Before there was a dojo. Before there was House of Dragons. There was a dusty Super Nintendo controller, the Street Fighter II title screen glowing on the TV, and me—5 years old—choosing Ryu for the first time like it was destiny.
Ryu wasn’t just a pixelated fighter. He was disciplined. He was calm, focused, and always training to be better. He was everything I didn’t know I wanted to become yet. That moment lit a spark that never went out. I picked up a controller before I picked up a black belt, but both taught me the same thing: train, level up, evolve.
By the time Pokémon Red and Blue dropped in North America in September of 1998, the game had already sold 10.4 million copies in Japan alone. Within a year, it sold another 9 million units in the U.S. Every school had a kid with a Game Boy in hand, locked into a battle in Viridian Forest. It wasn’t just a trend—it was a movement. Game Freak, Nintendo, and Creatures Inc. had tapped into something primal: the joy of growth, training, and transformation. Sound familiar?
That same year, Metal Gear Solid hit the PlayStation, bringing in over 6 million global sales and redefining what a game could feel like. Suddenly, stealth was just as powerful as strength. You had to think like a warrior. Move with patience. Analyze your opponent. It wasn’t button-mashing—it was strategy. It was chess with fists and firearms. Konami changed the game.
The industry exploded. Capcom was still dominating arcades and consoles with Street Fighter Alpha 3 and the Marvel vs. Capcom series. Mega Man X4 made its way to the PS1 in ‘97, and for a lot of us, it wasn’t just platforming—it was perseverance. Those bosses didn’t go down easy. You had to earn every win.
And right around then, something else happened—gamers started organizing. What began in local arcades and living rooms grew into EVO (Evolution Championship Series), founded in 2002. The early events were raw—underground even. But by the late 2000s, EVO was drawing in thousands of fighters from all over the world to Las Vegas. The legendary 2004 moment—Daigo Umehara vs. Justin Wong, EVO Moment #37—is still talked about as the greatest clutch play in fighting game history. You had to have frame-perfect timing to survive. No second chances.
By 2010, gaming had become the world’s dominant entertainment industry. E3, which launched in 1995 with just a few thousand attendees, was now pulling in over 70,000 industry insiders per year. New console drops became worldwide events. The PlayStation 2 (launched in 2000) went on to become the best-selling console of all time with over 155 million units sold. Microsoft answered back with the Xbox and Halo franchise. Nintendo? They flipped everything with the Wii, which sold over 101 million units, turning grandparents into bowlers overnight.
Games like Final Fantasy VII (1997) sold 13 million copies and introduced a whole generation to emotional storytelling, turn-based combat, and the importance of building your squad wisely. Smash Bros, Tekken, King of Fighters—these franchises created a language of competition we still use today. Whether in an arcade or a dojo, the rules were the same: study the craft, respect your opponent, and never stop evolving.
That’s what House of Dragons is built on.
We grew up on Game Informer and late-night episodes of G4’s X-Play. We stayed up watching new character trailers drop at Tokyo Game Show, or waiting for the latest leaks before E3. This dojo was designed to carry that energy forward. Every kid who walks in isn’t just learning to kick or punch—they’re learning to level up. Like picking your starter Pokémon, you begin unsure of your strength, but with training, experience points stack—and before you know it, you're in your final evolution.
The values I learned in those games—patience, strategy, resilience, grind—are the same ones I bring into every class we run. We don’t just train fighters. We train characters. Each student is their own protagonist, with their own style, their own battles, and their own final form waiting to be unlocked.
Gaming didn’t distract us. It shaped us.
From basements to convention halls, from button combos to black belts—this is the dojo the ‘90s built. And now, it’s where the next generation of heroes starts their campaign.