Pachinko Power

Oct 24, 2011 19:14 댓글 없음
6787
6788

Pachinko Power

by Tom Bazin and Satoshi Kawase

It’s 7:30 am on a Saturday morning, and I just rode my bicycle 45 minutes to get to the MJ Pachinko parlor near the Tenjin train station. Pachinko parlors like this have special event days from time to time where they crank up the machines so they’re more likely to dish out. I exchange wary glances with the other early birds lined at the sliding doors waiting for their pick of the best machines. A chilly rain falls upon us as we blow into our hands, smoke our cigarettes, and read from the latest Pachinko-Waza magazine. I jingle through my pocket for some change to buy some hot canned coffee, and a dozen pachinko balls spill to the ground. “Ah, Tom-san. Again?” one of the regulars chuckles. Yeah, you might say I’m pretty into it.

Let’s see. I played pachinko last night. The night before I was busy with work, but it was pachinko on the Playstation. The night before that, hung out with the girlfriend – we like to play pachinko together. In between English classes it’s a bite to eat and then off for a pachinko quickie. Sometimes I even miss meals. I see pachinko in my dreams –I’m often looking for the perfect machine like a surfer in search of the perfect wave.

I initially started playing pachinko when I broke my foot and couldn’t play soccer. At first pachinko parlors — these gigantic glass and neon structures resembling Superman’s fortress of solitude, billowing with second hand smoke, ear shattering sounds flooding the streets with every opening of their soundproof doors — were very intimidating to me. My girlfriend suggested we play one Sunday and when you’re bored and you’ve got a gammy leg you’ll try anything. I came out of the pachinko parlor up 80,000 yen in four hours my first time. Not a bad way to start.

My single biggest win came when I was casually playing a machine between English lessons. I found an old machine that nobody had played for a week and sat down. As soon as I sat down, it gave out a jackpot and five minutes later another. The balls were overflowing the plate, but I had to go to my lesson so I called my girlfriend on the mobile and she rushed over to save my seat. When I got back the jackpots kept coming and coming. A crowd of people stood and stared at the gaijin with the massive stack. At the end of the day, I ended up winning 160,000 yen.

Outside MJ, I’m talking to a colorful, old man on the line, and he’s giving me some pointers. With his thick Hakata-ben accent he tells me that he’s been playing pachinko for 30 years. He’s a junkie like me, and I see him here all the time. Some days he’ll have huge stacks of winnings piled up behind his seat, but every time I ask him how he’s doing he replies with that same childish grin on his face, “da-me da-me” (not good, not good).

When I’m playing pachinko other players come to me to start conversations all the time. I’ve even had store managers treat me to meals. What’s great about pachinko is that there’s a sense of community among players. Unlike Vegas the players live in your neighborhood, and unlike mahjong you don’t play against one another, so naturally you root for the other guy. Being a foreigner you feel like a celebrity in Japan but even more so at a pachinko parlor. Because of this, I’ve made a lot of native Japanese friends there. However, very few of my gaijin friends “get” my fascination with pachinko. To them it’s boring, un-hip, a game for old Japanese men which is in varying degrees both true and untrue. Yes, lots of old Japanese play pachinko but lots of young Japanese these days play it too. The ones I’ve convinced to come play with me usually go in for a 1,000 yen buy in, sit restlessly in front of a machine, lose it within five minutes, get frustrated and press to leave. What many fail to grasp is the impotant role of patience in pachinko. It’s a lot like football (soccer). It’s not like other sports where there’s constant action and high scores. In football you often have long series of inaction and find yourself yearning for something exciting to happen. But then there’s an unexpected spark, a missed tackle, a perfect lob, a burst of speed and it triggers a sequence of events — a back heel pass, a defender’s out of position, and finally in a moment of perfection the player boots it into the net.

That’s exactly how it feels to win in pachinko. You see that metal ball snake through the pegs and you’re heart starts pumping and your eyes dilate and it hits the slot and thousands of little metal balls thud into your collection plate. It all happens so fast and so unexpectedly that in the end you just sit back and smile and swim your fingers through an ocean of metal balls like sand at the beach – utterly gratified, utterly breathless, hungry for more. The doors of MJ slide open and like kids in a candy store we regulars browse the aisles for the machine we’re going to play. I check my tally card for the ones I played last week, inspect the statistics shown at the top, and squint my eyes to gauge the exact formation of pins making various mental notes. I sit down at one of the newer “Sea Story” machines which last night read: 5,328 times played, 12 payouts. Like a marathon runner, I limber up my body with a couple of stretches, and I’m off. Soon there after, I’m on a roll. Things are looking good, and the reaches, or win chances, are coming thick and fast. I get a win, but itユs only a normal jackpot, one box of balls, or 5,000 yen. I keep playing, but miss an almost certain win reach. I slump in my chair, and the old man pats me on the back. “Da-me da-me,” I tell him.

Note: Fukuoka Now reminds readers that pachinko and slots are games of chance. Don’t play beyond your budget for entertainment.

************************************************************
But wait! – There’s Pachi-Slot too!
In recent years pachinko parlors have added increasing numbers of machines without balls. These ball-less machines are similar to Western slots, or fruit machines, except that you stop the reels yourself. More popular with the younger generation as they require good hand eye coordination and more skill in general. As a result they carry the most kudos. For 1,000 yen you get fifty coins. Insert three for one play, and you usually get about 20 spins for your money. The latest machines go up to 1,999 spins before they have to pay out, so that’s about 99,000 yen. However most pay out before this figure. Check magazines for hints on hot points, special zones like between 400 and 500 where the chances of winning are high. While slots seem more expensive, they offer greater rewards, one jackpot being anywhere from 360 coins 7,000 yen, to 5,000 coins or a cool 100,000 yen.

