The Eighties were for many psychologist couch filling reasons were not my favourite decade. However, in keeping with the recent upsurge of nostalgia and retro-activity, I have decided to write a piece about my love affair with the little black box with the dead flesh keys: the ZX Spectrum. This little bundle of technological genius managed to make me feel, infuriated, delighted, non-plussed, possessive, curious and ultimately provided me with avenues of escape from the real world (yep..I was alienated even then!).
Like most of my contemporaries, I spent many and hour and ten pence in the local kebab shop attempting to better my peers at Space Invaders, Galaxians and such like. The opportunity to play these games in the luxury of my bedroom (I was still a bit too young to participate in that other fixation of teenage boys) seemed to answer all my prayers. The question was what system to choose and how to persuade my less than financially profuse father to fork out for it. I was unable to utilise the commonly used argument that it would help with my schooling, as well, you had to attend school regularly for that line of attack to work.
As to what system, well I was an avowed fan of Atari. I liked the sound of the name, I liked the fact that the 800 had a nice clunky keyboard, it looked like it meant business. Also, through previous ownership of a VCS I was aware that video gaming was quite a bit more than the silent letters of the alphabet advancing inevitably towards your letter ‘A’, as found on the ZX81. The local Lasky’s (apparently they are only to be found online these days) had Commodore Vics, Commodore 64’s, Atari 800’s, Acorn Electron’s (I think) and ZX Spectrum’s lined up like whores presenting before a VIP. Colours flashed, sprites moved and synthesized tunes created a kaleidoscope of sensory overload. With the exception of the Spectrum. The Atari had either Tempest of Space Raiders playing. The Spectrum had Horace Goes Skiing. The Atari recreated noises that swept me into the world of Tron, the Spectrum equivalent was a flatulent emission. The Atari was however, very, very, very expensive. The Spectrum was only very expensive.
I prevaricated and dawdled. By chance whilst thumbing through a magazine I noted that a local dealer (that is, local to my dad) was selling the 16K version of the Spectrum at a less than give-away price of £99! This was a saving of about £25 pounds from the normal price and was simply too good an opportunity to miss. A flurry of written activity ensued, ending with an eventual phone call confirming that I could have the machine on the proviso that it constituted both a birthday and Christmas present. Curiously, I recall my dad asking if I wanted the 48K version and not replying in the affirmative (even though I would dearly have loved that model) due to a feeling of guilt at making him pay the extra forty pounds. This was to soon reveal itself as the vibrant mistake it was, simply because most games were - for what are now obvious reasons - created for the 48K machine (Jetpac, Pssst and Death Chase not withstanding).
No doubt in a situation replicated across the country by expectant children, I monitored the activities of the postman diligently over the next few days. Somewhat paradoxically, the computer arrived when I was making one of my infrequent visits to school. Arriving home, I could barely contain my excitement although this had to be tempered by the complexities of unwrapping the industrial amounts of paperwork that my dad used to blanket parcels with.
It was an advert something akin to this one taken from Your Computer Magazine, that I posted to my (valve loving) father in an attempt to persuade him to part with his hard earned money and assist me with my move towards the digital age.
Rushing upstairs I plugged the machine in and upon turning on the computer was greeted with the following screen:
I was buggered if I knew what to do next. This was far removed from the plug-and-play antics of the Atari VCS. I would have to learn at least the basic instruction which meant recourse to the thick ring-bound manual. This was indeed a whole new world to me. Thumbing through the manual I came across a type in program called ‘Pangolins’. I had no idea what a Pangolin was, but started typing in the program which I have provided for you below (by the way I have re-entered this onto an emulator and can confirm that it works…after a fashion):
