I’m frequently asked how I choose the games I write about for Games of Our Lives. Do I randomly pick them out? Do I take suggestions from people? Are they assigned? Do I go out on massive wumpus hunts to find the most obscure ones I can find?
No, yes, no, and no. I mostly choose games that, for one reason or another, are important to me. If a game as been important in my life, I’ll consider it for games of our lives. Two recent columns provide good examples. A couple of issues ago, I looked at Wizard of Wor:
It was one of the earliest machines to actually talk to you with creepy, synthesized speech that added as much character to the game as the dark, moody music and graphics. Few people could ignore the command, “Hey, insert coin! Ha. Ha. Ha.” In fact, a newly fabricated report shows that between 1980 and 1982, more than 6.3 billion quarters were pumped into Wizard Of Wor machines by destitute gamers who later said, “The game told me to [insert a coin].”
Har.
Yeah, it’s a swell game and all . . . but why did I pick Wizard of Wor instead of Berzerk, which also talks?
When I was a kid, I had auditions almost every day after school. It was a predictable routine: mom would pick me up, drive me through Burger King or Taco Bell or something, and we’d head “into town” for my calls. In those days, it was not uncommon for me to have three or four auditions in an afternoon, and they were usually spread out across the city in very inconvenient ways. I’d have a commercial call at 3:45 on Fairfax near Sunset, then a 4:25 call for a movie of the week down in Venice, followed by a 5:10 appointment, back in Hollywood somewhere. It was a brutal grind, and I don’t know how my mom did it, day after day after day.
Occasionally, we’d get somewhere early, and we’d have twenty or thirty minutes to kill between auditions. Because it was the early 80s, just about every store in the world had arcade games in it, and if my homework was done, my mom would stop somewhere, give me a dollar and let me play whatever I wanted.
My auditions were in a limited number of places, so I quickly built a mental Rolodex of good games and their locations. In Culver City, it was a donut shop on Washigton: Mr. Do! and Star Castle, with the bonus possibility that mom would let me get a devils food with sprinkles, In North Hollywood, it was a convenience store: Donkey Kong, Pac-Man, and Tempest. In Venice, it was a skanky head shop with one Asteroids Deluxe machine near the cash register.
There were also arcades, but they were mostly in shopping malls, so a trip into one of them was actually quite rare. (In fact, if you watch Fast Times At Ridgemont High or “The Bishop of Battle” segment in Nightmares, you can see one of the best arcades that was inside the Sherman Oaks Galleria.) The one arcade that we got to visit pretty regularly was on Pico near 20th Century Fox. I loved this place because it was never very crowded, I got five tokens for one dollar, and I always felt like I was hanging out with Cool Kids. The way I remember it, songs like Don’t Stop Believin’, and Tainted Love were ever-present, and there were never any adults around to catch us cussing when we died with one rivet to go on the Ziggaurat level of Donkey Kong.
In late 1982, or early 1983 I had a callback at 20th Century Fox to play the kid who can wish people into cartoon land for Twilight Zone: The Movie. We got to West Los Angeles very early, and my mom let me stop at that arcade. Pico was a busy street, and when I walked out of the hot, bright afternoon sunlight and into the dimly-lit arcade, I left the roar of traffic behind me and entered another world. There were neon and black lights, posters of girls and rockstars, and the faint smell of mildew hung in the cool, recycled air. Runnin’ With The Devil blasted out of the jukebox. I carefully smoothed out my one dollar bill, and fed it into the token machine. Familiar excitement and anticipation welled up while it whirred and prepared to spit out five tokens. In the back of the arcade was my intended target: Super Pac-Man. It had recently replaced a Battlezone machine with a flaky controller at Sunland Discount Variety, and I’d stumbled upon a pattern that was virtually fool-proof. I could play for an incredible ten minutes or more on Super Pac-Man, an impressive feat among my group of friends.
Five tokens clanged out of the dispenser, and I eagerly picked them up. I jingled them in my hand as I walked through the arcade. In my memory, I can hear the sounds of Tempest, Space Invaders, and Defender occasionally rise above Van Halen as I pass them. A kid kicks a machine and says, “That’s bullshit, man! I fucking shot him!” before an employee shouts, “Hey! Take it easy, guy!” over the pong! pong! pong! ka-chunk! ding! ding! duk-duk-duk-duk-duk! of pre-digital pinball machines.
