Open the kind of game store people used to stop at after school, after work, and on the way home from the mall.

It's 1997 and the shop is yours — half-empty shelves, a delivery due Tuesday, rent due Friday. Stock it, price it, work the counter, and turn it into the place everyone checks before they head home.

Build the store, shelf by shelf

You start with empty space, old fixtures and not enough money. Order stock, fill the wall, drag the displays where you want them, repaint the whole place, and knock a wall through when you can finally afford the unit next door.

New releases bring people in. Used games keep the lights on.

Keep the counter moving

Somebody puts a stack down in front of you. Scan each item, take their cash, count the change back into their hand. Read them right and they'll walk out with a membership or a protection plan on top of the sale — read them wrong and they'll remember it.

Let the queue get long and the whole neighbourhood hears about it.

Work the trade-in counter

People bring in whatever they've got: scratched discs, dusty cartridges, no case, and games they swear are worth more than you're offering. Turn each one over, check the condition, and make the call.

Buy low enough to survive, put the sticker on it yourself, and hope somebody wants it before rent is due.

Fix what comes through the door

Not everything that crosses the counter is ready for the shelf. Open the cartridge up at the bench, clean the contacts, replace the dead save battery, resurface a scratched disc.

A bad trade turns into your best sale if you know what you're looking at.

Survive the console wars

Cartridges give way to discs. Consoles launch, old hits become trade-in fodder, and the game everyone wanted last month is suddenly in the used bin. Stock ahead of the trend, get licensed for the new machine before the shop across town does, and open at midnight when the big one drops.

Over 130 games across fourteen consoles, and every one of them is a joke you'll get.

Chase the games people remember

Every shelf has a reference on it — a fake game that feels like something you almost rented in 1999. Sell them, spot them, collect them, and decide what belongs on the shelf, what belongs in the binder, and what belongs behind glass where customers can stare at it.



The register's counted. The sign says OPEN. There's a kid at the counter with exact change for a game you don't stock yet.