OK. Well. What’s all this about then? Subwhat? Whatstack?
I’ll be honest with you. I never thought I’d end up writing about videogames in 2022. But then I wrote the Gamesmaster book in 2021 which was an absolute hoot. The best fun I have had writing anything in a life soaked in writing. Then I had an idea for a Guardian article and they kindly let me write that and they and you very kindly liked what I wrote and before you knew it I had a Guardian column. And I love it. I really do. I have a gargantuan smile on my face when I type it. And you seem to have a smile on your face when you read it. Hurrah!
Unfortunately… it’s just 900 words once a month because, well that’s all the space that’s out there to write about videogames in newspapers these days. Which is ridiculous when you think about how they are still the biggest thing in the world and the thing we all loved the most when we were younger.
But this lack of written word landing pads shouldn’t thwart either of our needs and wants. And I want to write more. Much more. I have written a billion words over my career: features, columns, gags, tv bits, radio bits – and I would say 90% of it I have done to a deadline and it’s been a job. A hell of a job, don’t get me wrong. But a job. I’ve never been one of those people who wake up in the morning with an urge to write. I have done it for 30 years cos people kept saying “hey you, bloke, we’ll pay you to write words and sometimes speak them out loud.”
But now I do wake up wanting to write. Words and words and words. About games. Whereas before I used to literally dream about radio show bits? Now I dream about video games bits and wake heavily pregnant with choice sentences about moving pixels and I want to deliver them with whatever forceps I need.
And those forceps are substacks. Or that forcep is substack. Fuck. I knew it was a shit analogy but sometimes I fall in love with the way words run together and once I thought of the phrase “heavily pregnant with choice sentences” it was stuck in my brain, like chewing gum in that little ticket pocket at the front of thrice-washed jeans.
Anyway don’t worry too much about Substack – it’s just a platform that allows me to get words directly into your ears and eyes completely unfiltered without bosses or editors or shareholder or my Mum or Elon fucking Musk sticking their oar in.. Because, from what I hear, the Guardian column has really connected with what I like to call The Gamesmaster Generation: All you guys who came to gaming and technology in the 90s, and had your mind utterly blown.
And we spent that glorious decade up to our wattles in extraordinary interactive entertainment, machines and gadgets. We ran home from work or school and we spent every second on megadrives and super nintendos and playstations and PCs if your Dad was an accountant and 3D0s if your Dad traveled to America a lot on business and always bought something big as a present to make up for the fact that he was shagging his secretary. Sorry. He was.
And then… and then… something happened, didn’t it? The 90s ended. And we all… moved on. I thought I should really do something that didn’t involve games and so farted around with words about music and telly and movies and whatnot. And you – you? You went and got a proper job, didn’t you. Fuck. Don’t worry. It happens to everyone sooner or later. A couple of years ago I went to work for AUDI. Seriously. Some bloke asked me to, and he was lovely and so I went and worked for them and every one at AUDI was so lovely to me it kind of hid the fact that I didn’t know the first thing about cars so I got a bit anxious and my insomnia kicked in and I spent three whole days awake and working and then all of a sudden I came to in the middle of a retail park. In my car. I didn’t know where I was, how I got there, but I was crying. So don’t talk to me about proper jobs. I get it. We all need them.
But we still love videogames. I realised that when I had kids of my own. I dabbled, alongside an unholy unhealthy addiction to the most evil videogame franchise on earth… FIFA. Which was what that now legendary first Guardian column was about.
So in getting back into videogames properly over the last year or so? I’ve noticed a couple of things.
It’s all a bit weird and confusing and unfriendly and a bit humourless out there, isn’t it?
Gaming is about two huge great sections now:
eSports and streaming. And neither of them connect with me at all. Or you, I suspect. Which is ironic, seeing as we basically invented eSports on gamesmaster and none of those DOTA playing fucks even give us a farthing commission.
Esports takes itself very seriously, and why shouldn’t it? It’s a job. You can make tons of money. You don’t want somebody larking around doing nob gags – it will put you off whatever fucking x grind piece of obscure buffing stuff you’re trying to get in League of Legends.
