Miyoo Mini Plus 2026: 6,041 Games, No Master List, 7.5/10

Somewhere there is a person refreshing a product page, waiting for the definitive list of games that comes with a Miyoo Mini Plus. That person will wait forever. This is a review of the thing they are actually looking for — the stock library on the world's most talked-about $54 handheld — and of the reason the number in the headline is different every time you look.

The Search Term With No Answer

Type miyoo mini plus game list into a search bar and you are asking a question the manufacturer never agreed to answer. There is no official Miyoo Mini Plus game list, and the sooner you internalize that, the sooner the rest of this makes sense.

What you are actually asking

There is no boxed manifest, no support-page catalogue, no signed-off this unit ships with these titles document anywhere in Miyoo's orbit. What exists instead is a microSD card — 64GB or 128GB, usually — that a reseller flashed with somebody's ROM collection, and a product page that counted the files on that card and set the total in bold. The Miyoo Mini Plus is a genuinely very good little handheld. The "game list" is a marketing artifact bolted onto it after the fact.

This matters because the number is the entire sales pitch. Nobody buys a plastic slab the size of a credit card on the strength of its dual-core Cortex-A7; they buy it because a listing promised 10,000+ classic games and showed a grid of box art. The device is real, excellent, and cheap. The list is a moving target that changes depending on which storefront you read and how that storefront decided to count.

Why the number changes every time you look

Here is the tell. One retail page markets the 128GB card as 28,000 games and name-drops Xenogears, Yu-Gi-Oh! Forbidden Memories, Metal Slug 3 and Samurai Shodown II as headline examples. Another storefront for the same device advertises 6,041 games and organizes the library by platform, down to Game Boy Advance deep cuts like 007: Everything or Nothing and 007: NightFire. A third seller splits the difference at over 10,000 classic games and reaches for the safest possible crowd-pleasers — Super Mario Bros., Sonic the Hedgehog, Street Fighter II, Final Fantasy, Chrono Trigger, Tetris, Mario Kart, F-Zero. Same device. Same class of card. Three headline numbers that don't agree within a factor of four.

They don't agree because they aren't measuring the same thing, and none of them is measuring "games" in the sense you mean it. They are counting files. A single folder can hold Final Fantasy IX four times — a USA release, a PAL release, a revision, a translation patch — and a file-counter will happily call that four games. Multiply that across a dozen systems and you can reach any number you like, then round it up.

What this review is reviewing

So this is not a review of a fixed catalogue, because there isn't one. It is a review of the thing people actually mean when they type the query: the stock microSD library that ships on a Miyoo Mini Plus, what's really on it, what of it actually runs, what the counting sleight-of-hand conceals, and whether the whole proposition earns your money in 2026. The short version — a verdict I'll defend at length below — is that the hardware scores comfortably and the "game list" earns a permanent asterisk. The Machine counts the ghosts so you don't have to.

The Hardware Under the List

Before the list, the silicon, because the silicon is what decides which entries on that list are real games and which are decorative box art. Nothing in the marketing copy survives contact with the spec sheet, so let's start there.

SigmaStar SSD202D, and not a quad-core anything

The Miyoo Mini Plus runs a SigmaStar SSD202D: a dual-core ARM Cortex-A7 clocked at 1.2GHz, paired with a Mali-400 MP2 GPU and a frankly tiny 128MB of RAM. If a listing tells you this thing is quad-core, the listing is wrong — a mistake copied so often across storefronts that it has taken on the texture of fact. Adam Conway's XDA review states it plainly: a "Sigmastar SSD202D SoC with dual Arm Cortex A7 cores and 128MB of RAM," and adds the honest coda that it is "not going to be setting benchmark records ... but that's more than good enough for most retro titles."

