It's always a strange form of communion with gamers, the old save files. One could say that on a metaphorical level, it's like passing off the quest, much like a dying/failing hero would bequeath his mission to another before passing away. Done in the right context (aka getting the game from a friend who has lost the manual), simply trying to acclimate yourself to the new settings and find out your immediate goals can be more daunting than simply starting over.

in this relational level, the scrap papers are humorously quite fitting as mysterious parchments to be contemplated during (and thus aid in) one's quest.

The idea of previous gamer imprints is an intriguing one. How many times have we, in years past, gone into arcades and watched the high score lists flicker through a cabinet's demo loop? In neighborhoods, the names might belong to older brothers, or gamers long since graduated and moved on in life. And in vacation sites, quite possibly the last great refuge of the arcade? Like a pilgrimage, untold numbers travel to this remote location and throw down their money for a moment's distraction, either from boredom or to connect with something familiar. Contemplated thoroughly enough, it reaches almost a level of spirituality, this shared experience. Like a rite of passage.

I surely do miss some of the trappings of gaming ages past.