There's nothing quite like the smell of a fresh videogame. Better than a new car. Better than a sweet-smelling girl. Better than a fragrant cake.
What is that smell? Is it merely glue and paper, some mass-produced industrial ink? Or is it something magical? Does it simply represent that feeling, the feeling of a new game in your hands as you race down the road, tearing off the plastic between stoplights?
The first thing that greets you when that folded cardboard comes undone, other than a mess of discs, is an instruction manual. Or it used to.