A 1990s cracktro demo, the type of visual that inspired Alfie John to pursue programming.
*A pre‑mainstream Internet childhood, stolen computers, and underground BBS culture forged a relentless drive to code. The personal essay shows how cracktros and a demo‑trainer file turned curiosity into a lifelong programmer identity.*
Alfie John’s memoir reads like a field report from the early days of the underground internet. In a neighbourhood where a computer meant a target for robbery, a handful of kids kept their machines hidden, swapping 3.5" floppies and huddling around a 14" CRT. The author’s world shifted when a modem connected him to The Australian BBS Listing, opening a tunnel to a global digital underground. From there, cracktros—raw, profanity‑laden demo clips—hit his screen like a late‑night acid trance, freezing his perception and promising a new kind of power.
The turning point arrived with a file named TUT1-9.ZIP, a demo‑trainer series promising full Pascal source for graphics tricks. The author printed the code, fed it into Borland Turbo Pascal 6.0, and felt the first real control over the machine. That moment rewired his ambition: from playing games to crafting the experiences that once dazzled him.
Alfie John grew up when only a few kids at his primary school owned a computer. In his rough neighbourhood a computer was a high‑value target; theft was common enough that owners kept them hidden. The author spent hours behind a buzzing 14" CRT, swapping 3.5" single‑density floppies whose corners were drilled out to hide them. He and his friends pirated games, but he saw himself more as a collector than a player. The idols were the game creators, the people who could make the beige box under the table do something magical. This early environment planted the seed of reverence for code.
After acquiring a modem, Alfie dialed every BBS listed in The Australian BBS Listing. The BBS world opened a digital underground where any file could be reached, often via ZMODEM transfers. Downloaded games arrived with bold, profanity‑laden posters that called themselves "cracktros"—the forerunners of modern demos. These short, sensory‑overload clips felt like an out‑of‑body experience, freezing viewers in a stunned state. The author describes them as more than demos, likening them to late‑90s acid trance film clips that injected directly into the cerebral cortex. The visceral impact of cracktros convinced him that code could manipulate perception, not just run games.
While browsing a random BBS file section, Alfie found a ZIP named TUT1-9.ZIP. Its FILE_ID.DIZ advertised "The ASPHYXIA VGA DEMO TRAINER SERIES" by Denthor of ASPHYXIA, promising documentation on coding demo‑like effects in Turbo Pascal 6/7, with full Pascal source included. The description listed pixel work, sprites, animation, wireframe 3D and solid 3D. The author’s heart raced as he queued the download, printed the files on an Epsom LQ‑300, and began typing the tutorials into Borland's Turbo Pascal 6.0. Though he knew nothing about programming, the trainer gave him a basic understanding of how the pieces fit together and ignited a hunger for more.
Alfie admits that after the ASPHYXIA tutorials he no longer wanted to watch demos or play games. The experience shifted his goal from consumption to creation. He wanted to be "elite" and to control the computer like a sorcerer. The desire to write demos that could dazzle viewers, slow heartbeats, and make them reluctant to leave the screen replaced his earlier pastime. The personal narrative ends with a declaration: "I wanted to be a programmer." The author’s journey from a stolen‑computer‑hiding kid to a self‑taught coder illustrates how underground digital culture can forge professional ambition.
Cracktros were bold, profanity‑laden short clips that accompanied illegally distributed games on BBSes, acting as precursors to modern demos and delivering a sensory overload experience.
He downloaded the ASPHYXIA VGA Demo Trainer Series (TUT1-9.ZIP) from a BBS, printed the files on an Epsom LQ‑300, and followed the tutorials using Borland Turbo Pascal 6.0.
He worked on a 14" CRT monitor, used 3.5" single‑density floppy disks, a modem to access BBSes, and typed code into Borland Turbo Pascal 6.0 on his computer.
Alfie's story underscores how a clandestine BBS culture and a single demo‑trainer file can redirect a youth’s trajectory. The raw excitement of cracktros and the hands‑on learning of Turbo Pascal forged a programmer who still credits those early underground networks for his drive. As the digital underground evolves, the lesson remains: exposure to the mechanics of creation can turn passive admirers into the next generation of code sorcerers.
Sources: Hacker News – Why I Am a Programmer (https://www.alfie.wtf/programming/why-i-am-a-programmer.html)