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I was 11, my dad was painting mine and my brother's room so I had to put all my things in the middle, then went to stay with my grandma. By this point I'd spent probably close to $500 total on Pokemon cards. Anyway, I put my cards in a bin, and because I didn't want to get paint on them, covered it with a towel. My father, also had a towel to wipe paint if it was dripping, and threw it on top of my garbage. Apparently, he at some point confused the two and threw the wrong bin out. By the time I got back, it was past garbage pickup, and my huge collection of cards was gone forever. I had over 50 hollo cards, and every card was in plastic for protection. I still feel sad whenever I think about them.
For years, I refused to be downstairs alone due to the life-sized borg queen bust with glass eyes in the corner. Those stupid glass eyes followed me everywhere I went, I swear to god. That bust is in the loft now. I don't go in the loft anymore.
I was 12 years old when I first played Silent Hill. As many gamers would know, when an enemy is near, your radio goes static. So one night I'm playing alone in my living room and I accidentally sit on the remote for our stereo. The thing comes on with very loud static. I slept with the lights on for 5 months.
When I was about 8, me and my younger brother, who was 6 at the time, used to play Mario Party 2 on the N64 constantly. Every time I beat him he would get upset and cry. It ended up happening so much that my mum got involved and told me that I had to let him win otherwise she would take the game away. I'd rather play and lose then not play at all, so I was then forced to sit through weeks upon weeks of Mario Party 2 games with the sole purpose of failing every mini game. It sucked.
FFVII was the first game my sister got into and she took every minute she could and played it to the bone. She did everything, from leveling every character on the first disk to 99, getting every limit break, leveling every materia 3 times to max, and finding all the ultimate weapons she could in the first disk. Playing on one memory was not fun, especially since, out of memory, the save game screen always stayed on the last saved game. One day after finishing up my game, I was in a rush and just pressed X over and over until my game was saved. The next day, my sister came to me in tears of rage and yelled at me furiously for destroying her game with my own shitty one. I am 23 now, and she never let's me forget what I did.
In Doom 3, at the end of a couple levels you enter into an elevator after fighting through hordes of nightmarish monsters/demons. The sight of that automated door opening was the cue for my body to relax and buttcheeks to unclench for a few moments between the load times. However, the brilliant developers had hidden a monster inside of one of the elevators as I sat in my room at 3am having played for five hours straight. The sight of this roaring hellspawn invading what was supposed to be my sanctuary, caused me to literally flip backwards out of my computer chair, accompanied by what my awoken and terrified mother described as "the shrillest scream I've ever heard."