Its finally happened.
Somewhere I knew this day would come; inevitable as death, taxes, and the senior citizen assisted living center I'll spend my final days in, my Xbox 360 has succumbed to the Red Ring of Death (RROD) after seven years of faithful service.
It happened while playing Blood Dragon and now that it's finally happened, I realize how much shelf life my 360 still had. Sure, I've had to repair it once and since then it sounds like two baby jet engines trying to hand-wash a feral cat, but it was still serviceable.
While playing Tomb Raider, I had to turn the volume on the television up just to mask the sound of the repaired disc-tray whirring away like an asthmatic VCR, but it still played games. I'm just now realizing what was left of my XBLA library is now gone. Castle Crashers, Mark of the Ninja, and, sadly, Blood Dragon are all gone.
I'm kind of a mess and probably shouldn't spend the night alone. The Kübler-Ross model of grieving limits the stages to a mere five emotional states.
I've come up with seven and expressed them the only way I know how: wrestling GIFs. I'm emotionally stunted and this is the spectrum I'm allowing myself to operate within.
RELATED: WWE 2K14 Answers the Burning Question: Who Would Win in a Fight Lil Wayne or Santa Claus?
confusion
Stage 1: Confusion
I sat there plugging and unplugging the power brick, like a punch-drunk MMA fighter who had just been informed that he's adopted. I couldn't wrap my head around the concept of my 360 simply refusing to turn on. After the tenth time of power cycling the console and receiving an 'E70' error code, the inexorable truth of what was happening was taking its route from my lizard brain out through my entire limbic system.
dread
Stage 2: Dread
My console hadn't been under warranty since Outkast released the Idlewild soundtrack, what was I going to do about this? Everyone knows of the RROD, but you never expect it to land so firmly in your lap. Would I be forced to turn to eBay? Should I head to one of the repair shops downtown that looked like a set for Blade Runner? What about my digital downloads?
denial
Stage 3: Denial
Nope, nope, nope, nope. This actually isn't happening. I'm a pretty handy, technically savvy individual. I can fix it. Fuck those red and green flashing lights. I'm going to turn to the Internet for help. Certainly some forum, somewhere can walk me through fixing this at home. Right?
anger
apology
Stage 5: Apology
I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to yell. I only yell because I care. You understand? I'm just going to unplug the whole console, leave it off for a day to "cool down" and we can put this whole ugly incident behind us. Let's just forget about the harsh words, I'll look for a repair kit or something online.
worry
Stage 6: Worry
Who the hell am I kidding? I can't afford an Xbox One. I'm certainly not skilled enough to fix this by myself. Will I be able to get the data off my hard drive? What's going to happen to my achievements? Who still repairs 360s in 2014? I've got dozens of games for this thing. I still have to play the last DLC for Bordelands 2...I'm fucked.
accept
Stage 7: Acceptance
It's over. We had a good run, you and I. All of the Halos, more hours playing GTA than I care to admit, and thousands of hours of my life have all gone to a better place. If there's some sort of digital singularity in the sky for systems that've passed, here's to hoping you're up there with my Dreamcast.
I'm surprisingly comfortable with the notion of going into credit card debt for the purchase of an Xbox One for Titanfall.