************************************************************

 

 

 

 

6787
6788

日本の文化「パチンコ」に魅せられたイギリス人のストーリー

今月お届けするのはイギリス出身のトムにまつわるパチンコ・ストーリー。ここ福岡で、サッカー教室の先生や英会話学校の先生として暮らしている彼がいかにしてパチンコの魅力にハマ
っていったのか?
土曜朝7時半。自転車に乗って45分、天神駅そばのパーラー明治天神に着いたばかりだ。パチンコ店では時々新装開店のスペシャルイベントデーを設けている。僕はいい台をとるために、列のひとをちらちら見ながら店の自動ドアの前に早起きな客たちと一緒に並んだ。つめたい雨が頭上に降りかかり、手のなかの吸いかけのタバコにまで吹き込んでくる。パチンコ雑誌の最新号を読みながらひたすら待つ。ポケットのなかで缶コーヒーを買うための小銭と、床から拾ったパチンコ玉をじゃらじゃら鳴らす。「あー、トムさん。また会ったね。」常連のひとりがくすくす笑う。そう、僕はパチンコにハマってしまっているんだ。

僕は昨夜もパチンコをした。その前の晩は仕事が忙しかったのでプレステのパチンコゲームをした。さらにその前の晩にはカノジョとパチンコをしにいった。僕らは一緒にパチンコをするのが好きだ。英会話の授業の合間に早めにご飯を平らげ、パチンコ屋に駆け込んで短い時間でも打つ。時には寝食を忘れてパチンコに没頭する。家に帰って眠っていても、目を閉じれば夢のなかで僕はパチンコ屋にいて、パーフェクトな台を探している。まるでサーファーがパーフェクトな波を探求するようにね。

僕が最初にパチンコをやったのは、足を怪我してサッカーが出来なかった時だ。はじめてパチンコパーラーに足を踏み入れたとき、スーパーマンの要塞みたいなでっかいガラスとネオンの光、たなびくタバコの煙、自動ドアが開くたびに道路にあふれる耳をつんざく騒音にビビらされた。僕のカノジョは、どうせそんな足じゃなにも出来ないし退屈だろうから、とパチンコに行くことを提案した。初めてのパチンコで僕は8万円勝った。悪くないスタートだった。

僕のたったひとつの大勝ちは、例によって英会話の授業の合間になんとなく打ったときにやってきた。1週間も誰も打っていないような古い台を見つけ、座った。するとすぐに最初の大当たりが来て、5分後にもう一度大当たりが来た。ところがこれからって時に仕事に戻らなくてはならなかったので、カノジョに電話をして駆けつけてもらった。僕が戻ってきたとき、大当たりはまだまだ続いていた。背後にはギャラリーができ、ドル箱を積み上げるガイジンをみんな見つめていた。その日、最終的に16万円勝ったのだった。

パーラーの外で列に並んでいる派手ないでたちのオジサンと話をする。彼はいくつかのポイントを授けてくれた。なまりの強い博多弁で、彼がパチンコ歴30年であることを教えてくれた。彼は僕と同じくパチンコにはまっていて、ここで会うのは6回目だった。「調子はどう?」と僕が聞くと、席のうしろにドル箱を積み上げてるときでも決まって、子供みたいないつもの笑顔で「ダメダメ」というのだった。

僕がパチンコをしていると、いつもほかの客が話しかけてくる。店長さんに食事をおごってもらったこともある。パチンコの素晴らしいところは客同士のコミュニティにあると思う。ラスベガスと違ってプレイヤーはご近所さんだし、麻雀と違ってプレイヤー同士で争うこともなく、自然とほかの客を応援してしまう。ガイジンだと日本ではなにかと目立ってちやほやされることが多いけど、おかげでディープな日本人パチンカーの友達がたくさん出来た。

でも僕がパチンコに魅了されている理由をわかってくれるガイジンの友達はとても少ない。彼らにとってパチンコはつまらなく、カッコ悪く、日本のオジサンのためのゲームである。それはいろんな意味で正しくもあり、間違ってもいる。そう、日本のオジサンはパチンコをする。でも日本の若者だって最近じゃパチンコをするのだ。面白さをわかってもらおうとパチンコに連れ出した友人は、たいてい千円分の玉を借り、台の前に座るやいなや5分もたたないうちに終わってしまい、不満に思ってさっさと出て行ってしまう。

ひとにその面白さをわかってもらうことの難しさでいえば、パチンコにおける忍耐はサッカーのそれによく似ている。コンスタントに動きがあったり、高得点をあげるほかのスポーツと違って、サッカーでは動きのない状態がずっと続いたり、エキサイティングなことが起こらないことに飽き飽きしてしまうことがある。だけど実際には、タックルをミスったり、完璧なロングパスがあったり、爆発的なスピードや一連のアクションの引き金 ー かかとでのパスや、ディフェンダーがポジションをはずれたりなどなど、選手がボールをコントロールして、ゴールネットにぶち込む最後の瞬間まで、ありえないきらめきの数々があるのだ。

で、パチンコで勝つということもまさしくこんな感じなのだ。銀玉が釘の間をぬうように走り抜け、心臓が高鳴り、目を見開き、スロットを回転させて何千というちいさなパチンコ玉を受け皿にどっさり落とす。にんまり笑顔で銀玉の海に指をざくざく泳がす(浜辺の砂にそうするように)という至福のときは唐突に予期せぬ形でやってくる。そうするとひとはすっかり満たされて、すっかり息もあがり、もっともっとパチンコをやりたくなる。

10時の開店。ようやくパーラーのドアが開いた。我々常連は子供のように店内に駆け込み、打つ台を物色する。先週打った台のデータをチェックし、頂点を示している統計を詳しく調べ、目を細めて釘の正確な位置を見極め、頭のなかのメモに記録する。そうして5,328回プレイされ、12回の大当たりを出している最新の台「海物語」の前に座った。マラソン選手のようにストレッチをして体をほぐし、準備完了。打ち出したら調子に乗り始め、万事快調。いい波に乗っかって、大当たりも近いかのように思えた。そして、当たった! だけどノーマル当たり。ドル箱一箱、つまり5,000円くらい。その後も打ち続けたが望みは無惨に打ち砕かれ、大当たりのチャンスを逃しっぱなし。僕は椅子にドカッと腰を落とした。オジサンが「調子どう?」と軽く背中をたたいた。「ダメダメ」。僕はオジサンに言った。
ご注意: フクオカナウではパチンコ、パチスロの節度ある遊び方を推奨します。いちレジャーとして楽しみ、お金の使いすぎには注意しましょう。

