I brought you in early 2006. I had worked hard to purchase you. I bought you alongside a great racing game, Project Gotham Racing 3. Together we won every race in single player, so we switched to multiplayer. We kept winning. Eventually, we dominated the leaderboards. Together, we reached the top 200 worldwide. I was proud of us.
I bought some other games. PGR3 was dying down. I got Forza 2 for us to enjoy. I put it in your drive, and it was marvellous. Again, we ruled the world. We even got to the 60th place worldwide on a specific track. This was around the time you got sick. I had to send you to the hospital. The people there where very nice to you, replaced your motherboard and your disc-drive. After a week, I got you back. You where working faster and more silent then ever.
After a few years of having the pleasure to play with you, I moved out of the house. It was time for me to study. I left you behind at my parents’ place. I didn’t have a TV in my new house, so I couldn’t play with you anymore. I did come home every weekend to power you up and kick some newbie ass.
But as I was living apart from you, I had to spend my money on other things. I couldn’t afford to buy you new games. Instead, I used every occasion I could to receive gifts we could both enjoy. It was after a year or so, I figured out a way to get you to my new house. I hooked you up to my PC-monitor, so we could enjoy playing games again. After a while, I even got a TV to hook you up.
We enjoyed our time together. At least, I was. I didn’t pay very much attention to you, but if someone wanted to challenge my football and/or racing skills, you where there for me to prove my skills. Together we slaughtered the opposition. It seems just yesterday that I destroyed my housemates on the track/pitch.
Now here you are. After six years of loyal service, you have three red blinking lights. I tried fixing you. I unplugged you, replugged you, and you came out of your coma for a little while. You froze up after two minutes. After restarting, you had the same damn lights blinking at me.
Goodbye, old friend.
R.I.P. february 2006 – february 2012