That last clause is the whole hardware story in one line. This is not a powerful computer. It is an appropriately powerful computer for the eight-and-sixteen-bit era plus a careful step into the fifth generation, and it has the good manners not to pretend otherwise. 128MB of RAM is the wall that ends the conversation about Nintendo DS, PSP, Saturn and Dreamcast before it begins — no card image and no firmware can conjure memory the board does not have.

The screen is the story

The reason the Mini Plus outsold its price class is the panel. It's a 3.5-inch IPS display at 640×480 — a true 4:3 shape, which means Game Boy, NES, SNES and PlayStation output land on it without the letterboxing or ugly stretch that widescreen handhelds inflict on square-era games. At roughly 229 PPI it is, as PropelRC put it, "sharper than the original Nintendo 3DS," and at about 450 nits it is genuinely "playable outdoors." Retro Game Corps, reviewing the same panel lineage on the Mini v2, called it simply "crisp," and crisp is the correct word. Integer-scaled SNES on this screen is a small, quiet pleasure that costs less than a new controller.

None of that changes the game list. But it changes how the game list feels, and it's the reason a sub-$60 device gets discussed as though it were a luxury object. You are looking at a good screen. Almost everything that's wrong lives behind it, in the folders.

Battery, ports, and the things it doesn't have

Power comes from a 3000mAh cell (some units ship 3200mAh) charged over USB-C at a leisurely 5W — "slow 5W charging" is a fair XDA complaint. Real-world endurance is roughly 7.5 hours of Game Boy, 6–7 hours of SNES at medium brightness, and about 5 hours of PlayStation. If a listing promises 12 hours, add it to the pile of copied errors. There is Wi-Fi (b/g/n, enough for OnionUI's netplay and RetroAchievements) but no Bluetooth and, crucially, no video output of any kind — no HDMI, no dock, no TV mode. It weighs 165g in a 108×78×22mm plastic shell that, in Conway's words, "can make it feel cheap." The full details, including the parts of the spec that describe the list rather than the box, are below.

Attribute	Detail
Device	Miyoo Mini Plus (2023; still sold and imaged through 2026)
SoC	SigmaStar SSD202D — dual-core ARM Cortex-A7 @ 1.2GHz
GPU	Mali-400 MP2
RAM	128MB DDR3
Display	3.5in IPS, 640×480 (4:3), ~229 PPI, ~450 nits
Controls	D-pad, ABXY, shoulder buttons, Start/Select, function keys — no analog stick
Storage	microSD, seller-supplied (64GB / 128GB common)
Battery / life	3000mAh (some 3200) — ~7.5h GB / 6–7h SNES / ~5h PS1 (not 12h)
Charging	USB-C, ~5W
Wireless / video out	Wi-Fi b/g/n; no Bluetooth; no HDMI
Weight / size	165g; 108×78×22mm
Firmware	Miyoo stock; community OnionUI v4.3.1-1 stable / v4.4.0-beta (Jan 2026)
Platform coverage	GB/GBC, GBA, NES/FC, SNES, Mega Drive, Master System, Neo Geo, PS1 (+ light N64)
Library era span	~1983 (NES) to ~2004 (late GBA / PS1)
Save types	Battery SRAM, emulated memory card, RetroArch save states
License / provenance	Emulators legal (Sony v. Connectix); bulk ROMs generally not
Official game list?	None — reseller-counted ROM dumps only

Counting Ghosts: 6,041 vs 28,000 vs 10,000+

Three storefronts, three numbers, one card image behind all of them. This is the section where we take the marketing figures apart and see what's actually inside them.

GameCove's 6,041

Start with the most specific-sounding figure, because specificity is how a marketing number buys credibility. 6,041 is not a round number; it looks measured, audited, real. It is exactly the kind of figure that ends up in a headline and a URL slug and, eventually, in a hundred other listings that cribbed it. It comes from a card image organized by platform, and if you scroll its Game Boy / Game Boy Advance section you find Pokémon – Blue Version, Pokémon – Crystal Version, and — the moment the illusion cracks — an entry filed as "2025 – Frogger's Adventures – Temple of the Frog." Hold that "2025" in your mind. We come back to it, because it is the single most useful piece of evidence in this entire review.

