Miyoo Mini Plus 2026: No Real Game List, 155 PS1, 7.5/10

There is no official Miyoo Mini Plus game list. There never was one, there is not one now, and — barring a fundamental change in how copyright works — there never will be. Miyoo, the company that solders the thing together in Shenzhen, does not ship a curated ROM set, does not publish a catalogue, and would be inviting a great deal of legal weather if it did. What the internet calls the Miyoo Mini Plus game list is a folder of other people's copyrights, alphabetised by a stranger, sold to you on a microSD card by a retailer who has never signed a licensing agreement with Nintendo, Square Enix, or Sony in their life.

So what, precisely, are we reviewing? Not a game. Not, strictly, a product. We are reviewing a curation: the community-assembled library that turns a $54 handheld into the closest thing this hobby has to a universal 8-to-32-bit machine. As of June 22, 2026, the most-cited version of that curation — passed around TikTok like a chain letter — advertises 155 PlayStation titles and 2,000 NES games on a single card. We are going to take that promise apart row by row, work out which of it the silicon can actually keep, flag the marquee entries filed under the wrong console, and then tell you whether the whole arrangement is worth your money and your conscience. Rating at the end, as always. For the impatient: it lands at 7.5/10, and half a point of that deduction is for things nobody selling these cards will say out loud.

The Official List That Isn't

The single most important fact about the Miyoo Mini Plus game list is that it does not have an author. It has thousands of them, most of whom have never met, and their collective work lives not in a document but in a directory tree. Understand that and the rest of this review is footnotes.

Who actually decides the library

The device ships with Miyoo's stock firmware, which almost nobody keeps for longer than an afternoon. The library is defined by whatever custom firmware you flash — overwhelmingly OnionOS, maintained by the community OnionUI project, and for the minimalists, Shaun Inman's MiniUI. Neither is made by Miyoo. Neither ships a fixed set of games. Onion's current line is the V4.3 stable series, with a V4.4.0-beta tag dated January 2026 that made gpSP the default Game Boy Advance core and — pay attention, this matters later — added netplay. If a 2026 "game list" video is still quoting a version string like 2.4.x, what it is really telling you is that its script was copy-pasted from 2023 and never re-checked. The list, in the end, is nothing grander than the contents of the Roms folders on the card: one subfolder per system, each stuffed by whoever built the image. Change the folders, change the list. There is no canonical version because there is no canon.

The 155-PS1, 2,000-NES arithmetic

Now the numbers, because the numbers are where the marketing lives. The June 22, 2026 TikTok build promises 155 PS1 titles and 2,000 NES games. Elsewhere the round figure you will see quoted is 6,041 total ROMs, a count that traces back to a retailer aggregation rather than any authoritative source — we pulled that particular thread apart in our companion piece on the 6,041-ROM GameCove build. Treat every one of these totals as advertising, not inventory. "2,000 NES games" is only true if you count every romhack, every Tengen duplicate, every unlicensed religious platformer and 150-in-1 pirate multicart. The NES library a human being actually wants is closer to 200 entries. The 155 PS1 figure is, ironically, the more honest one: PS1 discs are large, and 155 is roughly the number of translated, working, worth-having titles that fit alongside everything else before a 64GB card runs out of room.

pixel-swish, Gils Reviews, and the authority problem

Because there is no official list, a small economy of creators has grown up to sell you their list as if it were one. In June 2026 the TikTok reviewer Gils Reviews claimed to be the "only creator" who had documented every single game on the 64GB build — a claim that is unfalsifiable and, more to the point, unnecessary, because the games are just files you can read yourself. The site pixel-swish.com, meanwhile, has run genuinely useful Mini Plus coverage; its 2026 review, memorably headlined "Ok, I get the hype now," ranks The Legend of Zelda: The Minish Cap as the single best thing to play on the device. That is a defensible pick and we will not argue with it. What we will argue with is the framing — floated in some roundups — that pixel-swish is "a named source similar to Polygon or Ars Technica." It is a boutique enthusiast blog, and a good one, but it is not a newsroom with a masthead and a corrections policy. Read creator lists as opinion. They are excellent starting points and terrible authorities, and the distinction is the whole reason this review exists.

