How to Master Tong Its Game: A Step-by-Step Strategy Guide for Beginners
When I first discovered the Tong Its collection, I immediately recognized this wasn't just another fighting game compilation—this was a time capsule preserving six authentic arcade experiences from the 1990s. The developers made a brilliant decision to include only the original arcade versions rather than console ports, which means you're getting the purest form of these classic fighters exactly as they were meant to be played. Sure, you'll notice occasional frame-rate hiccups that remind you these games are decades old, but that authenticity actually becomes your greatest training advantage when learning Tong Its. The raw, unpolished mechanics force you to develop fundamental skills that modern fighters often mask with automated combos or simplified inputs.
Let me walk you through my personal approach to mastering these games, starting with understanding why this particular collection creates such a unique learning environment. Since all six titles are presented in their original arcade forms, you're essentially getting a crash course in fighting game evolution. Some titles like "Street Fighter II" still feel remarkably modern, while others clearly show their age with clunkier controls. I recommend beginning with whichever game feels most dated—personally, I started with the original "Art of Fighting" because its limited move set forces you to focus on spacing and timing rather than flashy combos. Spend your first week just understanding how arcade cabinets originally played; the slightly delayed inputs and occasional performance drops will teach you patience and precision that translate beautifully to modern fighters.
My second week involved what I call "button mapping archaeology." Unlike contemporary fighting games where controllers are standardized, these arcade originals were designed for specific cabinet layouts. I spent hours experimenting with different control schemes until I found what worked for me—surprisingly, using a six-button fight stick felt most authentic. For beginners, I'd suggest starting with a simple four-button configuration and gradually expanding as you become comfortable. The collection doesn't hold your hand with tutorials, so you'll need to discover through trial and error that certain games respond better to lighter taps while others require full, committed presses. I documented my preferred configurations for each game in a notebook, noting that "Fatal Fury" specifically benefits from assigning two punch and two kick buttons to shoulder triggers.
Movement mastery comes next, and this is where the collection's preservation philosophy becomes your greatest teacher. The occasional frame-rate issues actually help you understand the rhythm of classic fighting games—you learn to time your jumps and dashes during consistent moments rather than relying on perfect performance. I developed a drill where I'd practice basic movement for thirty minutes daily across all six games, noticing how "The King of Fighters '94" demanded quicker dashes while "Samurai Shodown" rewarded deliberate positioning. What surprised me was discovering that the games showing their age the most—like the original "Fatal Fury"—actually taught me the most about strategic positioning since their slower pace emphasizes thoughtful movement over twitch reactions.
When it comes to actual combat, I advocate for what I call the "three-move mastery" approach. Instead of trying to learn entire move lists immediately, pick three reliable techniques per character and drill them until they become muscle memory. In "Street Fighter II," for instance, I focused exclusively on Ryu's fireball, dragon punch, and sweep kick for my first two weeks. The beauty of learning through these arcade originals is that they punish sloppy execution immediately—there's no input buffer or modern assist systems to save you. I probably attempted Guile's sonic boom fifty times before consistently executing it properly, but that struggle made me appreciate how fighting game fundamentals were built.
Defense is where these classic games truly separate casual players from serious students. Modern fighters often include elaborate tutorial systems teaching block strings and pressure escape, but here you learn through repeated failure. I remember getting completely destroyed by the CPU in "Art of Fighting" for days before realizing I needed to watch enemy animation cues rather than react to movements. The collection's occasional performance issues actually trained me to identify specific character tells—when the frame rate dipped slightly during an opponent's startup animation, I learned to recognize that as an attack indicator. This unconventional learning method might sound frustrating, but it develops defensive instincts that feel almost supernatural when you return to modern fighters.
As you progress, you'll naturally discover which of the six games resonate with your personal style. For me, "The King of Fighters '94" became my main focus because its team battle system and faster pace aligned with my preferences, while I never fully connected with "World Heroes" despite recognizing its historical importance. That's the magic of this collection—it gives you enough variety to find what truly speaks to you while providing consistent fundamental training across all titles. I recommend spending at least two weeks with each game before deciding where to focus your serious practice time, keeping notes on which mechanics feel most natural to you.
After three months of dedicated practice following this approach, I returned to modern fighters like "Street Fighter V" and "Guilty Gear Strive" and found my skills had improved dramatically. The raw fundamentals developed through struggling with these arcade originals translated directly to cleaner inputs, better spacing awareness, and more patient defense in contemporary titles. The Tong Its collection, despite its occasional technical imperfections, provides what I consider the perfect training ground for fighting game mastery. Those frame-rate issues that initially frustrated me became valuable lessons in adaptation, while the unaltered arcade experience forced me to engage with fighting games at their most essential level. If you're willing to embrace these games as they are—flaws and all—you'll develop skills that modern gaming simply can't teach.