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.