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Ask any gamer of my generation to whistle “Gillette Cavalcade of Sports” and they
wouldn’t have the foggiest idea what you’re on about. Tell them to whistle the intro to
Punch-Out, though, and they’ll be on it in a second. This is because there are two
kinds of NES gamers: Those who got the crap beaten out of them by Mike Tyson, and those
who got the crap beaten out of them by that poser Mr. Dream. But the NES wasn’t the
only format where would-be pugilists could meet their demise: before the home versions
came at all, there was a dual-screen arcade setup that, fittingly enough, was a prime
target for PlayChoice-10 conversions. There’s just something about the comforting pop and
report of leaf switches that makes playing this game in an arcade cab that much more
appealing, don’t you think?
One of the most significant differences between this PlayChoice interpretation of Punch Out
and its home counterparts is - and this is really freakin’ cool - a battery back-up
for saving your best times. Bragging rights, ahoy. There’s still times on here from Tom,
the guy who sold me this machine! Sure, it’s kind of a hollow victory, especially considering
that there’s an actual goal to the game. But it’s nice to know that you can approach
the mechanical limit for punching out Don Flamenco. The progression of pugilists is
the same as you’re used to, starting with the Wakfu-watching Glass Joe, through Piston
Honda (which sounds like the kind of Japanese name an American would come up with), to Bald
Bull (whose business it is that Istanbul is no longer Constantinople). And, rather strangely
for an arcade game, the password system is in place so you can save time and just bring
on the pain.
When I was considering obtaining a PC10, this was one of those titles that I considered
an absolute requirement. Something about playing this on the NES felt... wrong. This felt like
an arcade game. It’s just the right level of over-the-top while still being completely
relatable. It begs for a joystick and a more wide-open control scheme. Heck, the first
cabinets had a big blue plunger button for your special uppercut, which in this iteration
is relegated to that tiny, uncomfortably-placed little start button in the middle of the control
panel. Y’know, a bit of re-wiring, some large drill bits, and a touch of creative
electronics later, I might be able to restore that functionality and level of comfort. But,
no matter what I do, my performance isn’t going to suck me into a weird video-game dimension
where I get to pal around with Mega Man and a sentient Game Boy. Oh well, a boy can dream...