artful

An open letter to users of PlayStation Home.

I grew up in a time where home-based emulation of a Arcade Machine was a pipe dream. There was a man whose job it was to drive from Arcade to arcade configuring the videogame machines according to the dip-switches on the motherboards inside the cabinet.

The simplest games were complex labyrinths of transistors, switches, chips and tubes, and they were treated like major entertainment investments by the public venues that could afford them.

The games played at home were quadrichromatic facsimiles of the mighty arcade machines, but you’d only know this if you were one of the lucky few to own a video computer system.

And along came Lord Nintendo. And for a brief time there was parity between the arcade machines in the form of Saint Mario. And although that time of parity was short, it was mighty. It was Lord Nintendo who crafted the sword that first nicked the Arcade’s vitals. And from that wound, although their struggles would be mighty—and parity would be lost and gained 100 times over, the Arcades would founder.

I grew up in a time  where home-based emulation of an Arcade Machine was a pipe dream. We are now witnessing a time where those mighty machines of old are sold as throw-away electronics. Simple arcade sticks that plug and play into any television. There are now arcade machines emulated within the supercomputers that sit under our gigantic televisions. It is a golden time. These are halcyon days. Revel in them. Be amazed by them; they are yours to enjoy.

You dicks. 

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