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パチンコもいいけどスロットもね!?
最近ではパチンコよりパチスロの人気が急上昇、台数も増えている。パチンコと違って「目押し」と呼ばれる技術が必要で、若者にも大人気だ。そしてパチスロは当たりもデカイ。まず千円で50枚コインが出る。1回のプレイには3枚必要なのでだいたい20ゲームは楽しめる。雑誌を見れば、攻略ポイントやヒントが4~500点も載っているので要チェックだ。攻略しがいのあるゲームだぞ。
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6787
6788

Pachinko Power

by Tom Bazin and Satoshi Kawase

It’s 7:30 am on a Saturday morning, and I just rode my bicycle 45 minutes to get to the MJ Pachinko parlor near the Tenjin train station. Pachinko parlors like this have special event days from time to time where they crank up the machines so they’re more likely to dish out. I exchange wary glances with the other early birds lined at the sliding doors waiting for their pick of the best machines. A chilly rain falls upon us as we blow into our hands, smoke our cigarettes, and read from the latest Pachinko-Waza magazine. I jingle through my pocket for some change to buy some hot canned coffee, and a dozen pachinko balls spill to the ground. “Ah, Tom-san. Again?” one of the regulars chuckles. Yeah, you might say I’m pretty into it.

Let’s see. I played pachinko last night. The night before I was busy with work, but it was pachinko on the Playstation. The night before that, hung out with the girlfriend – we like to play pachinko together. In between English classes it’s a bite to eat and then off for a pachinko quickie. Sometimes I even miss meals. I see pachinko in my dreams –I’m often looking for the perfect machine like a surfer in search of the perfect wave.

I initially started playing pachinko when I broke my foot and couldn’t play soccer. At first pachinko parlors — these gigantic glass and neon structures resembling Superman’s fortress of solitude, billowing with second hand smoke, ear shattering sounds flooding the streets with every opening of their soundproof doors — were very intimidating to me. My girlfriend suggested we play one Sunday and when you’re bored and you’ve got a gammy leg you’ll try anything. I came out of the pachinko parlor up 80,000 yen in four hours my first time. Not a bad way to start.

My single biggest win came when I was casually playing a machine between English lessons. I found an old machine that nobody had played for a week and sat down. As soon as I sat down, it gave out a jackpot and five minutes later another. The balls were overflowing the plate, but I had to go to my lesson so I called my girlfriend on the mobile and she rushed over to save my seat. When I got back the jackpots kept coming and coming. A crowd of people stood and stared at the gaijin with the massive stack. At the end of the day, I ended up winning 160,000 yen.

Outside MJ, I’m talking to a colorful, old man on the line, and he’s giving me some pointers. With his thick Hakata-ben accent he tells me that he’s been playing pachinko for 30 years. He’s a junkie like me, and I see him here all the time. Some days he’ll have huge stacks of winnings piled up behind his seat, but every time I ask him how he’s doing he replies with that same childish grin on his face, “da-me da-me” (not good, not good).

When I’m playing pachinko other players come to me to start conversations all the time. I’ve even had store managers treat me to meals. What’s great about pachinko is that there’s a sense of community among players. Unlike Vegas the players live in your neighborhood, and unlike mahjong you don’t play against one another, so naturally you root for the other guy. Being a foreigner you feel like a celebrity in Japan but even more so at a pachinko parlor. Because of this, I’ve made a lot of native Japanese friends there. However, very few of my gaijin friends “get” my fascination with pachinko. To them it’s boring, un-hip, a game for old Japanese men which is in varying degrees both true and untrue. Yes, lots of old Japanese play pachinko but lots of young Japanese these days play it too. The ones I’ve convinced to come play with me usually go in for a 1,000 yen buy in, sit restlessly in front of a machine, lose it within five minutes, get frustrated and press to leave. What many fail to grasp is the impotant role of patience in pachinko. It’s a lot like football (soccer). It’s not like other sports where there’s constant action and high scores. In football you often have long series of inaction and find yourself yearning for something exciting to happen. But then there’s an unexpected spark, a missed tackle, a perfect lob, a burst of speed and it triggers a sequence of events — a back heel pass, a defender’s out of position, and finally in a moment of perfection the player boots it into the net.

That’s exactly how it feels to win in pachinko. You see that metal ball snake through the pegs and you’re heart starts pumping and your eyes dilate and it hits the slot and thousands of little metal balls thud into your collection plate. It all happens so fast and so unexpectedly that in the end you just sit back and smile and swim your fingers through an ocean of metal balls like sand at the beach – utterly gratified, utterly breathless, hungry for more. The doors of MJ slide open and like kids in a candy store we regulars browse the aisles for the machine we’re going to play. I check my tally card for the ones I played last week, inspect the statistics shown at the top, and squint my eyes to gauge the exact formation of pins making various mental notes. I sit down at one of the newer “Sea Story” machines which last night read: 5,328 times played, 12 payouts. Like a marathon runner, I limber up my body with a couple of stretches, and I’m off. Soon there after, I’m on a roll. Things are looking good, and the reaches, or win chances, are coming thick and fast. I get a win, but itユs only a normal jackpot, one box of balls, or 5,000 yen. I keep playing, but miss an almost certain win reach. I slump in my chair, and the old man pats me on the back. “Da-me da-me,” I tell him.

Note: Fukuoka Now reminds readers that pachinko and slots are games of chance. Don’t play beyond your budget for entertainment.

************************************************************
But wait! – There’s Pachi-Slot too!
In recent years pachinko parlors have added increasing numbers of machines without balls. These ball-less machines are similar to Western slots, or fruit machines, except that you stop the reels yourself. More popular with the younger generation as they require good hand eye coordination and more skill in general. As a result they carry the most kudos. For 1,000 yen you get fifty coins. Insert three for one play, and you usually get about 20 spins for your money. The latest machines go up to 1,999 spins before they have to pay out, so that’s about 99,000 yen. However most pay out before this figure. Check magazines for hints on hot points, special zones like between 400 and 500 where the chances of winning are high. While slots seem more expensive, they offer greater rewards, one jackpot being anywhere from 360 coins 7,000 yen, to 5,000 coins or a cool 100,000 yen.

