Gamer And Proud

Picture, if you will, a young man known to his friends only as Alan. On first impression, he appears to be a well-rounded, typical boy in the street. Always polite and courteous, often referred to by old people as a “nice young man”. However, 17-year-old Alan – an award winning Woolco employee for being kind to pensioners – harbours a hidden secret. Alan is one of the growing underground misfits known only as a ‘gamer’.

Friday, 15th November 1985 – Woolco, Livingston
Toe – So what’r ye uptae the nite, then?
SUBTITLE – “What form of entertainment might you be seeking, this evening?”

Alan – Och, ahm no sure. Prolly gotae the Parry Lamp wie a cuppla mates y'ken, what aboot yersel?
SUBTITLE – “I’m planning to stay in tonight and play Beach Head”.

Toe – We’re awe goin tae Melvilles – me, Willie, Zanthie ana few other birds.
SUBTITLE – “I am rather inclined towards some refreshment and relaxation at a local public house – in the company of some friends and female acquaintances”.

Alan – Ah well. Have a guid time. I might see ya there!
SUBTITLE – (Thinks) “Lucky bastard. He’s going out with all the happening, cool guys and the best-looking girls and the highlight of my night might be getting my pirate copy of Hyper Biker to load”.

Some wool. Not unlike that which was probably sold in ‘Woolco’.

Back in 1985, I had two lives…

1. The social animal who frequented the Dreadnought – a biker’s/heavy-metal rock disco that’d been there since the ‘50s and, by the looks of it, was still inhabited by some of the original punters. It was dirty, sleazy and was straight out of an American biker flick. The utterly predictable music was all part of the appeal. As you opened the double doors, Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ greeted you – as did the neon lights and the smell of hash. Immediately, we would jostle for the best view of the dance floor…

As the night went on, the place would fill with oddbods and misfits like left-overs from a Christmas Quality Street tin. There were fat guys with handlebar moustaches, skinny guys with big afros and loads of John Bon Jovi wannabes. The women were all pale in complexion and favoured black gear – Goths, they call them now. I didn’t drive a bike or have long hair, but I had membership into this fraternity because I was mates with Hendo who knew everyone and that allowed me to be there. I did have my Powerslave T-shirt to keep me credible, and it was only ever worn when I was there. These were the days when tapping a bird on the shoulder meant that she was obligated to dance with you.

Some bikers - most unlike those who frequented the Dreadnought.

Half way thru the night, it started: “Dah nah nee nah nee na-na – AHN GUS… Dah nah nee nah nee na-na – AHN GUS…”. Suddenly, the floor would clear and then fill with all these hairy blokes who always unconsciously formed a circle like some ancient Pagan ceremony, air guitaring to the sounds of Maiden and AC/DC. The obligatory ‘Alone’ by Heart or John Waite’s ‘Missing You’ would bring the night to a close before the chips, taxi, sick, bed routine.

2. The nerdy 18-year-old who would be praying for pay-day so he could pick up the latest Zzap! 64 Gold Medal game instead of a new pair of jeans or aftershave to wear on the Saturday, like the rest of his colleagues.

One Saturday, I bought ‘Ghostbusters’, and took it up to the Woolco staff canteen to have a look. To avoid detection, I was carefully reading the box while it was still in the bag, when my mate Paul came up and asked what I was looking at. “Oh nothing”, I said. “Just a game for my wee brother’s birthday” (I never did have a wee brother or indeed any brother). And so the living in denial started.

It was a secret only my parents and fellow nerdy friends knew of. I never discussed it with anyone and indeed I played dumb whenever the subject of computer games came up.

What’s your filthy little secret? Eh? EEEEEH?

One afternoon, I was working in accounts and making a bit of progress with a feisty blonde called Antoinette, when a workmate, Bill (labelled ‘Super Mario’ by my boss who thought it preposterous that a grown man of thirtysomething should be into computer games) wandered in. After spotting me, he shouted across the room: “Alright, Alan! Just to let you know - I got about another ten games yesterday. How are you getting on with ‘Exploding Fist’. I thinks it’s brilliant…”. To which I replied: “Oh, that’s good!”, or something similarly non-interesting, then turned away and resumed working, hoping that no-one had really noticed. Ten minutes later, the fucker walks up to me and lays down a handful of budget computer games on my desk – right in full view of Antoinette and the other accounts girls. I felt as if I’d just been outed as some kind of pervert.

Every now and again, my sorry hobby would be made public, usually at some wedding or social occasion. Women would be discussing their hubby’s football or golf addiction, when the subject would turn to me and they’d ask my then wife Julie: “Oh what does Alan do? Is he into football or something”. “No”, Julie replied. “He just spends ALL his time playing computer games”. I felt like a fuckin’ leper.

1994. I’d just got my Profit-Related Pay bonus. Having persuaded Julie we were gonna split the cash and buy something we wanted, I’d already decided on a SNES – having been won over by Pilotwings. I went into Tandy and gave the impression I was ‘browsing’ the Hi-fi's – although my gaze was firmly fixed on the SNES compendium pack over to the left.

“Can I help you?” the Daz-shirted assistant asked.
“Errr… yes. I’m… um… looking for a… computer thing for my… SON!”.
“I see, sir. What exactly is it you’re after?”
“I think it’s called a ‘Sega Nintendo’ or something”.
It was obvious (or so I hoped) that I was the least computery person in the whole fuckin’ world…

“Well – actually, sir… those are two different consoles, but we only stock the Super Nintendo System”.
“I see,” I replied. “Is that the Nintendo Gameboy, then?”.
“No. This console plugs into the television”, he offered.
“You know what? I think I’ll just take it, mate. I’m fed up with trailing around the shops looking for this silly computer thing.”. And then, for extra authenticity, I added: “He’d better like it!!!”.

A computer shop assistant.

I paid for it using my debit card and took the bag from the assistant. Ten minutes later, I’m up the road and embarking on level two of ‘Super Mario All-Stars’.

Eighteen years on, Sony’s involvement in the industry has made my interest almost credible. Heck, I even discussed my newly acquired Vectrex with a boss at work the other day.

So, I want to take the opportunity, here and now, to say:

“MY NAME IS ALAN AND I PLAY COMPUTER GAMES!”

And Antoinette did eventually succumb to my charms. Indeed – I think she was quite taken with my skill at ‘Match Point’.

The Knowhere Guide – Livingston
Some people who like Ghostbusters a bit too much
Something really, really horrible that we found after doing a search for biker pubs and magazines:

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