RetroGameIntensity's 28,000

Now the maximalist claim. A 128GB card marketed at 28,000 games, headlined with genuine heavyweights — Xenogears, Yu-Gi-Oh! Forbidden Memories, Metal Slug 3, Samurai Shodown II. Every one of those is a real, excellent game. Xenogears is a 1998 Square PlayStation epic; Yu-Gi-Oh! Forbidden Memories is Konami's 1999 PS1 card-battler; Metal Slug 3 (SNK, 2000) and Samurai Shodown II (SNK, 1994) are Neo Geo pillars. But 28,000 is not four-and-a-half times more games than the 6,041 card. It is four-and-a-half times more files: more regions, more revisions, more translation patches, more arcade romsets where one cabinet fragments into a parent ROM and a dozen clone ROMs, more of the same handful of Neo Geo fighters in six territorial flavours. The bigger card is the same idea with the compression turned off.

What a dedupe actually leaves

Run a mental dedupe. Collapse the regional triplets. Delete the bad dumps and the overdumps. Fold the arcade clones back into their parents. Drop the bootleg demakes and the Mario romhacks masquerading as first-party releases. The four-figure and five-figure headline numbers both converge toward the same unremarkable truth: a few thousand distinct, actually-playable titles, most of them 8- and 16-bit, a solid PlayStation shelf on top, and a long tail of duplicates and noise you will never touch. That's not a scandal — it's most of retro gaming's greatest hits, and it's plenty. It's just not "28,000 games," and the gap between the claim and the reality is the reason this article exists.

Anatomy of a Dump

If you want proof that these libraries are copied wholesale rather than curated, you don't need to trust me. You can read the filenames. They confess.

The Geekbuying split lists

The clearest window into what these cards contain is a set of category-by-category ROM lists Geekbuying published back in May 2023 and that storefronts and guides are still recycling in 2026. There's a Famicom (FC) list, a Game Boy / Game Boy Advance list, a Mega Drive (MD) list — each just an alphabetical roll call of filenames. The FC page includes Akumajou Densetsu (the Japanese Castlevania III), Gradius II, Gun-Dec, the VRC7-powered Lagrange Point, and — a giveaway we'll dwell on — "Super Mario Bros. (25th Anniversary Edition)." The Mega Drive list opens with 688 Attack Sub, Aaahh!!! Real Monsters, The Addams Family, Aladdin, Alien Soldier, Alien Storm. Alphabetical, exhaustive, indiscriminate. This is what a dump looks like when you print it out.

Roms/MD/                       # Mega Drive — alphabetical = a raw dump
  688 Attack Sub (USA).md
  Aaahh!!! Real Monsters (USA).md
  Addams Family, The (USA).md
  Aladdin (USA).md
  Alien Soldier (Europe).md
  Alien Storm (World).md

Roms/GBA/
  2025 - Shikakui Atama wo Marukusuru Advance ... .gba
  2026 - Shikakui Atama wo Marukusuru Advance ... .gba   # "2025/2026" = catalogue numbers, not years
  Frogger's Adventures - Temple of the Frog.gba

When "2025" is not a year

Back to that "2025 – Frogger's Adventures" entry, and its siblings numbered 2026 and 2027. A casual reader sees "2025" and assumes a release year — or, worse, a brand-new game, which is impossible; the device predates it and couldn't run a modern title anyway. The truth is more mundane and far more revealing: those four-digit prefixes are catalogue numbers from a No-Intro-style romset, the sequence position of the file in a master list. Several of the entries around them belong to a Japanese edutainment series, Shikakui Atama wo Marukusuru Advance, whose volumes sit consecutively in that set. The "years" are line numbers. Nobody curated this. Somebody copied a numbered romset wholesale, and the numbering rode along.

