The story starts back in June 2013, when I bought an Atari Centipede Cabaret for $250. The game worked, but the cabinet was in rougher shape than I’d like. Then, another machine turned up in July 2014, in better cosmetic condition, but not working. I decided that this would be the one I kept, and set about getting it cleaned up enough to put in my game room.
The first machine
This game had a bunch of cosmetic issues. Someone had replaced the control panel art with generic blue marble contact paper. The Trak-Ball was pitted and it and the fire button are yellowed with age. The monitor has heavy burn-in from a different game.
All this is fixable, but damage to the sides isn’t. The woodgrain vinyl that Atari used on all its Cabaret cabinets is no longer available, and none of the similar material looks right.
I have seen much worse sides, but they’re not ideal. In particular, there’s a spot on the right hand side where a plate of some sort was screwed into the machine.
I figured I’d make the best of it, and set about cleaning things up.
I started with the Trak-Ball, since it was so worn that the game was near unplayable. The ball itself sits on three rollers, with ball bearings on either end.
You can see how the middle of the rollers is concave. This is the area that makes contact with the ball, and the metal has worn down over 30+ years of use. The bearings are also chewed up and bind, instead of rolling smoothly.
I got a couple rebuild kits from Bob Roberts, since my Missile Command needed a rebuild as well. The original Trak-Ball is an off-white color, but I opted for a lime green replacement.
The Trak-Ball on Centipede is a straightforward piece of equipment, much more so than Missile Command. Everything is in a two-piece black plastic housing, which holds the bearings, rollers, balls, and opto boards. It’s a simple matter to disassemble, replace the worn parts, and reassemble.
Next up was the monitor. The original had been replaced with a Wells-Gardner K7000 series at some point. This is just fine with me, since the K7000 is a terific monitor that’s easy to work on, and parts (including burn-free tubes) are readily available.
I had a rebuilt K7000 chassis sitting on the shelf, which I had gotten from Anthony at Ground Kontrol. Opting for expediency, I swapped that one in. The other will get rebuilt at some point, but I don’t have anything it can go in at the moment. Local collector (and PAC/KLOV member) Ken J. hooked me up with a 19" TV. The yoke was a close match, so I swapped it straight in. The image is a little narrow, but it’s good for now — and it looks amazingly good as-is.
Lastly, the control panel. I ordered a reproduction overlay and set about stripping it down. I started by using a paint stripping tool to peel the contact paper off the metal panel, which leaves a mess of paint and adhesive behind. Chemical stripper would work on the paint, but the adhesive is another matter. My preferred method is to soak the panel in a coat of Goo Gone, which will break it down. Then, I use a wire cup brush chucked into an electric drill to strip it down to the metal. It’s also important to remove any rust. Most golden era control panels have cracks in the artwork on the bends, which attracts moisture and oxidizes the panel.
This process is tremendously annoying and easily my least favorite thing about this hobby.
While I was close to a point I was happy with, I set the game aside. I had nowhere to put the cabinet once it was done, and I had discovered that the artwork on the overlay I purchased wasn’t the same as the original. If I was going to go through all the work to prep the control panel, I wanted the correct art to go on it when I was done.
The second machine
Fast-forward to July 2014. I’ve moved to a bigger place, which has space for both a dedicated game room and a workshop. The same guy I got the first machine from lets me know that he has another, plus a Pirate Treasure cabinet by Moppet Video. I’ve been looking for a Moppet for a while, and I thought the other Centipede might be in better shape, so I went to check them out and ended up coming home with both.
The sides are much nicer, and it has an original overlay. It isn’t working at all, and all the metal parts are really rusty and gross. Judging by the inside, a family of mice made their nest in the bottom. However, the cabinet is very solid, with no water damage, and the sides and t-moulding are in reasonably good shape. As with the woodgrain vinyl, the correct t-moulding for these games is no longer available. Atari produced their own moulding, and the commonly available products are the wrong shape.
In the interval, Phoenix Arcade has reproduced the correct overlay, and I purchased one as soon as they were available, then stashed it away until I had time to pick the project back up.
Getting started
Firstly, I want to know what’s going on with the electronics. When powered on, the monitor and coin door lights come on, but there is no other activity. Putting a test pattern generator on the monitor shows that it is operational and looks quite good, with minimal burn.
I started by pulling the game board and hooking it up to my test rig. It booted right up, which was a nice surprise. This pointed to an issue elsewhere in the cabinet preventing the game from working, likely a power supply issue.
Late 1970s & early 1980s Atari games all use a very similar setup for power. There’s a giant transformer in the bottom of the cabinet, mounted to a metal panel, which also has some fuses and other components. This is colloquially known as the “power brick,” and it filters and steps down the line voltage, which is rectified by a diode bridge, then filtered by a giant capacitor (the “Big Blue”) to produce an unregulated 10vDC. That 10v and some other AC voltages then go to the Audio Regulator (“AR1" or “AR2," depending on the game) board, which produces regulated +5v, -5v, and +12v DC voltages, and also amplifies the audio from the game. The +5vDC is critical, since all the TTL components on the game board are powered by it.
Using a multimeter, I measured the +5v line, and found it completely dead, pointing to an AR2 problem. I swapped the AR2 from the other machine and fired it up. There were signs of life, but things were not good. The machine made a terrible squealing noise, the coin lockout coils energized and then released, and it generally seemed to be possessed.
Since I had eliminated the PCB and AR2 from the equation, I knew the problem was either in the wiring or on the power brick. The most common failure on the power brick is the Big Blue, so I focused there. The filter cap sits between the +10vDC unregualted line and ground, and smoothes out the rectified AC voltage into a clean DC voltage. As the capacitor ages, it dries out, which changes the capacitance and causes ripple from the AC to leak into the DC output. Fortunately, it’s trivial to test if you have an extra one, which I did. The key is that it doesn’t matter where in the circuit the filter cap sits — and there are test lugs for the +10vDC line on the AR2. Simply attaching a big blue to these lugs (+ to the +10vDC lug, — to the GND lug) works the same as if it’s installed on the power brick, without removing the brick from the cabinet.
I did this and the game fired right up. Terrific.
The next thing I did was rebuild the AR2 with a kit from Bob Roberts. This includes a new capacitors, and +5v /+15v / +12v regulators. I replaced everything and reinstalled the AR2, again clipping the Big Blue in-line, and tested the output with the game PCB harness disconnected. If I messed something up, this would prevent components on the PCB from blowing. Everything looked good, so I reconnected the PCB, and it booted right back up.
Power brick
Next up is the Big Blue, so I pulled the power brick out to work on it. Like a lot of the metal parts on this game, it was really rusty and looked awful. I didn’t want to put it back in without cleaning it up, and I’d have to remove the zinc coating to get the rust off, so I decided to strip and paint it.
I removed all the components from it, leaving a bare metal panel, as well as the plate that mounts under it. I also used a hot knife to remove the decals from the top, since I wanted to preserve the serial number tag that matches the cabinet. The wire cup brush made short work of the rust and zinc coating, leaving a naked panel. There was quite a bit of pitting from the rust, but I opted not to spend time filling them in before applying primer. I went with Rustoleum flat gray.
I decided that this would be another place that would be neat to have some customization, so I went with Rustoleum “Eden” satin paint.
After letting everything dry, I reassembled the panel, permanently installing the Big Blue along the way. In order to get the components out, I had to clip a wire that went from the transformer, through to the bottom of the panel, and into a Molex connector. I could have extracted the pin from the connector, but I lacked the correct tool, and cut it instead. I slid some heat-shrink tubing onto the wire, then soldered them back together and shrank the tubing down. I also glued the serial number tag back on (I skipped the other decals), and cleaned up the wiring and connectors.
I then reinstalled the brick into the cabinet, without connecting the game harness (the large 15-pin connector at top left). Again, this will protect the game in case something went wrong. I proceeded to test all the voltages out, and everything looked good. Reconnected and fired up, and everything was still operational. On to the next thing.
Cashbox enclosure & coin door
The coin door and associated hardware was also in sorry state. I’m at a loss to explain how all the metal parts ended up this rusty without the cabinet showing water damage, but there you have it.
Rather than repair all this, I opted to swap parts from the other cabinet, but preserve the coin counter. You can see that this machine has had 65,674 games played on it, for total earnings of around $16k. Not bad at all.