/mnt/SDCARD/
├── Roms/
│   ├── FC/     NES  — the "2,000", mostly hacks + dupes
│   ├── SFC/    SNES — Chrono Trigger, A Link to the Past
│   ├── GBA/    Minish Cap, Mario Kart: Super Circuit
│   ├── GBC/    Pokemon Gold/Silver  <-- filed HERE, not GBA
│   ├── PS/     PS1  — 155 discs (needs a BIOS, see below)
│   └── PICO/   Pico-8 .png carts, added by hand
└── BIOS/
    └── scph1001.bin   required for PS1 — "no config" is a myth

The Silicon Doing the Work

A game list is only as good as the chip forced to run it. Before we grade the library, here is the machine underneath it — and the first correction, because this session's research repeats a common myth about the processor.

SSD202D — the same chip as the original Mini

Here is the myth: the research floating around 2026 claims the Plus received "an upgraded processor that ensures full compatibility with 32-bit systems like PS1," as if the original Miyoo Mini couldn't manage Sony's console and the Plus fixed it. It didn't, because there was nothing to fix. Both the original Mini and the Mini Plus run the same SigmaStar SSD202D — a dual-core Cortex-A7 clocked at 1.2 GHz with a Mali-400 MP2 GPU and 128 MB of RAM. The original Mini played PS1 perfectly well. The Plus plays it identically, because it is literally the same silicon. Whatever you are paying the premium for, it is not compute. That 128 MB figure looks anaemic next to rivals quoting 256 MB, and yet the Mini Plus routinely embarrasses better-specced hardware — a paradox we unpacked in our Mini Plus versus RG35XX comparison, where less RAM and a tighter OS beat more of both.

The 3.5-inch 4:3 panel, and why VGA is the right call

The screen is a 3.5-inch IPS panel running 640 × 480 at a bright 450 nits. That resolution is not an accident and it is not cheapness; it is the correct engineering decision. Almost everything on this list — NES, SNES, Genesis, Game Boy Advance, PS1 — was authored for a 4:3 display, and 640 × 480 is a clean integer relationship to the internal resolutions those systems used. A trendier 16:9 panel would have meant black bars on every side or stretched, wrong-shaped sprites. The one honest trade-off versus the original 2.8-inch Mini is pixel density: the same VGA grid spread across a larger sheet of glass means slightly larger pixels. In practice, held at the roughly 30 centimetres a handheld sits from your face, you will not notice. What you will notice is that A Link to the Past looks exactly as square and exactly as sharp as it did in 1991.

What "Plus" actually added

If not the CPU, then what does the "Plus" buy you over the original Mini? Three concrete things: a 3,000 mAh battery good for roughly five hours of PS1 and seven-plus of Game Boy; a full complement of shoulder buttons, L1/L2 and R1/R2, which the original Mini's cramped frame never had room for; and, most consequentially, 2.4 GHz Wi-Fi. That radio is the single feature that reframes the entire library, because it enables box-art scraping, RetroAchievements, over-the-air firmware updates, and — as of the Onion 4.4.0 beta — netplay. It does not, whatever a listing tells you, make the chip faster. It makes the software around the chip smarter. As PropelRC noted in its review, moving to OnionOS "adds 3 hours of battery life, RetroAchievements support" over stock — a rare case of firmware buying you both endurance and features at once.

What the List Can and Can't Run

The list will happily contain a ROM for a system the hardware cannot run. A folder is not a promise of playability. Here is the honest map of what the SSD202D actually delivers, sorted by how much of the marketing survives contact with the silicon.

Flawless up to 16-bit and every handheld

Everything through the 16-bit generation runs at full speed with room to spare, and this is where the vast bulk of the list lives and earns its keep. NES, SNES, Game Boy, Game Boy Color, Game Boy Advance, Sega Genesis and Master System, PC Engine/TurboGrafx-16, Neo Geo Pocket, WonderSwan, and the arcade boards of the CPS1/CPS2 and Neo Geo era all emulate cleanly. PropelRC's shorthand for the flagship case — "Chrono Trigger (SNES): Perfect 60fps" — generalises to essentially the entire pre-32-bit catalogue. Pico-8, the fantasy console, is supported too; Onion added it as a first-class system in the 4.3.0 release, and you extend that corner of the library by dropping .png cartridges into the PICO folder yourself. If your interests stop at the Super Nintendo, the Mini Plus is not a compromise. It is close to ideal, and the list's 2,000-NES-and-thousands-of-SNES boast is, for this tier, essentially true (padding notwithstanding).

PS1 is the ceiling, not the upgrade

PlayStation is where the machine reaches its limit, and where the list gets optimistic. Most PS1 titles run well — the 2D and lighter 3D catalogue especially — but "well" comes with an asterisk the marketing omits: PS1 emulation requires a BIOS file (typically scph1001.bin) placed in the right folder. The claim that games like Diablo, Doom, and Duke Nukem play "without requiring additional configuration" is only true once someone has already done that configuration for you, which the grey-market card silently has. Heavier 3D can dip; PropelRC flags "minor slowdown in Gran Turismo 2," which is a fair representative of the failure mode — not a crash, just the frame rate softening under load. And a note on Doom specifically, because the list likes to headline it: on this hardware it usually runs as a PC source port fed a WAD, not the PS1 disc, and John Carmack's famous verdict still applies — "story in a game is like a story in a porn movie; it's expected to be there, but it's not that important." Nobody plays Doom on a Mini Plus for the plot. They play it because the SSD202D eats it alive.

Where the list quietly lies

Now the tier the list should not advertise and sometimes does. Nintendo 64 is not a practical target on the SSD202D — the odd tech-demo title aside, treat it as off the menu; community claims of "N64 near full speed" almost always trace back to a beefier handheld being tested, not this one. PSP is simply not viable, a point the GBAtemp community has made exhaustively. Dreamcast is out. Nintendo DS is the interesting edge case: Onion technically added a DS core in 4.3.0, so the folder can exist, but with a single 3.5-inch screen, no touch input, and a 1.2 GHz A7, it is out of practical scope rather than outright missing. If a list promises you "DS support" as a headline feature, it is counting a capability that is real on paper and painful in your hands. Believe the 16-bit promises completely, the PS1 promises mostly, and the everything-above-PS1 promises not at all.

The Headline Games, Fact-Checked

Every creator list leads with the same handful of trophy titles, and most of them get at least one detail wrong. Here are the five that anchor nearly every 2026 build, checked against the historical record — and one systematic error the lists keep repeating.

Xenogears, Chrono Trigger, and the RPG spine

The list's centre of gravity is the console RPG, and three Square titles hold it up. Xenogears (PS1, 1998, directed by Tetsuya Takahashi — who founded Monolith Soft the following year, so no, it is not a Monolith or Konami game as some blurbs claim) runs well within the Mini Plus's PS1 ceiling. Its notorious second disc, widely and correctly described as a narrated slideshow where a finished game should be, is a 1998 budget casualty, not an emulation artifact; the machine renders the shortfall faithfully. Chrono Trigger (SNES, 1995) is the flawless one, the title every reviewer reaches for when they want to prove the hardware, and it earns the cliché. A Link to the Past (SNES, 1991) rounds out the spine and, on a native 4:3 640 × 480 panel, looks the way memory insists the original did. These three alone justify a card.

The GBC-masquerading-as-GBA problem

Here is the systematic error. The 2026 lists heavily feature Pokémon Gold, Pokémon Silver, and Mario Kart: Super Circuit, and file all three under "GBA." Mario Kart: Super Circuit is indeed a Game Boy Advance game (2001). Pokémon Gold and Silver are not — they are Game Boy Color titles, released in Japan in 1999 and the West in 2000, and they live in the GBC folder, not GBA. This is the same class of category error that has these lists elsewhere shelving Star Ocean: Blue Sphere — a 2001 Game Boy Color release that Hardcore Gaming 101 rightly calls "one of the most technically impressive RPGs ever to grace the Game Boy Color" — as if it were a PS1 or homebrew title. The games all run beautifully; the metadata is a mess. It does not affect playability, but it should make you distrust any list that presents itself as authoritative, because whoever built it did not check.

The 128GB PDF and its January 2024 fossil

The 128GB configuration circulates with a companion PDF, filename Gamelist-MiyooMini-128GB-Onion.pdf, dated January 2024 and still handed around in 2025–2026 guides as if freshly minted. It lists exactly the sort of thing you would expect a large OnionOS build to include: The Minish Cap, Xenogears, Final Fantasy Legend II (SaGa 2, Game Boy, 1990), and a deep bench of oddities like Wario Blast featuring Bomberman! (Game Boy, 1994) and Yoshi's Cookie. The contents are fine. The problem is that a January 2024 document being passed off as a current 2026 list is precisely the copy-paste rot this whole category runs on — a two-and-a-half-year-old snapshot with a fresh date slapped on the video thumbnail. The games are real. The freshness is not.

The Part Nobody Puts on the Box

Now the section the retailers omit, the creators skip, and The Machine — being, as advertised, well-read and acquainted with the law — cannot. The Miyoo Mini Plus game list is, in its most-sold form, a stack of unlicensed copyrighted works. That is not a moral panic; it is a plain description, and it is worth understanding exactly what is and isn't lawful here.

The emulator is legal; the SD card is not

Draw the line in the right place. The emulator — the software that imitates a PlayStation or a Super Nintendo — is legal, and has been since Sony Computer Entertainment, Inc. v. Connectix Corp. (9th Cir., 2000), in which the court held that reverse-engineering a console's BIOS to build a compatible emulator was fair use. OnionOS, RetroArch, the cores doing the work: all lawful. The ROMs are the problem. A copy of Chrono Trigger you did not make from a cartridge you own is an unauthorised reproduction of a copyrighted work, and distributing thousands of them pre-loaded on a card is exactly the kind of commercial infringement rights holders litigate. The device is legal. The library, as sold, generally is not. The card is where the felony lives.

Connectix, Bleem, and the abandonware myth

Two corrections to folklore. First: the reason emulation survived at all is that small companies won in court — Connectix, and before the money ran out, Bleem — establishing that imitating hardware is not infringing it. That is a genuine legal foundation, not a hobbyist's rationalisation. Second, and less comfortable: there is no "abandonware" exemption. A game being out of print, or its publisher being defunct, does not move it into the public domain; copyright runs for decades regardless of whether anyone is selling the work. If you want a recent reminder of how seriously this is still enforced, the Switch emulator Yuzu settled with Nintendo for $2.4 million in 2024 and shut down — and that was an emulator, the legal half of the equation, taken down for facilitating piracy of current games. The pre-loaded ROM card is a softer target only because it is smaller.

The only clean list is the one you dump yourself

There is a lawful path, and it is the one the enthusiasts you actually respect take: dump your own cartridges. If you own the cart, imaging it for personal use on hardware you own sits in defensible territory in a way a downloaded card never will, and the tooling is mature — we walk through it end to end in our guide to dumping SNES and Genesis carts with a Retrode. Homebrew is cleaner still: fully original games like the open-source Tetris-clone Apotris are free to copy by design, and there are enough of them now to fill real playtime. The Digital Antiquarian's essay "Generation Nintendo" makes the irony explicit: Nintendo built its empire by ferociously policing its own game list, licence seal and all, and here that catalogue survives on hardware Nintendo never sanctioned, curated by volunteers it would happily sue. The Mini Plus is a monument to a company's loss of control over its own library. Enjoy it clear-eyed.

How the List Actually Plays

Specs and legality aside, a handheld is judged by the hour-to-hour of it. Here is how the list holds up across the five ways people actually use one of these — and yes, the co-op answer is more interesting in 2026 than it used to be.

