Around the time Eurogamer launched, I was temping at an insurance office in Bournemouth, and I had a temping lunch break pal called Ken who I’m invoking now for two reasons. Firstly, Ken was the first person I spoke to who ever talked about “net anxiety” – the worry that one should be off making their fortune on the new frontiers of the internet. Secondly, he was the first person I met who played games online. Actual games. There was a driving game he liked, and I think he dabbled in a few shooters. It was like alchemy to me. It was like knowing – and having lunch with – an actual wizard.
Here’s the thing, though: I say Ken liked the games. In truth he was like one of those writers who doesn’t like writing but likes having written. Ken liked being the only person I knew who played games online, but the actual playing of games online was an irritating faff. Disconnections. Random bugs. Abuse from distant players. Huge phone bills.
I think I could tell my 10-year-old daughter about Ken and his experiences and she’d be completely baffled. She’s grown up with the internet but also with the idea that the internet and games should fit together seamlessly. I got broadband long before she was born. She comes home from school and games are waiting for her, online, effortlessly social, a place to chat as much as play, an extension of the conversations she had in the playground and on the way home.
