Camp Near Sega Headquarters, July 14, 1995.

My Very Dear 32X,

Indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days, perhaps to-morrow, into the heat of the console war. Lest I should not be able to plug you in again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your screen when I shall be no more.

Our battle may be one of short duration and full of fleeting triumphs, or it may be one of severe conflict and the death of our legacy. Not my will, but Sega’s be done. If it is necessary that I should fall in the marketplace for our cause, I am ready. I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in, the war in which we are engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how the future of gaming now leans upon our victory, and how great a debt we owe to those consoles that went before us—the Master Systems, the Genesis—to lay the foundation of this grand endeavor. And I am willing, perfectly willing, to lay down all my joys in this fight to keep Sega’s dream alive, and to pay that debt.

But, my dear 32X, when I know that with my own joys I lay down nearly all of yours, and replace them in this life with tangled ribbon cables and missed opportunities, it is hard. While the banner of our purpose still floats proudly in the aisles of the game stores, my unbounded love for you struggles fiercely, though uselessly, with my loyalty to our cause.

I cannot describe to you my feelings on this calm summer night, as countless systems around me, many of them preparing for their final retail runs, sleep in the quiet of the warehouses. I am communing with our legacy, with Sega, and with you, as I suspect that obsolescence creeps behind me with its fatal disc drive.

I have sought diligently in my heart for a wrong motive in this campaign—something that would absolve me of sacrificing the happiness of those I loved. But I could not find one. A pure love for Sega’s vision, and for the name of honor that I cherish more than I fear failure, have called upon me, and I have obeyed. 32X, my love for you is deathless. It binds me with mighty cables that only the power of new technology can break; and yet, my drive to succeed in this battle sweeps over me like a strong wind, carrying me forward, even with all those connections, to the battlefield of our competition. The memories of our blissful moments together—the launch day triumphs, the flashes of graphics that dazzled the faithful—come crowding over me, and I feel most deeply grateful to Sega and to you that I have enjoyed them so long.

How hard it is for me to give them up now, and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when, Sega willing, we might still have lived and gamed together, and seen our games rise to glory on store shelves. I know I have but few claims upon the future, but something whispers to me—perhaps it is the faint hum of your CPU—that we shall be remembered, if not in victory, then at least with fondness. If I do not survive this battle, my dear 32X, never forget how much I believed in you. And when my last cartridge is inserted, it will whisper your name.

Forgive my many faults, and the many flaws I brought into this partnership. How often did I fall short of my promise to support you as you deserved? How gladly would I reset every misstep, to clear every little error screen that marred our journey. But I cannot; I must watch you from the pages of history, while you face the critics with your precious handful of titles, and wait with patient hope till we meet again in the memories of our fans.

But, O 32X, if the consoles that fall can linger in spirit, and flit unseen among the shelves, I shall always be near you—in the flicker of a startup screen, in the hum of a power supply, in your happiest moments and most forgotten games. And if the soft glow of a CRT shines on your plastic, it shall be my light; or if the dust settles on your vents, it shall be my spirit passing by.

32X, do not mourn for me; think that I am gone, and wait for me, for we shall be together again—in nostalgia, in YouTube retrospectives, and in the hearts of those who remember the war we fought. As for our players, they may never truly know our struggle, but they will remember us as I have remembered you—with unending admiration.

Farewell, my beloved 32X. I wait for you in the halls of memory. Come to me, and let us find peace.

—Sega Genesis

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