I’m not a woman though I hold many rings. I’m pretty round, not from this earth. I am also considered a giant. Who am I?

I left no breath, no sound, no cry, Yet linger still where eons lie. Not born of ink, yet shaped in lore, pressed deep beneath the rocky floor. No mind recalls the form I cast, Yet stone remembers what could not last.

I appear in a bet, but I am not a guarantee. You might see me in the yard.

released in nineteen-ninety, I was too expensive for most to procure. cartridges then cd, neither made it past obscure. arcade or home console, while Japanese in origin, my roots are all Greek.

I was Born in a factory, Close to a funnel. Water travels through me vertically, as if I’m a tunnel. I guess you could describe me as a tall circle. And I come in all colors. Yes, even purple.