In August, we bring a set of new full-time writers to the blog. Today, please welcome Priscilla Chang (’25), who will be writing for us on the 18th of each month. Priscilla majored in English literature and minored in linguistics at Calvin. She now works as a missionary teacher in Thailand, teaching language arts at Chiang Rai International Christian School. Apart from her love of reading and writing, she is also obsessed with learning languages, dancing, and watching the latest Korean dramas.

Taiwan, a little island country off the southern coast of China, is filled with amazing food, beautiful mountains, countless cultural experiences, and a whole lot of claw machines. 

Yes, you read that right. Claw machines. Everywhere. 

Over the last couple of years, the number of claw machines in Taiwan has grown exponentially. A quick Google search will turn up multiple articles and news reports about the phenomenon. People have made hour-long vlogs about visiting these machines across the country. And, I am happy to say, I, too, have fallen for the gimmick. 

Two years ago, I discovered my love of these claw machines while visiting Taiwan with my family. At the time, I was still quite weary of the machines, a response born out of my countless failed ventures at claw machines in the US. But one night, I couldn’t resist it any longer. I came across a claw machine with keychains of popular Taiwanese snacks, including my favorite snack of all time: Garlic-flavored Koloko Pea Snacks, or Kě lè guǒ (可樂果). My father, being the best girl dad ever, gave me an NT$100 bill (about $3 USD) and sent me on my merry way to get this incredible keychain. 

I struck out on this first NT$100 bill…but, about NT$50 later, I managed to maneuver that little claw over the perfect spot and grab the keychain of my dreams! Of course, the claw dropped the keychain right back into that spot a second later. After spending about another NT$50, I finally got my prized keychain. I held it up to my father’s eyes, beaming with pride. I expected a look of masked disappointment at my impulsive spending. Instead, I saw my usually frugal father smile back at his adult child holding a little keychain probably worth only a tenth of what I spent on it. For him, it was worth the joy it brought me. 

That was two years ago. Since then, I have been waiting for the day I could return to Taiwan and try my luck at these claw machines once again. This summer was my chance. On the ride from the airport to our hotel, my mother and I had already spotted five different hole-in-the-wall stores filled with these machines. Nearly every shopping center and night market we visited has at least three of these establishments. These machines feature the typical dolls and little toys that we often see in America, but they also contain some interesting prizes. The keychain mentioned before is just the tip of the iceberg. Keychains of all types litter these machines. From small cameras to color-changing roast duck, these keychains aim to reflect every imaginable niche interest. Larger prizes include large figurines, bags of chips (yes, actual bags of chips you can eat), and, my personal favorite, Tide Pods. These machines seem to have taken the concept of a convenience store and gamified the whole experience. 

But why do these claw machines have such weird prizes? Aren’t these things for kids? What kid wants to grab a box of Tide Pods from a claw machine?

That’s just it. These claw machines aren’t geared towards children. A majority of the patrons at these machines look to be high school and college students. From cute couples to entire families, these claw machines garner the attention of every age group and demographic. The diverse selection of prizes seems to be one of the greater factors in the broad reach of these machines, but something else seems to be at play here. Spending money for the chance of acquiring a keychain seems childish to the average adult. But, for me and many of the adults spending money at these machines, there’s this element of nostalgia and child-like glee that fuels our love of these claw machines. We’re choosing to spend our disposable income on both a product and an experience that brings us joy. It may be a little reckless and a little dumb, but that’s the point. In fact, the inclusion of necessities as prizes aims to lessen the implied recklessness attached to these machines. 

For me, every encounter with these machines is still preceded by a touch of guilt over the money I’m about to spend. But I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not paying for the keychain. I’m paying for a little story, a little joy, and a little fun.

Priscilla Chang

Priscilla Chang (’25) majored in English literature and minored in linguistics at Calvin. She now works as a missionary teacher in Thailand, teaching language arts at Chiang Rai International Christian School. Apart from her love of reading and writing, she is also obsessed with learning languages, dancing, and watching the latest Korean dramas.