As we say goodbye to the Wii (figuratively of course, I'll be keeping and playing mine for years to come), I'll take the opportunity to tell another story of farewell to a beloved piece of personal Nintendo history. Gather 'round, kids.

Long before I was the insane hoarder of gaming merchandise and collector's edition memorabilia that I am, I was a typical kid who had little regard for the preservation of his belongings. Half of my old Ninja Turtles action figures were broken, had parts missing or hand-painted "improvements" where I'd tried to make the characters or accessories match the TV series more closely. 

I started to learn the value of looking after stuff when I got my first handheld console, an original Game Boy. My model was the clear-case design from the "Play it Loud" promotion, which came with a snazzy carry-case that held spare batteries and five games in their little plastic protector capsules. By the way, those little cartridge cases were cool, why don't DS or 3DS games come with them? But I digress.

My Game Boy was awesome. Until then I'd only ever owned an Atari 2600, which was stored in the living room and while technically mine, it was shared with my sister and my parents would often watch the games. This handheld was mine, my personal window into video games, and I treated it with respect. Every time I stopped playing, I would carefully pack it back into its case and stow the games in their corresponding slots, I didn't want anything to happen to my precious gaming device. Then one day, fate, as it often does, took a turn for the worst.

My parents were out and the phone rang, and in my rush to pause Wario Land, race to the kitchen and answer it, the Game Boy slipped out of my hand onto the linoleum floor. There was a brief heart-stopping moment followed by an almighty cracking sound and then a tinkling of plastic wrenched loose from its regular position. After awkwardly hurrying through the telephone call motions, I scooped up my Game Boy to inspect the damage. Fortunately, the screen plate had just popped off, and the rest of the console appeared to be perfectly intact! Man, those things were sturdy. My parents got home and my dad offered to help me superglue the screen back on. My relief was short-lived.

See, my dad has always been a rather hasty person, he lacks a kind of... shall we say, artistic precision. In his haste to get the job done and despite my voiced concern, he used industrial strength super-glue from his tradesman work. Turns out the glue was unsuitable for most plastics. This was the result:

A partially-melted screen with white burn marks. Ouch!

After the ensuing earful he received from my mum about it, it was decided that he owed me a new Game Boy. The original model was getting hard to find by this point as the Game Boy Color had just been released in Australia, and so I scored a handheld update out of the deal.

The purple "Game Boy" logo is almost worn off, too.

The clear case was such a cool design.

Despite the damage, the original model still worked and I still used it from time to time even though it was impossible to see all of the action. With the Game Boy Advance and the DS coming in subsequent years, it saw less and less use until one fateful day when I got it out for old time's sake and noticed that I'd forgotten to remove the batteries the previous time I'd stowed it away in my cupboard. Alas, one of the batteries had leaked in its old age, the final nail in the coffin.

Looks like he's come down with a case of the dreaded "Rusty Spring" virus.

Some day I may try to track down another clear Game Boy on eBay or something, I always liked the look of the black and green designs as well. Regardless, I'll always fondly remember my first piece of Nintendo hardware as I think of times gone by.
Rest in peace old buddy.

The legacy. What self-respecting game journalist doesn't keep a drawer full of handhelds?

Credit for the title pic goes to "Brandon" who uploaded the pic to Amazon some 4 years ago.