari. Binary Land. Choplifter. Devil Crash. Elevator Action. Famicom. Gunpey. Hebereke. Ikaruga. Jet Grind Radio. Kuru Kuru Kururin. Lode Runner. Mario Bros. Naruto. Outrun. Pang. Qix.Radiant Silvergun. Super Famicom. Track & Field. Umihara Kawase. Virtual Boy. Wonder Swan. Xi Little. Yoshi's Island. Zero Gunner.

Heard it all before, right? Sure you have. Most WotR readers probably have, most serious gamers certainly should have. But when was the last time you were able to walk into a shop and buy all of those titles off the shelf? You might think I'm teasing, but such places do exist. Where? Where else?

If only they’d rename Tottenham Court Road ‘Electronic Avenue’. Or ‘Electroville’.

On my recent holiday to Japan, in amongst the tourism, voyeurism and hedonism, I visited the technology mecca of Akihabara Electric Town. High-rise after high-rise and floor after floor are filled with shop upon shop selling all the latest electronics, gadgets, hardware, software and games. A typical building might house six different retailers in as many floors. The larger buildings are multi-storey mega malls selling the wares of one retailer - the largest of which was Laox, who sell everything from air conditioners, through bridal wear to digital cameras and videogames (or ‘TV Games’ as the Japanese call them).

It's all a bit overwhelming at first, so our first trip to the district was a reccy mission with the goal of seeing what the going rate was for the things on our shopping list. Apple hardware is for some reason 25% cheaper, GameCube games retail at about £25 and game hardware is also less expensive. PlayStation 2 is the dominant format, and GameCube comes in at second place just above Xbox.

Umm. We’re frightened.

Every store is competing for your custom, most of it happening on the pavement where you can try out all manner of gadgets and games - from Donkey Konga to portable solar power units - whilst mopping your brow with some free tissues given out by ever pleasant Japanese girls.

During this first visit I managed to stumble into a basement den of TV Game iniquity. They had a reasonable stock of ‘recycle’ (second hand) games, and I managed to pick up a boxed copy of NES Binary Land. All the shop assistants are friendly and helpful, wherever you may be, and they're all easily recognisable, dressed in their company uniform. If trash collectors and builders wear uniforms, why should a humble shop assistant be any different?

A few stores later and our eyes had become accustomed to the bright neon glow. We got some fast food at Yoshinoya, a 24-hour rice place which came to be affectionately known as ‘The Chippy’. We had places to go and people to see, and it was 8pm - closing time - so we started to make our way to the station. Then it happened - out of the corner of my eye I saw a shop sign adorned with a super-stylised drawing of a Nintendo Famicom. Closer inspection found the image of many a long dead games machine. I simply had to visit this store, but it would have to be another day.

Arguing with motorbikes is a national obsession.

As with all the best things, they're better left until last. Especially when you're hungover to hell. But we got there in the end - we arrived back in Akihabara the night before our flight back to London, with precious little time to spare. First port of call was the Laox Mac store, where I left my friends cooing over a G4 iBook so I could go on my search for the holy grail of game stores.

Akihabara is as efficiently laid out as the rest of Japan - it makes great use of space so that no inch is laid bare to the retail God. The problem with that is that it all starts to look the same when you can't read a word of Japanese. So I wandered up and down side-street after side-street, sweat pouring from my skin at an ever increasing rate. It was 7.45. Where the hell was this bloody shop!?!

Becoming more and more disillusioned, I decided to give up. After all, they're only games - right? I began to despondently wander back to the Mac store. Then, I heard something so very recognisable, transcending the language barrier and instantly making me feel at home: the dulcet tones of a Nintendo Famicom. The shop was piping its in-store music out onto the street, sending blissful bleeps into the neon night. I had found what I was looking for and about time at 7.57pm. The store goes by the name of Super Potato.

Spunky Tatties, or whatever it’s called. And look! Girls!

My time in there was all too brief - only long enough to take a few photos, complete a lap of honour and grab a few things that caught my eye. I picked up an original B&W WonderSwan for 980¥ and classic puzzler Gunpey to play on it for another 420¥, all in all that's not even £7.50 in Her Majesty's money.

A couple of box-less NES games are the only other things I had time to walk out with. I could quite have easily spent thousands of pounds in there. Radiant Silvergun? Check. PC Engine? Check. Game & Watch? Check. Credit Card? Check. Still, you have to draw a line somewhere and (un)luckily for me, closing time had passed. The shop was good enough to stay open until I left at 8.15, and for that I was very grateful.

Gaming Mecca. We want to have our weddings again, here.

The memories will stay with me forever, even if the games may not. I will never again be able to buy a used game without remembering the mystifying words of wisdom that adorn the super-spud: "Get your wonder soft world!".

MATT, November 2004.

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