DDuring my family’s vacations in the 1980s, primarily spent at classic British seaside resorts, I devoted all my time and pocket money exploring arcades. From Shanklin to Blackpool, I dabbled in them all, drawn in by their vibrant bulb-lit facades and enticing names (Fantasy Land! Treasure Island!), alongside the alluring sound of beeping video machines within. Although I spent countless hours on well-known classics like Pac-Man, Galaxian, and Kung Fu Master, there’s one particular game that has always captivated me. It features a distinctive design that is both quirky and exhilarating. It offers a complete experience that feels like a blend of a traditional arcade game, a flight simulator, and a roller coaster. At the time, it appeared remarkably futuristic. Now, I find myself at the age of 40.

Launched by Sega in 1985, Space Harrier is a 3D space shooter where players control a jetpack superhero named Harrier. Harrier emerges on the screen and shoots down surreal alien foes amidst a psychedelic landscape. Initially envisioned by designer Yutaka Suzuki as a detailed military flight shooter, the graphic constraints of that era rendered this impossible. The animations were too complex. Thus, drawing inspiration from the flying scenes in the fantasy film The Neverending Story, he conceived something surreal and different, replacing fighter planes with flying characters and creating alien adversaries reminiscent of stone giants and dragons. It was vividly colorful and wild, akin to a Roger Dean artwork animated by the Memphis Group.

However, what truly captivated players was the game’s motion cabinet. Sitting in a cockpit-style seat connected to two motors that provided rocking motion in eight directions, as Harrier leaped, so did you; as he tilted from side to side, you mirrored his movements. Enemies constantly approached from various angles, switching direction and altitude, keeping you swooping down, rising up, and spinning your body into action. Throughout, a synth-pop score by Hiroshi Kawaguchi, known for his work on Suzuki’s “Afterburner” and “Outrun,” resonated through the headrest speakers. Advanced speech synthesis enhanced the experience, allowing machines to shout encouragement and instructions: “Welcome to the Fantasy Zone, get ready!”

Space Harrier was a truly immersive experience and exemplified Suzuki’s talent for crafting engaging gameplay. It was just one of the many projects he was proud of at the time. Notably, Taikan offered a physical sensory experience. Games like “Outrun,” “Space Harrier,” “After Burner,” and “Power Drift” emerged in arcades featuring large motorized or hydraulically driven cabinets designed to enhance realism. Suzuki and his team also created an animation technology termed Super Scaler, which allowed manipulation of thousands of 2D animation frames to simulate a 3D environment. What I cherished most about Space Harrier was the way this motion intertwined within its fantastical realms of checkered planets and surreal aliens. It felt akin to participating in a vibrant 1980s interactive pop video. Like Pac-Man or Tetris, its timelessness lies in its unique abstract world.

Why does Space Harrier celebrate its 40th anniversary? This arcade cabinet could still entice players anywhere in the world (if one can still locate it), but sadly, such opportunities are diminishing. The machinery is aging, and the expertise to repair and maintain it is fading. Aside from a few adaptations for home computers and consoles (with the PC Engine and 32X versions being the most notable), I haven’t engaged with the game in years. Now, as I settle into that familiar seat, insert two 10p coins into the slot, and grasp the joystick in anticipation, I wonder: Will I ever rediscover that immersive gaming experience? Will I ever see my 13-year-old self exploring an arcade in northern England again? Regardless, Space Harrier remains fulfilling for whatever purpose.