My Game Trading Days

  By Mike Loder   

A note of thanks to CEO Mark Langford and Jillian Langford for their support in making this piece as detailed as it is, and for providing many of the photographs featured.

It was an uphill scooter ride to my local shopping strip, a journey I often made for a milkshake and lunch. My mates and I would hop on our Razor scooters, rolling through the local park, past our old red-brick primary school, and onto the strip.

I’m sure we were considered a nuisance—just as I now find e-scooter riders annoying. Funny how things come full circle!

It’s amusing to reflect on the ride in an article about a second-hand video game shop, but it paints the picture of what I remember being a really peaceful time.

Excitement surged when I first saw the sign: "GameTraders." The bright yellow and bold lettering hanging from the awning drew me right in. When the store opened, I was immediately a regular—I must have been about 14.

 The disbelief of having a dedicated store for one of my favorite things was immense. It was the perfect store, opening at the perfect time, in the perfect location for my age and interests—and it would ultimately evolve into a serious hobby. 

I can still picture the block colors and grey carpet inside. It was a long building with walls packed with games from SEGA, Nintendo, PC, PlayStation, and Xbox, each section marked by wooden logo panels—a dream come true for mini Mike in 2002.

I quickly befriended the staff and vividly remember Jill and Graham, the store’s owners. There was also a young guy with dark black hair and a kind demeanor—James, I think his name was. He sold me my copy of The Lost Vikings and told me, "I knew when you bought that game you were a true collector." Music to my ears (and a great sales tactic)!

 There was a moment when I was trading in a copy of Pokémon Stadium 2 on the N64, and another customer walked in wanting to purchase it. I was with my father, who must have seen this as a teachable moment, remarking that I might get more value selling it directly to the other customer rather than trading it in at the store.

James, the store clerk, had a moment where he said something along the lines of, "I don’t mind what you guys do, but you have to do it out on the street—not in here.

We shared a laugh as we stepped outside to complete the trade—it felt so shady."

I’d visit regularly on my scooter—sometimes not even to buy or trade anything, just to check out the latest hardware and games that had arrived in the store.

Learning about the history of consoles and their games was incredibly exciting for me—an extension of my education at school. While I was learning about computers and Google in class, I was also diving into the history of gaming companies and the industry’s evolution in the ’80s and early ’90s. It was a thrill.

The time period was an interesting one for starting a collection, with the shift from cartridges to discs. High-quality games were being traded in from local attics and the wealthier neighborhoods, meaning there was always plenty to choose from.

Jill was the heart of the store, and took me under her wing, offering me my first-ever work experience.

I quickly became part of the team—an underling of sorts—and I was so proud to wear my black GameTraders polo. I wish I still had it, though it wouldn’t fit me now!

One of my favorite tasks was working on the window displays. The curved glass was perfect for showcasing consoles in themed setups. 

I took pride in balancing my favorite game boxes into eye-catching displays, and people often asked to buy items simply because they’d seen them in the window. Before social media took hold, there was a real sense of community—I just didn’t fully realise it at the time.

The store hosted competitions and time trials with games like Mario Kart: Double Dash!! complete with a makshift car and wheel setup. 

They’d print and post the scores near the counter. In hindsight, I was part of an Australian version of retro gaming store culture—the kind of throwback content that tugs at nostalgia from multiple angles.

Though I never won any competitions, I loved participating. That said, I wasn’t without self-consciousness. 

A schoolmate once poked fun at me for being featured on the shop’s photo wall. Looking back, I wish I hadn’t been so insecure—I’d love to have that photo now, capturing my younger self beaming in a Mario Kart driving simulator. Oh, how times change.

And guess what? Jill was kind enough to send me the exact photo!

Another highlight was a Halo 2 competition in 2004, held in-store after hours. It was an epic time for gaming. 

I was absolutely destroyed in the first round, but what I took away was more meaningful than a physical prize—I learned how to set up system link gameplay, connecting multiple consoles and TVs.

That knowledge later helped me run my own tournament at my parents’ house. Some of that day is captured in old footage [HERE]

The night was unforgettable, despite my early elimination. Thanks to Mark, one of the regular staff members, I shook off the disappointment and enjoyed the event.

There was something special about being in the store after closing—one of those cosy summer nights where all we had to do was play games, talk about them, and be surrounded by them.

Off-topic—but one afternoon, my friend Sebastian and I were scootering down the hill to my house. His back wheel was worn from years of braking and grinding on concrete, making an engine-like sound at high speeds. 

I have a fond memory of him gliding up next to me, yelling in an English accent, "The engine’s failing, captain!" as his scooter wheel mimicked a V8 engine. 

During my time as an "employee" (though it was really a work experience role, and a lot of my earnings went straight back into the till), I was lucky enough to attend a corporate event for the Xbox 360 launch.

I didn’t fully grasp its significance at the time, but looking back, it was an incredible experience—an invitation to join Jill and Graham at the industry unveiling of the console.

I remember a bald man in a white Xbox polo presenting a PowerPoint on the display, availability, and launch games. Holding up an Xbox 360 disc, he joked, "It won’t be long before all you need to do is look at the thing and it will scratch."

This was the future of gaming, and I was thrilled to witness it.

As I was in the process of writing this piece, I was fortunate enough to reach out to the team at Gametraders via email, absolutely startled when I got a response from the CEO Mark Langford who remembered the launch of this exact store I was speaking about. He reflected on the event remarking: 

"I recall on the grand opening day at GT Malvern one of the customers dressed up as Lara Croft and was confronted in the street by the police because she had 2 fake guns"

Mark was able to help me reconnected directly with Jill, who was kind enough to send me those awesome photographs.

After Jill and Graham left the franchise in 2007, the store changed colors and evolved, keeping up with the modernization of the gaming industry.

However, that original store, as it was in the beginning, played a pivotal role in my gaming journey.

I’m proud to share this as part of Australia’s retro gaming history and am incredibly grateful to have been able to recount this moment in such detail—thanks to Jill and the photos you see here.

I hope my story brings a smile to fellow gamers from that era. I know writing it certainly made me smile.