Bootlegs, hacks, and the 25th Anniversary tell

"Super Mario Bros. (25th Anniversary Edition)" is the other kind of evidence. Nintendo never shipped a Famicom cartridge by that name; it's a fan hack, and its presence in a folder billed as a stock library tells you the folder was assembled from whatever was lying around, hacks and bootlegs included. The FC list also carries untranslated and fan-translated Japanese titles cheek-by-jowl with US releases — regions and translations mixed with no editorial hand at all. This is the honest anatomy of the "game list": not a catalogue, but a sediment. Which is fine, if you know that's what you bought. It becomes a problem only when a storefront prices the sediment like a curated shelf and calls the line numbers "28,000 games."

What Actually Runs

A file on the card is not the same as a game you can play. Here is the map that matters, drawn from Playhouse.io's emulation notes and corroborated by every serious hands-on review.

8-bit and 16-bit: the comfort zone

Strip the marketing and the Mini Plus's core competency is eight families of hardware: Game Boy / Game Boy Color, Game Boy Advance, NES/Famicom, SNES/Super Famicom, Mega Drive/Genesis, Master System, Neo Geo, and PlayStation. Everything from the first four generations runs at or near full speed, full stop. GBA — historically a stress test for weak chips — "run[s] flawlessly" in XDA's testing; Pixel-Swish's 2026 review, headlined "Ok, I get the hype now," ranks the GBA masterpiece The Minish Cap as the single best thing on the device. This tier is where the vast majority of that 6,041-or-28,000 file count lives, and it's where the Mini Plus is not merely adequate but genuinely lovely. If your idea of the "game list" is a wall of NES, Genesis and SNES boxes, the device delivers exactly that with zero caveats.

PlayStation: the ceiling that matters

The fifth generation is where "what runs" earns its nuance, and PlayStation is the ceiling worth caring about. Most PS1 games run well. The reliable set is a greatest-hits shelf: Final Fantasy VII, VIII and IX; Metal Gear Solid; Castlevania: Symphony of the Night; Tekken 3; Gran Turismo 1 and 2; Resident Evil 1 and 2. PropelRC flagged "minor slowdown in Gran Turismo 2" and little else of consequence. Conway's summary — "PlayStation 1 games are a treat to play anywhere" — is the right register. A 128MB dual-A7 handheld running Symphony of the Night at speed for five hours on a charge was science fiction two console generations ago; here it's the baseline expectation. The one ergonomic asterisk: no analog stick, which the d-pad papers over for most PS1 games but not for the ones built around dual-analog.

N64, DS, PSP: the wall

Then the wall. Nintendo 64 is light titles only — Super Mario 64 and Mario Kart 64 will run, near enough, but the more demanding cartridges land in the 70–85% range GBAtemp's testing describes, which is the polite way of saying "playable if you're forgiving, aggravating if you're not." Nintendo DS is technically present — OnionUI has carried a core since v4.3.0 — but it is out of any practical scope: one 3.5-inch screen for a two-screen console, no touch input, and a CPU that was never built for it. PSP is not viable. Dreamcast and Saturn aren't on the menu at all. If your dream game list is headlined by N64, DS or PSP, this is the wrong device, and no card image will change that. Buy more silicon: our Retroid Pocket roundup settles that whole tier in an afternoon.

The Crown Jewels: Five RPGs, Benchmarked

A game-list review is only as good as its best games. Forget the file count; here are five titles that alone justify the purchase, benchmarked as they actually behave on the Mini Plus — and what the manuals never tell you about saving them.

