THE GOLDEN AGE
In dimly lit rooms that smelled of popcorn and electricity, legends were born. Quarter by quarter, we fed machines our dreams. Each game was a universe, each cabinet a portal to somewhere extraordinary.
GHOSTS IN THE MACHINE
They had names—Pac-Man, Donkey Kong, Space Invaders. Simple sprites that became mythology. We memorized their patterns, learned their tells, and called them by name like old friends.
THE HIGH SCORE TABLE
Three letters. That's all you got to immortalize yourself. AAA. Your initials burned into phosphor, proof that you were here, that you mattered, that you conquered the machine—if only for a moment.