I really don’t know how to put this. I’m sorry if I led you on, that wasn’t my intent. I-I just… I just don’t think we’re right for each other anymore. We had some good times I know but- hey don’t do that, it’s not your fault. Don’t cry Nintendo. I mean, we still have the memories right? There were some fantastic things we did together, do you remember that night back in 1990? It was pure magic.

Things started out great. Do you remember how we met? My mom brought you home from the store that day in 1986. I couldn’t have been happier. I know, I know. I was young and naïve. You were new and exciting, a whole new world of possibilities right in front of me. I didn’t know this, but you were already strangling the life out of the people that wanted to make games for you. You just squeezed and squeezed. Your sweetly cruel grip locked down third party developers. They were powerless to make games for other systems. You even made poor Konami open Ultra Games, just so they could deliver you Ninja Turtles and Metal Gear. It was wrong of them to trick you like that, but when you don’t allow game makers but 5 games a year, sometimes drastic steps have to be taken. Even with your veritable monopoly on my gaming experience, my love for you only grew. Late nights sharing you with friends, blowing into your spacious cavities, even your portable model I could take where I pleased only made my fervor for you stronger. I bought you accessories, despite your lack of software support for them. I loved every minute on my Power Pad, though I only had one of your five games for it. Asshole Dog didn’t giggle half as much as I did when shooting cans in Hogan’s Alley. Then, that raven shelled hussy called Genesis threatened to take me away forever.

Genesis was sleeker, more flashy, and did what, sadly, you Nintendidn’t. See, back in those days my affair with fighting games was raging. I needed Mortal Kombat and I needed it bad. You just couldn’t deliver what I needed. You had moved on from your dominatrix-like grip on the industry into something more akin to a soccer mom. Your new moral code railroaded me in a different direction. I didn’t want grey sweat, I wanted crimson blood and I wanted it by the gallon. You tried to entice me with vices I once loved, but again, your failure to support many of them did nothing to sway me. A friend of mine was seeing you at the time and showed me what you could do. You had some impressive offerings I will admit. Your mouse was downright sexy, but I can only slap flies so many times. Your bazooka… wow, what a marvel. Too bad you did almost nothing with it. You eventually wised up and let your hair back down, but I was already looking at other options out there.

I have to admit, you were strongly vying for my attention with your 64 bits of sex but in the end, I made the mistake and went with that Sony whore. I know, I know, I already said it was a mistake. You had Zelda and Mario but the novelty of a CD-Rom was just too much for me. Things went great for a while. Then loading times worsened. And I would see you at parties with friends, four of us sitting around you. I don’t know how many calloused palms you caused or the number of sleepless nights I spent trying to secure a briefcase with you, but I never had times like that with the grey disc spinner. I was trapped. I once tried to swap my Playstation for you, but to no avail, my friends all had death grips on your charms.

For a long time, you were absent in my life. After a while I went back to Sega. She was still fantastic after all these year, though she got ill and died very suddenly. Still mourning her loss I started see you in magazines, showing off that tight little cube and let me tell you, I was excited. When you hit stores, I eagerly scooped you into my arms. But something was different. I couldn’t lay my finger on it then but now I know. You started wanting more and more from me. You told me I needed link cables and broadband modems. You said I needed something to play your portable games on my TV. You told me Mario was fresh and new but that was a lie. You said Zelda was going to be epic, but those seas were lonely. You and I never really saw eye to eye again after that period of time. You hurt me, but you made it a slow burn. I didn’t realize until much later that I’d been taken advantage of. We drifted apart after that.

Some years later we were reunited by chance. I had heard you cleaned up your act. You had this new waggle about you. I was hooked like a child again. You promised me new and exciting ways to play with you. I imagined us fighting ninjas with a sword and dodging bullets in real-time. I saw us hitting golf balls into the sunset and driving go-carts around lush fields. Then you told me I could play all everything I’d loved as a child (for a nominal fee). I could enjoy all of those things and even experience things I’d missed while seeing Sony (all I needed was a new controller!). Then you took it all away. I still can’t play golf like real life. I can’t swordfight. You’ve really let yourself go too. I can’t look at your section in a store anymore and be excited at what I might find. All there is are dozens of titles of garbage. You’ll let anyone make shit for you now won’t you? And don’t even try and hide it anymore. I know you’re seeing other people. I know they love flailing around like a retard, but I don’t. I don’t like that Nintendo. Don’t keep promising me “new and exciting” around every turn. You keep saying “Just hang on a little longer, I still love you!” but you don’t. I know now. You don’t love me anymore. And as long as you keep letting these people take advantage of you for the sake of a quick buck, you’ll kill yourself, just like those other poor bastards did back in 1983. I wish I could say I didn’t want that to happen to you, but I just can’t care anymore Nintendo. Our on again off again relationship is over. I’ll look back and miss you, but you won’t even remember me in years to come. Good luck sweetheart.