My tamagotchi
Okay, so. On Wednesday I received a free tamagotchi* on entry to a certain club which was having a ’90s themed night.
It was like I gave birth to a small bleeping monster that I don’t have the heart to kill.
The instructions lost something in translation, so I’m not entirely sure how to look after it; all I know is love hearts means good and ‘Bye’ means that it has died. It’s amazing how guilty a small piece of green plastic with a sadface on it can make you feel when you wake up at two in the afternoon like an alcoholic mother who goes out all night with no regard for her frog-shaped** offspring.
Luckily it has a reset button so that when it dies after you left it for an hour to re organise your underwear drawer*** you can reset it, pick a new creature (like a pony! :D) and start over.
I’m not sure, but I remember when I was little and tamagotchi were actually cool they died and that was it? Am I wrong? I just remember people being devastated when they died and this seems a bit overkill if one can just poke a paperclip in the back and it’ll magically re-spawn.
It did, however, kind of break. Maybe because I sat on it, and my siblings sat on it when it was in my pocket, or maybe just because they’re not well made, I don’t know.
The screen just went blank and my little tadpole vanished, without even an accusatory ‘BYE blink blink’.
So, being a naturally gentle and considering person with delicacy and finesse, I rammed various objects into the reset hole and then brutally bashed it on a table until it started working again.
It came back to digitally simulated life and I immediately started prodding and feeding it in a vague attempt to stop it from dying.
Overall I think it’s died six or seven times since ten o’clock Wednesday night. I fail at tamagotchi parenting. Useless skill un-mastered.
To make matters worse, I think it’s still partly broken. Before the violent table-CPR, it used to bleep tunefully whenever it needed something, normally either food or for a little pyramid of poop to be scooped, and a ‘calling’ symbol would appear and then vanish when the tamagotchi was appeased.
Now, it bleeps in a sort of off-key way every hour or so and no matter what button I press or how much cake and apples and mystery foodstuffs I feed it, the calling symbol doesn’t go away. The weird little sperm-tadpole keeps smiling though, and it’s not dead yet (in the last two hours) so I think it’s okay.
The beeping sound kept waking me up last night, though. And – this is the worst part – I can’t bring myself to ignore it. I want it to grow into a fully grown frog and LOVE ME. D:
So I get up and find it, swear quietly at it, do whatever it wants and go back to sleep feeling slightly stupid.
There’s little games on it that I can’t work out how to do, and so I lose every time and it makes an angry-disappointed face at me. Little bitch.
At the moment it’s sleeping, and then it’ll wake up, crap, be fed and then die during the night. I don’t really remember why I wanted one of these when I was eight.
Maybe later I’ll try replacing the batteries.
_______________________
*I have a feeling it’s not a genuine Tamagotchi brand tamagotchi, if such a thing exists, ’cause I remember them being sturdier and egg-shaped. But it does the same things.
**I LOVE FROGS.
***So much fun. I mean it, who doesn’t love categorising a load of pretty things and throwing out a load of old faded things? The categories being:
Emergency – Not TOO old that it would make me sad to wear, but not tragic if they were to get, you know, stained by unexpected monthly happenings.
Normal – Not quite old enough/ugly enough to be expendable.
New/ish – self-explanatory
and Boxers. C: