Chapter 2 — Growing Up in Games Culture, and The Birth of Leadership

During middle and high school, gaming was no longer just something I did as a hobby—it was something that I became a part of, something I started curating and organizing. I had begun paying very close attention to every instance of gaming that I saw all over the city, joining in with friends to build new gatherings of gamers, shaping my understanding of what gaming culture meant beyond just the games themselves.

Cleveland has always had a unique games culture. One of the most fascinating things about it is that it exists in places where gaming isn’t necessarily the focus, yet in almost all of the spaces where it’s found, it thrives. Games culture was—and still is—a social lifeline. It’s how friendships are built, rivalries are made, and skills are tested.

These various spaces shaped my understanding of gaming as a social activity through the repeat gatherings where Cleveland's gamers came together. In these spaces, you could never know exactly who would be there or who you might meet that day. In some ways, these spaces were like sports venues: there was your "home turf" that you frequented, and then there were other places, farther away, where you were the visitor. Some gamers were nomadic, traveling regularly between different spots, while others preferred to stick to one place. Game stores, in particular, became key gathering points, where you’d run into fellow gamers, and through the 2000's, midnight launch events for big game releases were especially important in fostering that sense of community.

I was a bit more of the nomadic type myself, always on the move, searching across Cleveland for new arcade cabinets, gaming stores, and comic book shops. A quick aside: in recent years, particularly since 2020, GamerHaven has emerged as the premier hub for Cleveland’s games culture, keeping the community alive with regular game nights, food, and an ever-growing collection of games. Today, INFINITEQUE has partnered with GamerHaven to share its extensive collection of video games, gaming magazines, and strategy guides, enriching the experience for all who attend.

While dedicated arcades started fading away in the late '90s and early 2000s, Cleveland’s gaming scene didn’t disappear—it evolved. Video games continued to be part of the fabric of the city, though they often hid in plain sight, waiting to be discovered.

The last bastions of the beloved arcade era existed within Cleveland’s malls, at least in the ones that were still open as some began to shut down, taking their arcades with them. Each time this happened, it was a crushing blow to those who cherished these places. But it was here that serious competition held on. Randall Park Mall, Great Northern Mall, and Parmatown Mall were some of the last places where you could find arcade gaming communities. The fighting game, rhythm game, and racing game communities were some of the most popular and consistent in these spaces. Games like SVC Chaos, Dance Dance Revolution SuperNova, and Wangan Midnight: Maximum Tune 2 were the last ones standing before the mall arcades vanished—although there is one that exists today having opened in 2018! Round One at Great Lakes Mall just outside of Cleveland, in Mentor, Ohio stands like a beacon of hope.

Sometimes, you would find the most amazing arcade games out in the wild. For example, bowling alleys and skating rinks often featured random collections of games. I have vivid memories of going to a skating rink at Ridge Road and Denison Avenue in Cleveland. This was a hotspot where people from both the east and west sides of Cleveland would clash, making for some of the most competitive battles you’d see. It was one of the few places that I ever found in the whole city that featured a wide variety of fighting games ranging from Killer Instinct to Street Fighter II, and one of the most hyped arcade fighters there, Mortal Kombat II.

Like the skating rink, there was another place that was held in the highest regard among fighting game fans, and that was the Powerhouse on the west bank of the Flats, an area just outside of downtown Cleveland. For me, this was the arena for the pinnacle of fighting game enthusiasts. Though I rarely got a chance to go there, I heard many stories of the epic battles in Marvel vs. Capcom 2 and many more.

Laundromats, believe it or not, were places where you’d also find some incredible games, which made sense since there were lots of quarters floating about. In fact, it was a laundromat that introduced me to two incredible games in one cabinet: an SNK Neo Geo machine with World Heroes 2 Jet and WindJammers. In corner stores, you might stumble across rare gems like Street Fighter Alpha or Samurai Shodown. Some gas stations even featured an arcade cabinet or two, and a good friend of mine regularly told me about one that had Killer Instinct 2, a game that I wouldn’t get to play until almost two decades later! Pizza shops, gyro shops, and other inner-city fast-food places also featured arcade games—Die Hard Arcade and Mega Man Power Battles come to mind. The thing is, if a place had a waiting area, chances were it had a game machine tucked in a corner.