Even the coin counter was in pretty sad shape, so I decided to strip and paint it green as well. First thing I did was use the wire cup brush to strip it down and remove all the rust, then cleaned up some of the nooks and crannies by hand with 60 grit sandpaper. I put a piece of painter’s tape over the top, then cut around the plastic window with an X-Acto knife. I also covered the Molex connector and wiring in electrical tape to prevent any paint getting on them.
Before mounting up the counter, I cleaned up the enclosure and installed a knob on the volume pot. The lack of a knob here is one thing the otherwise detail-oriented Atari overlooked on their classic games.
Next, the coin door itself. The door on the first cabinet was in acceptable shape, except for the coin reject buttons. The inserts were torn, and they generally looked crappy.
These buttons are two pieces, with a thin faceplate over a thicker backing, with the insert sandwiched between. Some later (1981–2) Atari games have Atari-branded inserts, but the sheet of generic ones I had was good enough.
The buttons were gross, with 30 years of finger grime and soda stuck between the two halves. I washed them in the sink, dried them, and then tried to clean the faceplates up with Novus. Unfortunately, they are so scratched that it didn’t do much good. I don’t have another set handy to replace them with, so I called it good enough, and made a note to get a new set.
After reinstalling everything, I found that the game’s power interlock wasn’t working. These are safety devices that cut the power from the AC mains when either the coin door or back door are opened. You often find them removed or disabled, since it’s inconvenient to have the game power down when you open the coin door to change the volume or flip it into test mode. They’re simple three-position switches with a spring. When one of the doors presses the plunger, the circuit closes, and when the door is opened, a spring forces it back out, opening the circuit. They can also be pulled out, which allows you to leave the power on while the door is open or removed.
Looking at how the coin door aligned with the switch, I wasn’t sure how it was supposed to work. The door didn’t push on the switch enough to close the circuit, and the plunger interfered with the tripwire on the coin switch, which would prevent it from registering credits. By loosening the screws that mount the interlock to the cashbox enclosure, you can move it around a little, but there just wasn’t enough play to get it to work correctly. I have three other games in a similar cabinet style, but none of them have intact coin door interlocks. What on Earth was wrong here?
After looking at the other chute of the coin door, I realized that there should be a plastic piece covering the tripwire and coin switch, and it was missing on this door. With the piece in place, it should depress the interlock, as well as prevent it from interfering with the tripwire. I dug around, and found an extra coin door that had the correct piece intact, which I transferred to the left-hand chute, and everything worked just like it should.
Another issue was that the machine is missing all the locks. Local collector (and PAC/KLOV member) Brandon C. stopped by with a set, which I installed: two on the coin door, one on the back door.
Monitor
Since I had already gotten the a nice monitor put together for the other machine, I just swapped them around. Both machines had monitors replaced at some point, and the newer cabinet had a different connector for power. I extracted the pins and swapped connectors along with the monitors.
Side art
Most Atari Cabarets came with a card you could mail back to get side art for the game. Unlike most uprights, the Cabaret side art is a decal that floats in the middle of the woodgrain, rather than a full wrap. Most operators didn’t bother, since it meant that the machines weren’t immediately earning money on location. Fortuately, Scott Evans has the original films for much of this art, and accurate screen-printed reproductions are available through Phoenix Arcade. This went into production at the same time as the control panel overlay, so I made sure to get both pieces.
I started by unrolling the side art and laying it flat, which will prevent it curling up after application. Then, I brought the game into my game room and laid it down on its side. The original side art was cut into the correct shape, but the reproduction art has a large border around it, which can make it challenging to position correctly. I opted to trim away most of the border so I could see the position more clearly. I put it 6.5" from the bottom of the cabinet, and 2" from the back, then taped it into place.
The adhesive on these is of a middling tackiness, which means you can (carefully!) lift it back off if there’s a problem applying it. You need to be careful not to stretch it, though.
After it was secured, I started peeling the decal off, starting at the bottom corner, and stopping once I had around 6" of it separated from the backing. Then, I folded the backing under the rest of the art, with a good crease to keep it as flat as possible, and started applying the decal. Using a squeegee, I adhered it to the cabinet side, making sure to get out any creases or bubbles. After it was started, I removed the painter’s tape and lifted the rest of the decal up. I peeled a few more inches of the backing off the art, then squeegeed it down onto the cabinet. It’s important to keep a little tension on the art to prevent it sagging and sticking to the cabinet, which will cause wrinkles. Using the squeegee, I started at the front of the cabinet with a vertical motion, then moved towards the back diagonally, to push any air out the back side. I continued doing this, 6" — 8" at a time, until I reached the top. The top of the decal is tricky, because the bug is breaking out of the rectangle of the art. I started by applying the shoulder, again squeegeeing to get it securely in place and remove any air. This left the head and antennae, which I applied in a diagonal direction, from the neck to the tip of the antennae. This part is tricky, since the decal is narrow and prone to stretching or ripping if you aren’t gentle.