************************************************************

 

 

 

 

6787
6788

Pachinko Power

by Tom Bazin and Satoshi Kawase

It’s 7:30 am on a Saturday morning, and I just rode my bicycle 45 minutes to get to the MJ Pachinko parlor near the Tenjin train station. Pachinko parlors like this have special event days from time to time where they crank up the machines so they’re more likely to dish out. I exchange wary glances with the other early birds lined at the sliding doors waiting for their pick of the best machines. A chilly rain falls upon us as we blow into our hands, smoke our cigarettes, and read from the latest Pachinko-Waza magazine. I jingle through my pocket for some change to buy some hot canned coffee, and a dozen pachinko balls spill to the ground. “Ah, Tom-san. Again?” one of the regulars chuckles. Yeah, you might say I’m pretty into it.

Let’s see. I played pachinko last night. The night before I was busy with work, but it was pachinko on the Playstation. The night before that, hung out with the girlfriend – we like to play pachinko together. In between English classes it’s a bite to eat and then off for a pachinko quickie. Sometimes I even miss meals. I see pachinko in my dreams –I’m often looking for the perfect machine like a surfer in search of the perfect wave.

I initially started playing pachinko when I broke my foot and couldn’t play soccer. At first pachinko parlors — these gigantic glass and neon structures resembling Superman’s fortress of solitude, billowing with second hand smoke, ear shattering sounds flooding the streets with every opening of their soundproof doors — were very intimidating to me. My girlfriend suggested we play one Sunday and when you’re bored and you’ve got a gammy leg you’ll try anything. I came out of the pachinko parlor up 80,000 yen in four hours my first time. Not a bad way to start.

My single biggest win came when I was casually playing a machine between English lessons. I found an old machine that nobody had played for a week and sat down. As soon as I sat down, it gave out a jackpot and five minutes later another. The balls were overflowing the plate, but I had to go to my lesson so I called my girlfriend on the mobile and she rushed over to save my seat. When I got back the jackpots kept coming and coming. A crowd of people stood and stared at the gaijin with the massive stack. At the end of the day, I ended up winning 160,000 yen.

Outside MJ, I’m talking to a colorful, old man on the line, and he’s giving me some pointers. With his thick Hakata-ben accent he tells me that he’s been playing pachinko for 30 years. He’s a junkie like me, and I see him here all the time. Some days he’ll have huge stacks of winnings piled up behind his seat, but every time I ask him how he’s doing he replies with that same childish grin on his face, “da-me da-me” (not good, not good).

When I’m playing pachinko other players come to me to start conversations all the time. I’ve even had store managers treat me to meals. What’s great about pachinko is that there’s a sense of community among players. Unlike Vegas the players live in your neighborhood, and unlike mahjong you don’t play against one another, so naturally you root for the other guy. Being a foreigner you feel like a celebrity in Japan but even more so at a pachinko parlor. Because of this, I’ve made a lot of native Japanese friends there. However, very few of my gaijin friends “get” my fascination with pachinko. To them it’s boring, un-hip, a game for old Japanese men which is in varying degrees both true and untrue. Yes, lots of old Japanese play pachinko but lots of young Japanese these days play it too. The ones I’ve convinced to come play with me usually go in for a 1,000 yen buy in, sit restlessly in front of a machine, lose it within five minutes, get frustrated and press to leave. What many fail to grasp is the impotant role of patience in pachinko. It’s a lot like football (soccer). It’s not like other sports where there’s constant action and high scores. In football you often have long series of inaction and find yourself yearning for something exciting to happen. But then there’s an unexpected spark, a missed tackle, a perfect lob, a burst of speed and it triggers a sequence of events — a back heel pass, a defender’s out of position, and finally in a moment of perfection the player boots it into the net.

That’s exactly how it feels to win in pachinko. You see that metal ball snake through the pegs and you’re heart starts pumping and your eyes dilate and it hits the slot and thousands of little metal balls thud into your collection plate. It all happens so fast and so unexpectedly that in the end you just sit back and smile and swim your fingers through an ocean of metal balls like sand at the beach – utterly gratified, utterly breathless, hungry for more. The doors of MJ slide open and like kids in a candy store we regulars browse the aisles for the machine we’re going to play. I check my tally card for the ones I played last week, inspect the statistics shown at the top, and squint my eyes to gauge the exact formation of pins making various mental notes. I sit down at one of the newer “Sea Story” machines which last night read: 5,328 times played, 12 payouts. Like a marathon runner, I limber up my body with a couple of stretches, and I’m off. Soon there after, I’m on a roll. Things are looking good, and the reaches, or win chances, are coming thick and fast. I get a win, but itユs only a normal jackpot, one box of balls, or 5,000 yen. I keep playing, but miss an almost certain win reach. I slump in my chair, and the old man pats me on the back. “Da-me da-me,” I tell him.

Note: Fukuoka Now reminds readers that pachinko and slots are games of chance. Don’t play beyond your budget for entertainment.

************************************************************
But wait! – There’s Pachi-Slot too!
In recent years pachinko parlors have added increasing numbers of machines without balls. These ball-less machines are similar to Western slots, or fruit machines, except that you stop the reels yourself. More popular with the younger generation as they require good hand eye coordination and more skill in general. As a result they carry the most kudos. For 1,000 yen you get fifty coins. Insert three for one play, and you usually get about 20 spins for your money. The latest machines go up to 1,999 spins before they have to pay out, so that’s about 99,000 yen. However most pay out before this figure. Check magazines for hints on hot points, special zones like between 400 and 500 where the chances of winning are high. While slots seem more expensive, they offer greater rewards, one jackpot being anywhere from 360 coins 7,000 yen, to 5,000 coins or a cool 100,000 yen.

