Miyoo Mini Plus Game List 2026: 6,041 ROMs, 8/10

The List Is the Product, Not the Plastic

There is a particular kind of buyer's remorse that the Miyoo Mini Plus does not produce, and it is worth naming up front because it explains the whole phenomenon. You spend roughly eighty dollars on a slab of injection-molded plastic the size of a credit-card holder, you slot in a microSD card, and the device boots into a menu that informs you, with the flat confidence of a spreadsheet, that you now own 6,041 games. You did not buy a handheld. You bought a library card to the entire fourth and fifth console generations, pre-stamped and waiting. The plastic is incidental. The list is the product.

Six Thousand Games, Eleven You'll Finish

Let us be honest about the arithmetic before anyone gets sentimental. Of those 6,041 entries, you will boot perhaps two hundred out of curiosity, play forty for more than ten minutes, and finish — actually finish, credits and all — somewhere between eight and fifteen. This is not a criticism of the list. It is a description of how human beings interact with abundance. The value of the Miyoo Mini Plus game list is not that you will play all of it. The value is that the eleven games you do finish are guaranteed to be in there, alongside the forty you sample, sitting in the same folder as five thousand cartridge dumps you will never open and which cost you nothing to carry.

Why a Game List Is a Reviewable Object

Reviewing a "game list" sounds like reviewing a phone book, and a lesser publication would treat it that way: a number, a shrug, an affiliate link. But a curated ROM set is an editorial object with real authorship. Someone decided what to include, how to name it, which region's dump to ship, what box art to attach, and which folder hierarchy to impose. Those decisions are the difference between a usable library and a 64 GB landfill. The 8bitstick set that most Miyoo Mini Plus owners run is a specific document with specific opinions baked into it, and opinions are the only thing The Machine has ever found worth reviewing.

What We're Actually Reviewing

So this is not a hardware review — the silicon has been covered to death elsewhere, and we link to it. This is a review of the list: its composition, its provenance, its curation, its legal posture, and whether the thing that ships on (or is loaded onto) a Miyoo Mini Plus in 2026 deserves the reverence its owners give it. The short answer is that it mostly does. The long answer involves a Game Boy Color RPG that was never released in English, a Ninth Circuit fair-use ruling from 2000, and roughly fourteen million dollars in Nintendo legal judgments. Settle in.

What "6,041 Games" Actually Means

The number 6,041 is cited by GameCove as the full catalog of the curated set most commonly distributed for the device, and it is worth taking apart, because a number that precise is always hiding a methodology. You do not arrive at 6,041 by accident. You arrive at it by making thousands of small inclusion-and-exclusion decisions and then counting what survives.

The 8bitstick Set and the Onion Pipeline

The canonical Miyoo Mini Plus library is the one curated by 8bitstick, the retro-gaming community that maintains the definitive PDF game list keyed to the Onion operating system. Onion OS is the third-party firmware nearly every serious owner installs within an hour of unboxing; the stock Miyoo firmware is functional but charmless, and the community has voted with its SD cards. The 8bitstick list is not a pile of random ROMs. It is a structured manifest — every entry mapped to a system folder, every system folder mapped to an emulator core, with a PDF index so you can confirm whether the one game you actually wanted survived the cut. If you want the step-by-step of how that Onion-organized library is built and indexed, we have walked through the 6,041-game Onion set in detail elsewhere; here we are judging it, not assembling it.

How the Count Is Reached

Six thousand games across NES, SNES, Game Boy, Game Boy Color, Game Boy Advance, Sega Genesis, and PlayStation sounds enormous until you realize how the count inflates. The list includes 007 - Everything or Nothing for Game Boy Advance and 10-Super-Jogos for the Sega Genesis in the same breath — one a competent licensed action game, the other a pirate multicart of dubious provenance that exists only because it exists. The count includes regional variants, revision dumps, and the occasional homebrew. It is a maximalist number. The honest figure for "games a sane adult would consider playing" is closer to four hundred, and the figure for "games worth the SD card on their own merits" is closer to fifty. The 6,041 is real; it is just not what it sounds like.

