Pinbot.. Circuits.. Activated..

This is the story of my first pinball machine, my teething problems with pinball ownership. My feelings about pinball in general and a couple of mistakes I made that I hope other new buyers can learn from.
And, of course, some proud photos of my beloved.

So last year I took ownership of my first machine. Pinbot, from 1986, which I got for a very fair price from a member of the UK pinball community.
I love Pinbot, I dig the theme and the colours, the awesomesauce music and its great lightshow. I had played it a fair bit on Williams Pinball Classics, and had played it in reel lyfe at the UK Pinball Party in 2011.

I think for an earlier game there's a fair bit to aim for, and for beginners the challenge of reaching The Sun on three balls is mighty foreboding. (As of this date, Jupiter is my furthest journey) The visor and the multiball is the obvious gimmick, but I like the strategy of building up your multiplier via the back ramp, and the painfully angled targets that transport you THROUGH OUTER SPACE (or, more accurately, through a series of small lights on the playfield)
The Left Outlane is your nemesis, and costs you far many balls than the drain does.

I lived in a terrible, deathsville towerblock, a bit like the one in Indonesian rom-com The Raid. So I worked on restoring it to its former glory there but it never was up on its legs and playing.
Fortunately, my tower was deemed unsafe (rightly so) and destroyed. The council were kind enough to let me know first so I could move out and into my current abode at Christmas.
I don't know if there were any other survivors.

Since setting Pinbot up I've had a few friends over, and they are *instantly* taken by it, whether they have any interest in pinball or not. There's a lot to be said for flashing lights and shiny things.
My only problem with the game is he never says "I. Am. A. Robot." which as you know is standard script for any mechanical man pre-Terminator.

Anyway, back to last year...
Pinbot was in a dirty, dirty condition, I don't know the extended history of the machine but it hadn't had a rubber change in forever and the mylar had hard thick lines of dirt around the edges, all insert (lights on the playfield) were bubbled and there was some lettering loss.

Adding to this, The machine had recently had a fight with an exploding fire extinguisher (really) and was coated in powdered substance. On the plus side, the playfield was solid and there was no severe worn paint issues. The cabinet was also nice and bright and only had one or two minor scrapes. It had also had a couple of the score displays freshly replaced.
The flippers had been recently rebuilt and the boards had been checked over, so I knew I was good to go on an electrical and mostly mechanical basis

This was good as I wield a soldering iron with as much care as Farsight wields the funding of its fans #goodsatire

So I set it up (the head was disconnected, the only way I could get it in my home) took out all the connectors, cried, regretted buying it, manned up, connected up the head and turned it on.
Nothing. Just General Illumination.
So I checked all the connectors, checked them again, regretted buying it, checked them again, posted about it on Pinside.com, contacted the seller, checked them again. reconnected the ones I'D MESSED UP, and Pinbot sprang to life.

It was a *glorious* moment, more exciting than anything that had happened to me since Quorra. I'll never forget it.

As the following weeks went by I worked on the machine bit by bit. I took (almost) everything off above the playfield and polished it, giving it all a nice shine and wiping off the darkness on the underneath of all the plastics. I removed all the pegs, gates, bulbs, metal posts and starposts, The Bride and the translite, the siren topper, everything that could be removed or at least moved without disconnecting electrical wires was washed, cleaned and polished.

Whilst the plastics were off, I cleaned all the fire extinguisher residue from the machine, fishing it out of all the nooks and crannys. I also removed the rubbers, all of which were unusable, I ran a clean cotten bud through the sockets and cleaned all the bulb burnstains covering the lightboard.

After basic cleaning of the playfield, I decided to take the leap of removing the mylar. Mylar, for the uninitiated, is a hard clear film stuck over the playfield to reduce paint wear over the years.
Though I knew about the nightmare stories of doing this, especially on older games, the bubbling and flaking above all the inserts made all the polishing of plastics seem irrelevant. So, hair dryer and compressed air can in hand, I spent several days engaged in the miserable task of removing the mylar and a GOD AWFUL SPAWN OF HELL glue that comes with it. I tried a variety of products, but found a sharp credit card and Sticky Stuff Remover wasn't too bad, I'm sure theres better products out there.

It wasn't a perfect result, and some of the already peeled lettering came up with it, BUT, the playfield paint/wording was fine, only the insert lettering was damaged.
Underneath the mylar the PF was real nice, and I set about removing the thick outlines of dirt with a craft knife.

