By now you've probably noticed that things aren't working out so well between us. I've been very supportive of you, financially and emotionally, but you're just not returning the favor. The PS3, for example. How horrible of you to demand that much money, when I am a poor college kid who must also pay gas, tuition, food, etc. You know I can't pay $600, or even $400, and there's no way I can pay 80-100 dollars for one game. And where is the PS3, anyway? For all of how much its supposed to kick ass I'm seeing damn little demonstration of ass-kicking. I could forgive you if you just wanted the best technology to run your games, but that's not all. There's also the 2 PS1s and 4 PS2s that I've gotten over the past several years because you can't seem to make stuff that doesn't break. That's 6 consoles in 7 years. Or, over $1500 worth of broken PlayStations. Not to mention a solid month of my time wasted over this summer while the Vaio you made was in the shop. I can understand maybe one physically defective hard drive, but two? In two months? Even then I could have forgiven you, because everybody makes mistakes. But then, last night, I discovered the pictures of the "Pink PS2" you're so secretly proud of on my computer.
I knew after I found these that I had to leave. You say it will bring in more women gamers. You say its new, flirtatious, and fun. I say that you have no concept of me or what I want to play, and I am done with putting up with your arrogance and your stereotype of women. I am taking the games. They deserve a better console than you. It's taken me six long years to realize it, but you are abusive and neglectful, and I am leaving you for someone better.
Things didn't used to be like this. You remember the PS1, right? I was 11 and you were 52. All of those hours we spent downstairs playing Monopoly, Chrono Chross, and so many others...there was nothing we couldn't do together. In the beginning everything was perfect; you had great games, I had Christmas and birthdays. You had working technical support, and I had a working knowledge of technology. Yeah, you remember. I played my first adventure game with you. My first RPG. My first racing game, my first strategy game...the list goes on. But then things started to change. The PS1 stopped working. In a panic I rushed to my parents, who in turn rushed to the store, who were in their turn told that this was a common defect, but we'd have to send it off to you to get it fixed or buy a new one. I had so much faith in you that I bought a new one right there on the spot, because I knew that this was just a fluke and there was no way you would ever fail me again, right?
Well, I was wrong.
We coasted for a couple years after that. I honed my skills playing progressively more difficult games while you were fighting the rest of the world for dominance in the gaming sphere. You won, of course. You never did tell me what happened that night when you came home all torn up and dirty. I had to read for myself in the newspaper the next day that the Dreamcast and Sega were dead. Then the PS2 came out. I got one for Christmas and spent about 8 months happily whiling away the hours before the laser eye within it went blind. I was devastated. How could you do this to me again? I picked myself up off the ground and bought a new one, which within a year also died. I was angry and bitter, but I still wanted to believe that you cared for me, so I bought a third one with my own money. That one died in March. I'm now on my fourth PS2, with no plans to buy any new ones.
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