Bits and pieces of your Gameboy's insides stick to your face, drool pooling around the plastic casing — and, to your horror, you see that the tip of your soldering iron has melted through the screen. You stick your tongue out, the insides of your mouth feeling swampy, the taste of resin all over your teeth. The portal, all your work!
"Shit, someone musta come in and fucked with my stuff," you say to yourself. "Now I have to start all over."
The clock on your wall stopped running a long time ago.