When I showed up at Barcade on Sunday it occurred to me I hadn’t visited in about six years. A whole new generation was there, sipping microbrews and banging away on vintage arcade games. Think about it: today’s 22-year-old was born in 1988. Do these kids remember pumping quarters into Sega Out Run at the pizza parlor and tearing ass through pixelated palm trees while a pie blisters in the oven? Did they ever have to fetch their brother out of the mall arcade, a flashing cavern shot with victorious bleeps, electronic rifle fire and Bon Jovi, and steeped in the miasmatic body odor of teenage boys? Not likely. They probably cut their teeth on a Game Boy, and grew up crouched over Nintendo 64 or Playstation, safe at home and far away from the pressure of being on their last quarter while some random dude peers over their shoulder, silently wishing for their doom.

Those old arcade games seem like they’re coded in my DNA. I don’t consciously remember the exact timing of Mario’s first barrel jump in Donkey Kong or watching the heart erupt between Ms. and Mr. Pacman before level one but these things evoke the eery, inconsequential familiarity of deja vu. It’s a strange thrill one can have thirty times over at Barcade, with Frogger, Punch Out, Galaga, Contra, 1943, Ghosts n’ Goblins, Centipede, Tapper, and Rampage, among others. But for me, one game towers above the rest.

Tetris is probably the only video game I don’t suck at. There’s something utterly hypnotizing and timeless about manipulating those falling pieces into tidy lines. The game starts off deceptively dull as the pieces hop downward, teasing you into hurrying them along and misplacing them. Then it eases into a trance-state as pieces start falling faster and faster, finally driving you to hopeless desperation as the stack reaches the top of the screen. Other games are dated–adorably so, but they quickly become boring to my media be-numbed eyes. However, I could fill Tetris up with quarters all night, if the beer didn’t catch up with me first.

Speaking of beer, Barcade has an impressively long list of domestic microbrews on tap, including Victory Pilsner, Sixpoint Sweet Action, and Captain Lawrence Liquid Gold. There’s usually a cask ale, and expect $1 off during happy hour from 5-8 (2-8 on weekends). My Victory Pilsner came to only $4 during happy hour. One of the best things about Barcade are the little ledges you can rest your beer on while you’re playing, so you can grab a quick sip between levels. Off times are usually the best bet if you expect to grab a seat, get served quickly, play some games, and generally enjoy yourself. Later on all of Brooklyn, in fashionable dishabille, crowds inside. Perhaps things clear out around closing time, although you’d have to hold out til 4am to see it.

Barcade
388 Union Avenue between Powers St. and Ainslie St., Brooklyn
Mon-Fri 5pm-4am, Sat-Sun 2pm-4am

OK OK. Let’s look past the name for a minute. When I see a dude hustling toward the checkout with three big bottles of a beer I’ve never heard of, I know something is afoot. A closer inspection of the label, a fairy-tale depiction of dandyfied pantsless rabbits waving from the back of a covered wagon, intrigued me enough to drop $8 on a 1 pt 6 oz bottle. But in all honesty, I did not expect much, except maybe bemused stares from my cohorts as I nursed the pussiest-looking beer known to man.

But wait, there’s magic in these bunnies. Fluffy White Rabbits poured out a foggy golden color with an–ahem–fluffy head and just a hint of citrus. Gone was the rough alcohol punch or in-you-face fruitiness I normally associate with Belgians. The underpinnings were there, but mellowed by the right amount of hops, and enhanced by just a bit of prickly carbonation. I’m not sure how else to describe this except as “smooth” and “springtimey,” quite a feat for an 8.5% ABV ale. In fact, I could probably chuck all those over-hopped IPAs and watery pilsners and drink this all summer.

Pretty Things Beer & Ale Project is a small brewery in Massachusetts. With brews named “Confounded Mr. Sisyphus” and “Babayaga” (a witch from Eastern European folklore), they’re aiming for the imagination as well as the palate, and if Fluffy White Rabbits is any indication of the quality of their beers, I’ll be looking for more from them. On a sad note: apparently there’s no plans to extend Fluffy White Rabbits‘ run beyond springtime. All the more reason to hop into Whole Foods and stock up while you can!

Available at Whole Foods Beer Room
95 East Houston Street at Chrystie Street