It’s pretty surreal to consider that I’m a 42 year old construction foreman, and most people my age have these very vivid memories of getting their first handheld video game as a child. I received my first Game Boy at a garage sale in 2009 for $5. I purchased it on a whim after my daughter said “retro handhelds” and spent the next three hours trying to figure out why anyone wanted to play games on such a small, faintly lit screen.
The first Game Boy (an original grey brick model with a cracked battery cover and Tetris permanently stuck in the cartridge slot) introduced me to portable gaming as a 40-something man with no nostalgia for the product. The woman who sold it to me included a carrying case and about 6 other games that she claimed she “found in a box in the garage”. I paid the woman $5 expecting to sell it online for $20. However, I carried the Game Boy in my work truck for the next two years.
What no one will tell you about the first Game Boy is that it was built like a piece of construction equipment. I mean seriously durable. I dropped it off the tailgate of my pick-up truck onto concrete in the first week I owned it, and there wasn’t a scratch. It bounced. At the same time, I’ve seen modern smartphones break from falling off a couch cushion. Nintendo built the Game Boy to withstand use by humans, as I know firsthand from watching people destroy expensive equipment on construction sites.
The screen visibility issue that everyone complained about? Honestly, it wasn’t that big of a deal once you figured out the angles. It reminded me of reading blueprints in different light conditions – you adapt, find the sweet spot, develop ways of doing things. I’d sit in my truck during lunch breaks, positioning that small grey screen just so to get the right amount of light, totally absorbed in trying to beat my high score in Tetris. My crew thought I’d lost my mind, this 50-year-old foreman crouched over a children’s toy from the 1980s.
However, Tetris isn’t a children’s game. The Tetris puzzle is pure problem solving, spatial reasoning, planning, and handling randomness. It’s actually perfect for someone who has spent their career coordinating construction schedules and managing crews. The same cognitive skills are involved, but with falling blocks instead of building materials. I developed a level of competitiveness regarding my high scores, and I kept a little notebook in my glove compartment to track my best games.
The battery life was also interesting from a practical standpoint. Four AA batteries lasting anywhere from 15-30 hours depending on usage – that’s incredible efficiency for a processor and display-based device. Today’s tablets last about 8 hours of light use. The Game Boy ran for days of casual use on a single set of batteries. From an engineering standpoint, Nintendo chose to prioritize functionality over flash, made design decisions that optimized the user experience given the physical constraints of the device. Good call.
After that first garage sale purchase, I began looking for other games to go along with the Game Boy. Partly due to curiosity about what else the system could do, and partly to see if there were other games that I might enjoy, I started shopping for other games. Super Mario Land was a revelation – they packed a full-fledged Mario platformer onto a cartridge designed for a tiny display, complete with that distinct Mario feel despite the hardware limitations. The physics of Super Mario Land were different from the NES versions of Mario that I was studying at the time, they were more floaty, but they were definitely Mario. Having that experience in something the size of a large paperback book was like magic.
Metroid II was where things really took off for me. Metroid II created an atmosphere that I didn’t think was possible on such limited hardware. Isolation, alien landscape, exploration – it was all done perfectly on a handheld device. Playing Metroid II alone, typically late at night after working long hours, added to the sense of isolation and loneliness on the alien planet. The black & white display actually contributed to the overall atmosphere, it wasn’t a hindrance.
Link’s Awakening was the game that showed me why people became so attached to their Game Boys. Link’s Awakening contained a full Zelda adventure including dungeons, story, memorable characters and fit inside something I could carry in my jacket pocket. The dreamlike quality of the story complemented the intimate, personal nature of handheld gaming. This wasn’t something you played on a large TV with friends watching, it was your own private adventure, you and the game.
I became interested in the technical accomplishments of the developers on this hardware. How four channel audio could produce such recognizable, memorable tunes. How tiny sprite images could express such character and emotion despite being only about 16 pixels tall. How developers could create levels that worked within the limited screen space of the Game Boy without appearing crowded. All of these were significant constraints that encouraged creative solutions.
