I held onto a dream of designing my own pinball machine based on a theme of endless regret for far too long. I never acted on it, even when I had the means and opportunity. When you're in the middle of running a regional entertainment and novelty company you don't feel it. You don't feel anything. It's a whirring of rubber bladder tests and popcorn cart recall notices.

You know you have a team of scientists dedicated to pinball. You met them once, early on. You get their reports. The Envelope Factory-themed machine is selling poorly in the south. The pinballs themselves have a hollow center filled with dolphin blood. Affects the spin. But you never get an afternoon to sit down with them; a chance to really lay it out. They've got their flipper algorithms and you've got joy buzzer patent disputes. Different worlds.

Chris Weagel

Chris Weagel writes about the intersection of technology and parenting for Wired Magazine. No he doesn't. He can't stand that shit.

View all posts

Add comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *