I still remember blowing into Famicom cartridges until my cheeks hurt.
I was watching some retro gaming videos on YouTube the other day. There was a channel diving deep into the story of SEGA’s Sonic. As I scrolled through the comments, I saw other old-time players sharing how they saved up for cartridges as kids, or how they first held a Mega Drive controller in a small shop. Their memories overlapped with mine.
What surprised me more was the comment section itself. People were rational. They disagreed without fighting. And they were quite welcoming to me, a Chinese commenter.
So I thought: I’ll write too. I’ll write about how we played, growing up on this side of the world.
Not to compare who had it worse, nor to claim we understood games better. Just our real experiences — blowing into Famicom cartridges, getting yelled at by arcade owners, going from grey-market PS2s to an official Chinese version of the Switch.
We are all gamers who love life. We just grew up in different places.
Before I begin, I want to say a few things. Not as a defense, just to let you know where we started.
First, we don’t run from the piracy issue. Back then, there was no other path. When we grew up, we bought legitimate copies — not to whitewash the past, but because we genuinely wanted to pay that ticket.
Second, Steam helped a lot. For many Chinese players, the concept of buying legitimate games began with Steam. For older games that never got remastered, we still seek out original physical copies from back in the day.
Third, the game console ban and the “war on gaming addiction” did shape us. I’m not here to talk politics, but to say this: it was a generational disconnect, not anyone’s fault.
Fourth, the shift from grey imports to legitimate copies was a natural process. I’m optimistic about China’s console market and its games. If you’re interested, you’re welcome to join us.
Fifth, we just live in different places. The love for games is the same. Chinese people are often busy, but the way we support legitimate games may be a little different from yours.
Alright. Let’s begin.
(Small note: AI helped polish the grammar a little. Every story here — blowing cartridges, the Water Level 8 rumor, the arcade owner’s noodles, using PSP as an MP4 player — is 100% my real experience.)
One day, a friend said he’d take me somewhere magical. I was shy at first, afraid to play too long. But the games there blew my mind — they destroyed the Famicom’s graphics.
I used to be the only kid in class with a game console. The arcade changed that. Fewer and fewer friends came over to play at my place.
Where I lived, 1 RMB (about 0.14 USD) bought five tokens. The hottest game was King of Fighters. Domestically, the ’97 version was the most popular, despite all its bugs.
There was also a Chinese-made game: Knights of Valour: Vortex of Fire. A side-scrolling beat-’em-up that could stand alongside Tenchi o Kurau II.
Another arcade practice: 10 RMB (about 1.40 USD) for “unlimited continues until the game is beaten.” Two players max. You paid once and kept playing until you finished.
Shen Jian Fu Mo Lu (a wuxia game adapted from Jin Yong’s The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber) I consider the most regrettably overlooked. Short, difficult, and released too late. It never caught fire.
And then there were the “house rules.” Not set by the owner — invented by the players themselves. In Tenchi o Kurau II, there was a steamed bun eating bonus game. Nobody taught us. Everyone just assumed the faster you shook the joystick, the faster you ate. So everyone spun the stick like crazy, the cabinet rattling so hard the owner feared it would fall apart. Eventually, the owner put up a sign: “No shaking the joystick during the bun-eating game.” The game itself never had such a rule. It was pure player invention. But years later, when people recall that game, the first thing they remember isn’t fighting the boss — it’s that bun minigame you nearly tore the machine apart playing.
At the arcade I used to frequent, there was one “treasure cabinet” loaded with classic games. But the owner had a rule: if you turned it on without permission, you’d be fined 10 RMB (about 1.40 USD). Once, I skipped breakfast and begged him to let me play. He joked: “First, watch me clear Metal Slug without losing a life. Then go find me five customers.” I actually did it. Then I got up to play myself — and died in less than five minutes. But the owner brought me a bowl of freshly made noodles with shredded pork, and slipped me a few tokens. To this day, I don’t know why that cabinet had that rule. I’ll never have a chance to ask. But don’t get me wrong — the owner was good to me. He was just having fun.