I think being a professional videogamer is actually a ridiculous concept. Why take something that is supposed to be a joyful alternative to work… and make it work? Professional gaming is like professional wanking. The joy gets squeezed out of it.
And game streaming is just nonsensical. They use a language all of its own. Which is fine – but can you at least try and spell some words correctly. I did a wee twitch experiment when Covid first began – built a lovely wee community during the first lockdown – remember the first lockdown? I think it was back when Blockbuster stores were open. I didn’t like streaming videogames because I couldn’t interact with people in the chat while playing – and that’s what I liked the most. So I see streamers doing this stuff and there’s reams and reams of chat going on – rivulets of messages that are completely ignored by the streamer or the other people watching and it’s like meaningless communication bukkake. Sorry Mum. Don’t google that.
But what links esports and streaming to me, in terms of why I don’t think our Gamesmaster Generation can really engage with either? Is it’s too fucking fast. I get a nosebleed listening to eSports commentary. I get concussion watching popular streamers. It is an ocean of shit wording ineloquence. And again – fair enough. I’m sure kids today don’t play videogames because they’re interested in words.
But we were different.
It wasn’t just Gamesmaster – although I will go to my grave proclaiming it was as much a show about words as it was about videogames – but it was the magazines as well. The standard of writing on things like The One, Mean Machines, PC Zone, OPM, Sega Power, Gamesmaster Magazine, CVG and others was outstanding. And you obviously remember it fondly and realise there’s a lack of that writing today because that’s why hardy souls are bringing those magazines back, For real. In paper form. Real life paper. Fuck me, there’s a sight for sore eyes and empty fists.
So. I am bringing words back to videogames. Interesting words. Funny words. Words we can bond over. Words we can get that sense of community, Words that make it fun again.
But it comes at a price. Kinda.
Each week there will be two slabs of content from me.
Dominik Diamond’s Tiny Portions – a free newsletter of 700-1000 words. A couple of regular gaming features, some bite-sized opining. And a whole lot of teases for the main course.
Dominik’s Little Old Purple Column.
Yes. In the 90s I had Dominik’s Big Purple Column sitting proud and erect in the pages of Gamesmaster Magazine but now it’s Dominik’s Little Old Purple Column because I’m 52 now and I’ve been swimming in very cold water. This will be 2000-2500 words of absolute top notch utterly unique words that will connect all of us again by trying to make sense of this stupid fucking world gaming has become. There will be leisurely dips in the big jacuzzi of nostalgia as I revisit games we knew and loved, but I will cast my eye over modern gaming things and technology and communities and gadgets and Elon fucking Musk, to see if that stuff is in any way relevant to us, today. With all that other stuff we have going on. Mortgages and kids and depression and rashes and knees and groins that hurt like fiery hell after we play football.
But that will cost you. Because I’m going to be sweating at the coalface to produce the kind of thing no one else is doing, or has done since the 90s. But it wont cost much.
5 dollars a month, which is 4 UK pounds (unless Boris has fucked it even more) so it’s basically like giving me a quid a week, or buying me a pint of IPA every month.
If you want to save you can pay a year’s subscription which will give you 2 months free, and if you really want to help me out in my craft then you can become an official Founder Member and give a whacking great donation in memory of what I did, do and will hopefully keep doing.
But you don’t just get this column for you money – oh no!
Every month subscribers will enter a prize draw for unique artefacts! Which will be mostly old publicity still of Gamesmaster which I will sign and deface in the manner of your choosing!
If you are an annual subscriber or Founder Member you get into the special draw, which I thought about calling the Platinum Draw until I realised that was wanky, so instead I’m calling it the Billy Big Balls Draw (because Billy or Billie is non gender specific) and the winner of THAT each month will win a personal zoom call for you and up to three pals. An we can do anything during those calls, they have been hugely popular things during the Kickstarter campaign for the Gamesmaster book.
If you are one of those try before you buy sorts – and I wish I had been like that with my ungrateful children. Then simply listen to the free Tiny Portions offering, and decide whether you want to go up to the bigger, better paid stuff.
OK? Jolly good. Talk soon. Salut maintenant, as they used to say.
Dominik Diamond Is Going To Make Modern Games and Tech Stuff A Bit Better