Memory Lane Part 27: The Transmetropolitan Teenage Gamer In The Cold War Era. Parte The Seconde

 

But, in Liverpool, was the Golden Temple, the Taj Mahal, the Melnibone of the North for gamers - the actual (cue echoing voice) GAMES OF LIVERPOOOOOOOL! 

There was, back then more to life than what later became the Lead Triangle, with the exception of Tabletop Games, which I will not have a bad word said about because the irascible Bob Connor, was another of those Gentleman Gamers we just don't see anymore. Many a kid left his store with a few more models than they thought they could afford, but by god he was grumpy, and the shop was a passive smoker's wet dream.

Ah me... But back to the Big Sleazy that was Liverpool. 

Games Of Liverpool, took a monthly full page advert in White Dwarf, and boy did they cram it full of stuff. They used such a small font, that you needed a magnifying glass to read the advert. But it was worth it.

They stocked stuff that even the Sheffield GW, which before the great purging, was so full of games that it took about a week of day long visits to look at everything - No, really.

Games was pretty much next door to Soldier Of Fortune a military surplus store of some notoriety which now does some excellent if expensive reenactment kit, and so a visit to The 'Pool could be expensive, if you saw that combat jacket you just had to have, as a self resepecting 'Progger'.

The first time I walked into Games, my Dad had taken me with him, setting off at 5:30AM to go 'over the top' from the Shire into the Red Rose land of Mordor and beyond into the wastelands of the North West. I remember that it was a warm, bright morning and to my teenage delight we went past a pub called The Hobbit Inn - I must have dreamed it,  you say but no:

 

I have still never been, so perhaps I shall this year as a homage to my late Dad, and memories of better times. 

We would passed the time chatting about 2000AD and Warlord comics, naming as many heavy metal bands as poissible - my Dad was surprisingly good for a man who was a devotee of Buddy Holly and Elvis - and other such games. We would arrive about 8:30 and I and I said so lonbg to my Dad and told him not to expect me for lunch, and then I was off on my own in a BIG city, with a hairbrush, wallet, shopping list and the address of Games all tucked inside my denim jacket, liberally decorated with patches declaring love of this or that band - admittedly, like most kids, some were for bands I'd never even listened to, but had cool artwork.

I have always had a good pigeon sense, and so from the store where my Dad was doing his audit of stock and sales records (Wades Furniture - long gone now - managed by one Rocco M. whom I always thought was more Mafiosi than manager, as he creeped me out) I set off across Liverpool city centre asking for directions once, and taking about half an hour to get there. 

It was a big and I mean big Victorian building taking three frontages and a corner:

It’s darkened doorway looked for all the world, to my D&D obsessed teenage mind, like the entrance to the long-forgotten dungeon so beloved of popular fantasy novels and most TSR modules. When I tell you that it was packed to the rafters with games, it is absolively, posilutely, no exaggeration. I have never seen a shop with so much stock apart from Spirit Games which I visited long after.

If you’ve ever seen the film Ghostbusters, in particular the scene in the basement of the library, right at the beginning, those tightly packed shelves that the intrepid trio navigate using labyrinthine walkways, don’t even begin to get close to the ones I found myself in that day.

Every conceivable board game from bingo to the Avalon Hill war games filled the shop, not to mention Mahjong, Chess and Mancala. To the left a dark wooden counter was similarly flanked with boxes. It was as if the gods had built a warehouse around the entire universe’s game collection and then said to the appointed guardians – the staff – ‘Here you go,make yourself some space and start selling!’

My eyes simply couldn’t take in the volume and variety, but, where were ther ole-playing games, where were the miniatures? Had I misread my  beloved and trusted White Dwarf magazine?

Recovering somewhat from my initial shock and awe - I think that had the Coalition forces dropped photographs of the interior Games Of Liverpool on Iraq instead of bombs, the outcome would have been the same without the senseless loss of life - I approached the counter.

‘Excuse me, but I have seen your advert in White Dwarf and it says you stock…’ And here I reeled off a long list of products, lovingly consigned to memory.

‘You’re not from Liverpool are you? And I can tell you’re not from Manchester.' The man behind the counter asked wryly and almost straight-facedly, the telltale signs of mirth creeping onto his visage.