************************************************************

 

 

 

 

6787
6788

Pachinko Power

by Tom Bazin and Satoshi Kawase

It’s 7:30 am on a Saturday morning, and I just rode my bicycle 45 minutes to get to the MJ Pachinko parlor near the Tenjin train station. Pachinko parlors like this have special event days from time to time where they crank up the machines so they’re more likely to dish out. I exchange wary glances with the other early birds lined at the sliding doors waiting for their pick of the best machines. A chilly rain falls upon us as we blow into our hands, smoke our cigarettes, and read from the latest Pachinko-Waza magazine. I jingle through my pocket for some change to buy some hot canned coffee, and a dozen pachinko balls spill to the ground. “Ah, Tom-san. Again?” one of the regulars chuckles. Yeah, you might say I’m pretty into it.

Let’s see. I played pachinko last night. The night before I was busy with work, but it was pachinko on the Playstation. The night before that, hung out with the girlfriend – we like to play pachinko together. In between English classes it’s a bite to eat and then off for a pachinko quickie. Sometimes I even miss meals. I see pachinko in my dreams –I’m often looking for the perfect machine like a surfer in search of the perfect wave.

I initially started playing pachinko when I broke my foot and couldn’t play soccer. At first pachinko parlors — these gigantic glass and neon structures resembling Superman’s fortress of solitude, billowing with second hand smoke, ear shattering sounds flooding the streets with every opening of their soundproof doors — were very intimidating to me. My girlfriend suggested we play one Sunday and when you’re bored and you’ve got a gammy leg you’ll try anything. I came out of the pachinko parlor up 80,000 yen in four hours my first time. Not a bad way to start.

My single biggest win came when I was casually playing a machine between English lessons. I found an old machine that nobody had played for a week and sat down. As soon as I sat down, it gave out a jackpot and five minutes later another. The balls were overflowing the plate, but I had to go to my lesson so I called my girlfriend on the mobile and she rushed over to save my seat. When I got back the jackpots kept coming and coming. A crowd of people stood and stared at the gaijin with the massive stack. At the end of the day, I ended up winning 160,000 yen.

Outside MJ, I’m talking to a colorful, old man on the line, and he’s giving me some pointers. With his thick Hakata-ben accent he tells me that he’s been playing pachinko for 30 years. He’s a junkie like me, and I see him here all the time. Some days he’ll have huge stacks of winnings piled up behind his seat, but every time I ask him how he’s doing he replies with that same childish grin on his face, “da-me da-me” (not good, not good).

When I’m playing pachinko other players come to me to start conversations all the time. I’ve even had store managers treat me to meals. What’s great about pachinko is that there’s a sense of community among players. Unlike Vegas the players live in your neighborhood, and unlike mahjong you don’t play against one another, so naturally you root for the other guy. Being a foreigner you feel like a celebrity in Japan but even more so at a pachinko parlor. Because of this, I’ve made a lot of native Japanese friends there. However, very few of my gaijin friends “get” my fascination with pachinko. To them it’s boring, un-hip, a game for old Japanese men which is in varying degrees both true and untrue. Yes, lots of old Japanese play pachinko but lots of young Japanese these days play it too. The ones I’ve convinced to come play with me usually go in for a 1,000 yen buy in, sit restlessly in front of a machine, lose it within five minutes, get frustrated and press to leave. What many fail to grasp is the impotant role of patience in pachinko. It’s a lot like football (soccer). It’s not like other sports where there’s constant action and high scores. In football you often have long series of inaction and find yourself yearning for something exciting to happen. But then there’s an unexpected spark, a missed tackle, a perfect lob, a burst of speed and it triggers a sequence of events — a back heel pass, a defender’s out of position, and finally in a moment of perfection the player boots it into the net.

That’s exactly how it feels to win in pachinko. You see that metal ball snake through the pegs and you’re heart starts pumping and your eyes dilate and it hits the slot and thousands of little metal balls thud into your collection plate. It all happens so fast and so unexpectedly that in the end you just sit back and smile and swim your fingers through an ocean of metal balls like sand at the beach – utterly gratified, utterly breathless, hungry for more. The doors of MJ slide open and like kids in a candy store we regulars browse the aisles for the machine we’re going to play. I check my tally card for the ones I played last week, inspect the statistics shown at the top, and squint my eyes to gauge the exact formation of pins making various mental notes. I sit down at one of the newer “Sea Story” machines which last night read: 5,328 times played, 12 payouts. Like a marathon runner, I limber up my body with a couple of stretches, and I’m off. Soon there after, I’m on a roll. Things are looking good, and the reaches, or win chances, are coming thick and fast. I get a win, but itユs only a normal jackpot, one box of balls, or 5,000 yen. I keep playing, but miss an almost certain win reach. I slump in my chair, and the old man pats me on the back. “Da-me da-me,” I tell him.

Note: Fukuoka Now reminds readers that pachinko and slots are games of chance. Don’t play beyond your budget for entertainment.

************************************************************
But wait! – There’s Pachi-Slot too!
In recent years pachinko parlors have added increasing numbers of machines without balls. These ball-less machines are similar to Western slots, or fruit machines, except that you stop the reels yourself. More popular with the younger generation as they require good hand eye coordination and more skill in general. As a result they carry the most kudos. For 1,000 yen you get fifty coins. Insert three for one play, and you usually get about 20 spins for your money. The latest machines go up to 1,999 spins before they have to pay out, so that’s about 99,000 yen. However most pay out before this figure. Check magazines for hints on hot points, special zones like between 400 and 500 where the chances of winning are high. While slots seem more expensive, they offer greater rewards, one jackpot being anywhere from 360 coins 7,000 yen, to 5,000 coins or a cool 100,000 yen.

