If you grew up in the 90s or 2000s, you probably fed, cleaned, and buried a Tamagotchi.

A small oval object hanging from a key ring, a black and white screen, only three buttons, and yet, an unforgettable emotional experience.

Le Tamagotchi, it is one of the first digital objects to have generated a direct emotional relationship with an interface. Long before smartphones, it required us to be attentive, regular and involved. 

And, in hindsight, what it shows us is how much a user-first design can make an impact, even before we put a word to it.

1. A minimal, yet immersive interface

Looking at the Tamagotchi's interface, you might think it was an antique. And yet, it had everything: simple icons, effective audio feedback, and a universal visual language.

Without text, without onboarding, without updating. In three buttons, we understood how to feed, play, clean, care. 

What could have been a limitation became its greatest strength because everything was designed to get to the point. The need was clear and the action immediate—all of which characterize user-centered design.

The sounds are rudimentary but they quickly become familiar (I'm talking about the annoying high-pitched beeps that I think we've all turned off!)

As for the expressions, simple pixelated faces displaying joy, fatigue, or illness, they succeed in conveying emotions. We quickly understand what he feels, and without really knowing why, we end up becoming attached.

2. Emotional attachment 

What remains most striking, even years later, is this almost emotional relationship that we developed with him.

Unlike a video game, the Tamagotchi doesn't reward you with scores or levels. It rewards you with emotional progression. It was a virtual creature that relied on you, so you had to take care of it, come back regularly, and be very present. And if you forgot about it, well, it died. 

This is a perfect example of emotional design. We felt frustration when he fell ill without warning. Or had for when it evolved or conversely a feeling of get over guilt when we forgot to feed him.

The interface was nothing spectacular, but the connection with the egg was intimate, almost educational. He taught regularity, responsibility, and frustration. 

3. Precursor of daily commitment

We talk a lot in our digital projects about “retention” and “loyalty.” Applications that try to make us come back every day with reward systems, reminders or streaks. 

But the Tamagotchi already did all that, without notifications, without AI. You only had to forget about it for a day for it to let you know. You couldn't be a passive user since you controlled your life. And it was precisely this repetition, this somewhat restrictive ritual, that created attachment. 

This is what apps like Duolingo ou Snapchat are trying to replicate it today, in a gamified version. But the difference is that the Tamagotchi didn't really have a hidden business model, just a connection based on the user's attention.

4. Experience an object, not a screen

The Tamagotchi wasn't just a screen, it was an object. We carried it with us; it was the experience. We could hold it in our hand like a piece of jewelry, attach it to a keychain, and carry it with us all day long. 

This is where the connection between user experience and product design becomes evident. The experience wasn't just about the interface, but also about shape, color, texture, and size. 

And this link with the physical object brings to mind today's connected objects such as:

• smartwatches that gently vibrate for breathing notifications, 
• smart rings that transmit a heartbeat,
• voice assistants with a calm voice, without a screen.

5. Digital nostalgia

Today, we're seeing the Tamagotchi return in various forms: collector's editions, mobile versions, and even connected models. And it's no coincidence; there's a real nostalgia for this simple relationship with digital technology. There are no ads or cloud computing, just an object that demands our attention. 

This need for simplicity echoes several observations such as digital fatigue, the need to disconnect or the return to the tangible (for example, buying an analog alarm clock to avoid waking up with your smartphone, paper books, etc.). 

Nostalgia isn't just about the retro look. It's more about a desire to interact with slower, less connected, and reassuring objects. 

6. What if the Tamagotchi had AI?

With all the AI ​​topics we're seeing today, this might be an interesting question. If the Tamagotchi had artificial intelligence—if it could talk, remember our interactions, react to our moods, etc.—would we like it more? Or would we lose what made it so appealing?

There is a debate around companion AIs (like Replica, for example), which attempt to recreate a form of human relationship. The Tamagotchi may not have needed deep learning, it simply relied on a mechanism of reciprocal dependence. 

Conclusion

The Tamagotchi shows us that a product's impact doesn't necessarily depend on its technical complexity. Rather, it's the intention, the clarity of use, and the emotion it generates that make all the difference. It's not just a toy; it's a timeless experience. 

So yes, today, everything is faster, smarter, and more immersive. But all it takes is a small, colorful egg and three buttons to remind us that the most impactful design is often the one we don't see, but the one we feel.

 

Alexa Cuellar, UX/UI designer and Product designer at UX-Republic