Just before I got to Super Pac-Man, I passed a tall white machine I’d never seen before. The decals on the side showed a scary, blue-robed warlock with his hand raised. On the marquee, the same wizard shot lightning bolts from his fingertips. I paused to look at it, and it said, “Hey, insert coin! Ha. Ha. Ha.”
I looked around. “Holy shit!”I thought, “this thing talks!” Before I knew what I was doing, I’d done as the machine commanded. Creepy synthesized music played and the screen showed me that I could play with three Worriors, or I could insert another coin for seven. “Seven men?! For just two quarters?! Awesome!” I reached into my pocket, but stopped short of buying the additional men. Did I want to risk almost half my tokens on a game I’d never even seen before, much less played? I’d play it once, and reassess my situation when I was done.
For the next few minutes, I was blown away. The game didn’t just talk — it was cool! It was a combination of D&D and SciFi. It was like someone had reached into my dreams, found the two things I loved more than anything else in the world, and put the result in front of me. This perfect storm of passions wouldn’t happen again until I visited Olympic Gardens when I was 22, but that’s all you’re ever going to hear about that story.
When I lost my three Worriors, I quickly inserted two more coins and played with seven. I didn’t see the feared Wizard of Wor, but I blasted the Worluk, figured out that I could get a thousand points if I killed the other Worrior on the screen, and made it to a level called “The Arena.” I got the fifth-place high-score, and didn’t even care that I couldn’t put my initials into the game. I spent all of my tokens on Wizard of Wor before my mom came in and told me it was time to go on my audition. I talked her ear off the whole way to Fox, all about how cool this talking game was, and how I couldn’t wait to play it again.
“I’m glad you enjoyed your game so much, Willow,” she said, “but you need to focus on your callback right now.”
She was right, and I did focus . . . on how cool that game was, and how much better Van Halen sounded than the Barbara Streisand stuff she had playing in the brown Toyota hatchback that was a second home to us after school each day.
For whatever reason, I hardly ever found Wizard of Wor in other arcades, other than a brief appearance at Shakey’s Pizza Parlor on Foothill Boulevard in La Crescenta, so the music, the glittering starfield, the color palette, and the graphic design are all inextricably linked with that arcade on Pico. Whenever I see Wizard of Wor, I am worm-holed back to that hot afternoon in the early 1980s, when I heard a game talk to me for the very first time.
This week, I wrote about one of those “B” list games that I’d play if there wasn’t anything else available, or if it was Free Play day at Pinball Plus in La Crescenta, Kangaroo:
Kids today might not like it because: They’ve grown up in a world where monkeys are cool and hip, not pink, apple-throwing wusses. It could turn their whole world upside down.
Kids today might like it because: It’s so weird to assume the role of a boxing kangaroo who fights evil pink monkeys, even the most jaded teenager may feel a twinge of… Ah, who are we kidding? They’re probably not going to like it.
Even though Kangaroo is sort of a forgettable game, it will always be special to me because, like Wizard of Wor, it reminds me of a specific time and place in my life: the set of my first feature film, The Buddy System. We shot that movie at 20th Century Fox during the summer of 1983, and the art department had both Kangaroo and Turbo set on free play, and because the sound was turned off, I got to play them whenever I wanted to. That movie was a lot of difficult work. Richard Dreyfuss hadn’t gotten sober yet, and many days he just didn’t show up for work, so I spent a lot of time playing gin rummy with my aunt, racing cars, and beating up the evil pink monkeys. The director didn’t know how to talk to kids, so he just gave me lots of line readings (which annoyed me, even as I neared my eleventh birthday) . . . but when I look back on that summer, what I really remember is the time I spent with Susan Sarandon, who played my mother in the film, and how much fun we had together. She took me under her wing, and treated me like I was her son, colleague, and friend. When the director was a dick, she made it okay. When Richard was looney on the cocaine, she made it okay. But more than anything else, she never talked down to me. She made me feel like I was part of the cast, and I deserved to be there, even though I was just a kid. The only other person to treat me that way when I was a child working in movies was Rob Reiner.
