lt usually takes me two short scooter rides, a session on the Puyuma express train, and a fair amount of walking and waiting to get to and from work every day. I’ve recently given up riding my second scooter from the Taichung Train Station to work: One, for my mental and physical health; Two, to do my bit for the environment by creating less air pollution; and Three: to engage more with the world I live in by riding the free Ibike everyone can access with an Easycard and a registered phone number.

The 24-hour Claw Machine Arcade on the corner of Fuxing Road and Lide Street is a colourful landmark. It’s a palace of dreams trapped in glass cages. It also marks the start of my bike ride down Lide Street. For the pocket change price of a NT$10 coin, I can take control of the mighty claw and use it to grab whatever prize tempts me the most. I ride straight past this arcade every day. I’m not tempted.

Be warned—claw machines are fun, but highly addictive, and sometimes illicit.

I appreciate the simple beauty of this popup business model in Taiwan. I understand this non-committal form of pick-me-up entertainment serves a purpose.

For a brief moment you are in control of things. The claw dangles and swings as the countdown begins. You nudge the claw here and you move it there until you’re sure it’s on target. You press a button. The claw opens as it descends on the target—your chosen prey. The predatorial claw closes and you’re thrilled as it moves to the exit trapdoor with the prize you want. You win!

I witnessed the state of this magnificent corner arcade today. I took a photo from the seat of my 3-speed Ibike, and I confess, I regret not giving in to temptation and taking control of a claw.  

The machines are gone. The place has been gutted. All that remains is the yellow claw hovering above the pedestrians and the drivers who pass underneath. It’s an eye-catching decoration and a magical anchor for my imagination.

I imagine the claw coming alive in the dead of the night, all lit up like the hand of a neon demon. It grabs random people and feeds their screaming bodies into the darkness of the open windows on the second and third floors. The building is a gigantic claw machine. It shakes itself loose from the steel reinforced concrete foundations and roams the city, hungry for the entertainment of a bloody and brutal revenge. People run into danger like mindless objects with legs.

Surprise! We become the sought after prizes we once sought out.

I’m reluctant to come back to reality. The colourful building remains ignored by everyone but me. People pass by and move on to other entertainment. I spend another minute staring.

The light turns green for me. I bike past, taking care to avoid passing under the claw, just in case.

How to cite: Ashby, Quenntis. “The Temptation of the Claw Machine’s Revenge.” Cha: An Asian Literary Journal, 21 Jun. 2023, chajournal.blog/2023/06/21/machine.

Quenntis Ashby is a leap year aquarian rabbit from South Africa living in Taiwan. He jumps from page to stage to imagination as a body of words. Quenntis writes quirky stories with a twist of lemon; poetry with a pinch of salt; and drinks green tea for nonfiction.

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