The Crier
A Tale of Two Cities: Why Game Centers Don’t Work in Ann Arbor
It was a unique concept, it was a bland concept: a facility for gamers to come together and pay-to-play on the latest technology, without shelling out hundreds on a personal system
Forest Casey · Tech · Feb 19, 2007
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NewsvineThe First City
I came across the first gaming center of this story when my mother’s odyssey of adjunct professorships and teaching positions finally ended, bringing her (and my younger sister) to Ferris State University. For those not familiar with Western Michigan colleges, FSU is located in a town about 40 minutes north of Grand Rapids creatively named Big Rapids.
It’s a small town, snowy in the winter and empty in the summer. They have one movie theatre with two screens. I’m not sure that they’ve even received visitation from St. Starbucks yet. And yet they have a river, complete with rapids. They have skiing and a lovely main street that’s just as quaint as when the town was founded. Big Rapids has charm and character and I can see how my mom fell in love with it.
My sister, on the other hand, couldn’t have been more insulted by the place. There was no mall. The main street was quaint. And then there was the bizarre Area 51 Gaming Center nested in a windowless building across the street from my mom’s new house.
I confess that I was a bit put off of the concept at first too. Internet gaming centers, where patrons rent high-end computers (usually by the hour) to play online games, seemed like the domain of Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris.
My sister couldn’t have been more insulted by the place. There was no mall. The main street was quaint. And then there was the bizarre Area 51 Gaming Center
And so, despite my mother’s insistence that Area 51 really wasn’t that weird, I couldn’t muster the courage to walk across the street and check it out.
The Second City
In the meantime, a trendy and overpriced clothing store on South University in Ann Arbor closed its doors for the last time. After about a month, the Fuzion Gaming Center took over the space.
The walls were painted XBox green and steel-plated cubicles with 27” HDTVs lined its perimeter. Fuzionelite.com, the website, was uploaded to the Internet, leaving a trail of flash animation and techno music in its wake. Fuzion would host parties and tournaments, build and fix custom computers and, hopefully, build a loyal client base.
It’s only been a few months since their grand opening, but it’s a safe bet that Fuzion will “celebrate” a grand closing in the following few.
This will be emotionally difficult for the owners. There are few things more demoralizing than going out of business. But their cake of misery is topped with a cruel icing — they’re doing almost everything right. The store is laid out as well as could be expected. They’ve even chosen the right location for the right crowd: South U is in the crosshairs of every pedestrian on campus and is nearest to the largest crop of off-campus housing. The store’s graphic design is appropriate for its audience — mechs and tech with lots of faux-steel grating. Their website is competent, and their hourly rates are reasonable.
But every time I walk by Fuzion, all of its cubicles are empty.
The Two Cities
Fate finally forced me to visit Area 51. I was at my mom’s house and needed to use the internet. Unfortunately, she wasn’t wired. I had no choice but to walk across the street and finally experience Area 51.
It was dark inside the gaming center, but it wasn’t creepy. Cam, the owner, sat underneath some camouflage netting at the front of the store. I realized immediately that my sister couldn’t be more wrong about the guy. He was wearing sunglasses to spite the darkness and was playing some fantastic rock music.
Computers lined the walls, but they weren’t isolated by cubicles — they sat humming and blinking faintly onto a group of teenagers on a long table. Every seat was filled, even during the brightest part of the weekend. It seemed like every customer knew each other. It didn’t matter if they had computers at home or if they couldn’t afford them at all; they came to Area 51 because of the community and the atmosphere. It was like going to a bar packed with all of your best friends from middle school, everyone talking and playing games.
It’s only been a few months since their grand opening, but it’s a safe bet that Fuzion will “celebrate” a grand closing in the following few.
So why is Ann Arbor so different?
First of all, being a college town, most everyone is already wired. There’s no need to rent a fast internet connection when you can have one for free nearly anywhere on campus. And, thanks to the League Underground, which is stocked with fast PCs loaded with all of the latest games, nobody has to buy new hardware.
If you’re looking for a networked game among friends, the best and fastest networks in Michigan are already built into each and every one of the dorms on campus — there’s no lagging or latency. And after you’re done, all it takes is a walk down the hall to congratulate your teammates or boast in front of your enemies.
At Michigan, there’s no need to build a community around gaming and there’s certainly no need to pay for one. Ann Arbor isn’t a small town. And Fuzion is no Area 51.
1. mike says,
Feb 19, 2007 @ 1:48 AM
there was already digital ops and i can’t imagine they were raking in the bucks. then this new place on south u.
has anyone ever seen anyone in the south u place? aside from the sad guy behind the counter