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'Old School' Arcade Still Popular In NYC
pickens writes "In 2005, there were 44 licensed video game arcades in New York, according to the Department of Consumer Affairs; today, 23 survive. With the expansion of interactive online gaming, video game action has largely shifted to the home. 'Arcades are an anachronism now,' says Danny Frank, a spokesman for the Amusement and Music Owners Association of New York. 'They exist only in shopping malls.' But Chinatown Fair has become a center for all the outcasts in the city to bond over their shared love for a good 20-punch combo and 'old school' games that more popular arcades don't stock anymore — the classic Street Fighter II from 1991 and King of Fighters 1996, for example, as well as Ms Pac-Man and Time Crisis. 'Now, you can play a million people from all around the world,' says one player. 'For me, it's not the same as playing face-to-face. The young'uns may not care, but I do.'"
on the plus-side, if you dress up as Goofy, there's a good chance you can get Cory Doctorow to fellate you while you're there.
Gerry the Babby Gerbil cowered in the corner of his nest, trying to dig down into the cedar shavings while the huge meaty hand of Harry the Homo searched for him.
Gerry had seen his brother Geoffrey fucked to death by Harry's impossibly large meat pipe: first the duct taping, then the lubrication with a garage grease gun; then the grunting entry and Geoffrey's squeak of pain; the hideous squishy pumping and Harry's howling orgasm; then a soft pop as Geoffrey exploded, his tiny intestines flying in a high bloody arc.
Gerry had seen Harry screw a poodle; hump a duck; violate a goose; bugger a hamster.
All had succumbed to Harry's animalistic thrusting. The poodle had been the worst. After Harry had finished with him, the poodle had run around yelping, trailing the ravaged remains of its colon. The blood and the stench had been incredible. Crazed by its pain, it had leaped for Harry's throat but had died in mid air, a strangled yowl its last sound.
Sometimes Harry had invited his friends over. After snorting hideous drugs they would bugger each other and then wait to see what treat Harry would provide for them. Once it had been a cage of chinchillas. They had removed the chinchillas and screwed them with horrible frothing enthusiasm, throwing the crumpled remains into a pile.
Now Harry's hand was getting close and there was nowhere to go. Summoning all his courage, Gerry bit down on Harry's sausage-like thumb. There was a roar of pain, and Harry disappeared, leaving the cage door open. Now was his chance. But would it be enough?
(to be continued)