Size is a funny old thing. We speak about it as an absolute, dividing the world and the objects that dwell upon its surface into three categories: small, medium and large. Relativity is often thrown out of the window altogether in favour of this Triforce of concrete definitions, with the S-M-L system employing the confounding trick of using itself as a reference point. If you decide to classify a planet as small, then you’re perfectly entitled to label the galaxy it inhabits as medium and the universe surrounding the whole mess as large. Problem is, as soon as you mark out the universe as a reference point for the concept of ‘large’, suddenly everything else is small. Very small. So small, in fact, that the word loses all meaning, the five letters appearing to tower gargantuan on the page, its form a mockery of its own definition.
In the ongoing battle for console supremacy, size is a powerful weapon. Nintendo and Sony know only too well the persuasive and lucrative power of the shrink ray. The handheld wars have been fought using words such as ‘slim’ and ‘lite’, with consoles now being marketed to us via terminology usually reserved for health foods. It seems that when sales start to flag the boffins gather round their creation, wrap a belt around its waist, tell it to take a deep breath and then pull until it vomits up a puddle of money. The PS2 was subject to such a makeover, as was the Nintendo DS. The PSP has been the victim of two separate pound-shedding interventions, with the PSP Go primed to steal the 2000 Series’ streamlined thunder.
In truth, I have remained fairly indifferent to the slimming trend that console manufacturers are currently engaged in. Sure, it’s nice that the technology is improving in such a way that we can cram the same volume of digital wizardry into a progressively tinier space, but I’ve never felt the urge to replace my stocky old PS2 with a skinnier model. When we’re talking about a functional, stationary object, one that sits on a unit beneath your television or stacked on the carpet with its console brethren, the promise of an extra three square inches of floor space is not enough to make me consider shelling out more cash to downsize. There are other benefits to the new, more svelte models: some offer increased functionality, others are less power hungry than their predecessors. Still, enticing though some of these adjustments may be, none have prompted me to eye my current model with disgust, kick her fat ass down the stairs and shack up with the new girl and her slightly more prominent cheekbones. Until now.
Statistically speaking the PS3 Slim trumps Sony’s original effort in every conceivable way. Thanks to a new 45nm Cell processor and complete reworking of the internal components the PS3 Slim is 33 percent smaller and 36 percent lighter than the PS3 Fat (I’m not being catty, that’s what people are actually calling it). It now boasts energy saving credentials, requiring only two thirds the power of the older unit. A 120GB hard drive comes as standard and Sony have adapted the casing to give the modding crowd easier access, allowing them to swap the drive out for a bigger one without voiding the warranty. The RRP has also been cut down to a trim £249.99, with some stockists listing it as low as £229.99 since launch.
Yet none of these improvements are the catalyst for my change of heart. The PS3 Slim is an attractive proposition by default; not because the new unit is beauty incarnate, but because the PS3 Fat is arguably the single most oversized, overweight and downright hideous console that has ever been put to market. Granted, the PS2 was no looker, but after years of dominance I assumed that Sony would have invested serious man-hours and a substantial quantity of Yen to guarantee that their Third Way would be a super-sleek, super-sexy Microsoft-destroyer.
So it was with no small amount of horror that I unboxed the most cutting-edge console available to humankind, only to discover that I had purchased what appeared to be a 10-ton PS2 unit with a glossy paint job and George Foreman Grill glued to the top. To this day I have never heard one person argue that it was a handsome machine, never encountered a single soul who didn’t try to hide theirs in a corner or stash it behind the cable box in shame.
As with the S-M-L system, assessing an upgrade or improvement is only possible when you have a point of reference. It is this reference point that makes the PS3 Slim such a desirable upgrade for existing owners, more so than any console reinvention to date. The lesson to be learned from all this? If you want to pique interest in your new model and increase sales 1000 percent in a single week, just make sure that the old model is a dust-seducing, surface-obstructing, electricity-guzzling, sandwich toaster-looking abomination.
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