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Published July 19, 2013

He lay like a casualty from battle, stretched out on my bedroom floor. I sat staring at the madness in front of me knowing there was nothing I could do.

It hit me all at once. No more running home enthusiastically with a grin on my face, no more exciting adventures to immerse myself in and no more intrepid indoor exploration of my imagination.

Sadly, after eight years and thousands of hours together, my XBOX 360 has died. Suffering the similar fate of many, he had an epileptic seizure of fatal consequence also known as the ‘Red Rings of Death’. The familiar whirring sound that hung in the air was gone, leaving my room eerily silent.

In 2002 I had saved up enough pocket money through mowing the lawns and helping Dad at work to purchase the device of my dreams. $652.95 worth of enjoyment and journeys to take part in at my leisure… or at least before it was bedtime.

Schoolmates would beg and plead each recess and lunch to get an invite to my house, the house where anything and everything was possible. Want to drive a car down a sidewalk and run over prostitutes? We can do it. Feel like commanding Manchester United to an undefeated season in the Premier League? Oh, it can be done. Can we slam out perfect songs on a guitar and be the next Guns N Roses? I thought you would never ask.

Those days are now over, it is time to move on. He was still warm as I pressed the off button for the last time. Still unable to let go I placed him on the top shelf of my cupboard. Hopefully, one day, mankind will have the skills and tools to bring him back from the dead, and all of these adventures can be started all over again.

Even in death he is more useful than the Xbox One.


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