It was a weird time to be a gamer. 2006 felt like the world was shifting on its axis. Sony was trying to convince us that a $600 PlayStation 3 was a reasonable purchase, and Microsoft was finally hitting its stride with the Xbox 360. Then there was Nintendo. They were coming off the GameCube—a purple lunchbox that, despite having some of the best games ever made, technically "lost" the console war. Nobody knew if the Wii would actually work. But then the marketing started. Specifically, the Holiday 2006 poster campaigns began appearing in GameStops and EB Games across the country, and suddenly, the "Revolution" (as it was called in development) felt real.
If you weren't there, it’s hard to describe the vibe.
The Wii didn't look like a toy. It looked like a piece of high-end Apple hardware from the future. The Holiday 2006 poster wasn't just a piece of paper; it was a promise that gaming was about to change for everyone, not just the kids in the basement.
The Design Language of the Wii Launch
Most video game posters in the early 2000s were loud. They were messy. They had explosions and gritty soldiers and "EXTREME" fonts that looked like they were dripping in mountain dew. Nintendo went the opposite direction. The Holiday 2006 poster featured a stark, clinical white background. It was minimalist. It used the "Wii" logo—those two lowercase 'i's meant to represent two people standing together—and usually featured the Wii Remote (Wiimote) held aloft like a magic wand.
It was bold.
Actually, it was risky. By stripping away the icons like Mario or Link from the primary holiday branding, Nintendo was betting everything on the experience of the motion controls. You’ve probably seen the specific one: a clean shot of the console standing vertically in its silver cradle, glowing with that iconic soft blue light around the disc slot. It didn't need to show you The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess to sell you on the dream.
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The paper quality of these original retail posters was surprisingly high. They weren't those flimsy things you’d pull out of a magazine. These were thick, gloss-coated promotional materials designed to survive a month in a high-traffic retail window. If you find one today that isn't faded by UV light, you're looking at a serious piece of history.
Why 2006 Was a Pivot Point for Nintendo
Nintendo was in a corner. They had to pivot or die. The Holiday 2006 poster represented a shift toward "Blue Ocean" strategy, a term popularized by W. Chan Kim and Renée Mauborgne. Basically, instead of fighting Sony and Microsoft for the same hardcore gamers, Nintendo decided to go where there was no competition: your grandma, your non-gaming sister, and the casual crowd.
This marketing worked.
I remember walking into a mall in November 2006. The Wii was sold out everywhere. You couldn't find one for love or money. Those posters were the only thing people could actually see of the console. They became symbols of a "must-have" item that was effectively a ghost. It’s funny how a piece of promotional cardboard can gain so much power just because the product it's advertising is physically unavailable.
The iconography of the Holiday 2006 poster also introduced the "Mii" characters. Those little bobble-headed avatars were revolutionary at the time. They were part of the poster’s visual ecosystem, signaling that you were the star of the game, not some pre-rendered hero. It was personal.
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Tracking Down an Original: The Collector's Struggle
Looking for an authentic Holiday 2006 poster now is a bit of a nightmare. There are so many reprints on eBay and Etsy that it’s easy to get burned. Real ones usually have specific dimensions—often 22x28 inches or the larger 24x36 inch bus shelter sizes—and they frequently have shipping creases because they were mailed to stores in tubes or flat boxes.
If you see a poster that looks "too perfect" or is printed on thin, modern inkjet paper, it’s a fake.
- Check the Fine Print: Genuine Nintendo of America (NOA) posters from 2006 will have a tiny copyright line at the bottom. It should list 2006 Nintendo and often mentions the trademark for the Wii logo.
- The "Blue Light" Test: The printing tech in 2006 had a specific way of rendering that blue glow around the disc drive. On a low-quality reprint, that blue will look "noisy" or pixelated. On the original, it's a smooth, ethereal gradient.
- Back of the Poster: Retailers often wrote on the back of these when they took them down, or they have remnants of the double-sided tape used to stick them to the glass. To a collector, that "damage" is actually proof of provenance.
Honestly, the "Wii Would Like to Play" campaign, which these posters were a part of, is studied in marketing classes today. Two Japanese men in suits showing up at suburban American houses to play games? It was weird. It was charming. It was peak Nintendo. The posters captured that "white room" aesthetic perfectly.
The Cultural Impact You Can't Ignore
We talk about the "Wii era" like it was just about Wii Sports, but it was bigger. It was the last time a physical object—a console and its associated paper trail—felt like a collective cultural event. Now, everything is digital. We get "posters" as JPGs on Twitter. Back then, the Holiday 2006 poster was something you could touch. You could steal it from behind a GameStop (not that I’m recommending that) and put it on your dorm room wall as a trophy.
It represented a time when Nintendo regained its crown.
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By the time the holidays rolled around in 2007, the Wii was a juggernaut. But that 2006 era? That was the lightning in a bottle. The posters from that first year have a certain "purity" to them. They don't have the "Nintendo Selects" badges or the clutter of later years. It’s just the console, the remote, and the future.
How to Preserve Your Nintendo History
If you're lucky enough to own a 2006-era poster, for the love of everything, don't use thumbtacks. You’re killing the value.
- Get a UV-Protected Frame: Sunlight is the enemy of 2000s-era ink. It will turn that crisp white background into a sickly yellow in six months if you're not careful.
- Acid-Free Backing: Cheap cardboard backings will eat through the paper over a decade. Spend the extra ten bucks at a hobby shop for the good stuff.
- No Laminating: This isn't a high school project. Laminating a Holiday 2006 poster effectively drops its collector value to zero. It’s permanent and it ruins the natural texture of the paper.
Collectors are currently paying anywhere from $50 to $200 for pristine original Wii launch-window posters. It's not "retire on a beach" money, but it's a hell of a lot more than the $0 the store employees paid when they fished them out of the trash in January 2007.
The Wii changed the world. It brought gaming to people who thought they hated it. The Holiday 2006 poster is the visual shorthand for that revolution. It’s a piece of 21st-century art that happens to be an advertisement.
Actionable Next Steps for Enthusiasts
If you want to start collecting or just want to relive the era, here is how you actually do it without getting scammed:
- Search for "NOS" (New Old Stock): Use this specific keyword on auction sites. It refers to items that were never used and sat in a warehouse. This is where the mint condition 2006 posters are hiding.
- Join the "Nintendo Collectors" Groups: Facebook and Reddit have specific niche groups where people trade actual retail signage. Avoid the general "Video Game" groups; they're too broad. Look for people who specialize in "Kiosk" and "Signage."
- Verify Dimensions: Before buying, ask the seller for the exact measurements down to the millimeter. Compare these to known Nintendo retail standards (usually 22"x28"). If it's a weird size like 11"x17", it's almost certainly a modern home-printed copy.
- Document the Provenance: If you buy from a former retail employee, ask them which store they worked at and when. Keep a note of that with the poster. In the world of high-end collecting, the story of where the item came from is half the value.
The 2006 launch wasn't just about a console; it was about a feeling. Holding an original poster from that year is like holding a piece of that excitement. It’s a reminder of a time when the whole world was ready to "Wii would like to play."