Gotta Catch 'Em All.
In the year 2000 there was a 14 year old boy named Tristan Clyde. He was a British citizen living in Norway with his parents, 2 brothers, and his caretaker. Tristan was born with a cornucopia of maladies. His most obvious was he was born albino. His skin was a sick, chalky white. To look at him you might think his skin would leave something behind on your clothes if he touched them. His eyes were blood red with streaks of white around a pure black iris. One would almost believe he had no lips, the way the white tone of his flesh extended all the way into his mouth, almost all the way to the teeth.
His one redeeming feature was the shape of his face. He had a baby face, and the contours of his eyes and cheeks were a portrait of kindness and love. Which he did, he loved all things. Some a little too much.
Tristan's most invasive malady was severe Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Specifically in the form of collecting.
Tristan's parents were medical researchers and always did the most they possibly could for their son. Including spoiling him by spending vast amounts of money. Tristan collected and owned nearly every stamp ever produced by England, and had replicas of the ones he didn't have. Even a ridiculously expensive reproduction of the 'Ulster Avenger,' one of the only two "Penny Blacks" to ever be printed in orange.
Along with stamps he collected books and photographs. He collected rocks. He collected bugs. And in the year 2000, he was given an opportunity to 'Catch 'Em All'...
Tristan was 14 years old and not allowed to play video games, even television was a bad idea. He would become too focused, it occupied him too ferociously. It was bad enough to be forced to spend most of his time inside, let alone allow him to rot his already fragmented mind with addictive technology. Unfortunately, for Tristan's brothers, that rule applied to them too. To their great fortune, technology was changing, improving, and becoming mobile. It wasn't anyone else's great fortune however.
Tristan's oldest brother was the one who brought the Gameboy into the house. He would hide in his room playing it at night with headphones on. It was Tristan who first discovered this, because one night while using the washroom he noticed his brother's door was open, and was able to slip inside without being heard, due to the headphones. He would have stood there, watching the magnificent little screen all night, except his 24 hour caretaker noticed his extended absence, and retrieved him.
Tristan couldn't forget that flashing screen. The bright colors. But most of all, those words. The words that ran through his mind like a freight train, painfully loud and unstoppable. They ran through his mind so much it hurt...
...Gotta Catch 'Em All...
Tristan immediately began silently working on a plan to steal the Gameboy. And with an OCD mind, when you decide to do something, you do it, and quickly.
Tristan had no trouble at all getting one of the portable phones from the main living room of the house, and he found it quite easy to not be seen by his caretaker. The hard part was sounding like a girl. He planned to 'need' to use the washroom at night and as soon as he was inside, call the second line of the house and ask for his oldest brother, but in a girl's voice. His brother was 3 years older and nothing got his attention like a phone call from a girl.
To his surprise, it worked. And he barely changed his voice at all, being 14 was an advantage for him. He heard his brother run down the staircase. Tristan moved fast, he exited the bathroom after flushing the toilet and quickly retrieved the Gameboy and headphones. He managed to get it back into his room unnoticed. The beauty of the plan was that his brother would never have heard him open and close the bathroom door, and videogames being forbidden, he'd never rat himself out. Tristan had a 24 hour caretaker, so the blame was placed secretly on his other brother.
Tristan didn't sleep that night, he was too excited. Being a vigilant reader of the news, including the weather, he knew it was going to be overcast. It was going to be gloomy. It was going to be one of those days he was allowed outside.
As soon as he woke up he set his plan in action. Luckily it was Wednesday, his 'Free Day' where he was allowed to change his schedule and have more control over his routine. He immediately opted to go outside. He was granted permission to do so under the condition he brought a chaperone, as he was prone to distraction and could easily get lost. This was another seemingly convenient turn of fate. He demanded his brothers take him. He knew they would instantly start arguing about the Gameboy as soon as they were out of the house. Because of this they agreed, Tristan's older brother wanted his game back, and was waiting for the opportunity to bring it up.
They left the house and headed for the park, it was a short walk, but the moment they were behind the hedge that separated the driveway from the road the argument began. Tristan simply kept walking. Tristan had to wear a hood and glasses when he went outdoors, so nobody even noticed the headphones. Tristan walked until he couldn't hear his brothers' voices. He walked farther still. He walked until he felt a reassuring pattern of wood under his feet. The constant sound and frequency in the contact his foot made with the wood comforted him. He really had no idea where he was, for his mind's eye was too focused on playing the game, the chance to catch them all...
That was the last I heard of Tristan. You see, he had another compulsion, he wrote letters, to me. We became penpals when we were 7. He wrote me a letter every day. Compulsively, every day. 2,563 letters. He told me everything about himself, and I read it all. His last letter was in his jacket pocket. From what they could tell, he was malnourished before he died. The tips of his thumbs, once they located his arms, were open sores, one was showing bone. But it's hard to say whether that was caused by his excessive playing of the Gameboy, or if it was damage done when he was hit by the train. Either way, they never found the Gameboy. I'd explain the expression that Tristan had across his face when they found what was left of his body, but by that point, Tristan didn't have a face anymore...