************************************************************

 

 

 

 

6787
6788

日本の文化「パチンコ」に魅せられたイギリス人のストーリー

今月お届けするのはイギリス出身のトムにまつわるパチンコ・ストーリー。ここ福岡で、サッカー教室の先生や英会話学校の先生として暮らしている彼がいかにしてパチンコの魅力にハマ
っていったのか?
土曜朝7時半。自転車に乗って45分、天神駅そばのパーラー明治天神に着いたばかりだ。パチンコ店では時々新装開店のスペシャルイベントデーを設けている。僕はいい台をとるために、列のひとをちらちら見ながら店の自動ドアの前に早起きな客たちと一緒に並んだ。つめたい雨が頭上に降りかかり、手のなかの吸いかけのタバコにまで吹き込んでくる。パチンコ雑誌の最新号を読みながらひたすら待つ。ポケットのなかで缶コーヒーを買うための小銭と、床から拾ったパチンコ玉をじゃらじゃら鳴らす。「あー、トムさん。また会ったね。」常連のひとりがくすくす笑う。そう、僕はパチンコにハマってしまっているんだ。

僕は昨夜もパチンコをした。その前の晩は仕事が忙しかったのでプレステのパチンコゲームをした。さらにその前の晩にはカノジョとパチンコをしにいった。僕らは一緒にパチンコをするのが好きだ。英会話の授業の合間に早めにご飯を平らげ、パチンコ屋に駆け込んで短い時間でも打つ。時には寝食を忘れてパチンコに没頭する。家に帰って眠っていても、目を閉じれば夢のなかで僕はパチンコ屋にいて、パーフェクトな台を探している。まるでサーファーがパーフェクトな波を探求するようにね。

僕が最初にパチンコをやったのは、足を怪我してサッカーが出来なかった時だ。はじめてパチンコパーラーに足を踏み入れたとき、スーパーマンの要塞みたいなでっかいガラスとネオンの光、たなびくタバコの煙、自動ドアが開くたびに道路にあふれる耳をつんざく騒音にビビらされた。僕のカノジョは、どうせそんな足じゃなにも出来ないし退屈だろうから、とパチンコに行くことを提案した。初めてのパチンコで僕は8万円勝った。悪くないスタートだった。

僕のたったひとつの大勝ちは、例によって英会話の授業の合間になんとなく打ったときにやってきた。1週間も誰も打っていないような古い台を見つけ、座った。するとすぐに最初の大当たりが来て、5分後にもう一度大当たりが来た。ところがこれからって時に仕事に戻らなくてはならなかったので、カノジョに電話をして駆けつけてもらった。僕が戻ってきたとき、大当たりはまだまだ続いていた。背後にはギャラリーができ、ドル箱を積み上げるガイジンをみんな見つめていた。その日、最終的に16万円勝ったのだった。

パーラーの外で列に並んでいる派手ないでたちのオジサンと話をする。彼はいくつかのポイントを授けてくれた。なまりの強い博多弁で、彼がパチンコ歴30年であることを教えてくれた。彼は僕と同じくパチンコにはまっていて、ここで会うのは6回目だった。「調子はどう?」と僕が聞くと、席のうしろにドル箱を積み上げてるときでも決まって、子供みたいないつもの笑顔で「ダメダメ」というのだった。

僕がパチンコをしていると、いつもほかの客が話しかけてくる。店長さんに食事をおごってもらったこともある。パチンコの素晴らしいところは客同士のコミュニティにあると思う。ラスベガスと違ってプレイヤーはご近所さんだし、麻雀と違ってプレイヤー同士で争うこともなく、自然とほかの客を応援してしまう。ガイジンだと日本ではなにかと目立ってちやほやされることが多いけど、おかげでディープな日本人パチンカーの友達がたくさん出来た。

でも僕がパチンコに魅了されている理由をわかってくれるガイジンの友達はとても少ない。彼らにとってパチンコはつまらなく、カッコ悪く、日本のオジサンのためのゲームである。それはいろんな意味で正しくもあり、間違ってもいる。そう、日本のオジサンはパチンコをする。でも日本の若者だって最近じゃパチンコをするのだ。面白さをわかってもらおうとパチンコに連れ出した友人は、たいてい千円分の玉を借り、台の前に座るやいなや5分もたたないうちに終わってしまい、不満に思ってさっさと出て行ってしまう。

ひとにその面白さをわかってもらうことの難しさでいえば、パチンコにおける忍耐はサッカーのそれによく似ている。コンスタントに動きがあったり、高得点をあげるほかのスポーツと違って、サッカーでは動きのない状態がずっと続いたり、エキサイティングなことが起こらないことに飽き飽きしてしまうことがある。だけど実際には、タックルをミスったり、完璧なロングパスがあったり、爆発的なスピードや一連のアクションの引き金 ー かかとでのパスや、ディフェンダーがポジションをはずれたりなどなど、選手がボールをコントロールして、ゴールネットにぶち込む最後の瞬間まで、ありえないきらめきの数々があるのだ。

で、パチンコで勝つということもまさしくこんな感じなのだ。銀玉が釘の間をぬうように走り抜け、心臓が高鳴り、目を見開き、スロットを回転させて何千というちいさなパチンコ玉を受け皿にどっさり落とす。にんまり笑顔で銀玉の海に指をざくざく泳がす(浜辺の砂にそうするように)という至福のときは唐突に予期せぬ形でやってくる。そうするとひとはすっかり満たされて、すっかり息もあがり、もっともっとパチンコをやりたくなる。

10時の開店。ようやくパーラーのドアが開いた。我々常連は子供のように店内に駆け込み、打つ台を物色する。先週打った台のデータをチェックし、頂点を示している統計を詳しく調べ、目を細めて釘の正確な位置を見極め、頭のなかのメモに記録する。そうして5,328回プレイされ、12回の大当たりを出している最新の台「海物語」の前に座った。マラソン選手のようにストレッチをして体をほぐし、準備完了。打ち出したら調子に乗り始め、万事快調。いい波に乗っかって、大当たりも近いかのように思えた。そして、当たった! だけどノーマル当たり。ドル箱一箱、つまり5,000円くらい。その後も打ち続けたが望みは無惨に打ち砕かれ、大当たりのチャンスを逃しっぱなし。僕は椅子にドカッと腰を落とした。オジサンが「調子どう?」と軽く背中をたたいた。「ダメダメ」。僕はオジサンに言った。
ご注意: フクオカナウではパチンコ、パチスロの節度ある遊び方を推奨します。いちレジャーとして楽しみ、お金の使いすぎには注意しましょう。

