Why crippling social phobias and importing don’t mix.

So, I’ve got a DS Lite. A navy blue one, in fact. I’ve had it for a while now, because a friend of mine who was living over in Tokyo during the time of the Japanese release was kind enough to post it to me, and also because I’m pathetic enough to hand over £150 for his services. Trouble is, the accuracy of the touch-screen has been way off for quite some time. I tried Nintendo’s wonderful suggestion that I clean the edges of a screen with a toothbrush, but after about a dozen attempts, it became clear that it wasn’t working.

Inbetween bouts of crying, I thought about what I could do next. Normally, making a warranty claim is the obvious way forward – but even if this wasn’t over a year old, it’s Japanese. And I’m not posting it back to Japan just to get it fixed. I suppose I could just buy a new DS, couldn’t I? Those new red and black ones look excellent. But then I don’t really have £100 to spaff on something I already have. Asking around on forums, it seems the best plan of action is to just ask Nintendo’s UK customer service guys to take a look at it. Apparently the going rate for a touch-screen repair can be anywhere from 25 quid to nothing, if you catch a call-centre worker on a good day.

But here’s the thing – I am terrified of using the phone. Not with people I know, obviously – but phoning customer service centres? Forget it, man. No way. Not unless I’m drunk – and I haven’t been drunk since I went to a Christian band night at the age of 14. Imagine the things I’d have got straightened out back then if I’d known! I wouldn’t have this court summons from the local council, for a start. Anyway, the point is that I will do anything to avoid using the phone. Including attempting to repair my own DS.

Let’s get one thing straight here – you’ve probably seen blog comments, forum posts or product reviews written by average gamers like yourself, who assured you that it’s really easy to open up a DS and have a poke around, whether you’re replacing a component, fitting a new case, or whatever. But listen here: every one of those people is going straight to Hell for their awful, awful lies. Now, I’m not a total moron – I did Electronics in high school, I can use a soldering iron, and I’ve done some very basic repairs in the past. One time, I even successfully wired up a plug. But none of this prepared me for the horror of opening the DS.

I followed a guide I found on the internet, obviously. I’d already purchased a replacement touch-screen for a tenner, which I thought was pretty reasonable, but was probably a total rip-off. I took all the screws out of the back of the DS, and carefully prised off the bottom of the casing. “Oh, wait, what’s this?”, I said, and began reading the guide aloud: “Don’t let the springs on the shoulder but–” *PING*

“Ow!”

Contrary to popular belief, ladies and gents, the DS Lite’s shoulder buttons are a pair of fucking death-traps that will tear up the tips of your fingers at the slightest provocation. Kind of like wasps. Only buttons. And then all the important pieces fall on the floor, and you have to scramble around forever trying to find them, because despite just being a few tiny pieces of metal, they are completely irreplacable. So once they’re off, you unscrew the circuitboard and slowly pull it around, so you can see the side with the screens on it. First, you have to unplug the tiny ribbon cables from the board. This involves using the smallest screwdriver you own to flip a little lock no wider than maybe two or the milimeters, then teasing the cable out. Now, the guide told me, I just had to separate the screens from one another, as the touch-panel and the LCD display are, obviously, two different layers. But these things don’t just sit snugly together – they’re glued. Cue the terrifying ordeal of tearing the screens apart, and trying desperately not to damage the LCD in the process.

Then there was the process of reversing everything I’ve just done, sticking the new screen in, making sure it’s aligned properly, re-inserting the ribbon cables, trying not to pull apart the strand of spider-silk that passes for an audio cable inside the DS, and fitting everything back together. Completing the entire process earned me the following trophies:

- A fully-functioning DS
- MY FIRST EVER MIGRAINE

Seriously, guys. Don’t believe the hype. Phone Nintendo, and pay whatever they say you have to. Buy a new DS if you must. Just, for God’s sake, don’t try opening up the one you already have.