I met a gamer from an antique land, Who said–"One vast and gameless storefront of games” Stands in the hard drive….Near it, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its animator well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on the front page these words appear: My name is Newell, King of Kings; Look on my Steam, ye mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal store, boundless and bare, The lone and level sales stretch far away.