Back in 2021, a childhood dream came true for me. After wishing I could have my very own arcade cabinet as a kid, I finally turned that into a reality when I reviewed a cabinet by a new company, iiRcade. The machine had a unique premise: It was connected to a digital storefront where players could buy and install games à la carte. On top of that, iiRcade was nabbing some modern games in addition to retro ones, including the excellent Dead Cells.
It felt too good to be true. And it was.
Three years and one startup bankruptcy later, my dream had become a nightmare. I was now the proud owner of an enormous brick due to iiRcade shuttering its services. I was faced with an annoying problem that I never considered when I dreamed of owning an arcade cabinet: What the hell do you do with it when you don’t want it anymore? I was determined not to let an expensive machine with so much potential wind up in a trash heap. I’d just need to figure out how to bring it back to life like a phoenix from the ashes. To pull that off, I’d have to immerse myself in arcade culture and discover one of the craftiest fandoms in all of gaming.
Innovation turns to failure
Though iiRcade may be remembered as a pricey disaster now, it was a revelation when the ambitious project was first revealed. Most arcade cabinets come loaded with a static set of games. If you want to play NBA Jam, you’d have to drop money on an Arcade1Up cabinet that only had that installed on it. But iiRcade sought to change that model with a more modern approach. The machine would feature a storefront that would add games over time. That would theoretically make it the only arcade cabinet anyone would need to own.
It was a strong enough elevator pitch to convince arcade enthusiasts to invest. The company launched a Kickstarter to fund the project with a $50,000 goal. It raised over $660,000. And iiRcade soon got to work on creating its cabinet, as well as landing big partnerships that would bring arcade classics like Dragon’s Lair to the machine.
When the cabinet officially launched in 2021, I was sent a machine for review purposes. I had some immediate praise thanks to its high build quality, top-notch-controls, features like Bluetooth, and its ingenious store. After countless hours spent playing Dead Cells and Maniac Square, I was sold on the idea — but not without some concerns. It was a very pricey investment, its library was thin at launch, and its games often felt too expensive. In my review at the time, I stressed that the business model would require some patience from players. It turns out, that was putting it in an optimistic light.
After using my iiRcade on and off for two years, one day I turned it on to buy Space Invaders off its shop. I was having trouble logging into my account, so I decided to try again later. A few days went by before I did, but I was still getting an error. It didn’t take long for me to figure out why: The entire company had gone bankrupt and taken the machine’s online infrastructure down with it. Users only had four days to stock up before everything closed. No new games were coming and I wouldn’t be able to buy any old ones either. I was stuck with the handful of titles I’d installed up to that point forever.
Its community was furious, though some members were seemingly unsurprised. It was an ambitious business model for such a niche product. It was a blow to anyone who dared to invest, but the arcade gaming community is no stranger to rehabilitating defunct machines. One experiment was over, but another was just beginning.
Back from the dead
I wasn’t tuned into the arcade cabinet community when iiRcade shut down, so when I heard about the bankruptcy, I was at a loss of what to do. Did I have to throw my machine out? How do you even dispose of something that big? It seemed like such a waste of good parts and I just wasn’t comfortable putting it on a Brooklyn curb for a trash truck to pick up. With that in mind, I decided that I’d find a way to salvage my machine by hacking it so I could play one of my all-time favorites, Ms. Pac-Man. I had no idea what I’d have to do to accomplish that and was sure I’d break it in the process, but what was the harm? It’s not like my warranty was valid.
First, I’d reach out to a friend who worked on cabinets at Wonderville, a bar in Brooklyn that’s known for its collection of eclectic arcade games. I’d quickly learn that it wouldn’t be an easy job. I had a first-generation iiRcade cabinet that didn’t include any sort of USB port. That meant that there was no easy way to simply plug in a Raspberry Pi and change its function overnight. I’d likely have to swap parts like its screen entirely, which felt like a pricey proposition. The DIY project already felt over my head.
What I underestimated, though, is just how clever arcade enthusiasts are. After doing some searching online for parts, I began to find other iiRcade owners discussing strategies for renovating their cabinets. The common frustration was the USB problem. Apparently, iiRcade would use that missing feature to upsell users to its pricier Gold cabinets, but those who didn’t go for that were out of luck. It didn’t seem like there was an easy solution — but there was.