************************************************************
パチンコもいいけどスロットもね!?
最近ではパチンコよりパチスロの人気が急上昇、台数も増えている。パチンコと違って「目押し」と呼ばれる技術が必要で、若者にも大人気だ。そしてパチスロは当たりもデカイ。まず千円で50枚コインが出る。1回のプレイには3枚必要なのでだいたい20ゲームは楽しめる。雑誌を見れば、攻略ポイントやヒントが4~500点も載っているので要チェックだ。攻略しがいのあるゲームだぞ。
************************************************************

 

 

 

 

6787
6788

Pachinko Power

by Tom Bazin and Satoshi Kawase

It’s 7:30 am on a Saturday morning, and I just rode my bicycle 45 minutes to get to the MJ Pachinko parlor near the Tenjin train station. Pachinko parlors like this have special event days from time to time where they crank up the machines so they’re more likely to dish out. I exchange wary glances with the other early birds lined at the sliding doors waiting for their pick of the best machines. A chilly rain falls upon us as we blow into our hands, smoke our cigarettes, and read from the latest Pachinko-Waza magazine. I jingle through my pocket for some change to buy some hot canned coffee, and a dozen pachinko balls spill to the ground. “Ah, Tom-san. Again?” one of the regulars chuckles. Yeah, you might say I’m pretty into it.

Let’s see. I played pachinko last night. The night before I was busy with work, but it was pachinko on the Playstation. The night before that, hung out with the girlfriend – we like to play pachinko together. In between English classes it’s a bite to eat and then off for a pachinko quickie. Sometimes I even miss meals. I see pachinko in my dreams –I’m often looking for the perfect machine like a surfer in search of the perfect wave.

I initially started playing pachinko when I broke my foot and couldn’t play soccer. At first pachinko parlors — these gigantic glass and neon structures resembling Superman’s fortress of solitude, billowing with second hand smoke, ear shattering sounds flooding the streets with every opening of their soundproof doors — were very intimidating to me. My girlfriend suggested we play one Sunday and when you’re bored and you’ve got a gammy leg you’ll try anything. I came out of the pachinko parlor up 80,000 yen in four hours my first time. Not a bad way to start.

My single biggest win came when I was casually playing a machine between English lessons. I found an old machine that nobody had played for a week and sat down. As soon as I sat down, it gave out a jackpot and five minutes later another. The balls were overflowing the plate, but I had to go to my lesson so I called my girlfriend on the mobile and she rushed over to save my seat. When I got back the jackpots kept coming and coming. A crowd of people stood and stared at the gaijin with the massive stack. At the end of the day, I ended up winning 160,000 yen.

Outside MJ, I’m talking to a colorful, old man on the line, and he’s giving me some pointers. With his thick Hakata-ben accent he tells me that he’s been playing pachinko for 30 years. He’s a junkie like me, and I see him here all the time. Some days he’ll have huge stacks of winnings piled up behind his seat, but every time I ask him how he’s doing he replies with that same childish grin on his face, “da-me da-me” (not good, not good).

When I’m playing pachinko other players come to me to start conversations all the time. I’ve even had store managers treat me to meals. What’s great about pachinko is that there’s a sense of community among players. Unlike Vegas the players live in your neighborhood, and unlike mahjong you don’t play against one another, so naturally you root for the other guy. Being a foreigner you feel like a celebrity in Japan but even more so at a pachinko parlor. Because of this, I’ve made a lot of native Japanese friends there. However, very few of my gaijin friends “get” my fascination with pachinko. To them it’s boring, un-hip, a game for old Japanese men which is in varying degrees both true and untrue. Yes, lots of old Japanese play pachinko but lots of young Japanese these days play it too. The ones I’ve convinced to come play with me usually go in for a 1,000 yen buy in, sit restlessly in front of a machine, lose it within five minutes, get frustrated and press to leave. What many fail to grasp is the impotant role of patience in pachinko. It’s a lot like football (soccer). It’s not like other sports where there’s constant action and high scores. In football you often have long series of inaction and find yourself yearning for something exciting to happen. But then there’s an unexpected spark, a missed tackle, a perfect lob, a burst of speed and it triggers a sequence of events — a back heel pass, a defender’s out of position, and finally in a moment of perfection the player boots it into the net.

That’s exactly how it feels to win in pachinko. You see that metal ball snake through the pegs and you’re heart starts pumping and your eyes dilate and it hits the slot and thousands of little metal balls thud into your collection plate. It all happens so fast and so unexpectedly that in the end you just sit back and smile and swim your fingers through an ocean of metal balls like sand at the beach – utterly gratified, utterly breathless, hungry for more. The doors of MJ slide open and like kids in a candy store we regulars browse the aisles for the machine we’re going to play. I check my tally card for the ones I played last week, inspect the statistics shown at the top, and squint my eyes to gauge the exact formation of pins making various mental notes. I sit down at one of the newer “Sea Story” machines which last night read: 5,328 times played, 12 payouts. Like a marathon runner, I limber up my body with a couple of stretches, and I’m off. Soon there after, I’m on a roll. Things are looking good, and the reaches, or win chances, are coming thick and fast. I get a win, but itユs only a normal jackpot, one box of balls, or 5,000 yen. I keep playing, but miss an almost certain win reach. I slump in my chair, and the old man pats me on the back. “Da-me da-me,” I tell him.

Note: Fukuoka Now reminds readers that pachinko and slots are games of chance. Don’t play beyond your budget for entertainment.

************************************************************
But wait! – There’s Pachi-Slot too!
In recent years pachinko parlors have added increasing numbers of machines without balls. These ball-less machines are similar to Western slots, or fruit machines, except that you stop the reels yourself. More popular with the younger generation as they require good hand eye coordination and more skill in general. As a result they carry the most kudos. For 1,000 yen you get fifty coins. Insert three for one play, and you usually get about 20 spins for your money. The latest machines go up to 1,999 spins before they have to pay out, so that’s about 99,000 yen. However most pay out before this figure. Check magazines for hints on hot points, special zones like between 400 and 500 where the chances of winning are high. While slots seem more expensive, they offer greater rewards, one jackpot being anywhere from 360 coins 7,000 yen, to 5,000 coins or a cool 100,000 yen.