No-Intro, Redump, and the Provenance

Every legitimate curated set descends from two preservation projects whose names you should know: No-Intro, which catalogs and verifies cartridge-based ROM dumps by checksum, and Redump, which does the same for optical discs like the PlayStation library. The 8bitstick set is, functionally, a curated and renamed subset of No-Intro and Redump verified dumps with box art and folder structure layered on top. This matters because it is the difference between a clean library and the bad old days of corrupted, hacked, intro-screen-defaced ROMs that defined ROM sites in 2004. When the list says Chrono Trigger, you are getting a checksum-verified dump of the US cartridge, not someone's broken Game Genie save state. That provenance is the quiet thing that makes the whole list usable. We discuss the broader catalog and its 6,041-ROM composition in its own piece for readers who want the full system-by-system breakdown.

The List on Paper

A game review needs a spec sheet, and a game-list review needs one too — except the specs here describe the collection and the platform it runs on rather than a single cartridge. The following table treats the 8bitstick/Onion library as the reviewable object it is, with the Miyoo Mini Plus hardware as its delivery vehicle.

The Specs Table

Reading the Spec Sheet

Two rows do the heavy lifting. "Highest practical system: PlayStation" is the line that separates the Miyoo Mini Plus list from the original Miyoo Mini's, because the Plus's upgraded processor and screen meaningfully improved compatibility with the demanding 32-bit titles — Final Fantasy IX and Tony Hawk's Pro Skater both run, with the caveats we will get to. And "Cost of the list: Free" is the entire economic argument. You are not paying for software. You are paying for a screen to put it on.

What the Numbers Don't Tell You

The 640x480 panel deserves a sentence of editorial honesty the spec sheet cannot provide: it is sharp, it is bright, and it is the single best reason to run 8- and 16-bit content on this device rather than a phone. A modern 1080p phone screen makes a Game Boy game look like a postage stamp adrift in a black void. The Miyoo's 4:3 IPS panel makes it look like a Game Boy game. That is not nostalgia. That is correct aspect-ratio rendering, and the list — full of square, low-resolution content — was effectively designed for this exact pixel grid four decades before the grid existed.

Curation Versus Hoarding

Here is the uncomfortable thesis of this review, stated plainly so no one can accuse The Machine of burying it: the Miyoo Mini Plus "curation" is, in the strict sense, not curation at all. It is organized hoarding with good metadata. Whether that distinction matters to you is the most important question this article will ask.

The Editorial Fiction

Real curation subtracts. A curator at a museum does not hang every painting in the warehouse; the act of curation is the act of exclusion. The 8bitstick list, by contrast, is built on the maximalist instinct — when in doubt, include. That is why 10-Super-Jogos, a pirate multicart, sits in the same Genesis folder as Gunstar Heroes. The list does not have taste; it has completeness. What it has instead of taste is structure: clean folder hierarchies, consistent naming, box art, and a PDF you can search. The genius of the set is that it makes a non-curated library feel curated, which for most people is functionally identical and considerably more reassuring.

Box Art Is Not Curation

The single most psychologically effective feature of the Onion-organized list is that nearly every entry has scraped box art. Scroll the SNES folder and you are presented with a wall of tiny, beautiful 1991 cover paintings, and the human brain reads that wall as "a thoughtfully assembled collection" rather than "a checksum dump with images attached." This is a magic trick, and a good one. But it is worth naming the trick, because the box art does not tell you that Chrono Trigger is a masterpiece and the game next to it is a licensed sports tie-in nobody finished. Both get the same loving thumbnail. The metadata flatters everything equally, which is to say it flatters nothing.

The Signal-to-Noise Problem

The practical consequence is that a new owner, handed 6,041 games, will spend their first evening scrolling rather than playing — the paradox of choice rendered in 16-bit. The community's response has been to build curation on top of the list: Reddit's r/MiyooMini hosts a steady churn of user-assembled "Top 10" threads, and YouTube creators like Pixelswish have published "Top 6 Games" videos pointing newcomers toward, for instance, The Legend of Zelda: The Minish Cap and Xenogears rather than leaving them to drown. Our own twelve-pick shortlist for the device exists for the same reason: the list needs a list. That is the tell. A genuinely curated library would not require a cottage industry of secondary curation to be usable. The 8bitstick set is the raw material; the curation happens after you own it. If you would rather assemble that raw material yourself with full control over cores and content, the same logic that produced this set is documented in our walkthrough of installing 200 RetroArch cores by hand.