I remember one afternoon, while we were on a break between scenes, I walked through an empty set, and saw Susan listening to her Walkman (like an iPod, but it uses these things called “cassette tapes,” that you may have seen on “I Love The 80s.”) She pulled off her headphones, and said, “Do you want to hear some cool music?”
“Sure,” I said, and walked into the room, which was her character’s bedroom in the movie. They’d built an entire house on the stage, and even though I’d been on lots of sets before, it was still magical to me. There were lights and catwalks and cables and all the elements of movie magic just outside the camera’s view. Some lights, flags, and C-stands crowded the corners of the set, and our chairs were pushed up against one wall. The room was dimly lit by the reflected light from the shooting set, a few rooms down the hall.
I sat down next to her and heard music coming out of her headphones.
“How are you doing today?” She said.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I saw Superman III last night.”
“Oh? How was it?” She said. She paused her Walkman, and the tinny sound of a guitar was replaced by the voices of the crew setting up the next shot.
“It was really stupid,” I said. “They tried too hard to be funny, so it wasn’t cool like the first two.”
“Do you know who Richard Pryor is?” She said.
I shook my head.
“He played Gus.”
“The guy who made the machine?” I said. “Oh god! I hated him.”
“He’s a famous comedian.” She said.
“Well, he’s not very funny,” I said. Compared to the antics of Jack Tripper, or Arnold Jackson’s Watchoo talkin’ ’bout, Willis? which was the height of comedy as far as I was concerned, Richard Pryor just didn’t rate.
“When you get older, you should listen to his comedy albums,” she said. “I think you’ll change your mind.”
She was right. When I was fifteen or sixteen, my friend Pat and I picked up Richard Pryor Live in Concert, and I laughed so hard I almost forgave him for Brewster’s Millions. He went on to be a comedic influence in my life, joining Bill Murray, Bill Hicks, Bill Cosby, and a few comedians who are not named Bill, including Chevy Chase and Steve Martin.
“If I do, I’ll call you,” I said. Unfortunately, by the time I did, we’d lost touch. That has always made me feel a little sad.
“We’re ready for first team!” The first assistant director called out.
She picked up her headphones and put them over my ears. “Quick! Before they find us!” She said. I giggled as she pushed play.
A man started to sing. His voice was deep and beautiful. The music was soft, and felt sort of sad. If I’d known what “haunting” was, that’s how I would have described it.
After a minute, she said, “Do you like it?”
I did. It was unlike any of the music my parents listened to, and was very different from the pop music I heard on the radio.
“Who is it?” I said.
“It’s my friend,” she said. “This song is about an astronaut who blasts off and never comes back.”
“It’s really cool,” I said, as an assistant director poked his head into the room.
“I have first team,” he said in to his walkie talkie. “We’re ready for you on set,” he said to us.
We got up and went to work before I could find out the title of the song. As the day went on, and the work took over, I never thought to ask, and by the end of the day, I’d forgotten about it entirely.
Later that year, I helped my dad repair a gate on the side of our house. We listened to KMET (the greatest rock-n-roll radio station in history, which was tragically replaced in 1987 by the worst light-jazz pile of shit in history) while we worked, and that song from Susan’s friend came out of the radio.
“Dad!” I said, “This is the song that Susan played for me when we filmed The Buddy System! This is her friend!”
My dad stopped hammering, and listened.
“Do you know who it is?” I said.
“Yeah,” my dad said. “This is David Bowie.” The song was Space Oddity.
To this day, whenever I hear it, I can see my eleven year-old self, sitting in that empty, dusty, dimly-lit set on stage 18 at Fox. I can feel the rough pads of Susan’s headphones on my ears, and remember how happy I felt to be part of a secret club.
Kangaroo spent much of that summer sitting in the darkened corner of stage 18 near the art department. It only worked in one shot, as part of a montage that we filmed at a miniature golf course out in Sherman Oaks. When I was looking through MAME for a game to write about for Games of Our Lives, and I saw Kangaroo, all these memories came back to me, just like they did with Wizard of Wor two weeks ago. It’s funny . . . for most people, Kangaroo and Wizard of Wor are just arcade games, but for me they are much more — they are important touchstones.
They are just two of the games of my life.
Damn. You’re a fantastic storyteller, Wil.
