Every now and then, we mourn for someone who brought such joy to our lives, but whose name we’ve never known until his obituary pops up. That’s happening to me today, with the news that Masaya Nakamura has passed away at the age of 91.
What? You never heard of him either? He may well have brought a few smiles to your life as well, along with some four-letter words of frustration! Nakamura was the founder of Namco, a company which began in the amusement ride manufacturing business, but later grew to be the third largest video game developing company in Japan. Among Namco’s offerings were Tekken, Ridge Rider, and a little phenomenon known as Pac-Man.
The year was 1980 when Pac-Man first appeared in arcades, and it was, pun intended, a game-changer. Pinball was still big in the arcades, but mostly everything else dealt with shooting people, racing cars or some combination of the two. Pac-Man was about as revolutionary for its time as Space Invaders was when it ushered out Pong and video bowling.
Dad had a Wednesday night bowling league at Dutch Lanes in Lancaster, PA, and I would frequently tote my school books along with him and do my homework while watching him bowl. When I finished, however, I would take my scant supply of quarters, along with as many as I could cajole from him between frames, and hit the arcade. I mostly stuck with pinball, although I admit I was fond of Berserk, the prison escape game, Breakout and a shooter called Vortex as well. Dad finished up one night and strolled over to the arcade to pick me up, and then fell head-over-heels in love.
This was a sit-down Pac-Man game. Dad plunked in his quarter, and the love affair began. Soon it would take fifteen, thirty, forty-five minutes to pick me up after bowling in the weeks to come, and there would sit my dad, in a chair frankly too small for him, twisting and turning the munching moon through the dots, avoiding the ghosts, and talking to the machine the entire time. You read all the time about the pinball wizards who attract a following as they get better and better at the game. This wasn’t the case with Dad. Sure, I’d hang around, but the other teenaged denizens kept a respectful distance, because frankly it was a rather odd sight. Here was a man, well-out of the standard arcade demographic, sitting at this table, wangling the joystick, and muttering under his breath. It was understandably alarming to the average passerby.
The next morning, Dad would come down for breakfast, inevitably rubbing his elbow. “Yep, Dad,” I’d tell him, shaking my head. “I’ve heard about this. It’s in all the medical magazines. It’s called Pac-Man elbow.” He’d glare at me over his corn flakes, and mutter again. Yet the very next week, there he was, now wincing in pain as much as frustration. I’m not sure, but he might have started to play with his other arm, so as not to compromise his bowling score.
My cousin Michael, at that time around eight years old if I’m not mistaken, was a whiz at Pac-Man. He had memorized the first twenty or so screens, since pattern playing was the best way to hit the high score. He continued his mastery with the sequel, Ms. Pac-Man, which I actually preferred to the original, because the maze layout would change every few screens. Entire books would be written with tips and secrets about the game. Of course, all the home game systems HAD to have some knock-off of the game in order to succeed in the marketplace. Even today, retro consoles are all the rage, and Pac-Man is still munching his way into the hearts of a new generation.
But the phenomenon did not end there. There was a Pac Man Saturday morning cartoon series, Pac Man breakfast cereal, and Jerry Buckner and Gary Garcia produced a hit record featuring the music from the video game entitled “Pac Man Fever,” which could have been written for Dad, that peaked in Billboard’s top ten in March of 1982.
Another Pac-Man officianado was Reverend Jim from the classic sitcom “Taxi.” Louie the dispatcher got a machine for the garage, and paid Jim exclusively in quarters. Funny stuff.
I have a PS4 in my apartment which I picked up mostly for my son’s visits. No, this is true! I almost never use the system except to play my DVDs and Blu-Rays. The reason is that all of the games tend to be, again, about shooting people and racing cars, which hold little interest to me. Nope, not a single Pac-Man title to be found. Maybe an enterprising company will remedy that situation. I miss the innocence of that little game, although I guess instead of shooting people, I’m eating monsters. But at least with all the fruit that comes with the game, it’s a balanced diet.
So rest in peace, Masaya Nakamura. I hope that, wherever you’re interred, your headstone will read, “Game Over.” It would be a fitting tribute.
