Chapter 14: Blueprint for the Future

Three days had passed since Level Up Arcade's tournament had rocked the block.

The cheers had faded. The floor had been vacuumed. The empty Gatorade bottles, token wrappers, and crumpled bracket printouts had all been tossed.

Now, the arcade was back to its quiet, familiar rhythm. Machines blinked softly in attract mode. The floor hummed with the gentle drone of CRT monitors. A few regulars filtered in and out each afternoon, playing quietly, offering compliments about the tournament, and sharing clips that still circled social media like fireflies in the night.

Ethan sat at the front counter, a half-empty coffee mug at his side, the sleeves of his hoodie pulled up, and a spiral notebook open in front of him.

He was tired—but in the good way. That kind of quiet fatigue that came after doing something that mattered. The soreness had faded, and in its place was a sense of momentum. Not pressure. Not panic. But potential.

It was time to start thinking ahead.

Recovery Mode

The first two days post-tournament had been pure recovery mode.

He'd run a diagnostic on every machine.Replaced two cracked buttons and a joystick that had been pushed just a bit too hard.Refilled the token dispenser, restocked the vending machine, and deep-cleaned the DDR pad with enough disinfectant to clear a small lab.

Most of the tournament machines had held up, thanks to the Durability Boost perk, but a few of the older units—the ones he'd scrambled to restore last-minute—were now showing signs of stress. Flickering screens, sluggish inputs, or wiring that couldn't hold up under consistent play.

They hadn't failed during the event, which was a miracle in itself. But now?

They were tired.

Just like him.

Still, the system had kept him posted.

[Tournament Event Complete – 100% Satisfaction Achieved]

[Arcade Reputation Boost: +++]

[Business Basics Progress: 81% to Level 3]

[Repair Skill Progress: 42% to Level 8]

No quests. No new objectives.

Just a pause.

A breath.

Time to look forward.

Brainstorming the Future

Ethan tapped his pen against the paper, chewing on the cap thoughtfully. Across the top of the notebook page, he'd scrawled:

Level Up Arcade – Phase 2 Plans

Below that, a growing list of goals, thoughts, and "maybe-somedays" stretched down the page. Some were big dreams. Others were small, practical improvements.

→ Priority 1: Expand machine capacity.

Tournament turnout nearly exceeded limits.

Minimum goal: +6 more long-term playable cabinets.

→ Sub-goal: Fix or replace busted cabs (4 too far gone?)

Soul Calibur II – survived the tournament, but monitor's dyingRampage – sluggish controls, missing back panelTekken 3 – will need board replacement soonHouse of the Dead 2 – lightgun #2 unreliable again

Spare parts from donor machines nearly depleted.

Options:

☐ Order replacement CRTs or LCD conversions?

☐ Find online communities for old arcade parts?

☐ Partner with local repair hobbyists?

→ Priority 2: Storage & Inventory

Everything is chaos. No labeling system.

☐ Make a parts inventory spreadsheet

☐ Create labeled bins for resistors, buttons, wires, boards

→ Priority 3: Upgrade the floor layout

Rearrange cabinets for better flow during events

☐ Create clear walking paths

☐ Group games by genre or function (fighting, rhythm, co-op, etc.)

☐ Designate prize zone (for future ticket system)

→ Long-term Goals

☐ Replace old carpet

☐ Add small snack bar or mini café counter

☐ Hire part-time help

☐ Build an online presence/store

☐ Host monthly themed tournaments

☐ Create "Legacy Wall" to honor top players or arcade history

Ethan sat back, rereading the list.

It was… a lot.

But for the first time, instead of feeling overwhelmed, he felt focused.

This wasn't some endless repair job anymore. This was something he could build—layer by layer—just like in any of the management sims he used to play when he didn't have real machines to fix.

Except now, he had something better than pixels on a screen.

He had a real place.

Checking the Parts Shelf

He stood up and headed into the back room—the infamous chaos zone that had, up until recently, been a dumping ground for broken cabinets and mystery cables.

Now, thanks to post-tournament cleanup, it was at least half-organized.

He eyed his dwindling collection of spare parts.

A couple of working buttons.One backup CRT tube (he had three before the tournament).Some wiring harnesses, but none for the busted Tekken board.And only two joystick assemblies, both worn.

He pulled open the system interface.

[Inventory Management – Basic Mode]

Manual entries only. Want to enable automated tracking?

Requires Business Basics Level 3

"Figures," he muttered.

Still, he began jotting down everything manually—starting a parts list to match the handwritten plans he'd begun earlier.

If he was going to grow, he needed to start managing this place like a real operation.

Not just passion. Not just memory.

Structure.

A Familiar Chime

As he finished stacking components into their newly labeled bins, the arcade's front door chimed softly.

Ethan poked his head out to see Amanda walking in with a drink tray.

"I figured you'd be in full post-tourney recovery mode."

"I'm halfway through Phase 2 planning."

Amanda raised an eyebrow. "...Of what? World domination?"

"Basically," he said, waving her toward the counter. "Carpet replacement, new machine sourcing, inventory re-org, future snack bar—y'know, small stuff."

She slid an iced coffee toward him. "Then you're gonna need this."

He accepted it with a grateful nod. "Thanks. And seriously… thanks for everything."

She waved it off. "We helped because we wanted to. But seeing this place full like that? It felt like… I don't know. Like we were part of something bigger."

Ethan smiled. "You were. You all were."

Amanda looked around. "So what now?"

"Now?" Ethan said, eyes drifting toward the still-glowing screens. "Now I build something that lasts."