🙂
Wow, someone remembers the mighty MET! Awesome! It was a sad day when I found KMET gone and replaced by that joke of a radio station…
Passing it on…
I never had a hot redhead slap headphones on my ears and make me listen to “Space Oddity” … but I did have someone I respect expose me to Cake, and the Ataris, and lots of other cool music that I’d never heard before.
I miss RFB.
It’s funny how our earlier experiences influence how we think of actors in later life.
The first movie I ever saw Susan Sarandon in was, of course, the Rocky Horror Picture Show. I saw it when I was young, maybe around 12 or 13 (which would be 1980); my brother took me. I didn’t understand it much, or why everyone was yelling lines at the screen, but I thought it was both kinda funny and also very erotic. (Hey, I was only 13.)
I don’t think I saw ANY Susan Sarandon movies for most of the rest of the 1980s. None come to mind anyway. Around 1988 I started going to see RHPS every Saturday night, over and over again, with a small crowd of really nutty people I had met. During that time, I formed a very very strong association between the face (and body!) of Susan Sarandon, and the word “slut!” (not yet, give her time!)
When I started seeing her in real movies a few years later, I couldn’t believe it. The lady can act! And she’s not so attractive anymore, somehow.
But it was a long time before I could watch “Dead Man Walking” and not giggle.
Oh, and I *still* can’t take Tim Curry seriously.
That really was a great story! I remember when I was a kid and the very first gaming console I ever had (a hand me down from my cousin when his mom bought him a Commodor 64!!) was the Intellivision. It was kinda the nemesis to Atari (the same way as X-Box is to PS2) in that you could play most of the same games on it as on the Atari, but the controllers were slightly different. (Both consoles were able to catch the same amount of dust bunnies however!)
It had a controller that resembled a TV remote with a “roll around” disk directional pad. It was attached to the console with a springy telephone looking cord that was MAYBE two feet long. Tops.
My favorite games to play on that were “NightStalker” “D&D”.
Man, if I think back hard enough I can still hear the blippy sound effects from those games.
Oh, forgot to mention.. the very first movie I ever saw Susan Sarandon in was The Witches of Eastwick. Then it was Rocky Horror. I’ve loved her ever since..
But not as much as Jack. 🙂
Gad, I still have one of KMET’s jingles from the 80’s firmly implanted in my skull. The Met was where I first got my Dr. Demento fix as a kid. T’was a sad day when teh Met died.
KMET is the place to be
For the Rock and Roll
On Your Raaaaaaddiiiooooooooo, Ohoooo!
I loved this post.
Stunning!
OT, but… Sometime, if you get the chance and feel so inspired, write some more about what it was like being a child actor, please. I know there’s some of this in your books, which I’ve read, but I’d love to hear more. How did you get into it? Did you lead the way or did your parents get you started? What did you love? What did you hate?
Wizard of Wor was the first game I ever played on the Good Ol’ Commodore 64. No disk drive, but it had a handy game slot in the back! I got so good at the game; I did indeed see the Wizard. Ah, I was so popular on the block that year. 😉
One of the best WWdN posts in a while.
Would do business with again!!!11!
A+++++!!!
I don’t game much, hell, not at all. The only game I play on a screen is gin. Total gin addict. But I remember twenty some years ago when games first started coming out, the frog trying to get across the road, Mario Bros, Zelda, Pac Man and Woman, Galaga — ok, I know, oldtimer stuff, but we loved it. Looking at the games my son plays today, I’m blown away by the graphics, the color, the detail. Who would’ve thought?
Well writ, sir.
It’s amusing to witness the reactions of kids today who play Pac Man or Galaxian for the first time…
“What, is this all it does?”
“These graphics suck!”
But in a few minutes, they’re just as addicted as we were 😉
Hey. I read a lot of your journal ( it feeds into my livejournal friends ) and not being a fan of poker i confess i’d tuned out a bit recently.
This post brought me right back in and reminded me why i started reading in the first place. The tiny glimpse into your life you give in such a well written manner is amazing sir, and i salute you from my home here in the uk.
You sir are a web jem. 🙂
“Jesus, man. [Wil] just keeps getting better and better.” 🙂
As far as games that talk, I’ll always have a special place in my heart for Sinistar because that game scared the crap out of me when I was six years old. Man, what I would give to have one of the few uprights of that game.
Another great story, Wil. Great job. Thanks for sharing.
