8.
Faithless Digital Tribes
Business meetings are like being stuck in a
lift with a stranger. There is horrible pressure to make polite
conversation. The search for common touchpoints can become utterly
desperate.
One business meeting I had:
First time I’d met this person.
All was polite but stilted.
Pre-amble chit-chat then served-up a points
opener; my new business acquaintance came originally from Nottingham.
‘Forest or County’ I asked.
‘Forest man and boy, season-ticket holder since I could
afford to buy one.’
‘Forest boy here too’ I said ‘Brian Clough:
my first hero.’ We talked for 15 minutes about Andy Reid’s
potential, of the disappointment of losing Collymore, Jenas and
Prutton. And of course we talked of 1979 and 1980, of Malmo and
Hamburg, of one-nil triumphs in two European Cup Finals. We were
comfortable, free and easy. We had found ourselves to be of the
same tribe.
Nintendo, Xbox, Dreamcast, PS2, Amiga, Spectrum,
Commodore 64. Platform, shoot-em-up, FPS, Sports. 8-bit, 16-bit,
hand-held, table-top, console, PC. We thirty-something gamers
have formed, joined and jumped tribes more times than we’ll
admit. Sony destroyed the Dreamcast but I’ve still got a
PS2 sitting right alongside that loved Sega box. Microsoft might
have little care for our gaming heritage but I’ve still
put an Xbox on my Christmas List.*
How different the story 20 years ago? Ten years
even? We agonised for months (if we were British) over the Spectrum/Commodore-C64
decision. Then later we asked ourselves ‘I belong to the
tribe of Commodore, should I stay true and wait for an Amiga?
Or can I jump now and buy an Atari ST?’ From Commodore tribe
to Atari tribe? Such terrible faithless belonging and then un-belonging.
Back then we wore our 8-bit and 16-bit allegiances on our sleeves.
Then, with all the casual heartbreak of a second-romance,
we tossed these old friends aside to go play with the new kid
in the school yard. With perhaps the exception of a stalwart-few
rabid Miyamoto rent-boys and tin-foil-beanie Microsoft haters,
these tribal console debates are dead. And do you know what? I
couldn’t be happier. Like Tim, out of TV’s Spaced,
did with his soiled Star Wars memories I could now burn my 8-bit/16-bit/32-bit
cardboard-boxed loft collections. Burn them on a ceremonial backyard
pyre. There are only two reasons why I don’t:
1) 1980s plastics are so full of carcinogenic materials that one
lung full of burning Famicom could take two years off my life
2) Sitting right there in my mind, somewhere that’s reserved
for innocence and wonder, these machines and their games are protecting
my childhood
And that’s the crux. A Commodore C64 tape-deck
can still have me believing I’m driving the future; that
the Last Starfighter has become real and wrapped itself all around
my expectations of what my world might develop into being.
I still belong to those lost tribes of the first
videogame generation. We had an Amstrad in my house but I was
only an infiltrator in that camp. I’d play Sorcery knowing
full well that my heart belonged to the Batalyx tape sitting in
Mark Rayson’s bedroom down the other end of the village.
I knew that multi-channel sound was as nothing when put up against
a SID in full voice. I had my full set of Amstrad Action dust
covers but I wasn’t about to tattoo CPC464 onto my arm.
I still can’t look at a C64 without feeling
an enormous rush of loss, longing and change. I look at an Amstrad
CPC464 and the only thing that comes to mind is a memory of my
one coding achievement: A wire-frame representation of my Mum’s
plans for an extension to our house. I did a materials and cost
spreadsheet too. No offence if you’re now coding for HSBC
or something but thank fuck that particular hobby didn’t
take hold.
I really, really like my telly. I really like
my GameCube. My little hi-fi in my bedroom is ace. But I have
an emotional attachment to my NES, to my Amigas and even to my
Dreamcast. What is it about these machines that can do this? It
is belonging; it is that sudden sense of ‘you are like me’
that you feel whenever you meet another member of the tribe.
It’s exactly the same feeling of belonging
I felt when I discovered that my business acquaintance had ridden
the same football-themed emotional rollercoaster that I had. It’s
exactly the same feeling I get when I find myself instantly liking
anyone who tells me they’ve got a Dreamcast and who utters
the gatekeeper’s secret chant; ‘Shame those bastards
at Sony killed it.’ We nod at that. Truth is we both know
that we’ve let our PS2s nest cuckoo-like under the TV occupying
the original spaces where once our Dreamcasts ruled
We may be the faithful digital tribes but we’re
hopeless whores too.
* Dear Microsoft PR, I’m really,
um, cool and probably an important opinion-former, if you’d
like to make my Christmas come early then by all means e-mail
me with news of a free Xbox on iamatotalwhore@retailkings.com
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