I used an Arduboy to propose to my wife.
I mean, it was always going to happen, but how?
We had grown close over the previous five years, and it was time. There had been countless conversations, many realizations about how we are alike, and plenty of discoveries about how we differ.
One thing that was always a fun story was how my wife-to-be, who is definitely not a technology person, had taken a programming class years ago. (I used to teach game programming.) She loved the teacher and learned a lot about programming, even though she's much more of an AP English kind of gal.
Over the years, I heard plenty of stories about that class and learning BASIC. One story in particular always stuck with me: she had tried to make a game called Fat Freddy's Run. She talked about animating sprites, figuring things out, and how much work it all was.
That was the inspiration for the proposal.
I wanted to do something that was uniquely her. Something that showed her I had listened.
So I decided to make a game.
But it couldn't be just any game. How awkward would it be to shuffle her into my office, sit her down at a desk, and have her click around in Windows?
Nooo.
It had to be more spontaneous. More detached from a computer.
Thankfully, the solution already existed: the Arduboy.
I could make a game for it. Nothing that was going to earn IGN's Game of the Year award, but that wasn't the point. The point was that I could make a game with graphics and gameplay, centered around collecting icons that spelled out "Will You Marry Me?"
It was self-contained. No PC. No complicated setup. Just an intuitive little Game Boy-like device.
She played it, smiling, because she always enjoyed seeing the things I created. But she seemed more focused on the game than the... message.
Maybe the icons were too far apart. I don't know.
She was having fun seeing her long-ago high school creation brought to life.
So I told her, "Play it one more time. Give it another go."
I reset the Arduboy and handed it back to her.
This time she played with a little more intention. A little more attention.
The smile got wider and wider.
Then came the tears.
Then the hug.
Then the yes.
She played through the game, collected the "Will You Marry Me?" icons, and reached the simple win screen—which, ironically, only let you say yes. It didn't let you click off and say no.
It's a feature, not a bug.
So that's how I used an Arduboy to propose to my wife.
She loved it so much that she kept my Arduboy. She took it and put it into a shadow box, with the game code forever living on it.
Meanwhile, I missed game programming on fun little hardware, so I ended up buying myself a newer FX model and kept tinkering with that.
The original Arduboy is still in the shadow box today, exactly where she put it.
I'm glad she said yes.
Six years later, we're still going strong.
And my God... the Arduboy has been around for a decade now?!
Pretty amazing that this tiny little device ended up being part of one of the biggest moments of my life.