When Tormentor Becomes Saviour (Not For The First Time)
When I was but a small Limpet, I fastened myself regularly (usually daily in fact) to one of the two sales counters in Games Workshop (back when it was a true gold mine of gaming goodness sandwiched between Hagenbachs and Cantors - very useful if you were shopping for games, sandwiches and a little occasional table for the living room, at age 13) drawing the attention of the staff who were fierce creatures capable of destroying the young in one or two words or with a look. I recall that an eyebrow was once raised at a less hardy mollusc, and they vanished in a small sulphurous cloud.
In short, it was a hard, hard place and one which to this day, I'd trade two days of my life to be able to spend a day in again, just to experience it.
It always seemed to smell of ground coffee and Poly S acrylics, and on a grey Wednesday afternoon in early Autumn it was indescribably comfortable to just browse all of the wondrous products.
Perhaps the only place these days, that can match those early GW stores is Spirit Games in Burton-Upon-Trent.
Anyway, as I started to find my feet, I became a regular target for the two guys who ran the figure bar; the late Pete 'Stretch' Armstrong (he hated being called Stretch) and Chris Gilbride. Now, Pete was a tough cookie, with a sarcasm level which went off the scale, but you could praise his awesome paint jobs and soften him down a bit.
Chris on the other hand was intellectually and verbally a different bak game. He was quieter and a lot more surgical with his incisive comments. Jesus, if he got you in his sights, you got reamed. Worse, if Chris got you, and Pete was riding shotgun, or Pete was on his back foot and Chris came to his aid, you just wanted to curl up and die in a corner.
Naturally, because I was a royal pain in the collective rectum, I got both barrels on a reasonably regular basis. I spent a lot of nights, curled up sobbing and praying for death.
It was great!
No, really... Look, I was not by nature a gregarious boy. I was chatty when I felt comfortable, but if you confronted me, I went very quiet and sullen. Chris and Pete with their merciless attacks (in later years, rechristened the Armstrong-Gilbride Method {TM}) taught me to stand up for myself without recourse to physical means. They also made me realise that it was OK to be me. True, I was still a geek, but I learned to hold my own with other geeks. (It didn't stop me getting arrested for assault when I was 15 for dealing with a kid two years older who thought I'd be a pushover, but it gave me that confidence to confront something I'd have run from until GW came to Sheffield).
I must point out that a couple of times I was saved from a verbal mauling in the den of these lion of sarcasm, by Lisa Brook, who probably prevented me suffering the fate of the kid I mentioned at the start.
The majority of people I gamed with and went to shows with were 10 years or more, older than me, and the verbal jousting skills, picked up in the GW tilt yard meant that they treated me as something more than an annoying kid. Thus I learned about periods that interested me, travelled the UK and spent weekends in strange towns, getting a gaming education, with the 'Big Boys'.
The only thing I never actually got to do was game with Pete and Chris in their own campaigns, because I was too cool for that *cough* and they couldn't take the *cough* competition. *choke*
It was only as I got older that I understood how I'd grown and benefitted from the 'counter of death', and my respect for Chris and Pete grew. It's a funny old world.
Anyway, Chris has helped me out in the last few years with obscure rule sets and the like and also has helped me deal with confronting my own ghosts at times. He is a sensible and dryly funny bloke, and any kid would be lucky to have a dad like him, I can tell you.
As you know, the week, I've been busy tracking down a few games I wanted to visit and re-visit, and once again, Chris has helped me out by agreeing to sell me his Paranoia collection. For me this is not only great from the point of view of having all I need to play, but it has that direct connection, almost talismanic to the years which I think of as 'The Rise Of The Limpet'.
For that reason those who knew me back then and who know the reasons why I am such a retro-freak, will understand just what a great thing this is for me. I'm counting the days until the box arrives, packed to the gills with memories and atmosphere** as well as some Golden Heroes stuff.
Thanks Chris!