Wonderful stories, Wil. I’ve missed your storytelling amidst the poker, work, and life-related posts you’ve been doing recently.
How did you feel the first time you saw Rocky Horror Picture Show and saw your one-time fake mom in corsets and garters?
Great story. I remember thinking Richard Pryor was the best thing about Superman III. But, to this day, I still don’t dig his stand-up routine. I guess too many of today’s comics have copied the form . . . it’s just not funny to me.
To echo many of the other comments, it’s amazing the things that shape us from our past. The things that stick in the craw of our memory are cryptic.
You’ve brought up a lot of interesting memories and also bring to mind so many things that shape my own memory.
Fabulous post Wil! You are inspiring!
I have specific memories tied to 9 out of 10 games that you review. Some of them, like the ones tied to Kangaroo, aren’t very interesting. It just so happens that I played that game a lot, but the only story I have associated with it is that I remember exactly where it was in the local arcade. Wizard of Wor and Kung-Fu Master have a related more interesting story but I don’t feel like goinng into that right now.
That is a great column you write. Nostalgia and comedy. Who woulda thunk it?
Thanks for the memories. That was just how I used to spend my nights at the resort hotels my parents dragged us to (after the pool and ice rink and mini golf were closed for the day). Riveting as always, Mr. Wil.
Wil, thanks for reminding me why I love your blog, why I’m glad the 80’s are over (mostly) and why I hated being a 13-yr-old girl in an arcade with the initials L-A-Y. ( I used to be naive 😉
Wil, et. al –
I’ve read through the blog history over the last several months, I’ve read about WWdN in various places, via the links provided by Wil and otherwise.
I’ve skimmed the comments.
I’ve sent Wil an email, and got a reply (thanks, Wil).
And so, I think I have completed WWdN 101.
And now the reason I signed up to comment here.
I’ve read the pain that has been inflicted upon Wil by the trolls.
(Not to mention from E.W.)
And, as I said, I’ve skimmed the comments.
And in the skimming, I’ve yet to see anything but pure ‘I love Wil’. Everything Wil writes is fantastic, every thought he has is golden, every wish is sacred.
Or at least, this is what one would have to believe if the only source of information were the comments to the blog entries made by Wil.
And this would be understandable if this were a Wil Wheaton fan site.
But it isn’t a fan site – it’s Wil Wheatons blog. It just so happens that Wil is able to remember he is a human, and treats his readers with respect.
And so, I ask: Is there room here for constructive criticism (and encouragement), or if I offer this, will I be labeled a troll/Wil hater?
It’s my opinion that never ending Wil gushing is just as offensive as never ending Wil hating.
Well, maybe not as offensive… but…. reading the comments on this site makes me feel like instead of reading comments/thoughts on an article, I’m drinking a bottle of Aunt Jemima syrup. (A syrup I like, perhaps… but syrup, nonetheless).
And I really gotta say, it would be nice, IMO, to see some RESPECTFUL discourse on the quality of Wils writing.
And so I ask, is there room for discussion? If not, I’ll move on.
Matt.
You are a true artist. Exceptional.
I can’t say I’m surprised that Ms. Sarandon is really a nice person, but it made me happy to hear Wil say it.
It is funny what a lasting effect a little kindness can have.
Wow, Kangaroo… My orthodontist had a couple old arcade games set up in his waiting room. One was a somewhat newer side-scrolling space shooter, the name of which escapes me. The other was Kangaroo. The shooter was pretty easy to beat, but Kangaroo required that old-school Donkey Kong style of concentration to do well at. Since I was in braces from 5th grade until my sophmore year of high school, needless to say I got a decent amount of time in on Kangaroo. Thanks for the flashback, Wil!
n00b WWdN’er here. I’ve been checking out the site over the past few days. As a fellow child of the 80’s, I truly enjoyed this story. Wil, you have a real gift. Keep it up.
As to Superman 3, I thought Richard Pryor was okay (but the movie sucked). I haven’t seen any of his stand-up, but I did dig Brewster’s Millions and The Toy.
“In Culver City, it was a donut shop on Washigton: Mr. Do! and Star Castle, with the bonus possibility that mom would let me get a devils food with sprinkles”
Ah, yes, the one right across from the Sony Studios, right?
