They say a woman scorned is a dangerous beast. See also – a bloke whose gaming manhood is called into question. Especially short blokes. With thumbs like cat’s nadgers. Honest…

For some reason, the first in the Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater series was missed completely by the Milton Hilton (as we liked to refer to our run-down little abode - meters from the hallowed turf of The Dell). It wasn’t until a freak Friday frolic to the St Denys Lodge (a B&B for our local gaming cohorts) that it was evident how much we’d missed out on… The balletic artistry of their floor-to-ceiling combos in the warehouse and the fact that ‘Twitch’ - a legend in his own cack-handedness – was managing to co-ordinate both thumbs for long enough to chain twenty moves together, meant we had little option but to beat an early retreat. All we had to counter with was Stella-induced gurning, some of the more fruity local swear words and the ubiquitous: “This game’s fucking shit!”.

And there it would have ended, if it hadn’t been for those pesky taunts.

"Yeah - I got this radical shirt off da internet!"
"Atari? Dunno man, do they make surfboards?"

I remember the day quite clearly. ‘Pap’ (see THUG review, this issue) returned home with a brand spanking new copy of the sequel - for the Dreamcast, no less - and the glint in his eye said it all. Well, actually, the phrase: “This’ll show the cunts!”, said it all, but I’m sure he had a glint in his eye at the time.

Under normal circumstances, Pap and I would revel in sofa-based insults, chimp-inspired derision and game related derogatory sexual references, but THPS2 was different. For two weeks, we honed and mastered and ninja’d though the night, sharing lines and tricks like giggling crack-whores. We discussed the merits of certain stats for our shared characters over a fine Chianti (well… Stella), all the while taking the email-based jibes and pub-time wind-ups about the THPS fun. Until the fateful night we owned up, gathered round the Dreamcast and settled down for the first of many ‘rematches’.

Cue hours of gurning, swearing, pisstakes and substance abuse, until the Milton Hilton proved victorious – thumbs too sore to even manage a triumphant celebratory wank before sleep.

Sure, there was the usual: “Oooo, it’s faster on the Dreamcast, my timing’s all out… We’ve not got the sequel, it ain’t fair”, and my personal favourite: “Don’t like the DC joypad. I’d kick your arse on a Dual Shock…”. But it was all fuel on the fire. The Lodge rushed out and bought the sequel, the Hilton imported fresh stocks of Dual Shock adaptors from Lik Sang and the next two months saw the most intense combo-mashing since Street Fighter 2 invaded Hedge End.

”I’ve changed my mind. I want to get off…”

Loved ones felt abandoned, offspring had to look after themselves and TV watching was consigned to the dark corners of the second floor, while THPS2 was opened up, raped, Spiderman character-unlocked and a certain Lodge member’s high score in The Hangar was well and truly beaten (most comprehensively).

Admittedly, it’s a good few years later now and our skating addiction has stabilised. Battered Lodgers have given up the ghost and moved on to easier sports like snowboarding (SSX? fucking lightweights), leaving the Hilton team-mates to fight the good fight. And we do, every time we see each other.

The versions may change, new tricks may be added, but the excuses remain the same: “Waaaa, don’t like the Xbox joypad… Errrgh, this third one’s a bit funny… You cunt! Where’s the Darkslide?!”, and for every cheer-inspiring fluke of timing there’s a shin-splitting, sarcasm-attracting bail. You just have to hope that your ‘Start Button, Quit, Retry…’ special-move is quick enough to ease it.

Good timing during car-grinds is imperative.

But that’s competitive gaming for you. Give people a game that’s open, with its own rule-set and a genre-defining control system and what happens? Cheap ramp-whoring tricks are banned, easy lines frowned upon and play restricted to a couple of well-worn levels.

“House rules, gentlemen: no more than two consecutive airs/reverts, only fifteen-trick combos are eligible, farting in front of the opposition is *not* an acceptable psyche-out, no retries after ten seconds and tonight’s Horse phrase is ‘Gaylord’… Oh, and the first person to say ‘Best of Five’ gets a fucking good kicking.”

Long live Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater

KORRUPTOR, February 2004.

Comment Here.

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Things to 'Make' and 'Do'.

The Knowhere Guide. One of our favourite sites, and it happens to feature all the best skateboard spots in the UK as well as lots of other genuinely funny provincial things.

Dogtown And Z-Boys. Ace skateboarding doc.

Deeply unpleasant bail videos.

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