But beyond arcade machines, game consoles would also make appearances in public places. I remember seeing people play Madden Football in a barbershop, and trust me when I tell you, the trash talk was outrageous. On one occasion, I even saw a girl playing Tetris Attack on a Super Nintendo inside a nail salon while my mother got her nails done.

Speaking of game consoles, there was a time during middle school when my friends and I decided that instead of just talking about our favorite games daily at school, we should bring them and play on one of the televisions on a cart in an empty classroom. And that’s precisely what we did after convincing one of the cooler, more laid-back teachers who seemed to take a liking to our group. I remember playing fighting games on the SNES for the first time in school, with my best friends in that basement classroom, where we had skipped class and had full reign to play in secret! It was like our own arcade that we created and controlled. I got so excited that I threw the controller when I lost one time, which I never did normally.

Then, as we all moved onto high school, the tradition continued and evolved. We brought different consoles over time to different schools and played together. I remember when we snuck a Sega Dreamcast into an art classroom, where I played a copy of Soulcalibur for the first time, burned on a CD-R at home. Later, due to my newfound skills with learning computers and networking, I figured out how to upload games to the high school server—making them accessible from any computer in the building. From middle school to high school, what started as a small group of underground gamers eventually became a movement.

Beyond the arcades and in addition to gaming on consoles at home or elsewhere, game stores were just as important to Cleveland’s games culture as anything else. Arguably, no store was bigger than Software Etc.—which would later become GameStop—inside Tower City Center. Tower City was the crossroads of Cleveland. It wasn’t just a mall; it was a meeting place. Located directly above the RTA rapid transit train station, Tower City was where people from the east and west sides of Cleveland converged. It featured all the necessary components of games culture: two stores that sold video games, a movie theater with a few arcade machines, and a food court. Tower City became a cultural hub for Cleveland’s gamers.

Inside Software Etc., you could learn about the latest news in gaming with magazines like GamePro and Electronic Gaming Monthly, meet and network with top arcade players and casual gamers alike, argue about which game consoles were superior, and watch and play demos of the latest games on the store’s kiosks. Some of the best players and most serious gamers in the city hung out there, and from time to time, you might even meet a celebrity or athlete who stopped by to grab a new game or console.

Tower City was truly a hub and a gem in Cleveland’s games culture history.

At some point, during these years, my role shifted from player to organizer. I, along with my friends, coordinated meetups at different places, like an anime store in a nearby suburb, bringing players from different parts of the city together. Together, we started organizing more and more meet-ups, from one person’s place to another.

By the end of high school, I wasn’t just gaming, I was building spaces for others to game. Cleveland’s games culture had shaped me, and I was shaping it back.

This was just the beginning.

By the early 2000s, gaming events were becoming larger than life, with gaming companies finally bringing experiences directly to the public. So when the Nintendo Fusion Tour came to Cleveland, my friends and I were beyond excited. This was Nintendo, the biggest name in gaming, hosting a massive event in our city. It was like stepping into a gaming magazine come to life, featuring demo stations showcasing upcoming Nintendo games, competitive challenges, merchandise, posters, and Nintendo-themed giveaways.

But something felt off.

I couldn’t help but notice and thought to myself, “Where was Cleveland’s gaming community?” Why weren’t the people we gamed with every day at school, in arcades, and in the neighborhoods here? The event was held downtown, but it was clear that it wasn’t marketed to Cleveland’s majority-Black and inner-city communities. Even though Nintendo was the biggest gaming company in the world, their outreach ignored an entire segment of the community that had been dedicated to their games for years. It was another moment where I saw who gaming spaces were being created for and who was being left out.

Still, we had an incredible time—competing, exploring new games, and being surrounded by Nintendo’s world. But in the back of my mind, I kept thinking, “Gaming is supposed to bring people together… so why aren’t more of us here?”

The Nintendo Fusion Tour experience was a big step in my awakening. I realized that if gaming spaces weren’t being built for us, we’d have to build them ourselves.

This realization led directly into my experiences at an anime convention’s game room. Here, I would finally take full control of a gaming space and create something that belonged to the community. It was time to turn everything I had learned—from arcades to underground gaming networks—into something bigger than just playing games. It was time to build something lasting.

This was the beginning of my true leadership role in games culture.