A gamer's fourth Xbox 360 red-ringed, and a veritable who's-who of consoles turned out to pay their respects and show their anguish that so many are dying so young, and so senselessly.
Tiggerboy, who keeps a blog on the UK GameSpot, brought in all the hardware dignitaries to bid the 360 goodbye. You can see the 360 packaged in his foam coffin (aka the Peter Moore Catafalque), ready to to be ferried by the Boatman of the Dead Consoles (aka the UPS guy) on his way back to Microsoft, where his remains will become part of the circle of console life. There's a gallery of the proceedings on the jump, including an astonishing, last-minute appearance by a disowned relative that will leave you heaving up great sobs.
Master Chief, a lifelong friend, gave a moving eulogy. In the crowd: Venerable PSOne up front, leaning on his cane, pale and wan, feeling every day of his 14 years of age and wondering how it has come to pass that he is burying the children of his friends. And behind him, the grand statesman NES, his gaming days long gone and his service limited to ceremonial functions such as these.
Even R.O.B., gaming's great useless partner, like Andrew Ridgely or John Oates or Art Garfunkel, put aside his bitterness to come and pay his respects. Why, when I last heard of him, he was living in a Vermont cabin like J.D. Salinger, drinking heavily and refusing all requests for an interview. And in the back is the unmistakable PS3, dark and foreboding. Like World War I flying aces, there can still be honour and respect among blood enemies.
Then at the end, 360's biological dad Xbox showed up, only deepening the regret and sadness felt by everyone. Cast aside and virtually estranged for the better part of two years, reduced to living in basements on the kindness of others, Xbox still loves his son unconditionally, forgiving all of his design flaws.
In pace requiescat, Xbox 360. "The candle that burns twice as bright — or hot — burns only half as long."
The Funeral for my Xbox 360 [tiggerboy's Blog, Gamespot UK]