As it turned out, a software modding crew called Team Encoder had cracked the code and partnered with ACustomArcade to create a solution. The modding team had discovered an unused plug on the iiRcade’s motherboard. Sensing an opportunity, Team Encoder and ACustomArcade combined their expertise to develop a small widget containing a USB port that fit directly into that slot. It turned out that iiRcade could have offered buyers USB access the entire time; it had just chosen to gate that feature behind an upgrade. I would only have to pay $45 to rectify that.
After a few months of working up the courage to dismantle my machine, I finally got my screwdriver out. Team Encoder had created a detailed set of instructions on how to install the mod safely and use a custom piece of software to backup my machine on a computer. The Arcade YouTube community was out to help one another too; I was able to follow an in-depth walkthrough from Kongs-R-Us, a channel dedicated to cabinet modding. Once I did that, I now had the ability to sideload any ROM I wanted into the machine through a USB port. Team Encoder had even made Photoshop templates that I could adjust to add custom background art and control instructions when I launched a game.
My fortunes were reversed overnight. I was no longer holding on to a giant brick; I now had the best arcade emulator on Earth.
The joys of modding
Despite having the world at my fingertips, I still only wanted to add one single game to my cabinet: Ms. Pac-Man. I’m most used to playing the game on a classic cabinet that came bundled with Asteroids, so that’s the version I sideloaded in. After a lot of trial and error, my eyes lit up when I finally launched the game on my machine. Had I really done it? Did I finally have the Ms. Pac-Man cabinet of my dreams? If you’re used to modding arcade machines, you’re probably laughing already.
As soon as I touched the joystick, I knew something was off. I kept getting stuck on walls and my stick didn’t feel responsive when I moved it. I initially thought it might have been a bug with how I mapped my controls through Team Encoder’s software, but I actually had a hardware issue that would once again send me back to the community for answers. Ms. Pac-Man was designed to be played with a four-directional stick. Unfortunately, iiRcade cabinets utilized a smooth eight-direction stick that made it downright impossible to play certain games. My research would show that this nuance was already a heated topic for the machine’s community, who pointed out why problems like that make “multi-cabinets” like iiRcade so impractical.
I was heartbroken, but determined. If I could turn my iiRcade into a dream machine, surely I could do this too. I started going down an educational rabbit hole. Through reading Reddit posts between modders, I learned the nuances of stick gates. It’s not the joystick itself that only moves in set directions; it’s the piece of plastic under it that creates boundaries it smashes against. If that gate is a square, players will have a full range of motion. If it’s a diamond, the stick will slot between the cardinal directions naturally. I’d need to buy the latter and once again crack open my machine to install it.
The community came to my rescue again, though. After a bit of Googling, I’d discover that this was yet another problem arcade modders had fixed. I discovered a site called Uplay Arcade that was 3D printing custom parts for iiRcade cabinets, including replacement speaker grills and joystick toppers. A modder had created a small plastic diamond restrictor designed specifically for the machine. I wouldn’t need to crack my cabinet open at all to install it; it was designed to pop into the hole around my stick with zero effort.
Sure enough, it worked. I fired up my machine and could instantly feel the difference as my stick clunked around. I was finally controlling Ms. Pac-Man as well as I could in an actual arcade. My dream had come true and I no longer was Googling the proper way to throw out a giant piece of defunct machinery.
I’ve never been a hardware modder, but I walked away from my experience in awe of those who do it. At every turn during my journey, I found someone who had already considered and solved every problem I had. There were parts I could buy, forums full of advice, and detailed instructions that content creators had put together. The iiRcade community had each other’s backs when the company went south, making sure nobody’s money went wasted. In an era where tech companies seem to start and end on a whim, that’s more important than ever. It shouldn’t be up to players to fix busted hardware, but you can be sure that they’ll band together to make it happen for the good of a community when they need to.
While iiRcade may have been a failure, its lasting legacy is in crafty players who will always find ways to keep playing when a business collapses around them.
