When you enter Club Sega, there’s nothing but UFO catchers and an exit. Or so it seems.
The thing about shops in Tokyo is that they just grow in. They’ll have whatever space is going, whether it’s the shape for shops or not. Where each ends or starts is indeterminate.
So Club Sega doesn’t stop at the doors.
Get back out to the flawless, footweathered Shinjuku street. Metres away from the main entrance, next to a picture-menu of pork meals, steps go down.
Club Sega has a basement.
Final Fantasy bills lead in like breadcrumbs. Huge red letters top-to-bottom proclaim: “VIDEO GAME”.
How did we miss it?
Photographer and writer covering Tokyo arcade life – the videogames, the metropolis and the people