Ode to Tilt
If the internet has little to no memory of a place you loved as a child, did it ever exist? How do you create a fitting memorial for such a place?
One of my first memories of living in Tennessee was sometime in the late 1980s when my family went to my dad's company picnic in Bellevue, then a little community tucked away in the southwest corner of Davidson County. The picnic was in a big field, and I remember it being very bright that day.
Over the next few months, that field became a construction site which evolved into Bellevue Center, our local shopping mall. I believe my family's first visit was either on opening day or sometime soon after. Everything was shiny, and the stores were full of curious customers.
It was during that trip I discovered Tilt, the first and only pure video game arcade I've ever known. Yes, I've had fun at Dave & Busters, but as real fans know, video game arcades shouldn't have food, booze, and bowling. Or at least that wasn't the case in the early 1990s.
In 1990, I was still two years away from owning my first video game console, the SNES. So Tilt was where I got my fix. Even after I was able to play Super Mario World at home, I returned to Tilt to play games like X-Men, Terminator 2, Revolution X, and skeeball. Tilt was also home to After Burner, the first motion game I ever experienced.
And then there was pinball, glorious pinball. Most weeks I spent half my allowance, three bucks in quarters, playing The Addams Family, Jurassic Park, and Junk Yard. Even today, I still feel a tinge of regret that I was never able to complete that jalopy and fight Crazy Bob in space.
The reward for my efforts was Tilt tickets - small, perforated strips of paper that when I got home, I stacked and bound like $100 bills. They're still preserved in a Ziploc gallon bag somewhere in my parent's attic. However, their current value ranks somewhere alongside Confederate dollars.
I don't remember when Tilt closed, but I do remember walking by the shuttered storefront sometime in my mid-teens. All the arcade machines were gone, their only legacy the outlines on the well-worn carpet where tens of thousands of happy kids had also left their mark.
It was around that same time that Bellevue Center went into steep decline. A few new tenants tried to make a go of it; I remember a comic book store on the second level. Somehow they convinced Star Wars' Kenny Baker to come in for a signing. They had him and his wife sitting just outside the store. But no one came. I remember walking by and thinking that it was the saddest thing in the world. I still feel bad for not saying hello to them.
For seven years Bellevue Center sat as an abandoned shell before it was torn down in 2015. It's now home to stores, apartments, and a decent movie theater. Even so, I miss Tilt, the mall, and the memories of my childhood I wish were just a bit clearer.
Fortunately, Tilt lives on as part of the Tilt Studio chain of arcades that's been in business since 1972. I wonder if I can redeem my 20-year-old tickets at one their locations.
I'll be in Moscow in a couple of months. There I plan to visit the Museum of Soviet Arcade Machines. No, I don't expect much from the technology, but maybe, just maybe I'll find part of Tilt among those old games. I hope so.