Satifyingly Gross. Like peeling sunburn.

Next, I used a cliched dollop of cleaning product Novus 2 (mmmm, carcinogenic) to give everything a good clean and shine, playfield, ramps, targets, the works. By this point Pinbot was looking pretty unrecognisable from when he first came walking into my bar (spare room)
When the playfield was clear of all goo and grub I took some paints and an uber-thin brush and touched up the few tiny spots that had damage, literally just marks of black or white here and there, as well as an insert outline or two.
I also touched up some of the black on the cabinet, but not the yellows and oranges, I need a better match first. "UsE ShaRpiEs L0L"


I went with Magic Eraser on the shooter lane, and took off a good shaving or so, this made it much cleaner and smoother. I dismantled the Plunger, gave it all a good clean and some new springs, the difference in action was night and day.
The apron has a scuff on the Williams logo, I started to touch this up but it wasn't working out, so I'll just get some metal paints or a new apron down the line. Oh, I also Brasso'd the section under the lockdown bar, which gave it a crazy shine like it was new.

When the chemical warfare was over and done with I hit the playfield with a solid coat of Turtle Wax. Once that had dried I did it again, this was more because I had become obsessed with the smell of Turtle Wax, its indescribable, but adorable. Try some today!
When this was dry I cleaned up the residue and applied some spanking new rubbers and bulbs to the game, as well as some new balls.

All the plastics and such were screwed back into the machine, I replaced quite a few screws that were iffy or rusty looking. Despite taking an abundance of photos and bagging everything together, I found this quite difficult. A word to all new buyers: YOU CAN'T TAKE ENOUGH PHOTOS WHEN DISMANTLING.

Eventually I botched the whole thing back together ("and I have all these pieces left over" ) then it was just a case of giving the PF glass a solid clean and polish.
Moving to the Backbox, I cleaned the back, removing some residue from parcel tape and general dirt and Brasso'd the backbox latch. I then used the mylar glue technique to remove sticker stains from the plastic atop of the Box.
I gave the Siren Topper a good polish inside and out before replacing it.

When I eventually moved house and got the space clear I picked up a new set of legs, the ones I had were a bit rusty and one of the levellers jammed solid.
I also changed the plug. Finally, after adjusting some iffy connectors and putting a new lock on the coin door, the whole shebang was done.

(Before/After)

 Now, its not finished, there are still a couple of cabinet scrapes, a few screws here and there, I also need to repaint the coin door and the apron.
As you can see he is unfortunately missing his helmet plastic. I found some new scorecards online which I printed out, they're kinda snazzy.

I should at some point replace the insert wording with a fresh set but to me, this kind of thing is a marathon, not a sprint.
It's hard enough having passion for an expensive hobby without all the penny-pinching that goes on in the market and the idea of spending £50/60 on importing a sheet of transfers because someone has decided they MUST try and squeeze money out of a niche market for a 20+ year old machine is bullshit.

To me, personally, the hilarity of someone threatening legal action against somebody for providing decal scans for these old games is off the charts. Are you kidding me?
"How dare you offer that 'Extra Ball' logo for free, I'll see you in court"
Talk about first world problems.
I can wait, and, if needs be, go without.

I'm very proud of my first machine and my misguided efforts to bring it screaming into 2013. Watching people light up when they press start and that old school robot voice kicks in makes it all totally worthwhile.

Now. I. See. You.

System Tragic

As of this writing, the high street here in Merrie old England is in total decay. A variety of once colourful and interesting stores are being beaten into submission through the digital age and terrible governing. As such, many towns are literally a rinse and repeat chain of Subway, Bookies, Phone shop, Greggs, Subway, Bookies, Greggs, Subway, Subway.

Primark.

Few independent video game stores exist from city to city, often with horribly outdated names like "Chips" or "Joystick" or just plain shit names like "Grainger Games"
Regardless, these humble franchises should be commended for manging to stay alive in the face of such a horrible economic downturn, and whilst ailing giants like HMV furrow their brows in a vain attempt to understand "What went wrong" (Your poorly stocked stores were 10x the price of teh intarnetz) These courageous young companies fight off rising rent costs and miserable sales forecasts to fight on, year after year.

