Eric Sedensky tells us what to expect in a pachinko parlor, which machine to choose, how to "read" the nails, how to play, and where to redeem the booty of cigarette lighter flints for cash. His report is a fascinating study of a subculture of Japan that reaches to all strata of society.
The pachinko phenomenon is really a microcosmic reflection of Japanese attitudes toward relaxation and the "off-time" hours that must be filled. People from remote, mountainous areas are the only ones who really get a kick out of sitting isolated on one of those mountains "surveying all below." People living elbow to elbow in a cacophony of sound and a riot of color and movement are more comfortable in, well, a cacophony of sound and a riot of color and movement. What could be better, in that frame of reference, than sitting in a large room with a hundred or so countrymen, under bright, garish lights, with the racket of balls bouncing off nails in a duel with background pop songs, while concentrating on the dexterity required for this man-versus-machine confrontation.
"OK. I'm increasing the pressure. Look at those balls hitting the back nail. Wait, a pattern is emerging. If I let up a bit, there, the balls are starting to fall... not quite... yes, here it goes. Dammit, they're bouncing off to the left. Hey, that must be the fifth or sixth to go into that... the bonus hole is opening. If only, now drop in there, that's the way. OK. I'm ahead, and just in time. Why don't... those nails are bent against me. Look at how the balls slip past that nail, if only, wait, if I increase the pressure and bounce everything off the rubber stop. Uh oh, the pattern is broken. This machine is due for a payout. Wow, I must have picked up something from below. I'd better feed the tray. What happened there? The balls are now bouncing in an arc and they're missing. Ease up. That's it. Stick with this. Another bonus series. That one nail is killing me. Maybe if..."
The ability to concentrate amidst chaos is in itself a reward. It becomes easy to forget about a lot of things-in-laws, bills, bosses and the next appointment. And there's always the possibility of making money. The pioneers of the game sure had a good idea. This book tells all about it.
• Acknowledgments •
The advice and time of a lot of people went into this project and I would be remiss if I did not thank each one for their kind help. Thanks to: Donald Knode for getting the ball rolling; Osamu Minashima and Haruo Erikawa for keeping it rolling; Teruo Noguchi and Ryuichi Hayashi for showing me the Sofia pachinko factory; and Kenji Kishima and Akira Teshigawara for hosting me on my trip to Gunma Prefecture. Thanks also to: everybody at Parlor Joy Green for their patience in answering my many inquiries and in letting me get "behind" their parlor; Dr. Sunil Dutta for applying his knowledge of materials science to pachinko balls and nails for me; Robert Collins for advice and assistance in the early stages, not to mention the Foreword; Barbara Bayer, the editor, for all her advice and patience;Jeffrey Behr for reading through my manuscript and putting some of my tips to the test; Kozo Ogi and Makiko Nakajima for their help and support in professional matters over the last couple of years; and to Paul Ainlay and Takeshi Fujita, without whom I may never have remained in Japan. Special thanks to Yasuo Hirako, Hirotaka Reizei, and other staff members of Pachinko-Jutsu magazine for answering my inquiries and for donating many of the pictures used herein. Biggest thanks go to Hiroko Kusakabe for giving me all the necessary computer assistance and support to process the words in this book, for using her computer graphic know-how for the diagrams, and for staying with me through all the ups and downs.
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History of Pachinko
The adjectives used to describe pachinko can be grouped in pairs with distinct polarity of meaning: fun and boring, relaxing and frustrating, profitable and bank-breaking, fashionable and subversive, bright (as in neon) and shady (as in characters and business practices), fascinating and just plain stupid. The ubiquitous presence of pachinko is overbearing to the point of rendering it invisible to the masses passing by the parlors daily. The game seems to be so meaningless, like one of the crazier fads. Regardless, the varying opinions of the game fail to deter some thirty million people a year from stepping inside the neon monster and giving it a go. Pachinko is so popular, in fact, that the average amount of money spent annually by players across Japan exceeds the total spent by the Japanese government on national defense.
The game's attraction varies from player to player. Some play for the relaxation, some for the money, and some just for the fun of it. A fundamental understanding of the game and how it is played will help start potential players on their way.
Pachinko, in a nutshell, involves shooting steel balls up to the top of a board with nails pounded into it. If the balls bounce off the nails in just the right manner, they land in scoring slots and award the player with more balls and a chance to continue. It is so easy even a child can play. The balls awarded the players can later be exchanged for prizes or money, so the game carries not only the potential for entertainment but also for economic benefit.
Pachinko, when played to win, is a test of concentration and nerves, requiring a sure eye and a steady hand. In former days it was for pure amusement, but with the present system it has become foremost a form of gambling.
Furthermore, it is a game meant to be played alone, one person against the machine. Even though popular pachinko parlors are nearly always filled with customers, everyone there is alone in a crowd. It is this aspect of the game that distinguishes pachinko from many other forms of amusement.
The Evolution of the Came
Oddly enough, this most Japanese of games was adapted from a game that was developed and played in America, the Corinthian Game. This was a children's toy that was simply a board with a few holes in it. A small plastic or steel ball was placed in a slot on the right-hand side and then shot up to the top of the board with a wooden dowel. The ball rolled down the inclined face of the board and landed either in a scoring slot or bounced all the way down to the bottom of the board and was considered "out." The scoring slots on the board were protected by nails which were hammered into the board face in circular patterns reminiscent of Corinthian architecture, hence the game's name. The scoring slots were assigned specific point values according to the relative difficulty of getting a ball into that slot. The object of the game, which could be played alone or with others, was to get the most points with the fewest number of balls.
The korinto gēmu, as it was called in Japan, was imported from Chicago by an Osaka trading company shortly before the beginning of the Showa Era, probably around 1924. The game is said to have first been developed in Detroit, but its exact origin is not clear. Adults as well as children soon took to playing the game, which was easy and could be enjoyed by anyone at any time.
Shortly afterward, the korinto gēmu came to be applied to more practical ends. Candy-store owners began keeping them in their shops to attract and entertain their young clientele. Children could come in and play for a sen or two. (The sen, one-hundredth of a yen, has been out of use for several decades, but the term is still used to describe fractions of yen amounts.) If the children attained a sufficiently high score, they won sweets, fruit, or other prizes. This proved so popular among the kiddies that by the mid 1920s, nearly every candy store had a korinto gēmu. The game was commonly called pachi-pachi, in imitation of the sound of the ball as it rolled down the board and hit the nails.
As the game's popularity spread, adults wanted to get in on the action. A few enterprising folks took advantage of this by setting up roten (open-air stalls), or yatai (moving stalls that were set up at night). Inside a roten would be a number of korinto gēmu boards that adults, like the children at the candy stores, could play for a few sen. The prizes, however, mostly tobacco and detergent, were oriented more toward adults.
This predecessor of pachinko grew so quickly in scope and scale as to almost kill itself off. The problem was that the korinto gēmu had to be laid horizontally, which took up an undue amount of space, especially in the narrow, tentlike roten. Then, as now, space was a real commodity, and only so many boards could be squeezed into one candy store or roten. With the ever-increasing number of people wanting to compete for prizes, demand started to overwhelm supply. This precipitated the first