Iremember having this intriguing conversation with a couple of well-informed arcade junkies over some caffeine sometime back, who I might add, happen to be one of the many rebels and wannabe saviors of the arcade generation. I mean, these are the people who have dedicated their lives to the concept of 'purism in gaming'. No, they're not extremists, but rather represent a whole bunch of friendly yet depressed arcade fans who are still trying to deal with the fact that consoles have indeed invaded and taken over the world. So, with the interesting prospect of seeing myself become the modern day Gamer's Freud, as soon as I got my hands on a personal review code of Street Fighter IV, I decided to have them over for dinner on a weekend. And after much persuasion and horking down atleast twenty cans of Duff-like beer, I sat them down, handed them a controller each, and fired up Street Fighter IV. While the elusive intro was being played, I knew in my mind that things could take an extremely ugly turn if they didn't happen to like the game, but boy, was I in for surprise.
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