The library of games was small, but that hardly mattered. Their identity wasn’t tied to gaming. No, they didn’t need the oafish Xbox that echoed through the trailer parks of Alabama, or the cheap yet common PS2, which became little more than a FIFA machine in countless third-world living rooms. No, the GameCube was something different. It was exclusive, refined, like them—a rare gem in a world of clutter. The games they played reflected the lavish, adventurous lives they led. Wind Waker took them back to the sun-drenched days of sailing across the Mediterranean in their private yacht. Super Mario Sunshine whisked them away to those tropical islands they visited on family vacations. And Luigi’s Mansion… that was the nostalgia of wandering the endless halls of their parents' sprawling estates, lost at night, with only their flashlight to guide them through the dark corridors.

But the GameCubers were careful not to get too caught up in their leisure. They understood that balance was key—gaming was just a brief escape, not a life to be lived. They knew the importance of being well-rounded, of pushing forward. So, they went on to the Ivy League, racked up prestigious awards like MacArthur and Fulbright fellowships, and continued their studies at the most elite medical, law, and business schools. Their future was set. They ascended to the highest ranks: Partners at venture capital firms, hedge funds, and law offices. Chairs at the finest hospitals. Engineering Directors at FAANG companies. CEOs of innovative startups.

If you ever walk into their office today—between diplomas, awards, and the rare, coveted collectibles on display—you’ll find a GameCube tucked away, never forgotten. It's not the centerpiece, but it’s there, a quiet reminder of where they came from. They don’t linger on the past, but they cherish what it represents: their roots, their legacy. They were the few, the elite — The GameCubers.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5691252&forum_id=2:#48729790)