Kooks & Dames

There’s something to be said for hindsight. Not least when you start a blog, end up not-quite reminiscing about your past and then suddenly realize that your 16-year-old self and your 32-year-old self aren’t all that different. In fact, they’re very, almost painfully, similar.

Last time, I talked a lot about my motivations as a young person just out of school, very ironically and somewhat caustically evaluating what silly 16-year-old me thought she wanted from life; then, just yesterday, it occurred to me that now, today – and for the last five years – nothing much had changed. My focus had changed (from writing to streaming), but at the core what I wanted was very much the same: to make it big, earn a sizeable income and have the world at large (the world of job applications and credit scores) leave me the heck alone. The irony of this was staggering.

I have spent the last five years streaming on Twitch, wanting to build myself up and up, and carve my name (aka handle, which changes every 6 months to 1 year because I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out my own identity) into the gaming corner of the internet where at least 20% of the people in it would know who I am and if not respect my opinions, then get incensed enough by them that they can’t help but call me out on why I’m so hilariously out-of-touch. I can’t tell if that’s ego or self-deprecation or some strange conglomeration of the two.

However, before I get too ensconced in my past and present overlapping in some strange wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey mess, I promised last time that I would talk about my gaming history. Those of you who know me from Channel3 may already be in possession of some of the minutiae of this history, but here we will go one step further – because it’s my blog and I’m in charge of how many levels of ridiculous detail we go into.

As stated in my C3 bio, my first memory of video games is sitting on the lap of my older brother, the elusive Dan, when I was two years old (he would’ve been six) while he played through the Quake shareware on our dad’s old, black Compaq work computer – which came with a plastic monitor cover depicting Luke Skywalker and his X-wing from Star Wars: A New Hope – all the way back in 1996. A few years after this, I remember Dan either playing the shareware again or some other Quake instalment and showcasing that when you walked through puddles of blood on the ground, your character left bootprints. This was cutting edge stuff for youngsters in the late 90s, let me tell you. If this makes you feel old, don’t worry, you’re not alone.

My own personal experience of playing a video game for the first time ever, I sadly do not recall. It didn’t quite all blend together, but I remember only certain instances of playing video games from my childhood – all of which my mum objected to, while my dad brushed it all off as kids just having fun and, boy, was it preferable to subtly, not-quite intentionally trying to kill each other all the time, because my siblings and I definitely fell into that category of family dynamics (my poor folks), at least until we all grew up, emotionally levelled off and, as my sister recently said, finally developed empathy.

Here’s what I do remember: arguing about who gets to have their go on the Compaq. There was never a set schedule, although I do recollect my mum putting together chore sheets for us, which, if we got everything on them done, we’d get an ice-cream at the end of the week. I used to have nightmares about those chore sheets, for which, in my juvenile mind, even an ice-cream was not worth the aggravation. My mum wasn’t the kind of parent who grounded her kids (she grounded by younger brother, JJ, once and by that afternoon had let him off the hook); instead she was the kind of parent with teachers training, so when we were bad kids, she made us sit in a room alone and do sums. While I was definitely undiagnosed autistic and potentially undiagnosed ADHD (even now), I don’t think I shunned chores because I was lazy; I simply wanted to enjoy my free time (especially outside school), rather than be forced into additional servitude. More than anything, I wanted to have fun – which is where video games came in.

I can’t say that books had quite the same pull, not when I was still a kid. Back then, reading was more of a flex than a hobby. It was something my parents gushed to other parents about, that I was ahead of my class with reading comprehension, that I was acing all my spelling tests. Books, to me, were a point of pride rather than enjoyment at that juncture. My adoration of crisp pages, leather covers, gold leaf and that delightful book smell came much, much later when I was a bit older. Books, ironically, would become an escape from the academia they, themselves, had propelled me into – and from my classmates to whom I might as well have been wearing a sign around my neck that read, “I am an autistic spaz. MAKE FUN OF ME!”

Anyway, I remember on one occasion when I was about five and my sister (about seven) playing Master of Orion II and, since she was on a roll, asking me (who was adroitly observing) if I could please go to the toilet for me. It took us both a couple of seconds to realize what she was asking and this has become a joke we, as a family, frequently refer back to. The hyperfocus was real and instead of being on homework or building lasting friendships, it was on video games. Of course it was. As I said, books came later and they would come with force. Coming back to me now was the isolated incident of me actually, somehow, beating Master of Orion II and running gleefully around our gigantic haunted house in rural Wales, singing, “I’m the Master of Orion! I’m the Master of Orion!” and this miraculously irritated no one – that or the subsequent head injury caused some minor memory loss. For legal purposes, I jest.

StarCraft is probably the game I remember best from my formative years. The shareware, the full game and the Brood War expansion pack. StarCraft was, on the whole, a serious favourite between me and my siblings. All four of us clocked lord knows how many hours over many a weekend and school holiday, the only problem being, of course, that there was only one computer. We tried out best to take turns (or as best as four siblings can take anything in turns), but Dan usually went first because he was the oldest and occasionally lorded that over us in his own unique way. Whoever was playing, the rest of us crowded round the player’s chair, staring at the action unfolding on the screen over their shoulders, me and JJ often squashed on one side because we were the youngest and, theoretically, smallest (I was, anyway). Much eye-strain and many a sore pair of knees ensued, but did that ever stop us? Not until later life, let me tell you. If you weren’t feeling old before, maybe you are now.

