"LORD of the silken bowstring," said Scheherazade, "I'm sick of telling stories. Let's play a computer game instead." And so the great Sultan plugged in his gold-plated Spectrum.
"Aha!" quoth the Sultan. "Tis a tale of the rogue Imrahil and his quest to rescue Anitra from the evil Saladin."
And so the mighty Sultan settled down and began to guide the pale, flickering Imrahil about the screen of his bejewelled Sony.
"See my lord," murmured Scheherazade, "here is the ship of Sinbad, full of gold. Each bag is marked with a letter, and the letters spell out the sigil ARABIAN. Collect the gold and enrich thyself with points beyond measure."
But the Sultan grew angry, for he found it most difficult to spell Arabian. There were three As in it, and which was which, and what was what, and why? Lives did he lose as the night progressed, jumping from deck to deck and mast to mast, avoiding the hazards of Sinbad's ship. And the couscous sat heavy on his bowels.
Then Scheherazade of the nimble wrist took the diamante joystick and showed her master how to negotiate the first screen, and then it was straight down the river by raft to the caverns of Al-Khemizd.
"More gold!" roared the Sultan, and straightway began collecting the bags again. Meanwhile Scheherazade tiptoed out to play much more exciting state-of-the-art stuff with her friends in the village, and was never called upon to serve the Sultan again.
Which teaches us, O children of the desert, that even the simplest of level and ladders games may provide a few hours of escape from the rigours of the harem.
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