I often wonder what happens to data when it gets erased. Just where does it go? What happens to it? Does it "vanish" completely, or does it still exist somewhere, perhaps in the memory bank of the expanding universe?

My theory is this: everything that is erased has been recorded by time and, given enough technology to go backwards, we should be able to recover lost data (if we are able to travel backwards to the point before it was "permanently" erased, that is).

Quantum Mechanics Meet "Panks Mechanics"
Most of the data I have lost over the years resulted from poor handling of disks, hard drives, and outright stupidity. But one program, which is still dear to my heart, continues to haunt my own memory banks. I call such foibles "vanishing bits."

Some 10 years ago I created a fairly complex text adventure (one of my first large programs) on the Commodore 128 computer. I named it "WESTFRONT TO APSE." Much of this game has been lost to the ravages of time, but from what I do recall it was a most remarkable game. I was only able to recover a (much) earlier version of the game and recoded it from memory. Perhaps 50% of it ended up being "as it was." Perhaps not. But I still long for that original game, which was erased due to my use of the Save-With-Replace command in Commodore 2.6 DOS (common on the Commodore 1541 disk drive).

There are many stories behind the development of this game. First, there were the countless hours spent reading TSR Hobbies "Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Beginner Module 1" and the companion "Player's Handbook." Without these two books, Westfront would probably never have existed.

Second, there were ideas from popular myth and culture incorporated into the game play. I also attribute Westfront's existence to playing Magnetic Scrolls "The Pawn" during the Commodore's heyday. That game served as the basis for both the layout and structure of my humble text adventure.

Next, there were the self-beta testing sessions, mostly spent in frustration with squashing bug after bug after bug! This would consist of pressing the RUN/STOP and RESTORE keys repeatedly throughout a programming sessions. Eventually the keys wore down and I had to get my Commodore 128 repaired. Ugh!

Finally, I remember the humorous look on my cousin's face when he played the game for the first time:
Ryan: "Why can't I examine anything?"
Paul: "Oh, you just examine _objects_ in the game..."
Ryan: "Oh, okay...hey, what's the wine for?"
Paul: "You drink it"
Ryan: (drinks wine) "Okay, I'm now in Smurf Village. How the heck did _that_ happen?"
Paul: "Keep playing, it gets better..."

Another individual whom beta-tested my game was my other cousin, Tim McLaughlin. He had a fun time exploiting the bugs in the game to his advantage:
Tim: (issues a GO NORTH command) "Okay, I just moved north."
Paul: "You can use abbreviations, you know."
Tim: "Really? Coooollll."
Paul: "Try typing: GO NO instead of GO NORTH."
Tim: "Okay. Oh, neat! I like that feature! Can I pick up the tree?"
Paul: "No."
Tim: (issues a GET TREE command in the forest) "It says 'OK.'"
Paul: "Huh? Check your inventory."
Tim: (INVENTORY command reveals that he now has the TWO-HANDED SWORD) "What the heck?"
Paul: "Wait a minute!"

The development of the game progressed from a simple two-word parser (courtesy of an issue of COMPUTE!'s Gazette) to the remodeling from the initial C64 version and finally into the form described at the beginning of this article. In time, I managed to play a MUD online via telnet, and I then modeled the Village Shop after it (or at least I tried). This proved unremarkable, as there were several bugs in the Shop routine of the game.

I also discovered that the WIELD command tacked on a "(wielded)." Text string to the end of any item that the player attempted to wield. This led to a most frustrating error:

inventory
You are carrying:
    BACKPACK.
    LANTERN.
    TWO-HANDED SWORD (wielded).(wielded).

Despite the bugs in the game, Westfront had some redeeming play value in that it taught the end user patience. Sorely lacking in the game was thorough or even partially complete instructions. There was a nice introduction, to be sure, but the HELP command during game play displayed six terrible suggestions, among them: