Battery Backed Memories: Skull & Crossbones

I love arcades; though they’re certainly not what they used to be. There’s no more money to be made in creating new gaming experiences for arcade goers. The latest console generation made sure of that. When technology like the Kinect is cheap and compact enough to exist in everyone’s living room, there’s just no way to compete. Arcades these days are in the business of nostalgia. When we put money in a machine like Time Crisis, we’re paying to remember how it felt to experience the scale of that adventure for the first time. It was something we just couldn’t experience at home. When I was a kid, most video games were something that I couldn’t experience at home.

My first console was my Game Boy, and though it was replaced and upgraded a few times, I didn’t have a true set-top console plugged into my TV at home until the release of the Nintendo 64 when I was 11 (I know, I had it rough). The few chances I got to play something on an NES, an SNES, or if I was particularly lucky, a Genesis, were in the living rooms of family and friends. And then there were arcades. There are two arcades that I remember vividly from my past. One was just called “Arcade” and was in the corner of a small strip mall on the edge of my neighborhood, wedged between a barber shop and a dollar store. It was a hole-in-the-wall with an air hockey table, two or three pinball machines, and a handful of staple cabinets. It was depressing but adequate, and nothing cost more than a quarter to play. As a kid I’d ride my bike a mile or so, hop the fence into the parking lot, and spend an afternoon there with snacks from the dollar store. It was cheap entertainment and a refuge when I needed one.

The second arcade from my childhood was one of the many Namco-owned Aladdin’s Castle chain arcades. Aladdin’s was in an indoor mall in a neighboring city. It occupied the very back corner of the building, next to a hardware store and across from a salon (what is it with arcades and barber shops?). Many hot summer evenings were spent at Aladdin’s. The house I grew up in never had air conditioning, so on particularly scorching days, we would have to figure out our own way to keep cool. My mom, savvy as she is, figured it was just easier to use someone else’s central air. She’d take my sister and me out to one retail store or another to wander the aisles and take advantage of the climate. Most days, we’d end up in a Toys ‘R’ Us and I’d get to play the console demos. After a few hours, we would pick out a five-dollar box of Legos and hit the register to avoid any accusations of loitering. If we were really lucky, we would end up at the mall, and ultimately, at Aladdin’s.

Aladdin’s Castle was an order of magnitude larger than that tiny shack of an arcade back home, but there was always one cabinet that I gravitated to: Skull & Crossbones by Atari. It wasn’t because it was a particularly good game. I could have spent my time on the newly released Street Fighter II, or Smash TV. My initial attractions were the pirate theme (I was going through a bit of a pirate phase) and the price. Each play was only a quarter, whereas the newer or more popular games were typically fifty cents. I figured it would mean twice as much play time on my limited cash supply. I was completely wrong with that assumption, and I’ll take some time here to walk through the premise and gameplay of Skull & Crossbones so I can explain why.

Skull & Crossbones was a side-scrolling brawler where one or two players would battle through a fantasy world as the pirates One-Eye and Red Dog to reclaim the treasure that was stolen from them by an evil wizard (named Evil Wizard). The only weapon that either pirate could wield was a cutlass, and combat was controlled by two buttons and a joystick. One button would toggle the direction that the player’s pirate was facing, independent of the direction dictated by the joystick. It made the movement feel authentic to the combat style, but took a lot of getting used to. I remember spending a lot of time cursing the tiny swashbuckler for not turning around while mashing the joystick instead of the button. The second button would swing the pirate’s sword, and while not in use there was a chance for enemies’ attacks to glance off of his weapon, so timing was crucial. At times it was also necessary to combine the joystick and the button to direct attacks.

The combat was really challenging, especially to someone young enough to need a step-stool to see the screen. Each time One-Eye died, another quarter went into the machine. I could, and often did, burn through all my money on this cabinet alone on a visit to Aladdin’s. At some point it went from being a lousy attempt at frugality to an all-out obsession for revenge. I was determined to kill that evil wizard jerk and rack up as many gold doubloons as I could in the process.

In Skull & Crossbones, money was literally power. Pirate treasure was scattered throughout the game to be collected. Gold chalices, wooden chests filled with jewels, and pieces of eight could be found or revealed as a reward from a fallen enemy. Stepping on one of the crossbone Xs on the ground would summon a spectral shovel to dig up buried treasure in that spot. As One-Eye plundered riches, a magic meter would fill, imbuing his cutlass with the sort of uncanny power that only wealth can instill. In addition to all the booty, the player could also pick up and consume fruit, meat, or bottles of rum, which would restore a little bit of HP. These two gameplay elements created one of my favorite ever juxtapositions of on-screen resource tracking: “Health & Wealth”.

The game’s setting was pretty fantastic, too. The heroes start off on a ship with pretty typical pirate imagery, then onto the land and into a dungeon guarded by 16th century Spanish soldiers, then it starts to get weird. Eventually the player will encounter ninjas, skeletons, burrowing slime monsters, a gorgon, harpies, and a handful of other mythological creatures. Did I mention that all of this takes place on the same island? Finally there’s an encounter with the evil wizard himself, skulking in a dungeon along with all your treasure. The final battle is incredibly difficult; each time the wizard takes damage, he teleports to the opposite end of the screen. As the pirate makes his way from one side of the dungeon to the other, the wizard will fire magic missiles, and the only way to survive is to dodge them. Defeating the wizard will win you back all of the treasure. Or so I’ve heard; I was never actually able to finish him off before running out of money.

Eventually we stopped going to Aladdin’s. The fifth generation of video game consoles appeared and I was on to bigger and better things. Still, every time I find myself in an arcade I look to see if they have a Skull & Crossbones cabinet, hoping I’ll have another chance to finally conquer it. I could emulate it, but it would never feel the same. There wouldn’t be that physical response from the controls that I remember. There would be no risk involved; I wouldn’t have to put up any money and gamble on my own skills and reflexes. There are aspects unique to arcade cabinet games that I miss sometimes. They’re what still bring me back into arcades, and why I’ll be taking my son when he’s a little older. Maybe one day we’ll find a Skull & Crossbones cabinet and defeat the evil wizard together. I might even let him be player one.



Battery Backed Memories is a semi-regular, somewhat self-indulgent column about the games that are most special to me, and the ways in which they've impacted my life, for better or worse. My hope is that some of my experiences relate to yours and we can share a warm, fuzzy moment together reminiscing.