A memory card with one save on it
Cal
My brother’s game is still on it. I’ve never written over it.
The night
A Tuesday after closing: ten pieces, a story for each, and grilled cheese made one at a time on a little griddle.
Rita turned the sign around at six and plugged a griddle in at the end of the folding table. By seven there were ten pieces laid out on the glass case, a stack of grilled cheese on a paper plate, a pot of tomato soup, and the old TV by the door was on, the way it always is.
I never really played these, so I got to ask the questions. Why does everybody blow on the cartridges? Nobody could tell me, and they all still do it. Lena brought the guide she and her sister wrote all over one winter, in two colors of pen. Cal’s memory card still has his brother’s game saved on it. Opal’s controller has a cord that reached the couch and not an inch farther.
After the last story, a few people sat down at the TV and played two at a time, and the rest of us played checkers in the corner and finished the soup. We stayed until Rita started turning off the lights.
The shop
Top Bunk Games, and who’s behind the counter.
Top Bunk Games has been in this spot for nine years. Before that, Rita kept the games in her garage and opened it up on weekends, and then she had a table at the swap meet. She still has the folding table she started with. It’s the one we ate supper on.
The shop is named for the bunk bed she shared with her little brother. Whoever had the top bunk that week got to keep the handheld, and she says he had it most weeks. There’s an old TV by the door that stays on, and anyone who comes in can sit down and play.
The pieces
Ten video games, each with its story. Every drawing stands in for a photo.
A strategy guide with notes in the margins
Lena
My sister and I wrote in it all winter, in two colors of pen.
Read its story →The console my parents gave us
Gil
They hid it in the coat closet, and we found it in a day.
A handheld with a cracked screen
Wen
I dropped it on the bus in sixth grade, and it still turns on.
A controller with a long cord
Opal
It reached the couch, and not one inch farther.
A cartridge with my name taped on it
Rocco
My mom taped my name on it so my cousins would give it back.
A shoebox of cartridges
Sid
Every one has the same stranger’s name written on it.
The only game at my grandma’s house
Marty
We played it every Thanksgiving, because it was all she had.
A cartridge I finished once
Yusuf
It took me the whole summer I was eleven.
A pair of controllers
Duane
One was mine and one was my dad’s. He was never any good, and he played every night.
So far, only Lena’s strategy guide has a page of its own.
Join in
Two ways to be part of the next one.
I’m always looking for collectors and hosts, so get on the list here. I match folks up with nights.
Want me to host one for your group? Tell me what you want to do, and I’ll make it happen.
Tell me what you want to do