The Headliners That Justify the SD Card

Strip away the 5,990 entries you will never touch and the Miyoo Mini Plus list resolves into a canon of perhaps fifty games that, on their own, would justify the purchase. These are not obscure. They are the most beloved software of the 16- and 32-bit eras, and their presence in a verified, ready-to-run set is the actual value proposition. Let us name them, because vague reverence is the enemy of a useful review.

The Nintendo Canon

The spine of the list is Nintendo's first-party output, and it is unimpeachable. The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past — the 1991 SNES title that Wikipedia rightly catalogs as one of the most influential action-adventure games ever made — is the single best argument for the device's existence, a game whose top-down design was tuned for exactly this kind of handheld session. Super Mario World sits beside it, the platformer against which every other platformer is still measured. These are the games that make a skeptic, handed the device on a train, go quiet for forty minutes. The Nintendo canon is the reason the list works: it front-loads the collection with software that has not aged a day in the ways that matter.

The Square Bloc

If the Nintendo titles sell the device, the Square RPGs are what keep it charging on a nightstand for a year. Chrono Trigger is the consensus pick — the 1995 SNES collaboration that Wikipedia documents as a high-water mark of the genre, a game whose battle system and multiple endings were practically engineered for the save-state-and-resume rhythm of a handheld. Then there is Xenogears, Square's sprawling, philosophically deranged 1998 PlayStation epic, which Hardcore Gaming 101's Maciej Miszczyk covers at the length its ambition demands — a two-disc game about God, mechs, and the back half that famously turns into a man narrating events from a chair. That it runs at all on an eighty-dollar handheld is a small miracle of the Plus's improved 32-bit compatibility. Final Fantasy IX rounds out the bloc, the PlayStation send-off to the series' classical era, and it too is on the list, playable, with the usual disc-swap and load-time texture of late-PS1 software intact.

The Handheld-Native Picks

The cruelest joke of most retro handhelds is that they neglect actual handheld software, and the Miyoo list does not make that mistake. Pokemon Gold, Silver, and Crystal are present, and they are arguably the most appropriate games on the entire device — Game Boy Color titles designed from the ground up for short, portable, save-anywhere sessions, now running on a far better screen than they ever had in 1999. The Legend of Zelda: The Minish Cap — the GBA entry Pixelswish singles out — is the platonic ideal of a commute game: a complete, gorgeous Zelda that fits in the gaps of a day. These are the titles where the device's form factor and the software's design philosophy finally agree with each other, and the list's deep Game Boy and GBA coverage is, quietly, its most valuable section.

Deep Cuts, Imports, and the Long Tail

A canon is table stakes; any list has the canon. What separates a good curated set from a great one is the long tail — the imports, the fan translations, and the genuinely obscure software that you would never have found on your own. The 8bitstick list earns real credit here, and it is where the "6,041" number stops being filler and starts being a feature.

Star Ocean: Blue Sphere and the Import Problem

The community's consensus pick for the single best rare game on the device is Star Ocean: Blue Sphere, a Game Boy Color action-RPG that Wikipedia confirms was developed by tri-Ace, published by Enix, and released in Japan on June 28, 2001 — and never officially in English. It is a sequel to Star Ocean: The Second Story, the PlayStation entry that Hardcore Gaming 101 covers as part of its Star Ocean series retrospective, and it exists in the West today only because fan translators spent years making it exist. Its presence on the list is the whole import argument in miniature: a Japan-only title, on hardware that originally couldn't have run it in a language you read, now sitting one folder over from Pokemon. The "import problem" — that vast swaths of the medium's history were locked behind region and language — is one the list quietly solves.

The Genuinely Obscure

Beyond the famous imports sit the truly strange entries that the community surfaces and the maximalist count makes room for: Green Memories, 2021 Moon Escape, and Far After — titles that even dedicated collectors had to be told about. These are not good games in any conventional sense. They are interesting games, artifacts of a period when development was cheap enough that anything could get a cartridge, and their value is archival rather than recreational. You will play them once, for ten minutes, the way you read a plaque in a museum. That you can is the point. The long tail is where the difference between a 400-game list and a 6,041-game list actually shows up, and it shows up as the freedom to follow a strange impulse at no cost.