TTFN
** On the subject of atmosphere, I gave a pack of 1983 TSR Commandoes to wife to open this week, in an attempt to give her that buzz we got, back in the day. When she remarked that the blister contained 35 year old genuine, geek air, I grabbed it and inhaled deeply. I spent the afternoon at my desk, feeling sick... DON'T TRY AND COPY THIS - You need stupendous Limpet powers like me -and even then it was nearly fatal.
In short, it was a hard, hard place and one which to this day, I'd trade two days of my life to be able to spend a day in again, just to experience it.
It always seemed to smell of ground coffee and Poly S acrylics, and on a grey Wednesday afternoon in early Autumn it was indescribably comfortable to just browse all of the wondrous products.
Perhaps the only place these days, that can match those early GW stores is Spirit Games in Burton-Upon-Trent.
Anyway, as I started to find my feet, I became a regular target for the two guys who ran the figure bar; the late Pete 'Stretch' Armstrong (he hated being called Stretch) and Chris Gilbride. Now, Pete was a tough cookie, with a sarcasm level which went off the scale, but you could praise his awesome paint jobs and soften him down a bit.
Chris on the other hand was intellectually and verbally a different bak game. He was quieter and a lot more surgical with his incisive comments. Jesus, if he got you in his sights, you got reamed. Worse, if Chris got you, and Pete was riding shotgun, or Pete was on his back foot and Chris came to his aid, you just wanted to curl up and die in a corner.
Naturally, because I was a royal pain in the collective rectum, I got both barrels on a reasonably regular basis. I spent a lot of nights, curled up sobbing and praying for death.
It was great!
No, really... Look, I was not by nature a gregarious boy. I was chatty when I felt comfortable, but if you confronted me, I went very quiet and sullen. Chris and Pete with their merciless attacks (in later years, rechristened the Armstrong-Gilbride Method {TM}) taught me to stand up for myself without recourse to physical means. They also made me realise that it was OK to be me. True, I was still a geek, but I learned to hold my own with other geeks. (It didn't stop me getting arrested for assault when I was 15 for dealing with a kid two years older who thought I'd be a pushover, but it gave me that confidence to confront something I'd have run from until GW came to Sheffield).
I must point out that a couple of times I was saved from a verbal mauling in the den of these lion of sarcasm, by Lisa Brook, who probably prevented me suffering the fate of the kid I mentioned at the start.
The majority of people I gamed with and went to shows with were 10 years or more, older than me, and the verbal jousting skills, picked up in the GW tilt yard meant that they treated me as something more than an annoying kid. Thus I learned about periods that interested me, travelled the UK and spent weekends in strange towns, getting a gaming education, with the 'Big Boys'.
The only thing I never actually got to do was game with Pete and Chris in their own campaigns, because I was too cool for that *cough* and they couldn't take the *cough* competition. *choke*
It was only as I got older that I understood how I'd grown and benefitted from the 'counter of death', and my respect for Chris and Pete grew. It's a funny old world.
Anyway, Chris has helped me out in the last few years with obscure rule sets and the like and also has helped me deal with confronting my own ghosts at times. He is a sensible and dryly funny bloke, and any kid would be lucky to have a dad like him, I can tell you.
As you know, the week, I've been busy tracking down a few games I wanted to visit and re-visit, and once again, Chris has helped me out by agreeing to sell me his Paranoia collection. For me this is not only great from the point of view of having all I need to play, but it has that direct connection, almost talismanic to the years which I think of as 'The Rise Of The Limpet'.
For that reason those who knew me back then and who know the reasons why I am such a retro-freak, will understand just what a great thing this is for me. I'm counting the days until the box arrives, packed to the gills with memories and atmosphere** as well as some Golden Heroes stuff.
Thanks Chris!
TTFN
** On the subject of atmosphere, I gave a pack of 1983 TSR Commandoes to wife to open this week, in an attempt to give her that buzz we got, back in the day. When she remarked that the blister contained 35 year old genuine, geek air, I grabbed it and inhaled deeply. I spent the afternoon at my desk, feeling sick... DON'T TRY AND COPY THIS - You need stupendous Limpet powers like me -and even then it was nearly fatal.
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