Evolving from a 19th Century military fort into a post-war community of some 33,000 residents cramped into a 2.5 hectare, 10-story labyrinth of ramshackle buildings navigated by dozens of dark, narrow alleyways and rickety overhead passageways, Hong Kong’s infamous Kowloon Walled City provided a real-life dystopian vision for writers, artists, designers and filmmakers before it was demolished and the land repurposed by authorities in 1994.

Just south of Tokyo, a few minutes walk from Kawasaki Station’s east exit, is Kawasaki Warehouse, a four-level, 24-hour amusement arcade that has appropriated the Walled City’s decaying, claustrophobic aesthetics to recreate fragments of the labyrinthine township on its lower levels. Entering the arcade from a featureless suburban street is like stepping onto a fantastical film set, its spaces lit by neon and naked bulbs and the light diffused by grimy windows, the atmosphere enhanced by ambient audio that fades in and out of earshot.

It’s like an amusement park attraction, and in a sense it is, setting the mood for those heading to the video consoles or darts boards, ping-pong or pool tables, but it’s remarkable for the painstaking level of detail-hand painted signage, ageing techniques, original Hong Kong sourced fittings-that has gone into the transformation of a former suburban electrical appliance store into a simulacrum of the City of Darkness.