Dad got us a Commodore 64 in 1982 or 1983. I had no idea it would launch me into a world of rivalry, bitterness, and rejection. Like a gang initiation.
All of my English schoolfriends had Speccys or Amstrads or BBC Micros (well, the losers among them, that is). The American kids had Atari 400s, 800s, or 1200s. Which our school had. So there was all out war amongst us.
Speccy users usually admitted that the Commodore 64 was a worthy challenger to the Spectrum, though I always made fun of the spongy keyboard and the way you needed to put a milk bottle on top of the keyboard so you could actually touch it. And of course most games appeared on at least the Speccy and the Commodore. Amstrad and BBC tossers were often left out in the cold. Atari users in the UK didn’t get shit (ha ha). So those guys would talk a lot of shit, then show up at your doorstep wanting to play Green Beret or Spindizzy.
We (Speccy/C64 users) also had the two best mags, Crash! and Zzap!64. “Amstrad User?” Seriously?
C64 users accepted the Sinclair dominance in the UK, knowing that we ruled America and you could only get a knockoff Timex-branded Sinclair in the States. (Which I actually considered, because there were a few great titles that were on the Speccy and didn’t make it to the C64 until much later. Like Ultimate Play the Game titles.)
I had a 1531 tape deck, and spent countless hours realigning the head. What a pain in the ass. My bedroom smelled of rubbing alcohol, I was cleaning that fucker so much. I went to work one summer and saved every penny - I didn’t even eat lunch - and bought a 1541 floppy drive. Putting all of those tape games on to disk was liberation. But then you had to worry about the drive knocking.
Christ, I was obsessed with that thing. I think I was able to draw myself away from it around 1988 or so. But for five years that’s all that I did. Play, trade, pirate, type in, nick video games.
My first PC was a Macintosh Centris 610. 80MB HD, 8 MB RAM. I had a 14.4, and then a 28.8 dialup modem. Yahoo! was under a stanford.edu domain. We would dialup Delft University for their archive of girls with big knockers, because there wasn’t real porn on the internet at the time. (Until I discover Usenet, that is.)
I remember getting in a heated discussion with a friend on the appropriateness of including my e-mail address on my resume in 1993. Her response: “What are they going to do with that, send you a message?”