Come with me. Let us prance about at all hours and let us indulge in things not meant for polite society. Let us revel in exploitation, bask in the thick glow of trashy characters, ribald stories. Bring us busty, lusty babes and muscle-bound meatheads with pecks bigger than their brains and guns bigger still. Let these things be good. Let them be bad. Let us stay up all night.
It certainly has been awhile, hasn’t it, since we indulged in a bit of the ol’ UAN? Sure, but it’s been longer still since arcades ruled the land. It’s been even longer since Capcom was slinging quarter munchers at gamers across the world from their Japanese stronghold, slaving over 2D fighters, brawlers, and all kinds of licensed goodness. I’ve stayed up all night with Capcom many, many times: sharing a laugh over Aliens vs. Predator, political discourse over some 1942 (awkward!), and some serious bonding over Street Fighter. The good old days have come back, in a way, with Street Fighter IV and Tatsunoko vs. Capcom hitting arcades, but all the reminiscing has me looking backward at those final years we shared together and the serious lunacy they bore. Way back in 2000, two things led me to believe that Capcom had lost its mind.
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