I was surprised at the number of adults my age who remembered having a Game Boy as kids. I started bringing my Game Boy to job sites and we would talk about games during breaks, share memories, argue about high scores. Our electrician still had his entire childhood collection of Game Boys in his basement. Our painter never had one but he was intrigued enough to let me show him mine. Now I was giving impromptu Game Boy demos to the entire construction crew.
I discovered the link cable feature through a series of retro gaming websites. I ordered one off eBay and convinced my daughter to dig up her old Game Boy Color. We spent hours playing head-to-head Tetris, something I never would have experienced as a kid since I didn’t have access to this type of thing back then. She killed me every time, but the experience of competing in portable gaming was new to me. It was a great bonding experience with my adult daughter over 20-year-old technology.
Apparently the accessory market for the Game Boy was huge back in the day. I started collecting some of the accessories – screen magnifiers, worm lights, carrying cases, even a steering wheel for racing games. Most of the accessories were purely functional, they addressed real issues with the base hardware. The magnifier really helped reduce eye strain. The light allowed us to play at night. They were not novelty items, they solved real problems.
Pokémon was a whole different ball game when you’re experiencing it as an adult. I picked up Pokémon Red at a flea market around 2010, mostly just to understand the hype. The addictive nature of collecting, the strategy hidden beneath a fun and colorful interface, and the way Pokémon utilized the Game Boy’s connectivity – it was genius. I ended up buying Pokémon Blue as well just to experience the trading element, even though I had to trade between my two different systems myself.
Battery management became a legitimate skillset. I learned which battery brands lasted longer (Duracell), how to recognize the signs of dying batteries, and the importance of always having spare batteries in the truck. When the low battery light came on, you had probably 5 minutes left before you went dead – stressful. Newer smartphones with battery percentage indicators and slow degradation don’t prepare you for the instant cut-off when the alkaline batteries finally expire.
Comparing Game Boy to its competitors, Game Gear, provided an interesting comparison without the influence of nostalgia. Game Gear had objectively superior graphics and sound, full color, backlit screen. However, it ate batteries like crazy, was much larger than the Game Boy and therefore harder to carry in most pockets, and the game selection wasn’t as strong. Nintendo’s decision to optimize for efficient design and gameplay rather than raw technical specifications ultimately proved correct.
The durability of the Game Boy continued to impress me. My garage sale Game Boy survived two years of bouncing around in work trucks, getting dirty on construction sites, and the occasional drop or impact. While the screen did develop some minor scratches, it still functioned perfectly. Compare that to modern smartphones that require protective cases and screen protectors to simply survive normal use. Something to appreciate about technology that is built to last rather than be replaced every few years.
Eventually, I upgraded to a Game Boy Color. As it turns out, the backward compatibility was seamless. All of my original games worked fine, many of them with additional color options. However, I found myself going back to my original grey brick more often than not, out of sheer habit. It felt right, it felt substantial, it felt like it was meant to be held in your hand.
While the Game Boy Color was technically superior, it lacked the iconic feel of the original. Sometimes the original is able to capture that lightning in a bottle that improved versions cannot.
What I found fascinating about the Game Boy experience was its lack of distractions. No internet connection, no software updates, no additional costs after you purchased the game. You inserted a cartridge, turned it on, and played until the batteries died or you got bored. Simple. Uncluttered. Meditative.
Even now, I still bring out my Game Boy from time to time, especially when I am in a place that doesn’t have decent cellular coverage. Airports, waiting rooms, long lunch breaks at remote job sites. Those simple games still entertain, still work, and still demonstrate the value of creating a game that does one thing well. Not a bad record for a technology that is older than many of my co-workers.
The Game Boy taught me that portable gaming is not simply a smaller version of console gaming – it has its own unique strengths and design challenges. Nintendo understood this instinctively and designed something that thrived in its limitations, rather than attempting to shove console gaming into a handheld format. Sometimes the best answers come from accepting the constraints rather than fighting them. Pretty good lesson from a little grey brick I bought for five bucks at a garage sale.
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