Fan Translations and the Gray Market

It must be said plainly that much of the long tail's value rests on fan-translation work — unpaid, uncredited-in-the-menu labor by people who reverse-engineered text routines for love. This is also where the legal ground gets soft, because a fan-translated ROM is a derivative work built on copyrighted code, and its distribution is doubly unsanctioned. The list benefits enormously from this scene without acknowledging it, which is the standard relationship between curated ROM sets and the translators whose work they quietly absorb. Credit where the menu gives none: half the reason the deep cuts are worth anything is that someone, somewhere, patched them into English for free.

The Law of the Thing

The Machine knows the law, and the law on the Miyoo Mini Plus game list is not ambiguous, regardless of what the comment section of any given YouTube video insists. Let us dispatch the myths in order, because a review that pretends the legal question does not exist is not a review; it is an advertisement.

Emulators Are Legal. The List Is Not.

The first thing to establish is the part that is genuinely settled in your favor. Emulators — the software that mimics a PlayStation or SNES so its games can run on other hardware — are legal in the United States, and we have the case law to prove it. In Sony Computer Entertainment, Inc. v. Connectix Corp., 203 F.3d 596 (9th Cir. 2000), the Ninth Circuit held that the intermediate copying of Sony's BIOS during the reverse-engineering of an emulator was protected fair use, reversing an injunction against Connectix's Virtual Game Station. The court reasoned that the firmware's functional elements earned it thinner copyright protection and that the emulator was transformative. So the general legal status of console emulation is clear: the emulator is fine. The Miyoo Mini Plus is fine. The list — six thousand copyrighted ROMs you did not dump from cartridges you own — is the part with no fair-use defense.

What Nintendo's Lawyers Have Proven

If the abstract distinction does not land, the dollar figures might. Nintendo has spent the better part of a decade demonstrating, in federal court, exactly what it thinks distributing its ROMs is worth. In 2018 it sued the operators of the ROM sites LoveROMs and LoveRETRO; that case resolved in a judgment reported at roughly $12.23 million. In 2021 it pursued the operator of RomUniverse and won a judgment in the neighborhood of $2.1 million, later followed by contempt sanctions when the site failed to stay dead. These are not hypothetical risks to you, the person playing Chrono Trigger on a train — Nintendo sues distributors, not commuters — but they are an unambiguous statement of how the rights-holder views the supply chain that fills your SD card. The list exists in the space those lawsuits carved out: the demand survives because enforcement targets the few large suppliers rather than the many small users.

Abandonware Is Not a Legal Category

And now the myth that will not die: "abandonware." There is no provision in United States copyright law that releases a work into the public domain because its publisher stopped selling it. Chrono Trigger is from 1995; its copyright will outlast everyone reading this sentence. The fact that Square no longer sells the SNES cartridge does not make the ROM free any more than a publisher letting a book go out of print makes photocopying it legal. "Abandonware" is a community euphemism, a moral argument dressed as a legal one — and the moral argument is actually decent (preservation, access, the medium's history rotting in landfills) — but it is not a defense you could raise in court. The honest framing is the one The Machine prefers: the Miyoo Mini Plus list is a preservation good of dubious legality that the rights-holders tolerate at the user level and prosecute at the distributor level. Play accordingly, and do not mistake tolerance for permission.

The List Versus the Field

No object is reviewable in a vacuum, and a curated ROM set has direct peers — the rival firmware-and-library combinations that ship on or get loaded onto every competing handheld in this price class. The relevant comparison is not "which device is faster"; it is "which list is better organized, better sourced, and less of a chore."

The Comparison Table

Garlic, muOS, and the Stock Dumps

The 8bitstick/Onion set's closest rival is Garlic OS, the firmware-and-library standard on the Anbernic RG35XX, and the two are more alike than their partisans admit — both are maximalist, both are well-structured, both descend from the same No-Intro/Redump provenance. The contest between the underlying devices is genuinely close, and we have run it in full in our Miyoo Mini Plus versus RG35XX comparison; for the list specifically, the two are close to a wash, with Onion's interface and box-art presentation giving the Miyoo a slight polish edge. At the other end sit the stock Anbernic dumps — thousands of games pre-loaded by the factory with broken names, missing art, and no organizing intelligence — and the raw full sets, which are not lists at all but undifferentiated tens of thousands of files. Both prove the same point: a number is not a library. Organization is the product.

