Japan Is Next Level for Retro Game Collectors 

This photo taken on June 24, 2024 shows vintage video game collector "Proudro" posing for a photo at his home in Kasumigaura, Ibaraki prefecture. (AFP)
This photo taken on June 24, 2024 shows vintage video game collector "Proudro" posing for a photo at his home in Kasumigaura, Ibaraki prefecture. (AFP)
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Japan Is Next Level for Retro Game Collectors 

This photo taken on June 24, 2024 shows vintage video game collector "Proudro" posing for a photo at his home in Kasumigaura, Ibaraki prefecture. (AFP)
This photo taken on June 24, 2024 shows vintage video game collector "Proudro" posing for a photo at his home in Kasumigaura, Ibaraki prefecture. (AFP)

US tourist David Madrigal is over the moon after paying $200 for a "vintage" console at a busy Tokyo store that is tapping into booming global demand for retro gaming kit.

"When I came into this store, I was like a kid walking into a candy shop," Madrigal, 23, told AFP at Super Potato in the Akihabara district famous for its Japanese pop culture shops.

"This stuff is my passion. I love older consoles," he said. The PS Vita, a console released in 2011, that he bought "would usually cost me about $600 in the US."

Super Potato has three floors packed with Game Boy cartridges, Sega Dreamcast consoles wrapped in plastic and antiquated arcade machines where nostalgic customers can play "Street Fighter II" again.

Prices can be eye-watering. A handheld Nintendo Game & Watch electronic game from the 1980s -- featuring "Zelda" -- was priced at 250,800 yen ($1,750).

Around 70-80 percent of customers are foreign tourists, who have flocked to Japan in record numbers this year, store manager Komura, who only gave his surname, told AFP.

- Soul gaming -

Part of the appeal, Madrigal said, is that many modern games are a bit "more of the same" compared to ones when he was growing up.

"There was a different kind of innovation," he said. "Companies weren't afraid to think outside the box. They were willing to take risks."

Video game historian Hiroyuki Maeda said that additional demand from collectors comes from the fact that some consoles were marketed differently outside Japan.

Nintendo's Famicom and Super Famicom consoles for example were released abroad under alternative names, and with different and more colorful designs, he said.

"If you come to Japan and see a machine you've never seen before, you want to buy it. It stimulates the collector's soul," said Maeda, who has written dozens of books on gaming history.

"The definition of retro gaming varies, depending on the era that the people who engage in it are nostalgic for," Maeda told AFP.

- 'Super collector' -

Amid rice fields and lotus fields two hours north of Tokyo, Proudro (his online persona) has amassed a vast treasure trove of video game relics.

The "super collector" has stuffed an old building opposite his family home with several thousand vintage games and consoles, as well as arcade machines in full working order.

"The appeal of collecting retro games is really the nostalgia of childhood memories in games shops or spending time playing at friends' houses," the 50-year-old collector said.

"To be honest, I don't really play games," he added.

"Being surrounded by games, their sounds, their atmosphere, looking at them and dreaming, that's enough to keep me happy."

- Stuffed into bins -

Proudro has spent lavishly to build his collection.

Retro games can reach sky-high prices: a still-wrapped version of the game "Super Mario Bros.", released in 1985, sold in 2021 for $2 million.

Until the late 1990s, however, old games were virtually worthless, according to historian Maeda.

"They were crammed into bins in shops" and sold for as little as 10 yen (seven US cents today), he said.

Proudro says he travelled around Japan 20 years ago looking for collectables in toy shops and bookstores.

"There were often stocks of Super Famicom or Game & Watch in a corner, covered in dust. The elderly people who ran these shops would tell me to take them away to clear them out," Proudro said.

"As I work in vegetable wholesale, I would give them a crate of onions or potatoes, and everyone was happy.

"Today that would no longer be possible. These shops have disappeared, and with the internet, everyone has started to resell," he added.

Wanting to share his passion with others, Proudro founded an association of retro gaming enthusiasts and is delighted at the interest shown by people from around the world.

"But to be honest, I also think that Japanese products should stay in Japan. It's a bit like Japanese woodblock prints in the past, which were taken abroad where they were more appreciated, before being bought back by Japan," he said.

His country, he laments, "is slow to realize the value" of its works.



This Bird Species Was Extinct in Europe. Now It’s Back.

This photo provide by Waldrappteam Conservation & Research shows the migration from Northern Bald Ibis, or the Waldrapp from Seekirchen am Wallersee in Austria to Oasi Laguna di Orbetello in Italy during August and September 2022. (Waldrappteam Conservation & Research via AP)
This photo provide by Waldrappteam Conservation & Research shows the migration from Northern Bald Ibis, or the Waldrapp from Seekirchen am Wallersee in Austria to Oasi Laguna di Orbetello in Italy during August and September 2022. (Waldrappteam Conservation & Research via AP)
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This Bird Species Was Extinct in Europe. Now It’s Back.

