There is an intimacy to exclusivity. Unlike cloud saves on distant servers, that PSP file felt like a private ledger; it lived inside your machine, accessible only to you or anyone you trusted with the device. It contained the evidence of experiments: a beloved wrestler turned heel, a stable formed and then betrayed in single save-slot audacity. It held the cul-de-sacs of abandoned storylines and the glittering arcs you polished into legendary runs. It was imperfect and idiosyncratic, full of aborted dreams and surprising, accidental triumphs.