We make your dreams come true.
“I got tired of hearing the words that’s impossible.”
Cameron · founder
Not a music venue with a few machines by the door. An arcade — hundreds of them — with a stage in the middle of it and a gym on the other side of the wall.
That order matters more than it sounds. An arcade is open to everybody. A bar is not. Utah writes those two things into different sections of the code, and almost every room in this state that books a band has quietly picked the second one. We picked the first. Nobody gets turned away at the door for being fifteen.
Come for an hour. The point is that you stay for five.
Not shoved against one wall with half the room behind a pillar. In the middle, with a pit you can walk the whole way around it.
Thirty percent stays with the building. There is a four-dollar facility fee on every ticket and it is printed separately, because it is ours and it never touches the artist's share.
That number is not a promotion and it does not sunset.
One card. You tap it. No coins, no tokens, no change machine, nothing to lose in a pocket. Tickets you win buy prizes at the prize wall — that is all they buy, and that is deliberate.
West Valley City. Utah's second largest city, its most diverse, and the only one this size in the state with no club-scale room for live music in it at all.
Every competitive pinball night in Salt Lake City proper happens in a bar. The all-ages circuit meets in a mall suite and a rented conference hall, because there is nowhere else to put it. The high-school esports championship was played in a university gym for the same reason.
All of that is a room that does not exist yet. We are building the room.
Building, permits and lease are in progress. Nothing here is a booking, and no opening date has been set.
That is the whole ambition, stated plainly.