The local FGC is the time machine I didn't know I needed

Tekken 8's launch earlier this year happened to coincide with our local monthly tournament.

I try to get into the city early on tournament days, so I have time to grab something to eat and waste money in the shops if I feel the need. That week, the food was quick, Adelaide was quiet, and I had nothing I particularly cared to look at, so made it to the venue earlier than usual.

Typically, when I arrive early, it's quiet as a handful of tournament organisers set up stations for the brackets ahead. This time, though, the venue was already in full flow, buzzing with hype for the new release.

As I usually do on early arrival, I pitched in with setting up monitors and plugging in consoles as the venue continued to fill.

There was a point, however, where I had to stop and take a moment to soak in the atmosphere.

Around me, everywhere, was noise. The soundtracks, yells, and special effects of countless games filled the air, blasting at me from every direction. Sitting just below that was the low-level hum of crowd noise, punctuated occasionally by competitor yells and groans.

Together, it made for an overwhelming aural onslaught, the likes that would - in any other situation - make for a disorientating sensory overload.

Instead, it was a time machine.

The odd combination of rhythm and chaos was both familiar and comforting. Although the games were new, the homogeneous wave caused synapses to fire.

If I closed my eyes, I was, in an instant, transported 33 years back in time. I could picture myself as I was in my youth, stood on the ugly, colourful carpets of the Bradford arcades I grew up in, excited for the battles ahead.

Time became a flat circle as I occupied present and past - 2024 and 1992 - simultaneously. I was surrounded by 360 degrees of Street Fighter, Mortal Kombat, and their ilk - their soundtracks screaming over one another, vying for attention.

My brain flicked between memorable moments of Saturdays spent hanging out with friends to play fighting games.

I relived unbeaten streaks, annoying defeats, and unsuccessful attempts to try other fighting games. For some reason, most vividly, I remember the time we walked into a local bowling alley to find 7 of 10 Street Fighter II cabinets hosting fights on Dhalsim's stage - a headache-inducing cacophony of obnoxious elephant noises.

When I snapped out of my momentary out-of-body experience, I couldn't help but smile.

As an introvert, I'm wired to find busy, noisy areas off-putting and tiring. Yet here, in this environment... it felt like home.