“The one arcade that we got to visit pretty regularly was on Pico near 20th Century Fox. I loved this place because it was never very crowded, I got five tokens for one dollar, and I always felt like I was hanging out with Cool Kids. The way I remember it, songs like Don’t Stop Believin’, and Tainted Love were ever-present, and there were never any adults around to catch us cussing when we died with one rivet to go on the Ziggaurat level of Donkey Kong.”
Captain Video.
I think this was my second home from approximately 1982 until the early 90s or so.
You and I were probably there at the same time on at least one or two occasions. I think it’s now a restaurant–the second location, that is. (The first location–it moved from down the block–is now part of Westside Pavilion)
I was particularly fond of Battle Zone, Versus Baseball and NBA Jam.
Medea’s Child
Really great post Wil, I loved reading it.
“To this day, whenever I hear it, I can see my eleven year-old self, sitting in that empty, dusty, dimly-lit set on stage 18 at Fox. I can feel the rough pads of Susan’s headphones on my ears, and remember how happy I felt to be part of a secret club.”
I love hearing a song I haven’t in awhile, and the memories it brings back that I may have forgotten.
Something that always amazes me about your stories Wil is your freakish memory. Maybe it’s something you’ve trained as an actor, or maybe it’s just a talent, but I’m just amazed at not just the scope of your memory, but the detail as well.
You’re not too much younger than me, so we grew up around the same timeframe, so the 80s I remember, especially the music, and I can remember the arcades, but damn, to be able to recall where all the games, which ones were where, you’re first experiences with specific games, that’s just downright amazing.
It’s funny you mentioned Nightmares… what a silly movie, but I thought it was a killer movie when I was growing up.
First things first: Wil, I suggest a column on Crazy Climber. Why? Because I owned that game in my home town. (Probably because no one else cared about it, so it was always available.)
As for Matt’s comment, I offer the following.
I have a lot of respect for Wil, primarily because of his willingness to share with us his journeys through self-discovery. I identify with him in numerous ways, and that makes it really easy to like his site. (Note that liking his site is not the same thing as thinking Wil is my best friend. I’d love to meet him someday and get my books signed, but I completely understand what he says about getting creeped out about fans who think they know him.)
I’m also a writer, though I don’t have the success that Wil does. From a writing perspective, I think that the blog differs significantly from his books because the blog is usually more loose and conversational. Personally, I like Just a Geek a lot better than Dancing Barefoot because it’s clear that Wil spent a lot of time honing his writing skill between the publication of those two books. I like the more personal feeling of DB, but I like the craft of of JaG more.
I’m intrigued by what little fiction of Wil’s that I’ve read. The leprechuan story was hilarious, and the storytelling aspects of the poker stories are excellent. (You got me hooked on Hold’em, damn you, Wil!) I hope to read a lot more of Wil’s fiction as the years go by.
How’s that, Matt? Or do you want more substance? I would be happy to put qualitative reviews of both books on my website as soon as I can figure out what box they are in. (Books still not unpacked after the move earlier this year.)
Stace
Wil,
Great entry. Looks like you are feeling alot better. Cool. I think another book may be in your future. I hope you have fun writing the thing. Take your time and make it great.
FG
I find myself brought back to specific moments in my life by odd things as well. I’ll hear a California Raisins song and think of a passage in a Heinlein book, or I’ll drive down a stretch of a road and think of my grandmother’s kitchen.
My favourite is the smell of some Korean dish that I never learned the name of. I walk into a Korean restaurant in town and suddenly it is 1985, and I’m in the stairweel of a high-rise in Erlensee, Germany, playing Marvel Super Heroes RPG with my friends Shaun and Chamberly. Shaun’s mom was Korean and spent 80% of her time cooking, so the whole floor smelled like Korean food. It’s wierd, but I can feel those cheap d10’s in my hand, and the cold tile floor beneath me.
Wil’s memory in this piece is prodigious, but it’s just how some people are wired. Thinking of that smell, that time in my life, I could tell you every detail of that stairwell, the floor layout, their apartment, etc, but I couldn’t tell you his little brother’s name for example. Wierd.
You may bare less of your own soul, but your stories have plenty of their own. When you write stories like this, where you really let it flow, it’s just hypnotic, almost like a fade to a flashback in a movie. When you said that you were going to tell more stories and bare a little less soul, I was wondering what would happen to your voice–that hypnotic sway that runs through your narratives.