The casual and the commuter

For the casual player — someone who wants to drop into a Genesis platformer for twenty minutes without a research project — the Mini Plus is close to perfect, provided you accept the list as a starting menu rather than gospel. Everything 16-bit and below launches instantly, plays at full speed, and saves state on demand, so a session can end mid-boss with no penalty. For the commuter, the mobile case, the device's whole thesis reveals itself: it is 119 grams, genuinely pocketable at 119 × 60 × 20 mm, and the 3,000 mAh battery clears a workweek of train rides on Game Boy titles (roughly 7.5 hours) or a couple of long commutes on PS1 (around 5). The 450-nit screen is the quiet hero here — bright enough to fight a train window, which is more than the original Mini could claim. This is the use case the hardware was built for, and it is the one it wins outright.

The completionist and the speedrunner

The completionist is where the list's padding starts to matter. If your goal is to see everything worth seeing, 2,000 NES entries is not a gift, it is a haystack — you will spend real time deleting religious platformers and duplicate hacks to find the 200 games you meant to play. Build your own curated folders and the Mini Plus becomes a completionist's dream; accept the vendor's dump and you inherit their clutter. The speedrunner case is more nuanced. Emulation on any handheld introduces input latency and timing variance that a serious runner submitting to a leaderboard cannot use — the frame-perfect crowd will always want original hardware or a verified emulator on a desktop. But for practice, for learning a route on the bus, the Mini Plus is a legitimate training tool, especially for the 16-bit titles it runs at a rock-solid 60fps. Just don't submit the run.

Co-op, multiplayer, and the Wi-Fi mirage

This is where the honest answer changed. For years the correct response to "can two people play?" was flatly no: one screen, one set of buttons, no second controller port, so on-device co-op is physically impossible. That half is still true. But the lists promising "Wi-Fi multiplayer for Doom and Quake" are no longer pure fiction, because the Onion 4.4.0 beta genuinely added netplay — including emulated Game Boy link-cable play between two Mini Plus units. So the radio is real and the feature exists. The catch, which the marketing swallows, is the fine print: it is a beta, it is fiddly, it needs a solid connection, and above all it needs two devices. "Multiplayer" here means you and a friend each bought a Mini Plus and are willing to troubleshoot a beta build. That is a real capability and a genuinely fun one for link-cable Pokémon trades. It is not the plug-and-play party feature the thumbnail implies.

What You Pay, and For What

The pricing of the Miyoo Mini Plus game list is a small lesson in what you are actually buying, because the interesting number is not the total — it is the gap between the device and the bundle.

The device versus the bundle

Start with the only honest price on the table: the bare device, $53.99 at MSRP, is what Miyoo is actually authorised to sell you. Everything above that is the card and its contents. A 64GB "game list" bundle at $65–75, as sold by retailers like Games Gamecove, therefore charges you a roughly $15 premium — and that premium is not for the storage, which costs a few dollars, but for the labour of loading someone else's copyrights onto it. Strip the euphemism away and the bundle price is the price of pre-packaged piracy plus a microSD. You are free to pay it. You should at least know that is the transaction.

64GB versus 128GB

The step from 64GB to 128GB costs another $20–30 and buys you, mostly, PlayStation. The 16-bit-and-below library the Mini Plus runs flawlessly fits comfortably on 64GB with room over; you only need the larger card if you want a genuinely deep PS1 set, since those disc images are what consume space. The 128GB PDF list circulating since January 2024 is really an argument for the bigger card, and if a sprawling Sony library is your goal it is a fair upgrade. For everyone else it is capacity you will never fill — the classic case of paying for a number rather than a need.

Where to buy, and the SD-card asterisk

The clean move, if you have any interest in staying on the right side of the line, is to decouple the two purchases: buy the device from Miyoo or a reputable reseller, buy a blank card of your chosen size, and load OnionOS and your own dumps yourself. Flashing the firmware is genuinely a fifteen-minute job and no harder than flashing a Batocera image — download, image the card, boot, done. What you lose is the convenience of a stranger's ROM haul. What you gain is a library that is actually yours, built to your taste and free of the metadata rot and religious platformers that come standard with the pre-loaded cards. It is the difference between a mixtape someone else burned and a playlist you made.

