The history of classic arcades, the video craze and the affects it had on a generation have barely been examined as far as I’m concerned. By consistently quoting what has already been written and looking no further a lot has been missed. Researchers and historians who think so sadly leave an entire area of subject matter undiscovered when they choose to continue to stop looking back over the past. I must also remind you that not everything “notable” in classic gaming has been discovered yet. The wear on objects or places records patterns of movement. Now, if anyone thinks for even a second that worn-through Roman stairs, 100-year old children’s trails and worn frets on a guitar have nothing to do with the worn sides of Pac-Man arcade cabs, I must correct you. the worn frets on a favorite guitar the finger-smoothed ivory keys on an old piano the “secret path” in the forest blazed by decades of children that’s been “a secret path” to other children for over 100 years.Īnd, of course, the front left-hand sides of all unrestored and original Pac-Man arcade cabinets that no one – until now– has thought to explain. The impressions of human desire are often left upon objects of their devotion or on the paths leading to where a sense of peace or pleasure can be found i.e. It’s merely enough to know that something stimulated human desire, whether born of thirst or longing, to make me acknowledge that something important happened there, over and over again. Everything, even educated guesses on the mysterious stairs, are merely supposition.īut whatever once laid beyond those stairs, whether beloved, a necessity or a fascination – the three main things humankind gravitates towards their entire lives- isn’t important, at least to me. But no one knows for sure and most likely never will. Another theory was that the stairs led to a brothel. The owner told me that the stairway once led to a fresh water spring before Vesuvius, in 79 AD, covered the area in ash. I’d seen stairs like it before in England and had heard about the ones in Arles, France, but these were much older by at least 2000 years. I saw it in the Fall of 1998 while on vacation in Italy. There’s a ruin of what some believe to be a pagan Roman church in the garden of a private residence, in a very small town just south of Rome, whose stone stairs leading to its alleged former altar are so completely worn through in the center that they resemble what a stick of butter looks like if you held a hot spoon to its center.
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