Damn, boy, you got good words. Thanks for writing.
Will man, you sum it up well for all us trek-to-the-grocer kids of the 80’s. Remember Zaxon? God I hated that game. Anyways, most eloquent post sir; you have done a great service. Shots abound if we meet on the road someday.
SB
Marvelous. This makes me think about all the things in my life that may have the same effect. The smell of tobacco the other day brought back a memory I hadn’t know I’d forgotten. And then there’s the story I always tell when I hear the Beach Boys. I won’t tell it now. Perhaps to my blog later. People always hear my stories of childhood memories, but it’s rare that something triggers me to write them in a blog. Thanks Wil, that made smile.
Is it just me, or does that last paragraph remind anyone else of the last VO in Stand By Me? You know, “as the summer wore on we saw less and less of Teddy and Vern”…
I don’t know as much as I would like about the craft of writing, but maybe that style is a standard ‘closing’ set piece?
I have to say I agree with Matt, and all the ass-kissing here makes me a little sick, and if Wil is any kind of man, I would guess it makes him a little sick too. That said, this was a great piece – fuzzy, warm and nostalgic – my favourite kind of writing.
My own trip to the Olympic Gardens was when I was 32 and in the midst of some pseudo pre-wedding festivies.
The buzz-kill on that experience was the sleazy cabbie suggesting that we should pick up some “sidewalk stewardesses” and “go for a ride.”
I guess what happens in Vegas becomes a repressed memory that leaves you showering while fully clothed when it somehow worms it’s way back into your consciousness…
Wil,
That was awesome. Personally, I used to LOVE kangaroo when i was little, but I had completely forgotten about it until I read Games of Our Lives. I remember sitting it my basement with my Atari, punching monkeys while my little sister watched and laughed, and thinking “Video Games are SO COOL!”
And it was so great to read your story of Kangaroo and Susan Sarandon. So thanks for a very charming post!
Wil.
Even though I could care less about the games you were writing about, I could not stop reading. You have truly developed a writing style that paints pictures in the readers mind. This is a skill I have admired (and enjoyed) from the greatest writers.
I am waiting to buy the first Wil Wheaton novel. Please write it.
Steve
Nice post.
Always appreciate hearing that a good liberal is also a nice person as well as a David Bowie fan.
The two arcades I tried to frequent as much as possible as a kid were the arcade at CSUN and Star Gate at the Northridge Fashion Center. I would also, of course, bike over to the 7-11 on Balboa to play their games and pick up a Slurpee…
Amazing, well-written story… I loved the Susan Sarandon part. You are a very talented storyteller. 🙂
Oh and your card protector is going in the mail TODAY! *grin*
this is my first time commenting here. i recently read “just a geek” and i loved it. i’d read a few posts of yours here, but never too regularly. now i’m hooked. you’re an amazing writer, and the fact that you made me care about arcade games says a lot. i love susan sarandon also, and david bowie, so that bit made my day. i look forward to reading more of your posts.
Really cool entry, Wil! I’ve never commented before, but I read your blog all the time. Great writing. Keep it up.
Man oh man, I LOVE the way you write!
Is that ass-kissing? It seems to me ass kissing is when you are trying to impress the recipient of the kissing or otherwise seek to get something from them. I don’t think anyone here expects to get anything from Wil except what we already receive – great writing, interesting peeks into his life as he is willing to share them, some thought provoking posts and more knowledge about poker than I ever expected to have. Maybe those who post these comments genuinely appreciate what they read and want to tell Wil that. I would say the easy remedy to avoiding the syrupy sweetness, etc. would be just to read the blog and avoid the comments section!
Never played Wizard of Wor, but I remember when the Aladdin’s Castle at our mall used to do a deal where $5 would get you all the video games you could play for like 2 hours on Friday nights. You’d tell the attendant which game you’d want to play, and he’d open up the coin door and flip the little button a number of times until you got a shitload of credits, and then you’d play to your heart’s content. I remember one night where we just played Gauntlet for 2 hours straight (it’s so nice having virtually unlimited health!) and made it to the gazillionth level. I swear that game was so addicting. Then of course there was the old original Star Wars game with the vector graphics and everything… that was addicting as well.