************************************************************

 

 

 

 

6787
6788

Pachinko Power

by Tom Bazin and Satoshi Kawase

It’s 7:30 am on a Saturday morning, and I just rode my bicycle 45 minutes to get to the MJ Pachinko parlor near the Tenjin train station. Pachinko parlors like this have special event days from time to time where they crank up the machines so they’re more likely to dish out. I exchange wary glances with the other early birds lined at the sliding doors waiting for their pick of the best machines. A chilly rain falls upon us as we blow into our hands, smoke our cigarettes, and read from the latest Pachinko-Waza magazine. I jingle through my pocket for some change to buy some hot canned coffee, and a dozen pachinko balls spill to the ground. “Ah, Tom-san. Again?” one of the regulars chuckles. Yeah, you might say I’m pretty into it.

Let’s see. I played pachinko last night. The night before I was busy with work, but it was pachinko on the Playstation. The night before that, hung out with the girlfriend – we like to play pachinko together. In between English classes it’s a bite to eat and then off for a pachinko quickie. Sometimes I even miss meals. I see pachinko in my dreams –I’m often looking for the perfect machine like a surfer in search of the perfect wave.

I initially started playing pachinko when I broke my foot and couldn’t play soccer. At first pachinko parlors — these gigantic glass and neon structures resembling Superman’s fortress of solitude, billowing with second hand smoke, ear shattering sounds flooding the streets with every opening of their soundproof doors — were very intimidating to me. My girlfriend suggested we play one Sunday and when you’re bored and you’ve got a gammy leg you’ll try anything. I came out of the pachinko parlor up 80,000 yen in four hours my first time. Not a bad way to start.

My single biggest win came when I was casually playing a machine between English lessons. I found an old machine that nobody had played for a week and sat down. As soon as I sat down, it gave out a jackpot and five minutes later another. The balls were overflowing the plate, but I had to go to my lesson so I called my girlfriend on the mobile and she rushed over to save my seat. When I got back the jackpots kept coming and coming. A crowd of people stood and stared at the gaijin with the massive stack. At the end of the day, I ended up winning 160,000 yen.

Outside MJ, I’m talking to a colorful, old man on the line, and he’s giving me some pointers. With his thick Hakata-ben accent he tells me that he’s been playing pachinko for 30 years. He’s a junkie like me, and I see him here all the time. Some days he’ll have huge stacks of winnings piled up behind his seat, but every time I ask him how he’s doing he replies with that same childish grin on his face, “da-me da-me” (not good, not good).

When I’m playing pachinko other players come to me to start conversations all the time. I’ve even had store managers treat me to meals. What’s great about pachinko is that there’s a sense of community among players. Unlike Vegas the players live in your neighborhood, and unlike mahjong you don’t play against one another, so naturally you root for the other guy. Being a foreigner you feel like a celebrity in Japan but even more so at a pachinko parlor. Because of this, I’ve made a lot of native Japanese friends there. However, very few of my gaijin friends “get” my fascination with pachinko. To them it’s boring, un-hip, a game for old Japanese men which is in varying degrees both true and untrue. Yes, lots of old Japanese play pachinko but lots of young Japanese these days play it too. The ones I’ve convinced to come play with me usually go in for a 1,000 yen buy in, sit restlessly in front of a machine, lose it within five minutes, get frustrated and press to leave. What many fail to grasp is the impotant role of patience in pachinko. It’s a lot like football (soccer). It’s not like other sports where there’s constant action and high scores. In football you often have long series of inaction and find yourself yearning for something exciting to happen. But then there’s an unexpected spark, a missed tackle, a perfect lob, a burst of speed and it triggers a sequence of events — a back heel pass, a defender’s out of position, and finally in a moment of perfection the player boots it into the net.

That’s exactly how it feels to win in pachinko. You see that metal ball snake through the pegs and you’re heart starts pumping and your eyes dilate and it hits the slot and thousands of little metal balls thud into your collection plate. It all happens so fast and so unexpectedly that in the end you just sit back and smile and swim your fingers through an ocean of metal balls like sand at the beach – utterly gratified, utterly breathless, hungry for more. The doors of MJ slide open and like kids in a candy store we regulars browse the aisles for the machine we’re going to play. I check my tally card for the ones I played last week, inspect the statistics shown at the top, and squint my eyes to gauge the exact formation of pins making various mental notes. I sit down at one of the newer “Sea Story” machines which last night read: 5,328 times played, 12 payouts. Like a marathon runner, I limber up my body with a couple of stretches, and I’m off. Soon there after, I’m on a roll. Things are looking good, and the reaches, or win chances, are coming thick and fast. I get a win, but itユs only a normal jackpot, one box of balls, or 5,000 yen. I keep playing, but miss an almost certain win reach. I slump in my chair, and the old man pats me on the back. “Da-me da-me,” I tell him.

Note: Fukuoka Now reminds readers that pachinko and slots are games of chance. Don’t play beyond your budget for entertainment.

************************************************************
But wait! – There’s Pachi-Slot too!
In recent years pachinko parlors have added increasing numbers of machines without balls. These ball-less machines are similar to Western slots, or fruit machines, except that you stop the reels yourself. More popular with the younger generation as they require good hand eye coordination and more skill in general. As a result they carry the most kudos. For 1,000 yen you get fifty coins. Insert three for one play, and you usually get about 20 spins for your money. The latest machines go up to 1,999 spins before they have to pay out, so that’s about 99,000 yen. However most pay out before this figure. Check magazines for hints on hot points, special zones like between 400 and 500 where the chances of winning are high. While slots seem more expensive, they offer greater rewards, one jackpot being anywhere from 360 coins 7,000 yen, to 5,000 coins or a cool 100,000 yen.

************************************************************

 

 

 

 

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