Game	System	Year	Publisher	On the Mini Plus	Save method
Chrono Trigger	SNES	1995	Square	Full speed, "perfect 60fps" (PropelRC)	Battery SRAM + save state
Final Fantasy VI	SNES	1994	Square	Full speed	Battery SRAM + save state
Xenogears	PS1	1998	Square	Runs; 2-disc, menu disc-swap	Memory card + save state
Castlevania: SotN	PS1	1997	Konami	Runs well	Memory card + save state
Final Fantasy IX	PS1	2000	Square	Runs; 4-disc	Memory card + save state

Chrono Trigger and the perfect 60fps

If one game justifies the whole enterprise, it's Chrono Trigger. Square's 1995 SNES masterpiece — the "Dream Team" of Hironobu Sakaguchi, Yuji Horii and Akira Toriyama, Yasunori Mitsuda's score with a hand from Nobuo Uematsu — runs, in PropelRC's words, at "perfect 60fps throughout my 12-hour playthrough." On a 640×480 4:3 panel with a competent d-pad, it is arguably a better portable Chrono Trigger than the DS port ever managed, because nothing is stretched and nothing is compromised. This is the platonic use case: a canonical 16-bit RPG rendered exactly right, in your pocket, for the price of a couple of new-release paperbacks.

Xenogears, and a note on Tetsuya Takahashi

Xenogears is the headline the 28,000-game listing waves around, and it deserves the billing — Square, 1998, PlayStation, directed by Tetsuya Takahashi before he left to found Monolith Soft the following year and, eventually, build the Xenoblade series. It runs on the Mini Plus; it is a two-disc game, so you will be swapping discs through the emulator's menu and leaning on memory-card saves. What it is not is a game the device "comes with" in any curated sense — it's one more file in a PlayStation folder, sitting alphabetically between whatever else the dump swept up. Worth playing. Worth understanding that its presence is an accident of collection, not a decision anyone made on your behalf.

Symphony of the Night, IGA, and the save that matters

Castlevania: Symphony of the Night (Konami, PlayStation, 1997) is the other crown jewel, and the one that best rewards a handheld. Directed by Toru Hagihara with Koji Igarashi — IGA — as assistant director, scored by Michiru Yamane, it invented half of what we now call "Metroidvania," and it runs well here. The thing to internalize before you start is saving: SotN and its PlayStation shelf-mates use emulated memory-card files, distinct from the SNES titles' battery SRAM, and both live alongside RetroArch's save states. Kurt Kalata's Hardcore Gaming 101 quite literally wrote the book on Castlevania, and it's the right companion for a Symphony playthrough. Get your save strategy straight and this is the best money you'll spend on a fourteen-year-old game.

Five Ways to Play

A library is a different object depending on who's holding the handheld. Here's how the Mini Plus "game list" plays across five real profiles — and where it quietly falls apart.

The casual and the completionist

The casual player is who this device was built for. Wake it from sleep with the game exactly where you left it, thumb through a save state, play twenty minutes of Chrono Trigger on the train, sleep it again. OnionUI's Game Switcher makes resuming a one-button affair; you never see a file system unless you go looking. For this person the "6,041 games" question is irrelevant — they will play nine of them, and nine is enough.

The completionist has a harder, better time. The RPG shelf alone — the two Final Fantasies above, Xenogears, Chrono Trigger, SotN — is 200-plus hours of first-tier content. The discipline this profile needs is save hygiene: learn the difference between an in-game memory-card save and an emulator save state, back up the card, and never trust a single slot on a four-disc game. The library rewards obsession; it just won't hold your hand while you indulge it.

The speedrunner and the co-op partner

The speedrunner should treat this as a practice toy, not a competition platform. Emulator input latency is real and variable, and save states are training wheels that no leaderboard will honour. It's a wonderful device for learning a route on the couch and a poor one for setting a time that counts. Know which activity you're doing.

The co-op partner gets the bluntest news in this review. There is no HDMI, no second controller port, no dock, no same-screen local multiplayer. The only genuine two-player path is OnionUI netplay over Wi-Fi — added in the v4.4.0-beta, including a GBA link mode between two units — which means both of you own a Mini Plus and both of you are staring at your own 3.5-inch screen. As a shared-couch machine, this thing is a single-player instrument. Plan accordingly.

