01: The Diary of a Retro Nerd Aged 9 3/4s

Welcome to the channel's first episode, "The Diary of a Retro Nerd Aged 9 3/4s", your ultimate destination for a deep dive into the pixels, analogue hums, and captivating stories that defined a generation of enthusiasts.Join me, Andy, as I journey back to an era of vector graphics and VHS tapes, where East England seaside arcades were temples of digital dreams, and pocket money was currency for intergalactic battles against pixelated aliens.From the heart-pounding tension of a Star Wars arcade trench run and the strategic chomping of Pac-Man, to the nostalgic comfort of Saturday evenings spent with Doctor Who's wobbly sets, the chilling sci-fi narratives of V, the sleek action of Automan, Street Hawk, and Airwolf, and the philosophical voyages of Star Trek across its original and Next Generation incarnations, we celebrate the foundational pop culture that shaped us.This isn't just about reminiscing; it's about dissecting the enduring impact of these classic games, iconic TV shows, and cult movies like Star Crash and Battle Beyond the Stars, exploring why they resonated so deeply then, and continue to captivate new audiences today.So, if you remember the satisfying clunk of a 10p piece, the distinctive sound of a TIE fighter, or the quiet joy of discovering a universe on a grainy TV screen, plug in your headphones, grab your favourite retro snack, and join our club – because here, the past is always playing.

Timestamps

Beginnings and Coastal Pilgrimages (00:00:13)

Andy introduces the podcast and reminisces about childhood trips to the English coast and the allure of amusement arcades.

The Arcade Experience: Sights, Sounds, and Rituals (00:01:19)

Describes the sensory overload of arcades, the excitement of pocket money, and the strategic choices of which games to play.

Discovering the Star Wars Arcade Game (00:03:36)

Andy recalls his first encounter with the 1983 Star Wars arcade game and its immersive, groundbreaking experience.

Owning the Star Wars Arcade Machine & Other Arcade Classics (00:05:59)

Shares the joy of owning a Star Wars arcade machine and fondly remembers other classics like Pac-Man and Space Invaders.

Lessons from Arcade Games and Early Digital Literacy (00:07:10)

Reflects on the skills and lessons learned from arcade games, and how parents viewed the pastime.

Television, VHS, and Sci-Fi Inspirations (00:08:21)

Discusses the impact of TV shows like Doctor Who, V, Automan, Street Hawk, Airwolf, and Star Trek, plus the influence of VHS tapes.

Cult Sci-Fi Films and Their Lasting Impact (00:09:46)

Mentions cult classics like Star Crash and Battle Beyond the Stars, and how these films shaped his passion for retro geek culture.

Podcast Mission and Closing Thoughts (00:11:05)

Concludes with the purpose of the podcast: celebrating shared nostalgia and the formative power of retro pop culture.

