The early '80s was a period of immense creativity and innovation within the gaming industry, particularly within the buzzing world of arcade cabinets. One of the companies at the forefront of this movement was the Japanese gaming giant, Taito. Best known for hits like Space Invaders, Taito sought to make a lasting impact on the UK's gaming scene with a new universal cabinet concept—a cabinet that could house multiple games: the Taito Taitan.
The Taito Taitan debuted in 1981 with a pioneering vision. It wasn't just any arcade cabinet; it was designed to hold one of twelve of Taito's most popular titles at the time. This concept closely anticipated what later became a standard in arcades with the release of the JAMMA format in the mid-80s, which standardized the interconnection between arcade boards and cabinets, allowing for easier game swaps.
But what set the Taitan apart wasn't merely its interchangeable nature—it was also an artistic marvel, namely due to the involvement of artist Roger Dean. Dean wasn't just any artist; he had acquired fame for his distinctive cover artwork for the progressive rock band Yes and his work with video game company Psygnosis. Among gamers, he was recognized for his game cover art, including Shadow of the Beast, and for crafting the iconic Psygnosis 'owl' logo. Dean's impact on the gaming world was further solidified with his design for the ubiquitous Tetris logo.
The Taitan cabinets came in 'bug' and 'knight' variants, each with massive Reaction Injection Molding (RIM) heads crowning the cabinets—sculptural masterpieces meant to represent the type of action players would experience upon inserting their coins. Roger Dean, along with his brother Martyn, was the visionary artist behind these heads. The result was a set of bold, eye-catching cabinets that were meant to stand out in an arcade filled with competing attractions.
Despite their unique look and the novelty of interchangeable game options, Taitan cabinets faced unexpected challenges. In an industry filled with showmen and traveling fairs, the cabinets' unconventional colors, especially the vivid metallic green of the 'bug' variant, became a point of contention. Swayed by superstition, many arcade operators considered the color to be unlucky. A telling anecdote from the Deans in their 1984 book "Magnetic Storm" highlighted the importance of understanding local beliefs and traditions, something that could make or break even the most innovative projects.
Despite Taito's significant investment in the Taitan, the project did not achieve the success that the company had hoped for. Cultural oversights and possibly the industry's readiness for such a concept played a role in its downfall. Nevertheless, the Taitan remains a fascinating piece of arcade history, a testament to the times when gaming was still an evolving landscape marked by bold ideas and ambitious collaborations.
Today, remnants of the Taitan's legacy can be found scattered across the UK—cherished by collectors as rare artifacts of a bygone era of arcade gaming. For a generation who grew up with the bleeps and bloops of arcade machines, the Taitan stands as a poignant reminder of the industry's forward-thinking past, even if it didn't quite lead to the future Taito envisioned.
As with many pieces of technological and artistic ambition, the tale of the Taito Taitan is both a cautionary story and one that inspires admiration. It serves as a reminder that innovation is not without its risks, and yet, even in failure, there is beauty and a lasting impact to be acknowledged. Those interested in the converging paths of art and gaming, as well as the devoted fans of Taito's work, will continue to appreciate the work of the Deans and the aspirations of the Taitan as not just a fleeting moment in arcade history, but as a bold stroke of creative endeavor in the tapestry of gaming culture.
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