Six Missing Children Have Haunted These Arcade Cabinets For Decades. Why?

When I was introduced to this story several weeks ago, I went in with three basic questions. Who—as in, “who put these photographs in these games?” How—“how did these end up in innocuous arcade middleware?” And why—“why write pictures of missing kids into a game’s very code?”

The first, as it turns out, was easiest. Dennis Koble, lead programmer on Mini Golf, recalls “someone” suggesting the addition, before working it in with artist Roger Hector.

“Near the end of the game’s creation, I recall someone (can’t remember who actually) suggesting that we implement the missing children feature,” Koble told Scott Stilphen for Atari Compendium in 2017. “Although the game was ‘finished’ at that point, I recall adding the switch-controlled feature to a revision of the ROM’s. The code was very simple and it consisted of a timer, a Vcheck for whether the feature was enabled via the on-board option switches, and the display of a static screen showing the children.”

When asked if he agreed the FBI was involved, Koble is unsure. 

“I really don’t know who initiated the missing kids project, but it seems likely the FBI did request it,” he said. “You have to remember though that Sente was a very small company and I would be a little surprised if the FBI knew of us directly.  Perhaps they approached Bally?  And then maybe the request and materials were filtered down to us?  Really couldn’t say.”

Did the FBI coordinate with video game manufacturers to track down missing kids? It’s a juicy story—right up there with Polybius and buried Atari cartridges. However, it’s unlikely. 

When the federal government actually did get involved with video games, just four years later, it was with FBI Director William S. Sessions’ infamous “Winners Don’t Use Drugs” campaign. In cooperation with the American Amusement Machine Association, 17 of the 20 major arcade manufacturers agreed to emblazon the Bureau’s seal on games such as Double Dragon and Tecmo Bowl. This was, in part, a consequence of former FBI agent Bob Fay being then-head of the AMAA. Fay’s white collar crime operations were instrumental in the industry’s war on gaming piracy, which accounted for one-fifth of game sales by the late 1980s. 

All this to say, it feels suspect the FBI would be involved in gaming this directly prior to this point. While not outside the scope of possibility, the federal government’s stated interest in arcades mostly began and ended at the War on Drugs; prior to that, it was strictly about managing bootleg products that hurt the industry’s bottom line. The idea that a cloak and dagger G-Man instructed an employee at Bally to put missing kids in arcade games is a compelling conspiracy, but in likelihood, just that: a conspiracy. 

Instead, the truth may be lying in plain sight on those screens—in a little-known organization that didn’t survive the ‘80s.

VOCAL—Video Operators Children Alert Line—was a hotline founded to help track down missing children through arcades. It is described in the October 3rd, 1983 Play Meter – a coin-op industry trade magazine and early games journalism pioneer – as “a program that will support the work of state agencies for missing, runaway, and abused children through the circulation of children’s pictures and hot line phone numbers.” One Paul L. Bray registered the company as a non-profit in Oregon almost 40 years ago on November 8, 1985. Bray could not be located for comment, and it’s unclear what his exact role was. 

Bray is not identified by record as a founder or operating member of VOCAL. That distinction goes, in part, to author Linda Jocelyn Rivers. Rivers began her writing career as a weekly correspondent for the Statesman Journal out of Salem, Oregon; over 30-plus years, she authored self-help books and contributed to national publications such as Reader’s Digest and USA Today between her advocacy work. Rivers could not be reached for comment.

Part of that work involved founding Hide and Seek Foundation, Inc. This national search coalition was spearheaded in three states; Linda managed the Oregon branch, while daughters Nikki and Barbette led office operations in New Jersey and Pennsylvania respectively. (Neither could be reached for comment.) An online biography for Linda claims the organization located and reunited 317 families during its operation; it also claims her Oregon staff “created” VOCAL. Coin Machine Sales of Portland director Bob Hasson and Beaver Amusement Company president Chet Thompson acted as vice presidents of the program. Hasson is notable, as his early work in the Portland coin-op space helped lay the foundation for the city’s still-thriving arcade scene. 

With trusted figures such as Hasson involved, VOCAL was able to garner support from Amusement Machine Operators of America (AMOA). This made visibility much easier. To raise awareness, full-page ads were taken out in publications such as Play Meter—an arcade operator trade of the day—and Atari Coin Connection. These ads were meant to be cut out, photocopied, and distributed around local arcades. This is detailed in an uncredited June 1985 Play Meter article, “A cause the industry should rally around”:

What VOCAL hopes is that every operator in the country will place these posters on the sides of their games in the hope that someone playing the games will recognize one of the faces and help us locate a missing child. And, quite frankly, the VOCAL program has excellent chances of success because our games are located where children congregate.

