Leisure Suit Larry

Do you  remember Leisure Suit Larry?

What a sleaze-bag, and yet what a hero, at the same time.  A walking contradiction.

Larry was cheesy, creepy and full of cheap pick-up lines but I liked him.

Stop me now if you have no idea what I'm talking about.  It means you're from two generations back, because my children know Larry. They grew up with the bastard, just as they grew up with versions 1 of Prince of Persia,  Commander Keen, Duke Nukem, King's Quest and later on, Wolfenstein and Doom.

Now when I say they grew up with them I mean that they grew up hearing their father cursing and swearing at the screen until their little fingers were grown sufficiently mature to tackle the dangers of the cyber-netherworld for themselves, eventually going on to outstrip the old man in all things cyber-challenging.

This is as it should be though I must confess that when first I stumbled across the speculations of William Gibson, I thought they were no more than an interesting conceit.  And even when I found myself lost in the Doom world, though it was a little spooky and even more so with added sound layers (I know you!!) I thought of it nothing  more than I would a juggler in the street.  A mere flimsy.

How far it has gone.

I wonder what Leisure Suit Larry would make of the new cyber world?  Would he survive, in his ill-fitting linen jacket, with a line in cheesy patter and a Polynesian bride whose father will behead him if he cheats on her?  I doubt it.

I might go out now for a while and perhaps I will be some time.  It was never possible to know what went on in Larry's moronic brain, but I think I have some inkling of how the first-person guy in Doom felt as he worked his way through the horror, blasting the unspeakable at our behest, knowing that we'd reject him when he got back, if he ever made it back. Knowing that we sent him into the abyss with no back-up, yet hanging the future of humanity on his efforts.

We abandoned him, just as we cared little for the Prince of Persia.  I'll never forget the moment when I realised that it was futile to be fighting the figure in the mirror and  at last put away my sword to face into another sleepless day of toil.

I'm going out now and I might be some time.

I'm going to enter that world where I might blast a Nazi in Castle Wolfenstein, or boost Duke Nukem over a wall of exploding boxes. I might stand shoulder to shoulder with the hero of Doom and finally confront my responsibilities.  It was never right to leave him out there fighting nameless horrors on our behalf  and anyway I always wanted a go at firing the BFG.

I might share a sherbet with the Prince of Persia.

Who knows?  I might end up doing some good.