‘Err, no, I’m from Sheffield. It’s in Yorkshire. You may have heard of it?’ Ofcourse he had heard of it but I was young - and let’s be frank here - ignorant.

The man chuckled, but not in an unpleasant way - not like the 'Not from Manchester' face. No, he actually seemed pleased to see me. He made me feel that, all he was waiting for that bright morning, in that dark, dusty shop was a denim-clad, naïve kid from Yorkshire.

‘Down the stairs to the left, mind your head and don’t trip over the Troll.’ The last bit said with another chuckle.

‘Thanks’ and with that, forward I went, down a spiral stone staircase, almostas dark as the shop above into…

A brightly lit room packed floor to ceiling with games, my games. A referee describing this may have done so thus:

Referee: ‘You are descending a dark, dank stairway. The Troll that you were warned of by the Gatekeeper above is not there. Ahead of you is the hint oflight, maybe from a torch. What are you going to do?’

You: ‘I approach carefully, looking for the Troll. I reach in my back pack and take out my hair brush.’

Referee: ‘As you reach the foot of the staircase you step into a brilliantly litdoorway… (He consults his rulebook and rolls a D20) The light is bright but youare not dazzled.’

You: ‘I check for traps around the door, and brush my hair.’

At this point there’s more consultation of the rulebook and a couple of secret dice rolls and the referee continues.

Referee: ‘No traps. A sense of well being envelops you drawing you inwards.’

You: ‘I slide my hairbrush back into my backpack and step through thedoorway.’

Referee: ‘In the bright light of the room you see treasure… All around you, asfar as the eye can see are games of every type. To your left behind a dark counter two normal looking humans - men - stand looking at you. On the counter are plastic and wooden trays containing what look like rare and precious stones. The men smile at you.’

You: ‘I say hello. What about these stones, can I see what they are?’ You briefly refer to your character sheet to see if you have any skills that help in trying to identify the stones.

Referee: ‘As you draw nearer the counter, the men return your greeting. The stones are actually dice. These are dice of a colour and varietybunlike any you have seen before, although strangely familiar at the same time.’

You: ‘Can I see miniatures?’ Here, the referee consults his notes again, butrolls no dice.

Referee: ‘Alas, no, but to your left is a doorway and a hint of light somewhadimmer than that in this chamber.’

You: ‘ I hail the men and ask if they know the whereabouts of any miniatures.’

Referee: ‘The man on the right directs you to the doorway to the left.’ He indicates to a sketch map that he’s drawn on a sheet of hex paper.

You: ‘I thank him and pass through the door.’

In the basement, I found two other staff running the role-playing department. Just like the upstairs section, you could hardly move for games. To the left as you already know was a doorway, which led to two further rooms, created from what were formerly cellars, but which now held glass display cases filled with miniature figures.

In the ‘good old days’ figures were normally sold without any packaging. There were exceptions of course, but in the best stores such as Games Workshop and Games Of Liverpool you would usually find a series of glass display cases containing one of every miniature stocked, with a label normally giving a catalogue code. You wrote down the codes that you wanted and the quantity and presented it at the counter. The staff would then rummage in various boxes or plastic trays for the models in question, popped them in a bag and took your money.

It was in Games, that I first saw the D&D toy line, and like most kids my age, who were 'serious gamers' I reported back that indeed, as we had heard, they were, in the erudite teenage gaming parlance of the time, 'shit'. 

I'd kill to be able to open a brand new pack of two plastic Kobolds nowadays... Actually, I think that they would have looked damned good on a tabletop, if we'd not been brainwashed by the standard 25mm scale stuff. 

Indeed, GW of course produced the 54mm scale Fighting Fantasy figures, which were the direct ancestral lineage for the later Inquisitor range and thus the recent En Garde models. 

Christ, but I spent some serious money over the times I went 'up West'  to Games. It was here that I bought my first kilo or so of 'Platoon 20' 20mm Vietnam War figures, then it was me and a big list, fetching stuff for mates. Platoon 20 were based in Belfast back then and horribly fragile, by dint that they were cast in printers typeset metal or 'monkey metal' making them brittle, and liable to death by postal service, particularly during the years of 'The Trobles' in Northern Ireland ,when a box of Viet Cong from Cameron, could be confused with an IRA explosive device, and dealt with accordingly by the security services.

