Sometimes, Harper had to lament just how small arcade machines were. They were obviously designed for kids, or at least smaller humans than herself, but sometimes it felt like she was some sort of mutant trying to play these things. Despite that, she still loved them, even if her large hands engulfed the stick, and sometimes it was hard to hit the buttons separately or quickly. She had her favorite games, and thus her favorite machines, that she was able to use slightly more comfortably than others.
The worst one she had encountered so far was at a modern arcade that sported food and a bar, everything on the expensive side and its patrons usually there for a party or a celebration of some sort. They had an arcade cabinet that was not a cabinet at all, but rather set inside a fairly short table. Sitting at it was fine enough, but to really play it she had to bend forward quite a bit, and her elbows hung off the bottom edge of the table as she struggled to make complete sandwiches and not use up all her pepper in Burger Time.
So, despite her concerns about some of the standing cabinets, she had learned the hard way that it could always get worse. Returning to this older style arcade, and playing that same game on a standing cabinet, was a welcome relief.
Despite how well she was doing, no one was hanging around the machine to watch her. No one was waiting for the next go, but with so many newer, flashier games in the arcade it was not hard to see why. Beyond that, she was also a very tall, very muscular young woman. Quiet, but often told she always looked angry or serious, she was not really surprised that no one wanted to get too close.
Anyway, they probably couldn't see the screen from around her shoulders, she meanly told herself. Not that she cared: she preferred to be alone, as far as she knew. And really, it was all she knew.
Though, even that was beginning to change. She was not sure how to feel or what to think about it all, and the easiest way to sort through complications like that was to sink into an old video game. The beeps and boops were familiar, repetitive and standard: they never changed, each beep meaning a specific, measured movement. Sometimes, she felt she could play some of these older games entirely by sound, though she did not try.
Instead, she let the beeps and boops take her way, her hands and instincts doing the work as her brain checked out for a short, but always much needed and very emotionally rewarding, time.