Reclaiming the Third Place

Picture this: It's 1990, and you're walking into the local arcade after school. The air smells like carpet cleaner and teenage ambition. The sounds hit you in layers—electronic bleeps and bloops, the satisfying click of arcade buttons, someone cursing under their breath at the Street Fighter cabinet. But then you see something that stops you cold: your quiet, rule-following friend from chemistry class is absolutely demolishing someone at King of Fighters,

trash-talking with a confidence you've never seen in the classroom.

That moment—watching someone you thought you knew transform completely when they stepped outside their usual context—that's what we've lost.

When's the last time you went somewhere just to be with people? Not because you had a meeting, not because you needed to buy something, but to exist in the same space and see what happened?

Typical arcades in the early 90s with someone playing a Mortal Kombat game

Sociologists call these "third places" the informal gathering spots between home and work where community happens naturally. For most of Gen Alpha, the answer is probably never. And they don't even know what they're missing.

Typical third-place meeting place, a coffee shop.

Fast-forward to 2025, and that same social energy has moved entirely behind screens. Gen Alpha's version of "hanging out" happens in Roblox worlds and Discord servers, where their third place is literally their bedroom desk. They meet up to do... nothing. Just exist in digital space together because that's all they know.

Players intensely compete in the Video Game Competition 2025, showcasing their skills in a heated match of Overwatch.

But here's what gets lost in translation: There's no leaving the house. No need to get dressed up, hoping to impress someone. No moment when you step across a physical threshold and become a different version of yourself. Their friend from school is the same friend online, with the same username, avatar, and controlled environment where you can mute, block, or disappear when things get uncomfortable.

They'll never experience that jarring, beautiful moment of seeing someone they thought they knew completely transform in a different space. They'll never witness mastery unfold three feet away from them, feeling the crowd gather and the tension build until someone finally lands the perfect combo and everyone erupts. They'll never see that handshake between competitors after an intense match, the mutual respect that can only happen when you've shared the same physical space, breathed the same air, felt the same stakes.

I'd be lying if I said I don't feel the loss myself., I've struggled to find my third place. Work, home, errands that's become the triangle of my existence most weeks. The spontaneous drop

Typical third place in 2025.

in at a place where you know you'll see familiar faces? Where conversations happen without being scheduled? That's harder to find now, and I miss it more than I realized.

But here's what gets to me: I have the reference point. I know what we've lost because I lived it. I wasn't even the best player at most games. I loved watching the good people, studying their techniques, and feeling that secondhand pride when someone I'd been rooting for finally nailed that perfect run. There was theater in those moments, drama you could feel in your chest.

Gen Alpha doesn't know what they're missing because they've never experienced it. Their third place is safe, controlled, and escapable. No real stakes, no physical vulnerability, no chance for that magical transformation that happens when you step into a space that brings out a different version of who you are.

But maybe that's precisely why we need to build new ones.

Not everyone needs an arcade, though I'll be the first to admit I'm working on bringing that particular magic back through projects like the High Score Panel, where you can walk up, start a tournament, and watch a crowd gather around genuine competition. But the principle works anywhere: coffee shops with regular chess games, dive bars with dart leagues, community centers with hobby clubs, even park benches where the same dog walkers meet every morning.

A group of young people gathered around a classic Arcade game, immersed in the retro gaming experience in a black and white setting.

The magic isn't in the activity, it's in the consistency, the physical space, and the possibility for surprise. It's about creating environments where people can show up as themselves, discover new sides of each other, and build the kind of casual, low-pressure social bonds that somehow become the strongest ones we have.

We're not trying to recreate 1990. We're trying to create something that serves the same human need: a place to belong, to be witnessed, to transform, and to connect in ways that matter.

So find your third place—wherever that brings you peace and solace. Maybe it's an arcade where you can relive those moments of unexpected discovery. Perhaps it's a corner coffee shop where the barista knows your order. Maybe it's a community garden, a book club, a pickup basketball court, or just a park bench where you end up talking to strangers about their dogs.

The point isn't where you go. The fact is that you go somewhere, consistently, with the possibility of surprise and connection. Because we need each other more than we realize, and we need places where we can remember that being human is supposed to happen together.

Your third place is out there. Or maybe, it's time to create one.

Retro Gaming Tournament