On a snowy day in Detroit, Eminem, bearded and dressed in a white T-shirt and gray hoodie, stands in the lounge of his cavernous studio complex, nodding at a Donkey Kong arcade cabinet. “I’m halfway to a world record,” he says proudly, his high scores flickering on the screen. I notice a piece of plastic that’s been placed on top of the console. “Yeah, we gotta fix that,” he says. “I got mad at the game and punched the screen and broke it. The game cheats, you know?”