My Tamagotchi Ruined Me as A Person

It was the end of the 1990s. The Tamagotchi had taken over the world, but sales were slowing for the first time. The conditions were perfect for the kids in our lower-middle-class area to grab one at a discount for the first time. Soon, I was 13 years old and struggling under the pressure to settle down and start a family.

A version of this story appears at my game industry shop talk site, CodeWritePlay.

I’d barely noticed Tamagotchis when they first arrived on the scene. Pokémon Red and Nintendo 64 games had my full attention. Before long, though, it seemed someone at every party had their little LCD alien baby on a keychain in whatever style and colors spoke to them. Couples would pass theirs to me and the girl I was there with, making us hold it and asking when we were going to have one of our own.

That relationship was on rocky ground, like every relationship between 13-year-olds. Maybe I was stupid. Maybe I thought I could change fate. But after a night of indiscretion at a Toys ‘R’ Us, we found ourselves with our own little bundle of toy and no idea what fresh hell we were about to unleash.

Back in the presence of our couple friends, we pulled the laminated tab to start the process. No turning back. Our little egg appeared, bouncing gently and waiting a seemingly arbitrary five minutes to hatch. Two…