It’s almost 8.15 in the evening when we arrive at an anonymous building on the corner of Parkovaya Street. A small plaque on the wall confirms this is the right place – Moscow State Technical University.

Two uniformed security guards look up as we enter. My interpreter, Elena, tells them we are here to see the museum. One of them trots off down the stairs, and returns moments later with our host. He’s a young guy, wearing a striped shirt and with the kind of hair one stereotypically associates with a real boffin. His name is Maxim Pinigin, and he leads us down a dark stairwell into the basement, and swings open a heavy metal door.

I step into the room beyond, and find myself surrounded by history. This is the Soviet Arcade Games Museum, where a small group of dedicated amateurs has collected a number of arcade machines dating from the late seventies.

Maxim leads us through to the back room, and hands us each a handful of Soviet era 15 kopek coins. What should I play first? I choose Tankodrome. It resembles a pinball machine, in that it has a large glass plate beneath which there is a faded playing surface. Using the joystick, I cause a small plastic tank to trundle around, accompanied by an appropriate sound effect. I aim at one of several trucks, and fire – and the little truck flips up with a satisfying bang and a flash of light.

I look over at Elena – she has found something called Sea Battle, and is peering through a periscope, happily torpedoing little metal ships which are propelled along the machine’s horizon. She later told me she had played this game many years before.

Maxim is scurrying about, plugging various mains cables in. I move on to a large machine with two rifles fitted to it. I reach into my back pocket, and insert a small coin. “Wait, please,” says Maxim. The machine takes a few seconds to warm up. He inserts another coin, and takes up position next to me, on the right-hand rifle. A number of bears, rabbits and assorted ungulates start to pop up in the diorama in front of us. I fire at them, but I’m not sure whether I’m hitting anything. Every now and then, a small aeroplane flies across – I can’t quite see how it works, but it must involve some ingenuous mirrors.

“Game over,” says Maxim. The scores are shown on pre-LED indicators – and he won.

The machines were built by twenty-two military factories between 1977 and 1991. I ask where the machines were located. “Leisure parks, airports, stations, anywhere where people were waiting,” replies Elena. “Chip shops?” I ask. “No, there were no chip shops.”

I have to admire the work the volunteers have carried out to get the machines up and running. Even though they have acquired some schematics and circuit diagrams, it seems very daunting. Most of the machines are mechanical; all the circuit boards I can see are analogue.

Maxim takes us to another room, filled with various machines which are to be cannibalized for spares, or are still awaiting attention. I ask who runs the museum. There are three volunteers, one is a lecturer at the university; Maxim and another guy are former students. They have received attention from all over the world, and they have been invited to take the machines to Germany for an exhibition in the near future. I look up at a portrait of seventies Soviet leader Breznev on the wall behind Maxim. “It’s a joke,” he explains sheepishly.

“Time is running,” says Elena, wisely. I look at my watch – it’s nearly 9 pm. We can’t stay here all evening. So we say a warm farewell to Maxim, and step into the crisp Moscow night.

Visiting

Moscow State Technical University (MAMI), building 9/26, 7th Parkovaya Street, Moscow
Phone: (8) 916 167-19-25 / (8) 926 576-62-08

Opening hours
Wednesdays from 19:30 onwards
Saturdays and Sundays between 13:00 and 18:00
Entrance fee: 300 roubles per person.
www.15kop.ru