That's the number Sony put on the PlayStation 5 Pro, and it doesn't even include a disc drive or a vertical stand.
For a machine that plays the same games as the console already sitting under millions of American TVs, the company is asking families to absorb a price tag that exceeds most monthly grocery budgets.
The original PS5 launched at $499 in 2020.
Four years later, the "upgrade" costs 40 percent more, arrives with fewer physical media options, and lands in a holiday season when rent, insurance, and childcare have already squeezed household budgets thin.
A beefier GPU, AI-driven upscaling Sony calls PSSR, and roughly 45 percent faster rendering.
In plain English, games look sharper and run smoother, especially on expensive 120Hz TVs most buyers don't own.
There's no new generation of exclusives, no killer app, no reason your neighbor will knock on your door to see it.
The disc drive situation deserves its own paragraph.
Sony sells the detachable Blu-ray drive separately for $79.99, meaning the true cost of a Pro that plays physical games lands near $780 before tax.
If you already own a PS5 with a disc slot, you're effectively being told your library is now a premium add-on.
The vertical stand that shipped with earlier models now costs $29.99 extra.
Nickel-and-diming has become the industry's love language, and Sony is fluent.
Every accessory, every cable, every plastic bracket is a line item now.
Nintendo's Switch, seven years old and underpowered, still outsells everything because it offers joy at a price parents can justify.
Even a decent gaming laptop can be had for what Sony wants for a console that requires a separate $60 game to feel worthwhile.
The uncomfortable truth is that the PS5 Pro isn't designed for the average American household.
It's designed for the enthusiast with a 65-inch OLED, a soundbar, and disposable income.
Everyone else is being quietly told to keep their old console and stop complaining.
That's a business decision, and it's a defensible one.
But let's not pretend it's consumer-friendly.
This is where the societal piece comes in.
Gaming used to be the affordable escape, the thing a kid could save up for with a summer job.
Now the entry point for "premium" play creeps toward a thousand dollars once you factor in the console, a game or two, and an online subscription.
We've turned a living room hobby into a luxury good, and we've done it without much resistance.
Enough people will buy it, and Sony will call it a success.
But the message it sends is louder than the hardware itself: the middle-class gamer is no longer the target.
Closing opinion: A $700 console without a disc drive or a stand isn't innovation, it's extraction.
Sony is testing how much loyalty the PlayStation name still buys, and American families are about to answer with their wallets.
Final Thoughts
If this becomes the new normal, the next generation won't start at $500, and the one after that won't be for regular people at all.