Unfortunately, the two other occasions I remember playing StarCraft are not what one would consider good memories. The first I was, at least, actually playing but I was also sick. I didn’t exactly realize this when I booted the game up, I just knew I didn’t feel quite right which, sadly, wasn’t particularly uncommon in those days (or these days, come to think of it). I don’t think I played the game for very long. My dad came into the study to let me know dinner was ready and he must’ve realized I wasn’t feeling well because he picked me up to carry me to the dining room. I wish I could remember playing, but all I remember is throwing up my last meal all over my dad’s bare arm as he carried me. Weirdly, I remember this in third person.

The other memory is, thankfully, less disgusting but also gives you something of an insight into how much of a scrub I was, since this episode includes in one of the biggest arguments my sister and I ever had, and resulted in my dad banning us from playing StarCraft for the foreseeable future. I had, at this stage, developed the persona of being a scrub gamer before even such a term existed. If I could play a game with zero risk of defeat, I would. I did it with StarCraft, Age of Empires, Zoo Tycoon, Alien Vs Predator 2 and Halo: Combat Evolved, all to varying degrees, all the way up until sometime in the last five years when I realized, no, actually, I quite enjoy a challenge every now and then, and, more importantly, I enjoy winning where it doesn’t feel like I’ve cheated (in my opinion).

On this occasion, my sister had simply had enough of me hedging for my time on the computer (a Dell by this point, I believe, the Compaq having been relegated upstairs and left in Dan’s possession) only to boot up StarCraft: Brood War and immediately use the cheat “power overwhelming”, which, if there are any old school nerds reading this, may well know grants complete invulnerability, mitigating any and all risk, and therefore challenge, and therefore (in my sister’s opinion) enjoyment. I was, however, the most shameful of cowards and didn’t want challenge or risk or to actually learn how to play in order to not die or fail repeatedly, I just wanted to play. In fairness to myself, I was eight at the time and was dealing with enough risk and challenge at school attempting to navigate lessons, classmates, teachers and exams, so when I was at home, I wanted blissful carnage against all my enemies, but never myself.

I should say if you’re reading this, no matter what age you are or what level of gamer, if you prefer to play with invulnerability on (or something similar), I cast no shade. I’ve always been a firm advocate of “play what you want, how you want”, rather than how others might think you should. I primarily look back on that moment with a sense of shame due to the poor relationship I had with my sister at the time, how things shouldn’t have blown up as much as they did over a video game, and that I have definitely changed as a gamer over the years. While I still prefer a manageable experience, I wouldn’t use invulnerability now, as it negates any sense of learning. These days, I not only enjoy being challenged, but I’ve learned that I love learning – as long as it’s something I have the drive and motivation to learn.

Speaking of, and referring back to our opening paragraph, I have learned a few things since I started writing this blog and inadvertently deep-diving my past. One of which is that while I have always struggled with my own identity, I have always, intrinsically, been me and nobody else. My interests may have changed, my motivations evolved, but I have always had this drive to find peace in my so-called life, comfort, a regular day-to-day existence that changes just enough to keep things fresh but not derail everything. Of course, this sounds like I’m describing something akin to heaven, rather than real life, because bad and unexpected things are inevitably going to happen (that’s life!) – but if I can achieve a daily rhythm of living that is attuned to my wants and needs, then I can safely say I have made it. I haven’t managed that quite yet.

I spent my teen years (and early to mid-twenties) wanting to become a world-class writer, so I could live comfortably and, ultimately, keep writing (even if I didn’t necessarily realize this at the time). I have spent the last five years wanting to become a successful streamer, so I could live comfortably and keep playing video games for a living. Unfortunately, both writing and streaming “for a living” weigh too heavily with those heartless bitches, Chance and Luck – there’s very little I can do with either to get where I want to be while I’ve still got most of my life ahead of me. I’m going to keep doing both (because I enjoy them), but not as the be-all-and-end-all. They can’t be and I realize now they were never going to be, not for what I want my life to be and, as a disabled person whose options are limited, what I want is to live as comfortably as I can in the same world we all have to deal with.

I want to enjoy my life. I want to not constantly be worrying about rent, bills, vet expenses or being to afford my monthly groceries. I want to be able to travel without maxing out my credit card and having to spend the next year paying it off. I need a regular and reliable pay cheque and, for that, something needs to give and that something is me. I’ve been digging my heels in for far too long. It’s time to take my life by the horns and make something happen. The world is big and frightening, but it’s also beautiful and bold and whatever you’re willing to make it. I’m willing to make it a place I want to be.

Until next time, folks.

I’m Becks,
your cosy punk host,
signing off.

P.S. Don’t forget to check out my ko-fi goal (https://ko-fi.com/sarahweisters) and buy me a coffee if you’d like to contribute towards a dedicated blog-entry deep-diving my Top Gear fanfictions of yesteryear *shudders*