Approaching the cabinet was like meeting a celebrity in person: sure, you know what they look like, but being in their physical presence adds a strange weight to the situation. As I slid my 100 Yen into the coin slot, a young Japanese male was watching me closely. "Perhaps I've hopped onto his preferred machine," I assumed. Oh well. He can wait. Entering the character selection screen, I quickly reconnected with my old flame and got to work. Suddenly, the individual behind me disappeared. I was barely two matches in against an AI-controlled Dhalsim when the action froze and those familiar words appeared: "Here Comes A New Challenger."
My brother, overlooking my performance, shot me a grave look. "You're about to get your butt kicked," he told me. On the opposite side of the cabinet was the challenger. Though my view was obstructed by the large machine between us, I could tell that he was indeed the one who had been watching me before. Like a smart predator, he studied his prey before determining it was safe to move in for the kill. A mild panic flickered in my stomach. Without making broad statements about an entire people, I will say that in my own online gaming experiences I have had my ass handed to me seemingly more often by those with handles using Asian characters than those using Roman letters. This fear coupled with the fact that I had been acquainted with SF4 for less than 2 minutes did not indicate a positive outcome. The challenger selected Ryu and the match began.
Wasting no time, he proceeded to mop the floor with me. He ascended upon me, released a series of combos, dizzied my poor Blanka, then unleashed an ultra attack before I realized the game had ultra attacks. Giving me the look of "see, I told you so," my brother wandered off to play Pachinko. But wait! This is Street Fighter. We play 'til best of three. As the second round began, Ryu immediately lunged at Blanka, ready to make this match a sweep. In an act of desperation, I rapidly tapped the medium punch. Like a last minute deus ex machina, Blanka filled with electricity and Ryu was sent flying across the screen, badly damaged. If there was ever an opportunity, this was the one. Barreling towards my opponent, I unleashed every Street Fighter II combo I knew. Thankfully, they all worked. He fought back voraciously, of course, and we ended up in one of those dual barely-visible-sliver-of-life-remaining moments where the slightest contact would result in victory. Through forces I still don't fully comprehend, I ended up the victor. We fought back and forth similarly through the third match, but again a winner was me. I can say without sarcasm that it was one of the proudest moments of my life.
Summary: Street Fighter IV is awesome. Thankfully, this excellent piece of fan service will be exported from Japan later this year.