This photo provide by Waldrappteam Conservation & Research shows the migration from Northern Bald Ibis, or the Waldrapp from Seekirchen am Wallersee in Austria to Oasi Laguna di Orbetello in Italy during August and September 2022. (Waldrappteam Conservation & Research via AP)
This photo provide by Waldrappteam Conservation & Research shows the migration from Northern Bald Ibis, or the Waldrapp from Seekirchen am Wallersee in Austria to Oasi Laguna di Orbetello in Italy during August and September 2022. (Waldrappteam Conservation & Research via AP)

How do you teach a bird how, and where, to fly? The distinctive northern bald ibis, hunted essentially to extinction by the 17th century, was revived by breeding and rewilding efforts over the last two decades. But the birds — known for their distinctive black-and-iridescent green plumage, bald red head and long curved beak — don’t instinctively know which direction to fly to migrate without the guidance of wild-born elders. So a team of scientists and conservationists stepped in as foster parents and flight instructors, The AP reported.

“We have to teach them the migration route,” said biologist Johannes Fritz.

The northern bald ibis once soared over North Africa, the Arabian Peninsula and much of Europe, including southern Germany's Bavaria. The migratory birds were also considered a delicacy, and the bird, known as the Waldrapp in German, disappeared from Europe, though a few colonies elsewhere survived.

The efforts of Fritz and the Waldrappteam, a conservation and research group based in Austria, brought the Central European population from zero to almost 300 since the start of their project in 2002.

The feat moved the species from a "critically endangered" classification to "endangered" and, Fritz says, is the first attempt to reintroduce a continentally extinct migratory bird species.

But while northern bald ibises still display the natural urge to migrate, they don’t know which direction to fly without the guidance of wild-born elders. The Waldrappteam's early reintroduction attempts were largely unsuccessful because, without teaching the birds the migration route, most disappeared soon after release. Instead of returning to suitable wintering grounds such as Tuscany, Italy, they flew in different directions and ultimately died.

So the Waldrappteam stepped in as foster parents and flight instructors for the Central European population, which was made up of descendants from multiple zoo colonies and released into the wild in the hopes of creating a migratory group. This year marks the 17th journey with human-led migration guides, and the second time they've been forced to pilot a new route to Spain due to climate change.

To prepare them for travel, the chicks are removed from their breeding colonies when they are just a few days old. They are taken to an aviary that's overseen by the foster parents in the hopes of “imprinting” — when the birds will bond with those humans to ultimately trust them along the migration route.

Barbara Steininger, a Waldrapp team foster mother, said she acts like “their bird mom."

“We feed them, we clean them, we clean their nests. We take good care of them and see that they are healthy birds,” she said. "But also we interact with them.”

Steininger and the other foster parents then sit on the back of a microlight aircraft, waving and shouting encouragement through a bullhorn as it flies through the air.

It's a bizarre scene: The aircraft looks like a flying go-kart with a giant fan on the back and a yellow parachute keeping it aloft. Still, three dozen birds follow the contraption, piloted by Fritz, as it sails over alpine meadows and foothills.

Fritz was inspired by “Father Goose” Bill Lishman, a naturalist who taught Canadian geese to fly alongside his ultra-light plane beginning in 1988. He later guided endangered whooping cranes through safe routes and founded the nonprofit “Operation Migration.” Lishman's work prompted the 1996 movie “Fly Away Home” but features a young girl as the geese's “mother.”

Like Lishman, Fritz and his team's efforts have worked. The first bird independently migrated back to Bavaria in 2011 from Tuscany. More have flown the route that's upward of 550 kilometers (342 miles) each year, and the team hopes the Central European population will be more than 350 birds by 2028 and become self-sustaining.

But the effects of climate change mean the Waldrapp are migrating later in the season now, which forces them to cross the Alps in colder, more dangerous weather — without the aid of warm currents of air, known as thermals, that rise upward and help the birds soar without expending extra energy.

In response, the Waldrappteam piloted a new route in 2023, from Bavaria to Andalusia in southern Spain.

This year, the route is roughly 2,800 kilometers (1,740 miles) — some 300 kilometers (186 miles) longer than last year's path. Earlier this month from an airfield in Paterzell, in upper Bavaria, the team guided 36 birds along one stage through bright blue skies and a tailwind that increased their speed.

The entire journey to Spain could take up to 50 days and end in early October. But Fritz says the effort is bigger than just the northern bald ibises: It’s about paving the way for other threatened migratory species to fly.