It was an epic journey getting home today. My ride had bailed because of work, so once again I was subject to the chaos that is public transit at rush hour. For a girl who spent many a college morning catnapping on the subway, that usually presents no problem, but this evening was different.

You see, I had a package waiting for me at the post office. The little receipt tucked safely in my bag said that I missed a delivery and had something mysterious to pick up. Too bad it wasn’t specific. Who was it from? Was it the Famicom Game Boy Micro I ordered on sale from Play-Asia, thanks to the all-knowing Rumas? It was 5 o’clock. There were two hours to get home, figure out directions and dive into a car before the place closed. Luckily, I arrived at the post office by 6:30 without sacrificing too many pedestrians, and traded the slip for my wares. The package was in my clutches. Amazon? It was not the coveted Game Boy Micro. But tomorrow’s another day!

From limited edition consoles and figurines to comic books and jewelry, the spectrum of gaming goods knows your weakness. My cave has become a sanctuary for a colony of plush holiday Pikachu and other collectibles, some obtained with the help of generous friends, others viciously won in bid-sniping battles for eBay supremacy. I’ve done a lot of hoarding as a gamer and blame it on being a pack rat, but I don’t think I’m alone on this train.

So here’s my problem: I know I’ll probably never play 40-hour classics like Banjo-Kazooie and Final Fantasy Legend III again, but like many collectors, you’d have to taze me before you can sneak off with my library of games. I wouldn’t know how to price the barely-touched SNES cart of Home Alone 2 that I got once upon a disappointing birthday, but it too has a place, serving time in a box under a pile of old console accessories, crushed for all eternity like so many childhood dreams. I have more N64s than I could possibly need. I like collecting video games and their swag. The thought of actually selling some makes me cringe — yes, the cash will help me get shiny imported goods, and the memories of long ago won’t suddenly disappear, but no! The collection must be complete. It craves and needs more, it is the precious.

I’ll be the first to admit that I am weak to temptation. What will I do with a stack of empty tin cases for games I don’t even care about? There are things we don’t need or even like, but at the moment of someone shouting “limited edition” or “free swag” we feel we want because they’re hard to find, so much so in fact that we’ll get them and hope there’s still space under the bed when that special someone comes over. These stickers, badges and demo discs will never see the light of day, but at least I can save on wrapping paper by using promo posters for World of Warcraft. I’ve gone through a total of four DSes, and still feel like I could use another as new editions hit the shelves. Granted, I only have two at the moment, but it’s easy to spot a problem when it starts to thin your wallet.

Still, for all the material goods mad trickery and online shopping has to offer, few have greater value in my collection than the battered, gray copy of The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time buried in the depths of my packing boxes, or the shiny Charizard that took months to hatch on a well-loved Pokémon Silver. The carts themselves aren’t worth much on the market, but the memories they hold are priceless. Would someone pay $500 for them? Only if they’re crazy, but I know I wouldn’t sell them for the world.

All that said, I also want one of these.

Now it’s your turn! What’s the pride of your game collection? Chime in.