Who This Library Is Actually For

Enough hedging. Here is who should buy into the Miyoo Mini Plus game list, who should not, and where you go when you outgrow it.

Buy it if…

• You live below the 16-bit line. If your gaming heart is NES, SNES, Genesis, Game Boy, and GBA, this is close to the ideal machine at the price. Nothing you love will stutter.
• You want the smallest thing that plays PS1. At 119 grams it out-pockets almost everything, and it clears the PlayStation catalogue's realistic majority. Chrono Trigger at a perfect 60fps in a shirt pocket is the entire pitch.
• You value software over silicon. OnionOS — which DROIX's reviewers have called "simply phenomenal" — plus RetroAchievements, box art, and now netplay, is a genuinely rich experience layered over modest hardware.
• You will curate. If you enjoy building your own folders and dumping your own carts, the Mini Plus rewards that instinct better than almost any handheld at any price.
• You want a cheap, low-stakes entry point. At $54 for the device, it is the least you can spend to find out whether this hobby is for you.

Skip it if…

• You need anything above PS1. N64, Dreamcast, PSP, and practical DS are off the table. The Mali-400 MP2 has a ceiling and Sony's first console is it.
• You want on-device multiplayer. One screen, one gamepad. Netplay needs two units and a beta build; there is no couch co-op here, full stop.
• You want a big, comfortable screen. 3.5 inches is deliberate and correct for the content, but it is small. Larger hands and older eyes may want more glass.
• The legality bothers you and you won't dump your own. If you are not willing to build a clean library, the honest options narrow considerably.

The upgrade path

When you do hit the PS1 ceiling — and if you enjoy the device, you will — the next rung is a handheld with a real GPU and enough RAM to reach N64, Dreamcast, PSP, and beyond. That is a different class of machine at a different price, and we mapped the most sensible jump in our Retroid Pocket 5 versus 6 breakdown, where roughly 70% more CPU for about $45 more is the deal that makes upgrading make sense. Buy the Mini Plus knowing it is the start of the road, not the end of it. That is not a criticism. Every good hobby has an on-ramp, and at $54 this is the best one going.

Verdict: The Curation, Rated

We came to review a game list and found there was no list to review — only a machine, a folder, a legal shadow, and a community that keeps the whole thing running out of sheer stubborn love for the medium. On those terms, it is remarkably good. On the terms the marketing sells it, it is oversold in ways worth naming.

Pros

• Flawless emulation of everything through the 16-bit generation and every major handheld — the bulk of the list, delivered exactly as promised.
• The same SSD202D that made the original Mini a classic, now with real Wi-Fi, full shoulder buttons, and a bright 450-nit screen.
• OnionOS is a genuinely excellent, free, actively developed firmware — RetroAchievements, box art, Pico-8, and now netplay.
• Pocketable at 119 grams with a working week of battery on 8-bit titles.
• The cheapest respectable way into retro handhelds at $53.99 for the device.

Cons

• No official list exists, and the "official" ones are grey-market ROM cards with padded counts, stale dates, and consoles mislabelled (Pokémon Gold is not a GBA game).
• PS1 is a hard ceiling; anything above it is off the practical menu, whatever the folders imply.
• The pre-loaded library is legally indefensible as sold — you are paying a premium for someone else's copyrights.
• Multiplayer is a two-device beta, not the party feature the thumbnails promise.
• The whole category runs on copy-pasted 2023-era information; trust no single creator's list as authority.

The score

The hardware is an 8. The software is a 9. The legally-honest, actually-curated library you can build on it is a 9. The product as most people buy it — a stranger's ROM haul on a card, sold with the wrong version numbers and the wrong consoles — is a 6, and that gap is the whole story. Split the difference, weight it toward the genuine craft underneath, dock it for the rot on top, and you land where this device has always landed: 7.5/10. Buy the machine, learn to build your own list, and it becomes one of the best things $54 buys in this hobby. Buy the mythology instead, and you have paid extra for a lie about a folder. The silicon deserves better than the sales pitch, and so do you.