The zombie lurched towards me it’s face slack and grotesquely distorted, arms outstretched. It moaned something unintelligible. The ripe stench of putrefaction that emanated from it became more cloying as it approached. Reflexively, my grip on my carrier bag increased. Its un-dead gaze locked on mine. Lips flecked with something greasy and unidentifiable it moaned something unintelligible again. Taking a step back I carefully handed my money over the counter and, without waiting for my change, took my game and ran.

Sounds like a scene from the latest Survival Horror title doesn’t it? In a manner of speaking surviving horror is exactly what it is. It is in fact another in a long line of experiences I’ve had when going out to buy a new game. That’s right, I said going out to buy a new game. I am an old fashioned fetishist.

GAME in Northampton, yesterday.

I remain very much a physical shopper and still insist on leaving the house to purchase games. Current industry rhetoric regarding downloadable content fills me with dread. So why do 98% of game shop staff have far less character, fewer frames of animation and more-rubbish sound effects than Zool?

Staff in mainstream games shops seem to fall into three broad categories:

The Monosyllabic

For example, the young guy who served me at a branch of Computer Exchange recently in what will remain an unnamed part of Kent: he managed to remain tight lipped for the duration of our transaction though I did notice that his eyes were bulging more and more as time ticked on. Eventually the lack of oxygen or the stench or both meant that the scant air he was managing to pull into his body via his nostrils ceased to be enough. As a result he unhinged his lower jaw like a boa-constrictor to reveal what must have been three quarters of a Big Mac jammed in there. He had an excuse at least – most of the time silence just seems to be part of the assistant’s training.

The Cool

You know the type: hair gelled into spikes or a Hoxton fin. They’ll be wearing an ironic Atari t-shirt or similar, that actually means nothing to them. They serve in packs so that they may pass around the knowing glances and laughter that is their nourishment. Go to the bars of the Queens Park/Kensal Rise area of London, the new Forbidden Planet superstore in London or the marketing and PR department of, well, Atari and you’ll see that these places are full of these people. People who, persuaded by the fact that the geek have now inherited the earth, are, in a last ditch attempt to manufacture an identity for themselves, adopting some of the “pursuits” of those they so mercilessly taunted when in school http://www.gamespot.com/all/news/news_6024273.html

God give me strength.

The Genuinely Great

One in every hundred is like the bonus toy in a Kubrick box: worth something and a delight to find. But these people seem to be actively encouraged out of the mainstream stores. Why? Make them head buyer and we might see fewer Harry Potter does Anal and more Beyond Good & Evil.

The June 16th Issue of M.C.V. (trade paper for games shops - Ed) features a story about GAME’s new “Finishing Schools” designed to smooth that painful transition from deputy to top dawg in their stores. A spokesperson for GAME is quoted as saying that this and other investments will “…allow the group to grow even faster. Just as important is to serve our staff and customers better.” Yeah Right. Have you been to one recently? But perhaps this is a step in the right direction and that the training will prove to be to the benefit of customers and not just cover ‘How to Shift Driv3r in Massive Volumes.’

GAME is the dominant force in European videogame retail: Ye gods – how? In the name of Maximo’s soiled boxer’s – how? Don’t ask me, I’m just as mystified and ill as you.

GAME makes me sad because they are destroying the small independents (to be fair many independents are doing a good job of that themselves – Ed): when these die they take with them all of their unique charm, atmosphere, enthusiasm, not to mention the huge reservoirs of knowledge their staff keep in their pockets. These people were an integral part of gaming’s roots and now they’re being ruthlessly excised and replaced by accountants.

I'm so lonely. Suppose I'll have to go bully one of my staff in a
bit. Maybe I could hang myself?

GAME is unable to offer an experience that comes close to the old independents, to those people who started those business’s because of a passion for gaming and who worked twelve hours a day for six or seven days a week in order to try and keep them going. GAME have steamed in there with financial muscle, marketing savvy and the gloss and bollocks of format-retail. Surely somebody will emerge to challenge this cozy status quo soon? Please, won’t somebody think of the children?

Anyway, I’m off down shop now to buy a new game, cap and bicycle clips on, Dvorak’s New World Symphony on the iPod…

SHEWROG, July 2004.

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