I used to sneak into my uncle’s shed when I was a kid, he had a massive lead lined crate at the back.

Inside were all sixty three of the unspoken of Commodores, the ones before the 64, back before Jack Tramiel convinced the team to stop using a small piece of Stonehenge in each device and oh god, the photographs of the tests. I’ll never forget them. Just horrible what those machines did to people.

Even in their lead lined crates, you could feel them vibrating to themselves and listen to the sid chips faintly chanting.


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