Call it recombinant audio archaeology. Andy Hofle has recorded the noises of classic arcade games of the 1980’s from the available ROM emulations and then mixed and layered them into a stunning simulacrum of the experience of being in an arcade. He’s got background noise, coin changers, and even people talking. A current-day casino might come close, but you’d hear so much more in a casino: slots cha-chinging, recorded voices entreating you to play, and more realistic noises. An arcade in 1983, on the other hand, was all about synthetic bleeps, bloops, and blow-ups. And this is why I love it. The background radiation of my youth.

The Henry Ford cultural complex in Dearborn, Michigan hosts a children’s day where a life-sized version of Thomas the Tank Engine comes to visit. So do many places. But they also host a day for children suffering from autism and Asperger’s Syndrome. Turns out, Thomas the Tank Engine is a source of special fascination with these special kids. A report from 2000 explains why this might be. Some highlights:

• Children with autism are often attracted to objects arranged in lines (like cars on a train), as well as spinning objects and wheels.
• The unique stop-action photography of the videos allows the background and scenery to remain still, allowing for greater focus on the “big picture” with less distraction.
• Thomas and the other characters have friendly faces, often with exaggerated expressions. In the videos, the expressions are set for some time and are often accompanied by simple narration explaining the emotion (“Thomas was sad.”), allowing children to identify the feelings and expressions.

I’d wager that this is what makes Thomas appealing to all children, but the particular ways that Thomas “breaks through” to kids with ASD would be a fascinating subject for deeper study. For instance, what about linear (and cyclical) arrangements is so attractive? And are there implications outside of the ASD world? Does this tell us something about human cognition with regards to drama, storytelling, and visual composition?

Febreze, makers of perfumey aerosols that I associate with covering up the stench of cat urine, have a pretty interesting product on the market. ScentStories is their attempt at creating narrative through smell alone. The ScentStories gizmo lets you pop in discs that contains five odor zones, each of which is wafted to you in sequence every half hour. As far as riveting narrative goes you’ll probably want to stick to other media, as the ScentStories are basically meant to calm you and/or put you to sleep. “Wandering barefoot on the shore” (well, of course having your shoes off creates a different smell), “relaxing in the hammock,” (I’m visualizing Homer Simpson) “shades of vanilla,” (sounds like a painting — talk about synaesthesia!) and so on. I wonder if there’ll be third-party discs to explore the full spectrum of stink? “Trip to the farm,” “trying not to touch the sleeping guy next to me on the subway,” and “discovering you used the last diaper two hours ago” — these would be fascinating explorations of stinktales.

Still, I think this is an interesting idea. Certainly narrative can be embedded in anything, the arc of a musical composition, the flow of a buildling facade. But visiting the Febreze website you get the sense that they don’t believe they can actually pull it off. The site is drenched in ethereal, blissed-out visuals. Don’t know what a walk on the beach smells like? Well look here. This is what it smells like. And their model is clearly musical. The wafter mechanism looks like a CD-player and they’ve recruited Shania Twain to “compose” a disc of scents. I think if anything ScentStories are to traditional beginning-middle-end narrative what ambient music is to, say, sonata form. I’d have called them ScentScenes, I suppose. More like an odor tableau than a linear experience.

But then, I haven’t tried this. And I’m really tempted. I wonder if I could purchase and play a disc without knowing which story I had. To smell the next chapter and declare “why, yes, I am exploring a mountain trail!” without having previously encountered a visual or tagline to set the scene for me psychologically would be the true test.

See also: Sensory deprivation

I now own a camera phone.

Mainly I bought it for the relatively high-res cam (1.3 megapixel) and the EDGE network access. I like poaching WiFi nodes as much as the next guy, but too often I find myself away from a jack and not in a cloud. This should solve that.

More at Engadget.