VOCAL is—in likelihood—responsible for the information on the missing children provided for Bally-Sente arcade games. The six missing children can be found in these ads, with the exact same photographs and information. Koble noted in the 2017 interview that these assets were given to the team, readymade, to be put in the game. Who fashioned these screens, exactly, is still unknown. The elements they’re fashioned from, however, are all VOCAL—right down to the branding. A safe assumption is that this initiative was prompted by the organization itself—or at least, somebody in the industry aware of it through trade publications or travel. While still murky, a non-profit advocacy group prompting publishers to include promotional materials seems a more likely scenario than “the FBI told Bally to put missing kid fliers in arcade games.”

This is partly because the former actually happened—in the same year, no less. See, Hide and Seek Foundation, Inc. was not the only incorporated company in the 1980s devoted to finding missing children. Child Find, Inc. was founded by victim rights advocate Gloria Yerkovich, after a lack of resources stymied her ability to find her 5-year-old daughter Joanna following a 1974 kidnapping by her father. (They were reunited ten years later.) Like Hide and Seek, Child Find was publicly pledged to raising awareness for missing children, and would provide a blueprint for organizations such as the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children to follow.

In 1985, Child Find Inc. partnered with Konami to include missing children stickers in Rush’n Attack cabinets, among others.

As then-president Ben Har-El wrote in the instruction manual: 

Konami is working in cooperation with CHILD FIND, INC., a not-for-profit corporation organized to aid parents , legal authorities and the FBI in the finding of missing children. In an effort to do so, we have attached to our kits and video games a poster and a decal showing photos of children that are listed with Child Find as missing. Because of the tremendous exposure your gameroom or location can provide, we ask that you PROMINENTLY DISPLAY the posters and place the decals on each of the Konami games. 

Har-El also implored owners to send a “tax deductible donation” or to volunteer. 

By this point, however, Child Find, Inc. was in hot water. The prior year, the organization was found liable by New York State Attorney General Robert Abrams for “misleading claims” about its services. These included the extent to which Child Find was responsible for tracking down missing children, and how much they were involved with actual law enforcement investigations. These claims were so severe that the company was made to alter their promotional literature. In addition, the company refunded the $60 fee (an egregious $180 in today’s money) required to take in a case to parents for whom they had not rendered services. Child Find of America still exists today as a registered charity.

Hide and Seek Foundation, Inc. was not as lucky despite having no financial scandals that I can find. While I could find proof of operation as late as 1992, nothing exists after 2000. Rivers continued writing until at least 2012, after which the trail goes cold. The only proof of Hide and Seek Foundation and VOCAL is found how I did—scattered across the internet over the span of 30-plus years. When it was dissolved and why remains a mystery. 

But some conclusions are safe to draw from the information available. Such as the fact that the missing children photos on Bally-Sente machines are not, in all likelihood, an FBI operation. It is more likely, instead, that VOCAL advertorials in trade magazines and grassroots marketing were effective for a short period of time. That an effective marketing blitz for “saving the children” held water in the era of missing posters on milk cartons, and became a small part of arcade history.

Because anyone who’s seen them can’t forget those washed out, black and white photos of kids. They’re scary! This is especially true when they’re staring at us from across a dark room, fuzzy and a little faded. Whether in your childhood arcade, a swanky barcade in a hip city, or that gas station you played Mini Golf, they stand out. Their frozen smiles and empty eyes suspended on cathode, in circuitry. 

Even if we pass by, there will be another who catches their stare. Another person frightened, sure, but intrigued to know more and eager to dig into uncertainty. Eager to stare into the faces of children who are no longer missing, but will never be found. 

This piece is dedicated to Cheryl Manning (1961—1978), whose disappearance was made known through V.O.C.A.L.

Author’s Note: The first portion of my research was devoted to finding each of the missing children. While I was able to confirm the living status of some children, in interest of privacy, I opted to not include the information.

Madeline Blondeau has been writing about games since 2010. She’s written for Paste, Anime Herald, Anime News Network, CGM, and Lock-On, among others. In addition, she has written, hosted, and recorded film criticism podcast Cinema Cauldron. Her published fiction debut is due out between 2026 and 2027. You can support her work on Patreon, and find her on BlueSky @mads.haus.