In Japan, pachislo playing is an obsession. Compulsive players are known to sit glassy-eyed in seedy pachinko parlors (named for the vertical pinball game that spawned pachislo) for hours. A lthough gambling is illegal in Japan, players can trade their tokens for “prizes” - empty plastic boxes or cigarette lighters - that they then take to redeeming centers across the street and trade for cash.

Pachislos - cheap, slightly tacky slot machines - differ from most slot machines.

For one, they operate only on tokens, not currency. For another, they supposedly involve some skill: below each spinning wheel is a button that stops it manually, meaning pachislo players earn their jackpots by hitting the button at the right moment.

Also, they are not just slot machines. Many of them, particularly the newer models, have LCD screens on which elaborate video-gamestyle narratives play out. And they have some oddball traits that appeal to kitsch-happy collectors: colorful anime-style graphics, ear-splitting sound effects and Japanese approximations of American themes like “Rambo” and “Harley-Davidson.”

Pachislos (pronounced PATCHee- slows) are considerably cheaper than American slots: basic machines cost about $250, whereas a decommissioned Las Vegas slot machine can cost from $800 to $2,000.

These machines “are very mesmerizing, they’re very soothing,” said David Plotz, the editor of Slate, who wrote about pachinko parlors for the Japan Society after spending time in Japan in 2001.

In the United States, however, the obsession seems to be more about collecting than playing

Collectors gather on sites like Pachitalk.com and PachisloDB.com to share reviews of the newest machines or trade tips on where to find rare ones. And YouTube is filled with hundreds of hours of pachislo enthusiasts showing off their chirping, flashing collections.

At Eddie Cramer’s modest onebedroom apartment in the Brooklyn Heights neighborhood of New York City, pachislos - all flashing lights and tinny, obnoxious noise - rest on just about every horizontal surface, including in his bedroom .

Brian Evans is a retired Navy technician who discovered pachislos when he was stationed in Japan in the early 1990s. He has more than 35 pachislo machines in his home in Atlantic Beach, Florida.

But mention pachislos to a slot machine purist like Bob Levy, an antique slot machine dealer in Pennsauken, New Jersey, and prepare yourself for a swift dissent.

“They’re junk, they’re disposable,” Mr. Levy said. “If you’re a kid or a senior citizen, they’ll keep you busy. But they’re kind of not terrific for a serious person.”


By DOUGLAS QUENQUA