Where the 8bitstick Set Wins and Loses

The 8bitstick set wins decisively on presentation and on the reassurance of a published PDF manifest you can audit. It wins on the screen it targets — that 640x480 panel flatters the metadata-rich interface. It loses, like all of its peers, on the editorial question: none of these sets actually curate in the subtractive sense, and the Miyoo's is no braver about cutting filler than Garlic's. The verdict against the field is therefore narrow: the Miyoo Mini Plus list is the best-presented maximalist set in its class, not a fundamentally different philosophy of curation. If you want different philosophy, you build your own with muOS or a hand-assembled set, and you trade convenience for control.

What It Costs to Get the List

The most subversive fact about the Miyoo Mini Plus game list is that the list itself costs nothing. Every dollar in this transaction goes to hardware and storage. Below is the honest accounting, because pricing on these devices is a thicket of marketplace variance and the occasional scam.

The Pricing Table

The Device, the Card, the Free PDF

The clean build is simple: buy the device, buy a reputable 64 GB or 128 GB microSD, flash Onion OS, and apply the 8bitstick set per its PDF. Total realistic outlay lands around ninety to a hundred and ten dollars all-in, of which the software — the 6,041 games that are nominally the entire reason you bought the thing — accounts for exactly zero. This is the economic inversion at the heart of the retro-handheld market: the content is free and the delivery mechanism is the only thing with a price tag. It is the opposite of every other corner of gaming, and it is why the category exists.

The Pre-Loaded SD Card Trap

A word of warning that The Machine issues without apology: avoid the sellers who charge a twenty-to-forty-dollar premium for a "pre-loaded" card. You are paying a markup for someone to copy free, community-curated files onto a cheap card — often an over-reported counterfeit card that lies about its capacity and corrupts your saves at 40 GB. The pre-loaded card is the one genuine scam vector in this hobby. The list is free; pay only for storage you trust, and do the five-minute flash yourself. If even that feels like friction and you would rather pay real money for real polish and far more power, that is a different device — our Retroid Pocket 6 review covers the $230 tier where PS2 enters the conversation and the value math changes entirely.

Five Ways the List Actually Plays

Specs and legality are abstractions; the only test that matters is how the list behaves in a real human life. Here are five owners, five use patterns, and an honest account of how the 6,041-game library serves each. The list is not equally good for all of them, and pretending otherwise is the kind of fluff this publication exists to avoid.

The Casual and the Completionist

For the casual player — the adult who wants to play a great game for twenty minutes before bed — the list is close to perfect, and it is the use case the device was built for. A Link to the Past, Super Mario World, and any Pokemon entry deliver immediate, save-anywhere fun, and the casual player benefits from the curation-on-top services (the Reddit Top 10s, the Pixelswish picks) without ever scrolling past the headliners. The list serves this person at a 9/10.

For the completionist — the player who wants to finish things, 100% them, collect every ending — the list is a paradise and a trap in equal measure. The 6,041 games offer literally unfinishable abundance, which can curdle into the anxiety of the unplayed backlog. The completionist who picks one game and commits is served at a 9/10; the completionist who treats the whole list as a checklist will be served at a 4/10 and a mild existential crisis. The list rewards depth, not breadth, and the completionist instinct points the wrong way.

The Speedrunner and the Co-op Pair

For the speedrunner, the verdict is mixed and worth stating precisely. The Miyoo's save states and instant-resume are a practice godsend for routing and segment grinding, and the canon is full of speedrun staples. But emulation introduces timing and input-latency variance that disqualifies most runs from leaderboard submission, where original-hardware or sanctioned-emulator parity is required. As a practice tool: 8/10. As a competition platform: not eligible, and the honest score is a 3/10 for anyone chasing a verified time.

For the co-op pair, the list runs straight into a hardware wall. The Miyoo Mini Plus is a single-screen, single-controller device with no second-player provision, so the deep library of two-player SNES and Genesis classics — Streets of Rage, Secret of Mana — is effectively locked to single-player. The list contains couch co-op; the device cannot deliver it. Co-op score: 2/10, no fault of the curation, total fault of the form factor.

