So let me tell you about one of my arcade favorites--a reliably entertaining little fighter called Street Smart.
Street Smart, at least in the places I would frequently visit, was quite a ubiquitous game. For the longest time, it was fixture in all of the usual neighborhood arcades and many of those in Atlantic City. You couldn't miss it. In fact, I never did. From the moment it hit arcades until the day it was finally retired, Street Smart was a steady part of my arcade diet. Any time I'd come across its cabinet, I'd be quick to pop a quarter into its coin slot; and then I'd proceed to engage in the type of smooth-flowing, hard-hitting fighting action that only Street Smart could provide.
Street Smart sticks in my memory because it was one of the first fighting games I ever played and one of the first fighting games I ever liked. Before then, I mostly avoided fighters. I did so because I found them to be inaccessible; from what I saw of their kind, they were difficult to control, overly complicated (I'm lookin' at you, Karate Champ), and not particularly rewarding. "These kinds of games just aren't for me," I thought.
But Street Smart was something different. It was inviting and engaging. Whenever I'd play it, I'd feel as though I was complete control of the action and that I had the ability to overcome any challenge. That's exactly how I wanted to feel when I played games.
Really, there were a couple of things about Street Smart that I found appealing. For one, it had a strikingly unique gameplay style--one that mixed together elements of single-plane fighters and multi-plane beat-'em-ups and worked to produce a fighting game in which you could freely move about the battleground, approach the opponent from any angle, and carry out offense as if you were the well-equipped hero from a game like Ninja Gaiden or Double Dragon. There was no other fighter like it.
Also, it was a visually pleasing game. The character sprites were large and attractively detailed. The fighting moved were beautifully animated, with characters seemingly striding across the battlefield as they kicked, punched and slammed each other. And all of its stages featured great-looking, engrossing background imagery; whenever I was observing Street Smart, my eyes would always be drawn to its stages' finely rendered cityscapes, urban settings, mountain ranges, beaches, bars and vehicles as well as their crowds of lively onlookers, who seemed to be taking time out of work to engage in the more-useful activity of excitedly cheering on some brutal street violence. To be fair, they were at least polite enough to quiet down for a moment as the losing fighter was loaded into an ambulance and carted off to the SNK Hospital. The rest of the time, though, they were all, "Yay! Break his legs!"
Fine communities, theirs.
And, most importantly, Street Smart was just plain fun to play. Its action unfolded in a smooth, fluid manner. Its intuitive control scheme allowed for you to easily execute fighting moves and pull off combo strings. Fights were fast-paced and intense-feeling. And, thanks in part to some excellent sound design, pounding opponents was so viscerally pleasing that you'd be zestfully jolting about--forward and back and side to side--in rhythm to the action. That's exactly what I'd be doing as I delivered an oh-so-satisfying front-kick-spin-kick-shoulder-throw combo; I'd be totally immersed in the action.
In all those years, though, I never knew what the game's story was or who the main character was supposed to be. The only information available was what was illustrated on the cabinet's bezel shroud, and that information was limited to short opponent-character profiles and a vague "gameplay" overview ("Compete against the meanest, baddest street brawlers!"). From what I could tell, the protagonist was your stereotypical karate guy (and possible ripoff of Street Fighter's Ryu), and he was participating in a fighting tournament whose grand prize was a group of scantily clad women whose only purpose in life was to worship fighting-tournament winners. "But I'm sure that the actual story is much deeper and has to it multiple layers of complexity," I thought. (Spoiler: It doesn't.)
The opponent characters were interesting, at least. The field of competitors was comprised of memorably designed martial artists and large brutes, and as you progressed through the game, the martial artists would grow progressively swifter, and the brutes would become increasingly, and soon ridiculously, brawny. Hell--Tommy, the last brute in line, was so large and so muscular (and so green-looking) that he bore a strong resemblance to The Incredible Hulk; we started referring to him as such the moment we saw him. And man was he tough; for as long as I live, I'll never forget all of the crushing beatdowns I suffered at the hands of that metal-armed terror. That fella truly was my nemesis.
Ultimately, though, I'd find a way to take him down. I'd find a way to take 'em all down. Rarely would I fail to win the grand prize. Really, that's part of the reason why I was drawn to Street Smart: It was one of only a few arcade games that I could actually beat. Though, honestly, I was never able to attain victory by playing skillfully, no; rather, I'd usually brute-force my way through the game by wildly mashing buttons while continuously pumping quarters into the machine's coin slot. I'd do whatever it took to win--whatever it took to earn that grand prize and prompt the victorious karate guy to goofily shout "Oh yeah!", hearing which made all of the effort worth it.
I'd have an easier time of it when I could convince a friend to join me for some co-op action. We'd team up in the game's two-player mode (the second player took control of a similarly built blonde-haired character whose attire suggested that he was a proud American patriot), which pit us against pairs of fighters and often scary combinations of lightning-quick martial artists and super-tough, monstrous brutes. And then we'd spend the next half hour or so joyously pounding away at that control panel and pummeling our adversaries; and we'd do this while riffing on the game, exchanging movie quotes, and sharing many laughs.
I'm telling you, man: There were no moments quite like those when two friends were standing beside one another and engaging in good-natured banter while working together to beat a tough-but-tremendously-fun arcade classic.
Oh, the simple days.
Once Street Smart disappeared from arcades, I was completely separated from it. I didn't see it again until the early 2000s, when I was in the process of rediscovering old arcade favorites on MAME. I'm sad to say, though, that ever since then. I haven't spent a whole lot of time with the game. I've stayed away from it because, quite frankly, it doesn't hold up very well. What I've observed, as a more-discerning adult, is that it's quite flawed. I find that (a) there's actually so little complexity to its controls that you can have just as much success simply mashing buttons as you can tactically executing moves, (b) opponents' every attack out-prioritizes all of yours, and (c) opponents can all too easily stun lock you and continuously bounce you all around the screen.
Believe me: There's no fun in constantly having your controls frozen and being repeatedly comboed into oblivion. My younger self obviously must have had a lot more tolerance for such things. (And yes--I know that you can cheaply attain victory by trapping an opponent at the screen's edge and mashing like crazy. That, too, is an obvious flaw.)
That's how it goes sometimes: Our perspectives change as we get older, and some of the things we once held in high regard come to lose their luster. That's where I am with Street Smart; I just don't enjoy playing it anymore. It's simply not as good as I remember.
But even then, I still hold a place in my heart for Street Smart. What will never change is how I remember it; nothing will ever erase the fond memories I have of playing Street Smart in beloved local arcades--of spending half hours at a time furiously pounding away at the game's control panel and enthusiastically beating down some brawny brutes. Street Smart never failed to provide me exactly what I desired: 20-30 minutes' worth of hard-hitting, satisfying fighting action. That was its role--one it played excellently. I could always count on Street Smart to deliver the goods.
To such a game, I can only say one thing, loudly and exuberantly and with my arm raised in the air:
"Oh yeah!"
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