Walking into that used electronics store in downtown Denver around 2011, I wasn’t looking for anything in particular. Just browsing while my daughter checked out some PSP games. Then I saw it sitting in a glass case like some kind of golden gaming artifact – a Nintendo 64 Pikachu Edition, complete with matching controller, priced at what seemed like way too much money for a console I could get in boring grey for half the price.
My daughter immediately started explaining why this thing was special, why it wasn’t just a regular N64 painted yellow, why I absolutely had to understand the cultural moment it represented. At the time I was still pretty new to this whole retro gaming thing, maybe a year into my late-blooming gaming education, and honestly didn’t get why anyone would pay extra for a console just because it was themed around a cartoon mouse that shoots lightning.
But she kept talking about Pokemon fever in the late 90s, about how this wasn’t just a console but a piece of pop culture history, about how the timing was perfect when it launched alongside Pokemon Stadium and all that Game Boy connectivity stuff. I mean, I’d heard of Pokemon – kind of hard to avoid if you had a kid in the 90s – but I’d completely missed the whole phenomenon while I was busy working construction and going through my first divorce.
The store owner let us take it out of the case to look at it properly. First thing you notice is that this isn’t some half-hearted paint job. The yellow is this bright, almost electric color that somehow manages to look fun without looking like a toy. The controller matches perfectly with these blue translucent bits that catch the light just right. When he plugged it in to show us it worked, the power LED glowed red and the damn thing made a little Pikachu sound. I’ll admit, that got my attention.
My daughter was practically vibrating with excitement, explaining how the red LED was supposed to represent Pikachu’s cheeks, how the voice samples weren’t just gimmicky but actually made the console feel alive somehow. She pulled up prices on her phone showing what these things were selling for online – way more than what this guy was asking, apparently because his had a small scuff on one corner that knocked the value down for serious collectors.
I ended up buying it. Not because I was some Pokemon fan or because I thought it was a good investment, but because my daughter was so enthusiastic about it and I was starting to understand that retro gaming wasn’t just about the games themselves but about the history and culture surrounding them. Plus, I figured if I was going to have an N64 in my collection, might as well have an interesting one.
Setting it up at home, I started to get what she’d been talking about. There’s something about hardware that breaks away from the standard corporate design language. Most consoles are black or grey or white, designed to blend into your entertainment center. This thing demands attention. It sits there on the shelf like a little yellow beacon saying “hey, remember when gaming companies took weird risks on stuff like this?”
The controller is honestly a work of art. I know the N64 controller gets mocked for that three-pronged design, but holding the Pikachu version with those blue translucent sections and yellow body, it feels substantial in a way that modern controllers don’t. Like it was built to last, which it has – thing still works perfectly after all these years.
What really impressed me as I learned more about it was the timing of its release. This came out in 1998 when Pokemon was at its absolute peak – the Game Boy games were massive, the TV show was everywhere, kids were trading cards like they were currency. Nintendo could have just slapped Pokemon stickers on a regular console and called it special, but they went all-out with the theming. Even details like how the power light changes color and those little Pikachu sound effects show they put actual thought into making this feel special.
I started playing Pokemon Stadium on it, which my daughter insisted was the authentic experience. Using the Transfer Pak to bring Pokemon up from the Game Boy games to battle on the TV screen felt pretty revolutionary for someone who’d never experienced it before. Having it happen on this yellow console that looked like it belonged in the Pokemon world made the whole thing feel more… I don’t know, ceremonial? Like you were conducting some kind of official Pokemon business rather than just playing a game.
The more I got into N64 collecting, the more I appreciated how bold this design was. Nintendo was riding high with the N64 in 1998 – Super Mario 64 had redefined 3D platformers, Mario Kart 64 was dominating multiplayer gaming, GoldenEye proved console shooters could work, Ocarina of Time was about to launch. They were confident enough to experiment with something this visually striking during one of their strongest console generations.
From a collector’s perspective, I can see why these things hold their value. Pokemon never really went away – if anything, it’s bigger now than it was in the 90s. Hardware tied to that franchise, especially from the peak years, feels like owning a piece of gaming history. The fact that many of these consoles were bought by kids and didn’t survive childhood in perfect condition makes clean examples even more valuable.
But beyond collecting value, there’s something appealing about hardware that celebrates a specific moment in gaming culture. The Pikachu N64 represents this perfect storm where Nintendo’s hardware design team was feeling creative, Pokemon was taking over the world, and console gaming was becoming mainstream entertainment. It’s a snapshot of late 90s optimism made physical.
I’ve since picked up several other special edition consoles from different generations, but the Pikachu N64 remains probably my favorite. Maybe it’s because it was one of the first pieces that made me understand how hardware design can be part of the gaming experience. Maybe it’s because my daughter’s enthusiasm for it helped bridge that gap between her childhood gaming experiences and my adult discovery of gaming history.
Playing through classic N64 games on this thing, I sometimes think about all the kids who saved up their allowances to get one of these back in 1998. How excited they must have been to have Pokemon hardware to go with their Pokemon games. How this bright yellow console probably sat in thousands of bedrooms next to Pokemon posters and piles of trading cards.
These days, walking past game stores and seeing Pikachu Edition N64s priced at ridiculous collector prices, I’m glad I grabbed mine when I did. But more than that, I’m glad my daughter pushed me to understand why it mattered. Sometimes the best gaming hardware isn’t just about specs and performance – it’s about capturing a moment when everything in gaming culture aligned to create something special. That little yellow console sitting in my game room is proof that Nintendo, at their best, understood that perfectly.
Timothy discovered retro gaming at forty and never looked back. A construction foreman by day and collector by night, he writes from a fresh, nostalgia-free angle—exploring classic games with adult curiosity, honest takes, and zero childhood bias.
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