Seductive Claw Machines

I was at an arcade gaming place yesterday. This place is not new to me, I have been there several times. And all of those times, I lost most of my spare change and lots of non-spare change to hopeless tries at the wondrous Claw Machine, filled with glistening attractive toys which I do not need but must have. And what is worse, is that now I have a motive for the acquisition of these toys - they will be contributed to the lethal beak of my parrot.

What is it, though about these Claw Machines? Users know that yes, it would be nice to win something however it would work out cheaper to just purchase the same damn thing from a two-dollar store, and users know that they most likely will never win the one plush toy which telepathically reaches out to them, and users know that most of these Claw Machines are rigged to take more of your money and give less of its toys, and users know that the machine they just used has a faulty claw and users know that if they do indeed win the plush toy for their boyfriend/girlfriend their chances of getting action is not increased all that much, yet they still insert money. Could it be a form of heroic or spectacular skill display? Could it be a form of gambling? Could it be a form of peer pressure or competitiveness? Could it be a form of love at first sight? Maybe it’s a form of acceptance – ‘Well, my friend right next to me will never touch third base with me but this Goofy plush toy just as well might… look at its gaping mouth!’

Perhaps I am the only one who stands in front of a Claw Machine with an eager hand on the joystick, arched to see the birds eye view of the claws are lines up with the anatomy of the plush I assume my bird will desire, all for the enjoyment of a parrot. In all honesty, though, I do gain some sort of enjoyment out of it too. Watching my money slowly but surely disappear certainly is not enjoyable in any way, even if my money comes from the government, however I just cannot describe that feeling of almost acquiring a plush toy. I have tried pokie-machines out a couple of times, and they were the least enjoyable – I only enjoyed it once when I walked in there with a dollar and walked out with twenty-six more. However, the other times, the machine always wins and I showed no display of skill or did not work any part of my body out because all that was happening was that I was seated at a chair which had elderly butt-glands stained to it and poked at the same button most elderly poke at until they eat Cheetos with God. With Claw Machines though, it is a completely different story.

I stand there with the potential to win something exciting made in some sort of a sweatshop. I have a choice of different characters and luckily my favourite one is in there so my eyes and all of my attention is utterly fixated on it. Then, some of my attention goes to the claw alignment and some to the joystick and some to the button. The rest go to my eyes and muscles, as they move to position my body in a way that I can see all angles of the claws. The first go is a lucky shot – if I score the toy, then the slaw are set at the right pressures to grab and hold and carry a toy to my reach. However, if this shot falters, I am also at a gain because each falter brings me closer to conquering the claws. Now, I lick my lips a little just to make sure my lips are moistened and that my mind is not thinking of moistening my lips before they create a crack and begin to bleed, which is highly unlikely at that point in time but the point is that I do not want my mind to wonder. After my lips are most, I wiggle the joystick around to position the claw at the perfect angle. I then deploy the claw. Down it goes. It comes up again with no toy. Alas – the toy has moved, and now it lies in a position where it is easier to grab the toy.

The third dollar enters the machine. Now, I am nervous. My friend’s opinions of me begin to waver, and my nerves become uneasy. I must get this toy now. I have two more dollars, if I don’t, and if I use them too then that means I will have to exchange another five-dollar note into five coins. I try again. No luck. I try another coin. No luck. I tell myself that I cannot blow my last five dollars on a stupid toy. I agree with myself. Then I disagree with myself, and back to the Claw Machine I go. My last five dollars is inserted because this Claw Machine now accepts notes too. Great.

For four goes, I let the claws aimlessly thrust themselves upon many toys. None of which I want. Then, the moment of truth – the last dollar. I aim the claws again perfectly. Then I move them. I aim them again. I look at the little countdown timer. Thirty-five seconds. Okay, that is alright. I still have time to perfect this. I perfect the position of the claws over and over again, until I have about twelve seconds on the countdown. I tell myself that I should press the button now instead of pushing my luck, but I push my luck instead. I must get it perf- oh no. The claw crashes down, almost in slow motion, and begins to pull up. I turn to walk away in disappointment but the looks on my friends’ faces make me turn back around. I grabbed the brightest toy in the entire machine, flawlessly, without even looking. It was as though I gained some sort of power and became a Claw Machine Goddess.

I lift the tab which boasts ‘COLLECT PRIZE HERE!’ in a bright red and yellow. I lift it. The carpet-covered floor inside it is slightly dusty. My bright toy is laying there, waiting for my hand. The tab is hard to push, like a soda machine dispenser tab. I push it and it pushes back, so I push it back harder and it opens wide. I reach my other hand into there, pull out my toy, and pull it out really fast, just as the tab regurgitates my toy. I stand up, fix my clothes, admire the toy, stand at the Claw Machine long enough to make onlooking kids beg their parents at another shot, and I walk off, the toy underneath my armpit.

I get in my car and realise that I do not have enough petrol to take me home. But that is totally fine, because I spent my last five-dollars on something totally worth it.