Then I flipped the cabinet over and repeated the process on the right-hand side.
Control panel
The control panel also needed a lot of attention. The overlay was cracked and had a chunk missing around the Trak-Ball, and the panel was rusty underneath.
I stripped it down to bare metal the same way as the first machine’s.
I used a Rustoleum white primer on this, and white gloss enamel on top of that. I use gloss because it has more surface area in contact with the adhesive on the overlay. While Atari painted their panels black, other collectors have had experiences with the colors on reproduction overlays turning out muddy or dark when applied to a black panel. I don’t know if this is true for this overlay, but I don’t want to find out the hard way, so white it is.
While I’m dealing with the paint, I used the other panel to train the new overlay and save some time. These repros are shipped rolled up in a tube. Before applying, you need to flatten them out, so the edges don’t curl up after application. After flattening, some people will clamp them onto the control panel to train them to the shape.
I lined up the overlay using the pre-cut holes, then laid strips of wood across the top and clamped them down. Then, I used a heat gun to warm up the overlay, making it more pliable. After it was nice and warm, I bent around the curves, clamping it on the other side to prevent it slipping around. After sitting like this for a few days, the overlay comes off and retains most of the shape of the panel.
There were several days of priming, sanding, painting, sanding, painting, cursing, sanding off drip marks, and so on, but I was eventually ready to get the overlay installed. After transferring it to my panel, I noticed that it was a tiny bit narrow, perhaps .75mm short total. However, it stuck out like a sore thumb due to the white paint on the panel, so back to painting I went.
I masked off everything but the edges of the panel, and hit it with satin black paint. I also got the hinge area, which isn’t covered by the overlay and would look awful after installation.
After letting it dry overnight, I was finally ready to put the overlay on. This is always tricky, and if you screw it up, you have to start over from the beginning — as well as buy another new overlay. Not an appealing prospect.
I started by positioning the overlay on my panel, then taping it securely in position. Then, I pulled the overlay up and peeled a few inches of the backing away. Once it was separated, I cut the backing off with an X-Acto knife. I laid the overlay back down on the panel, using a squeegee to lay it down evenly on the panel and get any air bubbles out. Once that strip was firmly on the top of the panel, I removed the rest of the backing and applied it to the top in the same way. The adhesive is very strong, so there’s no changing anything once it’s in place.
The bends are tricky, and it’s good to roll the squeegee down them, otherwise you’ll end up with air bubbles. Everything went well, and the new art looks fantastic.
Controls
The last part of the panel is reinstalling the controls. The Trak-Ball is held in with four carriage bolts on the top side of the panel, which mate to self-locking nuts on the underside. The bolt heads are tarnished with age, and exact replacements aren’t available. The originals have blank heads, while all the replacements have foundry markings on top, which rub uncomfortably on your hand when playing the game. I chucked the original bolts into my electric drill, and ran them across 220 grit sandpaper to remove the oxidization and tarnish, then 600 grit to smooth them out. After that, I punched some holes in a cardboard box, inserted them through the holes, and painted them with satin black all-in-one paint & primer.
The original fire button was dirty and yellowed with age. I was able to clean it up quite a bit, but I opted to replace it with a fresh new white button, again courtesy of Brandon C.
With all the parts done, I was ready to install them. Like many of the reproduction overlays I’ve dealt with, the pre-cut holes didn’t line up exactly with my panel. I don’t know if this is due to manufacturing variances with my panel, but most of the ones I’ve done have not fit exactly. This one was better than some, but I had to trim a little bit away from around the start buttons. There are locking studs in the button bezels, which would press the overhanging material down into the hole, which would eventually create a bubble. Much easier to trim it away with an X-Acto knife than ruin all the hard work that went into this.
It was only a few minutes to get everything reinstalled on the panel. Rather than rebuild another Trak-Ball, I used the controls from the first cabinet.
The finished product.
