Tales of the Urban Explorer: The Retro-Games House

It appeared to be an unassuming house by the roadside, but we knew it was abandoned and that there was an access point.... somewhere.

These types of explores make me unsettled. Occasionally they are crammed with belongings and that begs the question…, ‘Is it really abandoned?’

For that reason, I never stick around too long inside, especially if that 'access point' is a front downstairs window. Did anyone see us climb through it? It's not difficult to notice if you happen to be living opposite and look out of a window at the right time.

Anyone would assume it’s a burglary and that the window has been compromised, then the cops arrive while you are inside which leads to a difficult conversation and possible arrest.

Then there is the question of morals and defeating your demonic temptation. A house like this contains a rich assortment of antiques, memorabilia, and retro games, something I used to collect in a previous life.

…’My inner demons played on me while inside The Retro-Games House. I could steal this easily and get away with it’…

We entered via the back garden. It was shrouded, overgrown and a conservatory came into vision at the edge of my vision.

Locked..., fuck. Was the intelligence given bullshit again?

Edging down the side of the house, we climbed an awkward gate that took us to the front garden. The window looked closed and that's because the last explorer pulled it in to make it look that way,

Climbing through windows is not difficult but there's always that 'capture time' when you could be spotted. Today fortune was on us and there were no 'Oy's' entering my eardrums.

We silently closed the window from the inside and looked around.

From the first few minutes, I knew this one to be something special. The room looked half-packed as though the occupants were about to leave, and then vanished.

Come through the side entrance and a bread knife awaits unwanted visitors.

Once it could have been orderly. Someone was planning to move out and then the ransackers arrived pitching half the boxes all over the floor.

It used to live within a bin liner but not anymore,

Looks like some type of language. I checked briefly and found the word ‘Cobol’. That made me back off sharpish.

It's rusty, metal, heavy, and out of place. What is it used for?

One of those geeky weeklies that you collect and never read.

Despite the piles of stuff everywhere, there were signs of neglect within 'The Retro Games House'.

Mostly full bottles of mouthwash and shampoo adorned the green bathroom.

A pocket radio that consisted mostly of a 'speaker'.

That’s a long corridor lined with mahogany at the point of descent. This was a large house and down there was even more clutter.

Sandra Whiting needs an eye test in 2015, interesting.

What a great old clock, complete with a key winder. Sadly I knew this item was going to be stolen, not by me but by the Tour Bus which inevitably would arrive.

The bedroom looked to be that of a teenager and one who liked PC games. The big box varieties were strewn about randomly.

According to the dates and ages, these scrawlings were generated in 1987, but by whom?

This is what got me going. Atari VCS manuals, and Pilot Wings for the SNES. Could I snitch that boxed gem and get away with it?

Probably, but I left it there like everything else for the next lot of thieving bastards to steal. Likely there was a stash of 2600 cartridges within if I searched hard enough.

I would have killed for a pair of walkie-talkies when I was a teenager. The idea of them was present in my mind during those times.

3 Litres, that’s an awful lot of Cognac.

Dated 1992, a time when I was turning sour on the Amiga and using the PC as my main gaming platform.

Unlike most of the shitty places I visit, 'The Retro Games House' was mostly dry and the books were not damaged by undue moisture.

Who's that dodgy bloke in the mirror? Must be a local ghost or something.

The sheer amount of stuff in here was overwhelming, from the new to the old. I didn’t know where to look.

The roof isn’t doing so well in this room; it could do with a little attention.

Someone was into their music and I spotted a Peter Gabriel album within the collection. Good taste!

Floppies and not ones that fit a Commodore Amiga; you had to be there to know this shit.

The games don’t end at computer games. Whoever owned these was a board geek too.

A diverse gamer, musician, and guitar player, the magazine dated 1995.

One of the strings had broken, easily fixed.

Downstairs was comparably boring compared to what was up there, but we had to come down at some point.

It was back to the entry room before we headed down the long corridor to find much more gear in the lower area next to the locked conservatory.

Another old stereo unit, does this one belong to Dad?

Many books were spotted. Do people read all this stuff; I can’t be bothered in today’s world.

The kitchen was showing signs of dampness; the house had not seen occupants in several years methinks.

The Marmite House? It’s a suitable name but a common find.

I tend to wonder if most people are natural hoarders. Whenever we make finds such as this, the amount of junk is almost always overwhelming.

Out of date in 2011; I opted not to have a taste of whatever lucked within.

The whisky would be the safe option if I had to take a swig from any of these bottles despite it being open, and the rest sealed.

Mouse Trap for kids, Diplomacy is definitely not for kids.

Looking out from the inside; our initial efforts to gain entry failed. I would have preferred to exit this way instead of that high visibility window.

Sandra was charitable and a blood donor, all good attributes.

Mr Whiting I presume and a contractor earning the golden doubloons. I wish it was still so in today’s world.

Could it be Sandra and her mum?

Sometimes you have to call it a day, and after seeing some much clutter I couldn’t be arsed climbing over all this to see even more.

Those piles of books look a little heavy for me, and I mean content-wise.

A great downstairs retreat, if only there was room to plonk your arse down somewhere to watch the TV, such was the lack of sofa's not containing stuff.

Letters from Sandra, the right one being the more interesting as it mentions 'COVID'. The house was occupied more recently than I suspected and had Peter been a victim of the 'Scamdemic'?

Was this the reason the house was in a semi-state of being packed away, makes you think?

We left, as usual with a massive question mark above the house. There are always clues but rarely any solutions.

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