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Mid-70s. The last generation of boys obsessed by the soldiers, guns, tanks and toys of World War 2 before everyone was into light-sabres and laser pistols.
We played this game. We all lined up, preferably at the top of a slight hill. One of us was 'on'. He shouted to each of us in turn, "What do you want to be killed by?" And we'd call back "Dagger!" or "Bren Gun!" or "Flame thrower" and so on. Then he'd shout go, and we'd run down the hill and he'd pretend to kill us with our choice of weapon. Rat-a-tat-tat, whoosh and all that. The noises had to be done!
We'd do a heroic pretend death (preferably getting muddy). After everyone's turn, the lad who was 'on' would pick a winner, the one who'd done the best death, and then it was their turn to be 'on'.
Course, as I said, we seemed to be the last year of lads who loved World War 2. Bigger lads taught us the game, but we had no-one to pass it on to. I suppose it could have been done with the sci-fi weapons of the cartoons and films that were hitting our world at the end of the 70s. But anyway, soon after that, kids sat inside on their Ataris instead.
We played it a lot, at home AND on school fields. Mind you, in today's times, perhaps it's best we don't hear eager little lads shouting, 'What do you want to be killed by?" Their parents would be dragged in by Social Services.
Fond memories for me, though. "Sten Gun!" Hehe
...Jamo
We played this game. We all lined up, preferably at the top of a slight hill. One of us was 'on'. He shouted to each of us in turn, "What do you want to be killed by?" And we'd call back "Dagger!" or "Bren Gun!" or "Flame thrower" and so on. Then he'd shout go, and we'd run down the hill and he'd pretend to kill us with our choice of weapon. Rat-a-tat-tat, whoosh and all that. The noises had to be done!
We'd do a heroic pretend death (preferably getting muddy). After everyone's turn, the lad who was 'on' would pick a winner, the one who'd done the best death, and then it was their turn to be 'on'.
Course, as I said, we seemed to be the last year of lads who loved World War 2. Bigger lads taught us the game, but we had no-one to pass it on to. I suppose it could have been done with the sci-fi weapons of the cartoons and films that were hitting our world at the end of the 70s. But anyway, soon after that, kids sat inside on their Ataris instead.
We played it a lot, at home AND on school fields. Mind you, in today's times, perhaps it's best we don't hear eager little lads shouting, 'What do you want to be killed by?" Their parents would be dragged in by Social Services.
Fond memories for me, though. "Sten Gun!" Hehe
...Jamo
The great bit about getting 'killed' was, ...getting to 'come alive' again. Pre-games consoles, ...virtual reality!!
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