For a very brief period in my distant, pickled-onion-monster-munch-encrusted past, gaming resided in the living room. It was heralded by that pivotal moment of the POMME era: The acquisition of our family’s first home gaming system, which in my case was the infamous the Atari 2600. Being a one TV household, the authentic wooden panelling of the 2600 had no choice but to shack up with our faux-pine-encased colour TV set. With all that fake wood, the glass coals in the gas fire and the plastic pot plants, our living room beamed with all the rustic charm of a laminated Argos catalogue.

The Atari 2600: Equally at home in the cigar-smoke of a gentleman’s club as it is under your crappy TV. Yeah, I said your TV’s crap. Pwn’d!

This was a particularly special event, as although my little brother and I had become well versed in arcade gaming through various camp-site games rooms around the country, this was the first time the whole family had partaken in the experience. Oh, how we laughed at the general ineptitude, as dad grasped the wrong end of the joystick and mum swayed violently in an attempt to corner a little tighter and thus gain the coveted Pole Position (there is much talk about the revolutionary nature of the Nintendo Wii, but really, how did it take 20 years to catch on to idea that people like to move the controller about?).

Pole Position? About half-way up, please.

Sadly, it this bout of familial gaming was all too short lived. Dad realised he was missing the 6 o’clock news and remembered the black’n’white “camping” tele’ in the attic (complete with loop antenna and dial tuner. None of that instant, "push button" madness: this baby required a good old fashioned retune every time you wanted to change the channel). And thus the glorious technicolour of Yars’ Revenge was dead to me, as my gaming life was forever banished to the bedroom. Perhaps it’s the bedroom-activity/ young-boy association, but since then I’ve always been somewhat furtive about revealing my gamer side to those close to me.

Yars’ Revenge: Because sentient robot houseflies need a hero too.

Until recently, that is. After connecting an old PC up to the TV to act as a DVR/jukebox, I thought, “why not get a couple of cheap gamepads and download a couple of emulators?” To my surprise and delight, my girlfriend, a devout non-gamer (she spends her free time doing constructive/creative things like jewellery making, book binding, knitting and other crafty bollocks), loves going head-to-head on simple two-player games. It’s mainly SNES and MAME games, usually of the puzzle variety. But still, I regard this as distinct progress, as she’s never thought to wander into the bedroom to play games (oo-er!). However, with everything neatly set up in the living room, gaming has become a regular occurrence. It’s so nice to share what, for many a year now, has been such a large aspect of my life.

Next time, I might provide some suggestions for living room gaming (The living room gamer, Part II. How to get a non-gamer addicted. Subtitle: The first one’s free). For now, let me just say I’m glad my significant other agrees that they don’t make games like they used to. Or perhaps we’re just a pair of whinging POMME bastards.

March 2008

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