Friday

Or more accurately, Krunch.

[picture of character, Krunch]


Truth be told, he's my least favourite character. He has slow acceleration and his handling is poor. His laugh, the throaty urr-hurr, is incredibly irritating. Also, I suspect he's in cahoots with Wizpig... even though he was the one I used to beat said Pig (the first time). Still, I can't help feeling some kind of nostalgic affinity with all of these characters, because they were one constant which followed me through some formative years.

As a child, I had little exposure to games, although that was still more than most others in my community. My dad was probably light years ahead of his demographic in getting a computer, and I managed to get some copies of games on 5¼ floppies – mostly text-based or blocky side scrollers. Attending a rural school – ie 'disadvantaged' – meant we were given extra grants to get computers and other equipment. We had both a Mac and a PC, and even a modem... though that was 1986 and I can't remember what we would have used it for. In retrospect, it's almost amusing how a tiny two-classroomed state school with a grand total of 27 students ended up being better technologically resourced than the expensive private boarding school I was to go to as a teenager. Either way, it wasn't until I was sixteen and my brother-in-law showed me Sonic on his Megadrive that I was introduced to a new experience of platforming, colour and hand-eye dexterity.

I made it through the first level and felt giddy with adrenalin.

I went to uni, and Windows 95 came out. I didn't completely get what all the fuss was about, but I sat behind my friends and watched them play Doom, laughing as we all leaned in our chairs, trying to see 'around' corners. I wasn't really into FPS, even back then. If any game was going to take up my time and distract me from my studies, it was Solitaire.

And then when I was in 3^rd year, I met M, who distracted me more than anything else had or would, gaming or otherwise. However, he also came with a history of games and a love of them in all their different forms, and, dazzled as I was by him, I sat by and absorbed every bit of information thrown at me. M bought an N64 on layby from the local Toyworld, and after he started working at a games shop, began to bring home different titles for it. I'd try them occasionally, but could never really get into the likes of Goldeneye or Duke Nukem, and then: the world of golden balloons and primary colours that was Diddy Kong Racing.

I grasped the controls quickly. I sped through the levels. I could beat M, but mostly we would play co-op and blow up the computer-controlled characters with glee. What can I say? We had only been going out six months, and had just moved in together! It was us against the rest of the world – and that included the virtual world.

I started working in retail. Among other games, DKR was a great way to wash off the drudgery of customer service. Often I would come home, cook a meal which attempted to be healthy, tasty and above all, cheap, and we would sit on the floor in front of our rented TV, and eat while taking turns on different levels, sharing in failures and victories.

We moved into a house with some other students and I went back to uni to do Honours. The advantage of doing Honours in Arts is that there are few contact hours. The disadvantage is that there are few contact hours. I spent more time than was wise procrastinating in front of the TV in the back room, and introduced our house mate to DKR. Somewhere in the coming-and-going which was a share household, someone deleted my save file... hours of playing, gone.

I was apoplectic.

I started at the beginning again, alternating between Conker, Krunch, Banjo, Diddy, and even Drumstick when I unlocked him. In between, I passed my honours thesis, and realised I was going to have to get a job.

Bother.

I worked for a year or so, and then went back to uni. Again, the flexibility of post-grad studies meant I was free to study – and play – when I wanted. Unfortunately, I also had to work part-time. In between visits to the library's Scholar's Centre, working in soulless customer service (again) and corresponding with booksellers and other researchers overseas, I found I had less and less time to play any games at all, even ones I could jump in and out of, like DKR. Or at least, I couldn't justify spending any spare time on something which was so obviously pure leisure and didn't produce anything tangible.

Good grief. Apparently, I was 'growing up'.

We moved again. The N64 was put in a cupboard. Other consoles were emerging – not necessarily bigger and better, but definitely more powerful. I completed my MA, did another degree, started teaching, and got pregnant.  Primary colours belonged in the Real World now. Any spare time I had, I just wanted to sleep, and none of that changed once the baby arrived. Could I even consider myself a 'gamer' anymore? Would I ever finish the second race against Wizpig and find out what happened in the end?

Years later, I'm sitting on the floor in front of the TV with my almost-four-year-old son. It's almost bedtime, but I've promised I'll play a game with him before he goes to sleep. I click on the N64; it still works, even after all this time, although one of the pads is a bit unreliable since our pet rat chewed through the cable back when we lived in Carrington Street, and sometimes you have to blow in the cartridge a few times before it registers in the console.

The silvery sounds of the introduction – is it waves, or wind? who knows? - fades in, and over it, Diddy's infectious giggle: hee hee ha ha ha. I smile, in spite of myself. I remember eating pasta and pesto, the dodgy places we've lived with their rising damp, fleas in the carpet and a pervasive smell of pot. I think about the several people who have had this pad in their hands. My son looks up at me, mirroring my joy without quite understanding it.

Will he ever? One day, possibly. Or more likely, he'll have Diddys, Wizpigs and Krunches of his own to share with his children.