5 REM Pangolin
10 LET nq=100: REM number of questions and animals
15 DIM q$(nq,50): DIM a(nq,2): DIM r$(1)
20 LET qf=8
30 FOR n=1 TO qf/2 1
40 READ q$(n): READ a(n,1): READ a(n,2)
50 NEXT n
60 FOR n=n TO qf-1
70 READ q$(n): NEXT n
100 REM start playing
110 PRINT “Think of an animal.”,”Press any key to continue.”
120 PAUSE 0
130 LET c=1: REM start with 1st question
140 IF a(c,1)=0 THEN GO TO 300
150 LET p$=q$(c): GO SUB 910
160 PRINT “?”: GO SUB 1000
170 LET in=1: IF r$=”y” THEN GO TO 210
180 IF r$=”Y” THEN GO TO 210
190 LET in=2: IF r$=”n” THEN GO TO 210
200 IF r$”N” THEN GO TO 150
210 LET c=a(c,in): GO TO 140
300 REM animal
310 PRINT “Are you thinking of”
320 LET P$=q$(c): GO SUB 900: PRINT “?”
330 GO SUB 1000
340 IF r$=”y” THEN GO TO 400
350 IF r$=”Y” THEN GO TO 400
360 IF r$=”n” THEN GO TO 500
370 IF r$=”N” THEN GO TO 500
380 PRINT “Answer me properly when I’m”,”talking to you.”: GO TO 300
400 REM guessed it
410 PRINT “I thought as much.”: GO TO 800
500 REM new animal
510 IF qf>nq-1 THEN PRINT “I’m sure your animal is very”, “interesting, but I don’t have”,”room for it just now.”: GO TO 800
520 LET q$(qf)=q$(c): REM move old animal
530 PRINT “What is it, then?”: INPUT q$(qf+1)
540 PRINT “Tell me a question which dist “,”inguishes between “
550 LET p$=q$(qf): GO SUB 900: PRINT ” and”
560 LET p$=q$(qf+1): GO SUB 900: PRINT ” “
570 INPUT s$: LET b=LEN s$
580 IF s$(b)=”?” THEN LET b=b-1
590 LET q$(c)=s$(TO b): REM insert question
600 PRINT “What is the answer for”
610 LET p$=q$(qf+1): GO SUB 900: PRINT “?”
620 GO SUB 1000
630 LET in=1: LET io=2: REM answers for new and old animals
640 IF r$=”y” THEN GO T0 700
650 IF r$=”Y” THEN GO TO 700
660 LET in=2: LET io=1
670 IF r$=”n” THEN GO TO 700
680 IF r$=”N” THEN GO TO 700
690 PRINT “That’s no good. “: GO TO 600
700 REM update answers
710 LET a(c,in)=qf+1: LET a(c,io)=qf
720 LET qf=qf+2: REM next free animal space
730 PRINT “That fooled me.”
800 REM again?
810 PRINT “Do you want another go?”: GO SUB 1000
820 IF r$=”y” THEN GO TO 100
830 IF r$=”Y” THEN GO TO 100
840 STOP
900 REM print without trailing spaces
905 PRINT ” “;
910 FOR n=50 TO 1 STEP -1
920 IF p$(n)” ” THEN GO TO 940
930 NEXT n
940 PRINT p$(TO n);: RETURN
1000 REM get reply
1010 INPUT r$: IF r$=”” THEN RETURN
1020 LET r$=r$(1): RETURN
2000 REM initial animals
2010 DATA “Does it live in the sea”,4,2
2020 DATA “Is it scaly”,3,5
2030 DATA “Does it eat ants”,6,7
2040 DATA “a whale”, “a blancmange”, “a pangolin”, “an ant”
Apart from rapidly coming to the conclusion that in order to use the Spectrum keyboard required the ergonomic dexterity of an Octopus, I had absolutely no idea what any of the above code meant or did. It was to my eternal surprise that upon running the program I was greeted with the following:
Hardly Space Raiders is it? But it worked. Alright then, it sort of worked, it also made me appreciate that with a bit of hard work and perseverance I could create my own…creations. It should also be noted that it was this program that set me on a course that whilst not making me a programmer, initiated an interest in computers that has persisted to this day. This program provided a foundation upon which I have steadily built – my understanding of computers, the Internet and everything else related - started with Pangolins and certainly career wise has stood me in good stead. It also started a love affair with the Pangolin - a scaly anteater in case you were wondering. Note the error report at the bottom of the screen. At the time even this thrilled me, it meant that the computer was talking to me. I admit that I was soon to weary of such reports, but even so, I still prefer it to the ‘Fatal Error’ type wankery beloved of Microsoft.
I have really enjoyed this brief nostalgia trip and intend to return to this subject with a more in depth post. There is no way that the software of today can be regarded as anyway inferior to that of the eighties – despite the bugs and crashes that seem to be almost wilfully inserted into Microsoft Windows, the frustrations do not compare with the twenty minute loading times, followed by a crash that tape-loading software inflicted on its owners. Yet the huge sprawling companies that dominate the world today lack the personal touch of the early programmers. Maybe that is why I am drawn to the open source software that is becoming ever more popular (this is being written on Open Office). Maybe that is why I will soon be saying goodbye to Windows and hello to Linux as that is a labour of love rather than an attempt at global domination. The programmers that are involved in things like Linux are the descendants of those bedroom programmers who used to be found slaving over some obscure piece of machine code into the early hours of the morning. We have come full circle and it is with those people that I wish to be associated (however remotely).
