Remembering my gaming Grandma, who shaped my love of video games.
My grandmother recently passed away at the age of 95. She was a constant in my life. She was witty, wise, and inspirationally irreverent. She was an evacuee during the Second World War, a mother to seven, and a grandmother to—well, I’ve actually lost count of how many cousins I have. And beyond all that, in her own quiet way, she was also something of a gamer.
Her love of play and puzzles was probably not that rare for her generation, but I think her advocacy for video games and electronic entertainment in my youth—back in the 1980s—was unique.
It began in 1982, when she bought me a ZX Spectrum 48K for Christmas. Not just the computer, but also a boxed collection of games that included the classics Horace Goes Skiing, Pssst, Cookie, and Jet Pac. It was a gift that changed my life. That humble Spectrum (or Speccy) sparked a lifelong love of gaming, and it all came from her.
During the ’80s, Gran’s house was a mini arcade in its own right. Tucked away on shelves and in drawers were treasures like the Shark Attack Tomytronic handheld and Grandslam’s Firefox F7 electronic tabletop game. The eye-blistering visuals and soundtrack of the latter are pure nostalgia fuel.
The biggest draw, however, was Nintendo’s Donkey Kong and Mario Bros. Game & Watch units. These weren’t just toys for us grandkids; they were part of the furniture. Gran would spend hours trying to beat her own scores, which she dated, timed, and logged in a notepad used as a family leaderboard.
Kiss the Duck
In the early ’90s, while I still clung to the humble Spectrum, she bought a Nintendo Entertainment System. I remember our first game of Super Mario Bros. vividly. As Mario leapt toward Word 1-1’s lone Koopa Troopa, she shouted “Kiss the duck!” with absolute conviction that this was the correct course of action. It only happened once. After that, she got the hang of it, and all Koopas were in her sights. The memory of Gran blasting away at actual digital ducks with the NES Zapper will never leave me.
Her gaming didn’t stop there. She later became enamoured with SimCity and Cannon Fodder on the SNES, and—together with my honorary grandpa Joe—developed a surprising affection for the Sony-published SNES game Equinox. They played it for hours, methodically tackling every room again and again and again and again. She never tired of repeating levels. She wanted to master every game she played.
Even in her later years, when her ability to play precise console games faded, she moved onto tablets and built up a library of match-three puzzlers. Her curiosity never waned, and her mind was as sharp as ever, even as her reactions began to slow.
So now she’s gone. It sucks. I’m utterly sad, but also grateful. An appreciation for video games isn’t the most important thing she gave me, but her embrace of play, of curiosity, of sticking with something—that will stay with me. She didn’t just give me my first computer; she gave me permission to have fun, to imagine, and to never stop exploring. I’ll miss her.
Power down.
发表回复