Turns out there’s a knack to evocative paraphernalia.
When you queue at Disneyland, there’s a load of fake stuff lying about for you to point at while you’re bored. You know, Indiana Jones’s in-flight magazine or Chewbacca’s escritoire or something.
Some arcade games are like that. You can straddle a motorbike or hold a vacuum cleaner nozzle and get transported by your imagination.
House of the Dead is absolutely in that category, but I think the monster-flesh uzi holsters are over-egged.
The eager contortions of the plastic zombies give the game away: *real* zombies would be lumbering toward you if they were blaring their tongues out, and they’d be keeping quiet, spying deviously, if they were stuck to the furniture. Here they’re tongue-blaring *and* staying still, which is not convincing.
I wasn’t scared for one second.
Photographer and writer covering Tokyo arcade life – the videogames, the metropolis and the people