Transcript

0:13

Hello and welcome to the first episode of Retro Nerd. I'm your host, Andy. We're kicking off with a journey back in time, with a little trip down memory lane, right back to where it all began for me. Consider this less of an introduction and more of a diary entry. The diary of a retro nerd, aged nine and three quarters, plucked straight from the dusty pages of my mind. You know, there's a certain light in East England in the summer. It's that soft, golden haze that seems to hang in the air, making everything feel a bit more magical, a bit more endless. For me, growing up in the late 70s and early 80s, those summers were defined by one thing our pilgrimages to the coast, which we lived close to our little slice of rural East Anglia, might have felt like the middle of nowhere sometimes, but the sea was always calling Hemsby, Cromer, Great Yarmouth and a few others. These weren't just towns on a map. They were destinations imbued with the promise of sticky rock and most importantly, the cacophony of the amusement arcade. The car journey itself was part of the ritual. My dad would load up our Ford Escort while my mum would pack the sandwiches. Always ham and cheese. And if we were really lucky, there might have been some pickle thrown in for good measure. But the moment we hit the coastal road, a different kind of anticipation would bubble up in me. You could smell it before you saw it. That unmistakable scent of salt and vinegar, candyfloss and something vaguely metallic. A hint of the electrical hum to come as soon as we parked, usually in some overpriced car park that cost more than my entire week's pocket money. My eyes would be scanning the horizon. Not for the glittering sea, but for the beacon of flashing lights and tinny electronic melodies. For a kid growing up with only three TV channels, and even then only until closed down at midnight, the arcade was a portal a vibrant, noisy, slightly sticky glimpse into a future that felt impossibly cool. It wasn't just a place, it was an experience. The air thick with the smell of stale chips and hot circuitry. It felt electric. The floor often littered with discarded ticket stubs and the occasional forgotten £0.02 piece from the coin pushers vibrated with the energy of a hundred simultaneous battles. You'd step through the doors and it was like walking into another dimension. The initial assault on the senses was overwhelming. The frantic thwack, thwack, thwack of pinball flippers. The incessant pew pew pew of laser fire. The hypnotic waka waka waka of Pac-Man, and the triumphant metallic fanfare of a high score being broken. My pocket money usually a meager £0.20 or £0.50 if I'd been particularly good that week. Which, let's be honest, wasn't often felt like a king's ransom in my sweaty palm. It was a treasure map to endless possibilities. Each £0.10 coin a key to unlocking another fleeting moment of digital glory. The strategic decisions made in that moment. Choosing which game to sacrifice my precious coins to. Felt monumental. It was a symphony of digital dreams, and I was utterly, completely captivated. Would it be a quick burst of space invaders? A careful navigation through Pac-man's maze? Or would I save up for the really special ones, the ones that promised an unparalleled adventure? And then there it was, nestled among the familiar cabinets, usually near the back, often slightly unassuming, stood a machine that would forever imprint itself on my young mind. The 1983 Star Wars arcade game. I remember seeing it for the first time. It didn't have the flashy side art of some of the newer games, but the marquee, with its iconic logo and familiar X-Wing, drew me in like a tractor beam. This wasn't just a game, it was an immersion. The vector graphics, though primitive by today's standards, were revolutionary. Then lines of glowing green, blue, and red cut through the darkness, depicting the Death Star trench, the Tie fighters, the very fabric of the Star Wars universe, and the sound o the sound. This wasn't just generic arcade noise. This was the actual digitized voices of Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Use the force. Luke read five standing by. It was like the film had leapt off the screen and into this box right there in front of me, daring me to step inside. I can still feel the weight of the yoke controller in my hands, the satisfying clunk as I inserted a £0.10 coin. The game didn't just ask you to press buttons. It demanded you become Luke Skywalker. blasting Tie fighters with the satisfying zap of laser fire. And then the ultimate challenge, the Death Star trench run. The sheer tension of those final moments navigating the glowing grid lines, dodging explosions, listening to Obi-Wan's spectral guidance, and then the triumphant swarm as you fired the proton torpedoes and watched the Death Star explode in a cascade of green vector lines. It was pure, unadulterated exhilaration every time. Even if I only managed to play for a minute before my ship disintegrated in a burst of green lines, it was worth it. That game wasn't just a memory, it was a foundational experience. It was my benchmark, the gold standard against which all other arcade experiences would be measured. The love for this game has always stayed with me. So much so that this year, after all this time, I've been lucky enough to buy my very own Star Wars arcade machine. Courtesy of arcade one up. This stands proudly now in the rear of my office. Thank you, my lovely wife, for this. Of course, Star Wars might have been my reigning champion, but there were other titans of the arcade that demanded their share of my precious coin. Pac-Man, with his insatiable hunger and the relentless pursuit of the colorful ghosts Blinky, pinky, Inky and Clyde. The simple yet addictive gameplay, the frantic Waka waka waka as you chomped pellets, the power pellets that turned the hunters into the hunted, offering those brief, glorious moments of revenge. Then there was Space Invaders, the original alien invasion, that relentless descending wall of pixelated extraterrestrials. The rhythmic thump, thump, thump that sped up as their numbers dwindled, raising the stakes with every shot. It was primal, a pure test of reflexes and nerve. My little laser cannon moving left and right. Firing into the blackness. trying to carve out a path to survival. It taught me about pattern recognition, about patience, and about the sheer satisfaction of clearing a screen, even if it was just for a few seconds before the next wave appeared. My parents never quite understood the allure. For them, it was just noise and flashing lights. A money pit masquerading as entertainment. They'd watch me, sometimes with a slight frown of concern as another £0.10 disappeared into the slot. They saw a screen. I saw a universe. These games, along with countless others, were the building blocks of my early digital literacy. They weren't just pastimes. They were a training ground for critical thinking, hand-eye coordination, and a burgeoning appreciation for interactive design. And when I wasn't begging for another £0.10, my imagination was fueled by the small screen at home. We'd gather around our bulky wood effect television set, the aerial often needing a slight nudge to clear up the picture and dive headfirst into other worlds. Also, I wanted to mention Thank God for VHS tapes as the advert went rerecord, not fade away shows like Doctor Who, especially the classic Tom Baker and Peter Davison eras with their wobbly sets and genuinely terrifying monsters, sparked my fascination with time travel and alien encounters. The Daleks, the Cybermen they were the stuff of nightmares and dreams. Then there was V, the miniseries that landed like a bombshell with its chilling depiction of seemingly benevolent alien invaders and the underground resistance. Automan, with his glowing holographic car and digital sidekick, felt impossibly futuristic. Street Hawk had its super powered motorcycle, and Airwolf delivered high octane helicopter action. And of course, the granddaddy's of space exploration Star Trek, both the original series and later Star Trek The Next Generation, which redefined what science fiction could be on television with its focus on exploration, diplomacy, and ethical dilemmas. The same goes for the movies Star Wars. The original trilogy, naturally, was and remains the benchmark for space opera, but there were others to the cult classics that filled the gaps between major releases. Star crash, with its wonderfully campy charm and knockoff feel, and battle beyond the stars, Roger Corman's low budget, space faring version of The Magnificent Seven. We'll be dedicating entire episodes to these cinematic gems, breaking down why they resonated so deeply with a generation of burgeoning nerds. These early experiences, the thrill of the arcade, the magic of Star Wars, the endless wonder of sci fi, TV and movies weren't just fleeting childhood joys. They were the building blocks. They shaped my interests, ignited my imagination and laid the foundation for the lifelong passion for all things retro and geeky that we're here to explore today. These films, often watched on fuzzy VHS tapes, were just as formative, even if they didn't quite have the same production values. They taught me the joy of discovery, the thrill of challenge, and the power of storytelling, whether it was through glowing vector lines or cardboard sets. So as we embark on this journey together, remember those first sparks of wonder? This podcast is for all of us who remember the specific sound of a Pac-Man death, the tension of a Death Star trench run, or the comfort of a tea time evening spent watching the enterprise boldly go. This is our story and it's only just beginning. Goodbye. Until next time.