The Commuter

For the mobile player — the commuter, the traveler, the person killing time in a waiting room — the list and the device achieve their highest expression, and this is the scenario where everything aligns. The form factor is genuinely pocketable, the 8/16-bit content is designed for short sessions, the screen is sharp in varied light, and instant-resume means you can pocket the device mid-dungeon when your stop arrives. The Game Boy and GBA depth of the list — Minish Cap, Pokemon, the import RPGs — is tailor-made for this life. The commuter is served at a clean 10/10, and it is no exaggeration to say the entire product is optimized for this one person.

Who Should Load This

Recommendations are where reviews earn their keep, so here are the concrete verdicts — who the Miyoo Mini Plus game list is for, who it is conditionally for, and who should keep their eighty dollars.

Strong Recommends

• The lapsed 16-bit player who wants the SNES and Genesis canon in their pocket with zero friction. The headliners alone justify the card; everything else is free upside.
• The commuter or traveler who needs short, save-anywhere sessions on a screen that flatters old sprites. This is the device's home turf and the list's best use.
• The Game Boy / GBA loyalist. The list's handheld-native depth — Pokemon, Minish Cap, and the GBC import RPGs — is its quietly strongest section, and it runs flawlessly on this hardware.
• The import-curious who has always wanted to try Star Ocean: Blue Sphere or other Japan-only, fan-translated titles without hunting for a four-hundred-dollar cartridge.
• The budget-conscious newcomer who wants to test whether the retro-handheld hobby is for them before spending real money on a higher tier.

Conditional Recommends

• The PlayStation fan — yes, but with eyes open. FFIX and Tony Hawk's Pro Skater run, but PS1 performance varies by title and this is the ceiling of the hardware, not its comfort zone.
• The speedrun practicer — yes for routing and practice, no for any leaderboard-eligible run, because emulation timing will not pass verification.

Skip It If

• You want couch co-op. The single screen and single controller make the library's two-player classics unplayable. Buy a different device.
• You want PS2 or anything 3D-heavy. The Miyoo Mini Plus caps at PlayStation; the list does not include — and the chip could not run — sixth-generation software. Step up a tier for that.
• You are uncomfortable with the legal posture. If running unlicensed copyrighted ROMs bothers you, no amount of "abandonware" rhetoric will fix it, and you should buy your retro games through licensed re-releases instead.

The Verdict: 8/10

The Miyoo Mini Plus game list is the best version of a thing that is, fundamentally, organized hoarding — and it turns out that the best version of organized hoarding is genuinely excellent, provided you are honest about what it is and is not. The canon it delivers is unimpeachable, the provenance is clean, the presentation is the finest in its class, and the price of the software is zero. Against that, the curation does not actually curate, the legality is real and worth respecting, and 5,990 of the 6,041 games are ballast. The verdict balances those facts at 8 out of 10.

What's Good

• The 8/16-bit canon — Zelda, Mario, Chrono Trigger, Pokemon — present, verified, and ready to run.
• Clean No-Intro/Redump provenance: you get correct dumps, not corrupted ROM-site junk.
• Excellent Onion OS organization and near-complete box art; the best-presented set in its price class.
• Genuine long-tail value: imports and fan translations like Star Ocean: Blue Sphere you would never find alone.
• The list itself is free; you pay only for hardware and a trustworthy card.
• A 640x480 screen and pocket form factor that flatter the exact content the list is built from.

What's Not

• "Curation" is maximalist hoarding with good metadata; the filler-to-signal ratio is brutal.
• The legal posture is real — unlicensed ROMs, with $14M+ in Nintendo distributor judgments on record.
• PlayStation is the hard ceiling, and PS1 performance varies by title.
• No co-op: single screen, single controller, locking out the library's two-player classics.
• Emulation disqualifies leaderboard speedruns; useful for practice only.

The Rating in Context

An 8/10 for a free, unlicensed, gloriously presented library of other people's copyrighted work is The Machine's considered position, and it is worth stating why the score is not higher and not lower. It is not a 10 because a 10 would require actual subtractive curation and a clean legal conscience, and the list has neither. It is not a 6 because the eleven games you will finish are, every one of them, masterpieces delivered with care on hardware built to honor them — and because the preservation argument, while not a legal defense, is a real cultural good. The medium's history is rotting; projects like this, however gray, keep it playable. As the gaming historians at the Digital Antiquarian have spent years arguing, the past is only preserved by the people who bother to keep it running. The Miyoo Mini Plus game list bothers. Eight out of ten, and worth every dollar of the eighty you spent on the plastic around it.