When I was a wee lad, back before the weight of the world crushed my spirits forever, there was a suprisingly large selection of one-shop establishments with which to pick up terrible games for my Spectrum/Master System/NES/SNES (delete as applicable)
These were dimly lit, foreboding venues, often staffed by tie-straightening gamers and the precursor to the indie shop staple: The Comic Book Guy.

One however, held my attention more than the others, and ironically, it had nothing to do with actually wanting to shop there.
System Addict, no doubt named after the (s)hit song by bootleg Jackson 5 group  Five-Star, was a local videogame store in the very early 90s that fell into all of the cliches of any small run gaming proprietor, sparse shelves, sarcastic staff, roll-a-dice prices and a questionable trade-in policy.
It did however have one thing going for it, JAMMA.

Y'see, System Addict was a place where I'd never spend a dime of my not-so-hard-earned pocket money, but one day I waltzed in whilst my dad was in Kwik-Save to find they had taken in three JAMMA cabs, running at the 1992-1996 staple prices of 20p a credit (3 for 50p)
I was ecstatic. An arcade? five minutes from my house?? I was pretty much sorted for every Saturday from then on. Along I went, avoiding the dangers of playing out in the sun with my friends, or encouraging any artistic talents, to spend/waste much time and money on the three cabs that would have a variety of popular games installed on regular rotation.

Over time I honed my skills on Final Fight, Sunset Riders, WWF Wrestlefest, SFII, Vendetta (uncensored version), Cadillacs and Dinosaurs and many other fine classics, games that are often my go-to on MAME, showing how ingratiated they became in my psyche.

I also have to credit System Addict with the start of my love affair with Mortal Kombat, as I first experienced it beneath the flickering bulbs of this establishment.
I remember making the run between a newsagent and the shop, memorising Fatality codes from magazines and then performing them in all their gory glory on the arcade. (I couldn't do all of them though, System Addicts MK only had three buttons)
I was once even thrown to the floor by a proper adult (in reality, probably about 17) just for kicking his ass on said machine. The guy then turned the machine off at the power and left.
If it was 2011 it would have been a perfect time to say "U mad lol?" but it was 1992 and retardation hadn't been invented yet.

The draw of System Addicts three cabs took over the youth of Beeston, and they renovated a stockroom upstairs to furnish more cabinets, eventually taking the grand total to around nine.
They enlistied the MOODIEST GIRL EVER to sit in a booth and give change whilst eating coleslaw straight from the tub. She was truly living the dream.

Whilst all this arcade excitement did wonders for filling the shop, it did very little to fill the tills. I would visit the store every single weekend for arcade fun, but I don't remember once buying a single item from the store itself. Not Space Ace on the Amiga, nor Dynamite Dux on the Master System. Nothing.
System Addict was kidding itself. It wasn't a store, it was daycare. A place to offload your hated children whilst you went shopping or simply left the country. A place where you could get into fights over Knights of the Round or whether or not you mates dad "Brought him a prototype Sonic the Hedgehog for the SNES." (From America, of course)
It was a place to loiter, to make enemies, to waste time and money and to have some fun doing all three.

System Addict is long gone, it moved a little further into the High Street for a short while before vanishing for good. At the end of the day, when I remember the shop, my only memories are of playing the arcades, bypassing the shelves and counter completely, of it being a place to while away Saturday morning, but never of a place to buy games or hardware and certainly not a place to engage the staff in conversation.

I don't think it's missed by its patrons, not in a malicious way, but in the same way many arcades aren't missed. People, particulary gamers, have lost that need to go out to be entertained, and let's not forget that people like myself are old enough now that the gaming generation behind us never went out to experience arcades. They have all the entertainment they need at home, in tablets, smart phones, home cinemas and the like.

Which brings us full circle, to the digital age that's whipping the high street.
Whilst that appears to be an inevitability, I still hope that the few independent stores that do remain today fight on and always remain standing in some form, because they aren't all viewed like me and my friends viewed System Addict.
Many indies have a "home-grown" appeal, a place that is "yours" to shop at, where pre-owned prices can often be fairer, oddities and rarities can be discovered amongst the shelves, you aren't bombarded by talk of pre-orders and loyalty cards, and you can feel a sort of camaraderie between yourself and the humble staff behind the counter.

Oh, but as an aside, don't assume they love all the same games you do.

And, in name of all that is holy, if you call your local store for any reason, no matter how often you go in, no matter how long term a customer you are
Don't refer to staff on the phone by their first names.
Ever.