Video Games
8-bits are for life...
...Not just for Christmas
Who would be a parent these days? Christmas is just around the corner and the kids have probably been badgering them for a month already for the latest and greatest hi-tech wizardry that Santa can fit down the chimney. But remember kids, as you unwrap the big present, the one you wanted to open first but saved until last to savour the moment. Remember when you tear the paper just enough to see the logo on the packaging, right before the huge wave of disappointment when you realise that it isn't a PS3, but a fish tank and six Guppies. Remember that you are not the first. Others have walked that path of disenchantment before you and if my words can be of any help then show them to your parents and offer them the path to salvation.
My story begins back in 1984 and is tale of poverty, woe and suffering, but ultimately a tale of hope and joy (cue the wavey flashback music)…
In late '84 there was only one thing your reporter, a young Mancunian lad with an eye for the developing technology of the day, was hoping for that Christmas. The Commodore 64 was riding high and wowing the nation with is flashy graphics and unbelievable sound. I can still remember the first time I heard my friend's C64 playing a sample of Carl Douglas' Kung Fu Fighting (which was later excruciatingly murdered by British dance band Bus Stop). I thought my ears may were deceiving me and had to check that the tape deck wasn't still spinning. How could a computer sing to me? And how did it know my favourite song?
After the disappointed in July when I got a bike or some other piece of useless junk for my birthday (this was the dawn of the computer age and my parents wanted my outside getting some 'fresh air'), I knew I had to set my stall out early. I cunningly managed to weave the word Commodore into more sentences than the English language allows and the use of subliminal infiltration by playing lots of Lionel Ritchie songs was a masterstroke. There was no way good old mum and dad were going to fail me this time.
Christmas Eve came around excruciatingly slowly and the presents were neatly stacked beneath the tree. Nestling underneath the selection boxes and a package suspiciously shaped like an annual (probably the Dandy, even though I wanted Wizzer & Chips) was the one I wanted to see. It was the right shape and size and despite the Winnie the Pooh wrapping paper, I knew that my work was done. The old duffers had come up trumps. This was to be the best Christmas ever!
But waking up on Christmas Day I could tell something was wrong. The sky was grey and overcast and there was something in the air. Nothing was going to spoil my day though and I rushed downstairs to rip open the wrapping and revel in my new found best friend. But as I tore the first piece of paper I could see something that I didn't expect. Not the beige scene I was expecting, but a blackish grey (though admittedly better looking) impostor was lying in the box. It looked just like a Commodore 64 though, so I kept the faith.
It was then that I saw the badge on the machine and it was a site that made my heart drop. The cheapskates had only gone and bought me a Commodore 16. Even the simplest of maths told me it 4 times less good than the machine I had coveted. My world had come crashing down on top of me.
Once I had wiped the tears and the air in my bedroom had cleared of expletives, I finally got round to playing the games that had been wrapped separately (to make it look like I had more presents). BMX Racers, Galaxians and Punchy were all excellent games and I did find myself warming to my new electronic pal (though I would never let my parents see it). We formed a close friendship, inseparable for the next few months, but never becoming best friends like I had hoped. I always knew that something was missing.
So what is the joy that I spoke of earlier? What was it that stopped me shipping the old fools off to a home the moment I could afford it? Quite simply it is because of their penny pinching indiscretions that when I was ready to leave the grey wonder behind and upgrade to something new and more exciting, they were still too tight to get me that C64. Meaning a Spectrum 48k was to be my next companion. A friend that has never left me to this day and allowed me to cast off Commodore's evil clutches and join Maggie's millions in their 'Buy British' xenophobia.
So the moral of my tale is just as relevant to today's youth as it was 20 years ago.
Kids - Be explicit with you parents. Don't be the hardcore gamer that gets a Wii, or the party gamer that gets a PS3, or the boy that gets a DS!
Parents – Consoles are not all the same. I managed to overcome the trauma of my experiences, but your little angel may not. Childline will be busy this Christmas as always; don't let it be your child stuck in the queue when they could be getting acquainted with their new best friend.