The 'rents, the gf, and I spent the past couple of days in Vancouver, which is a stunningly beautiful city. Vancouver made Seattle look like a cheap imitator. The public market on Granville Island seemed more varied and interesting than Pike Place Market. The view from Cloud Nine, a revolving restaurant on the 42nd floor of a hotel, was far grander than that from the Space Needle. Gastown seemed more authentic than Pioneer Square. If I were Seattle, I'd have a jealousy complex. It's like Vancouver is Madonna to Seattle's Britney.
Speaking of Gastown, I stumbled across a game store there called The Games People which, to my never-owned-a-game-store eye, gets everything wrong. It's the kind of shop that simultaneously excites and repels me. It's positively dreary to a casual shopper. Upon walking in the first things you notice are a) the store's very dim lighting, b) the stale, dusty smell normally reserved for antique malls full of forgotten Victorian ephemera, and c) the chaotic jumble of the items on the shelves. The store isn't comfortable or inviting. It doesn't tantalize shoppers with attractive displays of handsome boxes, enticing them to enter and explore. The Games People is a dark, dusty cave that seems a relic from a bygone era.
Which is exactly what excited me when I walked in the door. The casual Gastown tourist wouldn't dare cross that murky threshold, but I was hoping to step back in time. I approached each shelf like an explorer in an ancient tomb, gingerly pushing aside the effluvia of the ages in the hope of unearthing treasure. The 70's-era family games near the entrance suggested the store had been there for a long time. Who knew what unsold inventory still lurked in a back corner?
But here's the crazy part. The vast majority of shelves-- the ones with all the really interesting stuff-- are behind glass counters that keep the customer at a distance. I had to crane my neck from a few feet away to read the densely-packed spines of bygone boxes. If I wanted to look at anything in detail, I had to ask a clerk to fetch it for me. That might be fine for the Library of Congress, but it's a lousy way to browse. Had I been able to get my hands on the games myself, I'd have reveled in examining every relic in stock. When a title caught my attention, I'd have grabbed the box, looked it over carefully, and either replaced it or tucked it under my arm for purchase. Kept at arm's length, however, I hardly looked at anything in detail. I saw a copy of Eon's Runes, but didn't bother asking the clerk to see it because I didn't really want to buy it-- but I might have if I'd been able to pick it up myself and the price was right. The hunt for treasure changed from fun to work. I left the store annoyed and disgusted. The Games People is a store that seems to be doing nothing right. Many shelves had games displayed frontwise, blocking a dozen more games. It was impossible to peer behind them to see what hid beneath. What kind of way is that to run a store? How has this place stayed in business?
We took the seabus across Burrard Inlet and happened to come across the other Games People location, tucked away on the second floor of a market/mall. This one was smaller, brighter, and every bit as cluttered and difficult to browse. As with the other store, all the interesting goodies were crammed together on shelves behind the counter, out of reach. Apparently everything I think I know about running a game store is wrong, because these guys are keeping not one, but two locations open despite their horrible feng shui.
Posted by Peter at August 25, 2006 9:51 AM