Thus a trip to Liverpool was a grand day out for me, and a means of getting pristine models for my mates. 

Of course, Platoon 20 did go to a lot of shows, too, buy hey, if your mate is going to the Westminster Abbey of Gaming, may as well get them to grab your toys. 

These days with the mass popularity of games and ‘I Want it now.’ Mentality, the majority of manufacturers use plastic blister packaging so that figures can be put out on racks and customers serve themselves. It may indeed be a more efficient way of shopping, but the old way had a charm of it’s own as you stood there hoping that the shop keeper wouldn’t rummage around in the trays and have to tell you that they had sold out of the figures you wanted and that a re-stock would take a couple of weeks depending on the post.

I had first been introduced to this method of displaying and selling miniatures on the opening day of Games Workshop, but there, many of the display modelshad been painted by P.A the closest thing I believe the company had to full timeminiature painter back then and one of the staff who manned the ‘figure bar’ in Sheffield. Of course, it was how figures were sold at shows too, and I know I am not the only one who thought that blister packs were an act of treason against gamers when they came in. And don't get us started on those travesties, slotta bases, which were and are still the greatest poisoning of the well of lead.

Have you considered, that without slotta bases, there would be no 'pre-slotta' premium on those old minis, with dealers hoovering them up and selling them on Facebook, pretending to be 'collectors'. As if selling fitted kitchens or offering financial consultancy services don't pay the wages... But, I digress. 

Genuinely, in my heart of hearts, I wish that my grandsons and indeed my daughter who was about 5 years late to the party, could experience what an original games store was like. 

As with any 'retro' culture, the resurgence has become diluted and somewhat ironic in it's approach. Look for example at Tunnels & Trolls, which has just been relaunched, buy which is getting some serious backlash for the 'snowflaking' of this old classic. 

IMHO, they missed a trick. They could and should have created a reprint of the original and then the new 'fluffy' version. 

I don't have a dog in the fight, but it would seem that in a time when we have two large 'camps' of different generations, that should be the way to go, to smooth the path as it were. 

Stranger Things may have got kids interested in 80s culture and gaming, but at it's heart it was, like the opening scenes in E.T (which were actually closer to reality, let it be said) pastiches of a pop culture phenomenon.

If you want to know how gamers and gamers looked, then talk to the grey beards - the proper ones that is and not the stress induced, folically challenged 40-somethings - in your local club and it's odds on that they will have some great photos of 'the way we used to live'.

Early 80s fashions were a lot different to the WHAM era, and so were the games. If you have a genuine love of the era, then learn about it. It's nothing to be ashamed of if you ask questions. You will one day be older yourself and protective of your own youth, so allow us old men and women, we 50-something and beyond dreamers, to have our time.

I came along, just too late to experience first hand the very first flush of gamers, so I love learning about those first few years, both from contemporary books - of which the History Of Wargaming Project has reprinted so many - and direct from the old gaffers at the shows with the walking frames, wheelchairs and sometimes no apparent infirmities. THEY are the reason you have a hobby. You owe it to them and in turn, you will have a richer experience that in your turn can be passed on to another generation.

And in closing, before you take to YouTube declaring that you have 'discovered' something new for the hobby, please do some research, because a lot of relative newcomers are finding that what they thought was their 'claim to fame' actually isn't. 

I think that the reason my generation are so defensive about their Golden Age, is that somewhit akin to the world we are in now, we were faced with a world which seemed insane at the time. Gaming was an escape from everything that the mundane world had to offer. Politics, War, Terrorism... They had had no place in the fantastic and fictional worlds we inhabited, that we escaped into at every opportunity. 

It wasn't that we saw it as a fashion thing or a badge to be 'nerds' or 'geeks' it was how it was. We had our own internal fights of course, but they paled when the threat of the real world came knocking.

I'd like that state of impartial purity to always exist, but once the real world has you in it's grasp, you are fucked, and so is everything it comes into contact with. 

Fight the Great Mundanity with all you have...

 

TTFN