The commuter

The commuter is the profile the hardware was tuned for: 165 grams, a shell that disappears into a jacket pocket, 5–7.5 hours of battery depending on system, and a 450-nit panel that stays legible on a sunny platform. Turn Wi-Fi off to stretch the cell, load a battery-friendly 8-bit or 16-bit game, and this is the best pocket console-emulator at its price. The "game list" is at its most honest here — you don't care that it's a dump; you care that Link's Awakening is on it and it fits in your coat.

Who Should Buy Into the List

Recommendations, not vibes. Six concrete cases, and which way each of them should go.

Buy it if…

You want a canonical 16-bit RPG in your pocket and nothing more complicated than that. Buy it. Chrono Trigger and Final Fantasy VI at full speed on a crisp 4:3 screen is the entire value proposition and it is fully delivered.

You want one small device that tops out at PlayStation. Buy it — but plan to wipe the seller's card and load your own, because the stock dump is a liability, not a feature. You want to tinker. Buy it: OnionUI is the real reason to own this hardware, and flashing it is a rite of passage. You want a beater you won't cry over. Buy it: it's plastic, it's cheap, and it's replaceable.

Skip it if…

Your must-play list is N64, DS or PSP. Skip it; the silicon can't. You want to play on a TV or with a friend on the same couch. Skip it; there's no video out and no local co-op. You want more headroom for the same category of experience, step up to a more powerful handheld — our Retroid Pocket 6 breakdown is where that conversation goes, and it clears Dreamcast and DS with room to spare.

The clean path: dump your own

You care about provenance. Buy the bare unit and build the card yourself. The most satisfying way to answer "what's my game list?" is to make it mean something — dump your own cartridges with a hardware reader (our Retrode cart-dumping walkthrough covers SNES and Genesis end to end), add homebrew, and fill the rest with a legitimately-distributed curated set. A card you assembled is worth more than a card someone counted, even if the file total is a tenth the size. If you'd rather run a full desktop-class front-end on other hardware, our Batocera install guide is the companion piece.

Pricing and Availability

What you pay, what you get for it, and why the most expensive-sounding card is the worst-value one on the shelf.

What you actually pay

The device itself is the constant; the card is the variable. A bare Mini Plus lands around $53.99 in the US and roughly £60–70 in the UK — PropelRC's verdict called it "unbeatable value" at "$53." Carded units on AliExpress run about $59.99 for 64GB and $69.99 for 128GB. The 10–16 dollar premium for a "128GB, 28,000 games" card is, functionally, the price of a blank microSD plus a stranger's dump. You can replicate it yourself for less and know exactly what's on it.

Configuration	Typical price	What you get	Notes
Bare device (no card)	~$53.99	Handheld only	The honest way to buy it
64GB carded	~$59.99	Device + "6,041–13,000" ROMs	Count is the seller's figure
128GB carded	~$69.99	Device + up to "28,000" ROMs	Same dump, bigger card
AliExpress bundle	$55–70	Varies by listing	Card image differs per seller
DIY legal card	cost of a blank SD	Your dumps + homebrew + curated set	The clean path

The card is the variable

Treat any bundled card as a temporary demo, not the product. PropelRC is explicit that the supplied cards are full of "low-quality ROMs" you should "replace immediately." The device is the asset; the card is packaging. Once you accept that, the pricing tiers collapse into a single sensible choice — buy the cheapest configuration that includes the handheld, then curate.

Peers at the same price

At $55–80 the Mini Plus competes with the Anbernic RG35XX family and a shelf of near-clones. The Miyoo wins on OnionUI polish, screen sharpness and pocketability; several rivals win on outright horsepower or add the HDMI-out the Miyoo lacks. None of them meaningfully changes the game-list problem, because they all ship the same class of reseller dump. Firmware, not silicon, is what separates the good ones in this bracket — and OnionUI is among the best firmware in the class.

