Here’s the thing. Nobody tells you that you’re retro, and you never quite know when it happens. I spent my early working life writing computer games for the ZX Spectrum, C64 and Commodore Amiga. I had some success, writing and programming Slightly Magic, Rock Star Ate my Hamster, both released by Codemasters. I also programmed versions of the ground-breaking Deus Ex Machina for Mel Croucher and Automata. The computer games industry in the UK contracted dramatically just when I was at my zenith, and I found myself becoming a tutor and writer. Time passed. It hit me when Retro Gamer Magazine contacted me for the second time to do a second article on one of my games – Ah, I get it. I’m now officially retro. You can’t change that, you’re no longer hip, cool, or even vaguely cutting edge. That kind of hurts. But then, another realisation hits like a careering mobility scooter on a dark pavement – You might be retro, but there’s one thing worse than being retro, and that’s being forgot
