Forestville Video/Old English Fish ‘N’ Chips – Forestville, NSW
The dead and buried past regularly finds itself betrayed by even the most unassuming Judas. In the case of Forestville Video at #14 The Centre (don’t miss out, book ahead on 451 3040), the footfalls in the crypt belong to oversized clown shoes.
Krusty’s Fun House, a puzzle game for Sega’s Master System featuring characters from The Simpsons, was an ideal rental upon release in 1992. Tough enough to challenge you over a rainy weekend (or a week at best), but not a keeper. The Flying Edge title found an appropriate home at Forestville Video.
And there, it also found a family. Forestville Video appears to have been “The Centre” of all things Master System, with titles galore to satisfy the weekend cravings of Forestvillians.
And like dandelion seeds borne on the wind, Forestville Video’s Master System library has made its way out into the wider world. Even a cursory glance managed to find them as far as Modbury, Reservoir and even Hobart.
But them’s the spores; what about the source?
On the fringe of the Northern Beaches, Forestville is often overshadowed by its neighbour, Frenchs Forest. But it has its own virtues: plenty of trees, a distinct lack of Tony Abbott these days, and this bustling shopping centre. But it’s not just any centre. This is THE Centre.
The very same! Today, Centurions come here for cakes, cafes and Coles. It’s been a very long time since anyone turned to The Centre with a week of Master System on their mind. Until I rocked up, anyway.
Here’s that core, that heart of Sega goodness as it existed for years. In Australia, the Master System was a viable concern between about 1987 and 1994-ish, so it’s safe to assume that by the time the above photo accompanied this slobbering review in 2011, the games were long gone.
Should I look on things positively purely because of their nostalgia? Because that’s how I feel about Forestville Video.
And so begins Sally R’s breathless account of a dying king’s final days (with a Top Video crown, no less). She goes on to say that although the owner is a lovely old man, the shop itself was looking rather tired. Maybe Krusty and Golvellius were still there after all?
Forestville Video is located in Forestville’s creatively-titled “The Centre”, and looks as though it’s been there for the past thirty years. A small and sometimes dusty store, Forestville Video is truly the stuff of childhoods for us 90’s kids. It has all the ingredients of what made a great night for 1996; copious amounts of lollies and softdrinks, new releases on video and a fairly negotiable late fee policy.
None of that today.
Replaced by a modern milk bar, any “’90s kids” looking for jollies best jog on should they find themselves at The Centre. The toy shop, Kids Paradise, is full of strange ersatz Lego kits seemingly generated by AI; the corpse of the TAB has been coopted by a tax agent; and the pizza option is Dominos. More like the centre of hell…
Anyway, how do I know that Old English is Forestville Video? After all, it’s not like FV was the ‘ville’s only video option back in Sally R’s heyday:
That’s right. Video Ezy, one of the industry’s giants, came to play in Forestville. Shop 25 (today a pharmacy) is located opposite Shop 14, making this into one of the more interesting video shop head to heads of the era. Forestville Video ultimately prevailed, with Video Ezy content to shrivel into one of those vending machines and relocate to nearby Forestway Shopping Centre. A TKO, I think that’s known in industry parlance.
No, the evidence you crave can be found stamped right on Old English’s dirty brick posterior. Let’s away!
It’s seen much better days, but this sign tells us more about the colourful history of The Centre than even Sally R’s faded memories. Tear your eyes away from that bathroom and take a closer look.
Old as it looks, this sign is actually younger than the Master System games found strewn across the used gamiverse. The phone number (book ahead, seriously!) is preceded by a nine, a post-1994 development. Find a Sony PlayStation game with the Forestville Video branding and it’s likely to corroborate.
Also of note: Forestville Video was your headquarters for tennis court bookings. The court still exists, found nearby at Melwood Sports Complex, but the combination of sport and the ultimate prone pastime seems like an uneasy alliance. Maybe it was a role the lovely old man took on out of guilt for all the guts he was responsible for.
Less surprising is the reference to the TAB, which was a couple of doors north of Forestville Video. The final iteration of Forestville TAB was much smaller than the “next to” direction suggests, but as you can see in the photo of Old English, vintage TAB livery can be seen right beside it. It’s likely the TAB downsized as the area’s clubs cut its deplorable lunch. Also, the acronym doesn’t usually feature the periods, so methinks this is just a bit of free advertising on behalf of a lovely old man who may have been a patron.
Old video games are a goldmine of reminders of a world the Sally R in all of us pines for, a world when happiness cost $3 weekly and the game was only ever really over when the fine was due. Next time you pick up an ex-rental game, take a closer look and see where it takes you.
Computer Service Centre/Pharmatex – Epping, NSW
Come gather round, children, and I’ll tell you a tale of a time when people played “computer games”.
Epping is a bit of a mess these days: no two floors of a shop can seem to agree on what they’re going to be. This one in particular features voices from the future (education – the Children Are Our Future), the present (the natural health joint), and the past. We’ll get to all of them, but let’s begin yesterday.
In 1983, the market for console video games in the United States crashed and crashed hard. In a panic, the computer gaming industry (there’s a difference) sought to distance itself from its ailing cousin. IBM, Amstrad, Commodore were just a few of the names attempting to usurp Atari as household standards.
In Europe and Australia, it largely worked. By the early 90s, naff adults would refer to kids’ Sega Master Systems and Game Boys as “computer games”. Ugh.
When you’re a kid, it’s a travesty. You and your passions, tarred and feathered by misunderstanding. Or was it a lack of wanting to understand?
It took years for the computer games terminology to wear off. You’ll still hear it today if you listen (or care) hard enough. Sure, there have been some great games for computers during the past two decades, but as our old buddy Lana Del Rey likes to say, something something video games.
Which brings us to today’s focus. This place serviced computers, and wisely separates computers and games. It’s hard to tell where to place this in the gamut of understanding, but I’m going to go ahead and chuck it in the “totally gets it” pile. For one, the sign appears to be neon – cool. And two, the shop doesn’t look that old.
The computers and games and computer games have long since left the building, however. It’s symptomatic of a larger sickness – when was the last time you saw a games department at Myer? At K-Mart? It’s clear this was just another casualty of the digital takeover.
Today, it’s home to Pharmatex. Or it isn’t. Their website has the right address, but the shop itself appears to contain no less than two other pharmaceutical/health food outlets.
If you’re that curious, call them toll free on 1800 GLOVES (seriously).
As for the HSC English specialists, I wonder what percentage of these tutors exist purely to stop the students from playing computer games instead of studying?
Past/Lives of the Near Future 