The Law and the Lore

Two questions hang over every preloaded handheld: is it legal, and does it matter historically? The answers are more interesting than "piracy bad."

Connectix, and why the emulator is fine

The emulators are not the problem. United States courts settled that a quarter-century ago in Sony Computer Entertainment v. Connectix (9th Cir., 2000), where reverse-engineering a console's BIOS to build a compatible emulator was held to be fair use. RetroArch, the cores it runs, and OnionUI itself are entirely legitimate software. The Mini Plus is, at the hardware-and-firmware level, a completely lawful object. For hardware-accurate purists who want to sidestep emulation debates entirely, FPGA recreations are the other road — see our MiSTer Multisystem 2 review for what accuracy-first costs.

The ROMs are the problem

What is not settled is the pile of copyrighted ROMs a reseller loaded onto the card. Distributing and downloading commercial game images you don't own is straightforwardly infringing, and a "28,000 games" card is 28,000 tiny acts of it. That's the uncomfortable core of the "game list": the thing the listing is selling is the one part of the transaction that isn't legal. The device is clean. The catalogue is not.

Tiny Best Set and the curated answer

The lore rhymes with the law here. As the Digital Antiquarian argues in "Generation Nintendo," Nintendo built its empire by policing its own game list — the Seal of Quality, the lockout chip, an approvals regime that decided what a "real" NES game was. Forty years later the catalogue is curated instead by volunteers on hardware Nintendo never sanctioned, and the culture has an answer to the dump problem: hand-curated, cleanly-distributed collections. Tiny Best Set: GO! — archived here — is the standard reply, a compact, considered library that fits a Miyoo perfectly and skips the noise. Pair that with a few of your own cartridge dumps and a homebrew title or two, and you have a game list you can name every entry on. That's worth more than a five-digit file count. Hardcore Gaming 101's deep dives, like its Star Ocean feature — which calls the Game Boy Color's Star Ocean: Blue Sphere "one of the most technically impressive RPGs ever to grace the Game Boy Color" — are how you find the entries worth curating in the first place.

Pros, Cons, and the Verdict

The ledger, and the number at the bottom of it.

Pros

• A superb 3.5-inch 640×480 4:3 IPS panel — "crisp," ~450 nits, sharper than an original 3DS.
• Flawless 8-bit and 16-bit emulation, and a reliable PlayStation shelf up to SotN, MGS and Tekken 3.
• OnionUI: among the best firmware in the class, with save states, RetroAchievements, and netplay in the v4.4.0-beta.
• 165g, genuinely pocketable, 5–7.5 hours of battery, and a ~$54 bare price PropelRC called "unbeatable value."

Cons

• The "game list" is a reseller dump, not a catalogue — the 6,041 / 10,000+ / 28,000 figures count files, not games, and mix in bootlegs and hacks.
• 128MB of RAM caps it at PS1; N64 is light-titles-only and DS/PSP are out of practical scope.
• No HDMI, no Bluetooth, no analog stick, and slow 5W charging; a "plastic" build that "can make it feel cheap."
• The bundled ROMs are the one part of the purchase that isn't legal, and the stock card's dumps are worth wiping on day one.

The verdict: 7.5/10

The Miyoo Mini Plus is one of the best small things you can buy for retro gaming, and the "game list" that sells it is the least trustworthy thing about it. Both statements are true at once, and the score has to hold both. As hardware — screen, firmware, size, price — this is comfortably a 9. As the "6,041-game" or "28,000-game" proposition the listings actually advertise, it's a 6 wrapped in an asterisk: a raw dump priced like a curation, legally compromised, and padded with line numbers masquerading as release years. Split the difference honestly and you land at 7.5/10. Buy the device. Ignore the number. Build the list yourself, and it becomes the 9 it always could have been.