I Took My Tamagotchi To A Wedding And Accidentally Killed It

RIP to Simagurutchi, the first Tamagotchi I had on my Tamagotchi Uni. If I’m being honest, your loss won’t weigh heavily on me, but please know that you were awesome to bring to my friend’s wedding.

Mine and Simagurutchi’s union started out as a work assignment — Bandai Namco sent me a unit for review — and it quickly turned into a bit. Determined to get the most out of my new Tamagotchi Uni, I decided to wear it as much as possible on an upcoming trip across the country for a friend’s wedding. Luckily for me, Tamagotchi technology and fashion have continued to develop over the years, and Uni is no different. This particular model of wearable pet toy comes with a rubber band so I can wear it like a watch with the world’s sexiest figure.

I took it to the airport. I carried it on the plane. To my surprise, I didn’t even have to remove it for the TSA. But wearing my Tamagotchi in public became the beginning of his mortal malaise. I was riding in the back of my friend’s 2008 Honda Odyssey when the watch beeped. It was one thing to bring a Tamagotchi on a trip; it was quite another to forcibly expose everyone around me to her high-pitched screams.

Once silenced, there is no going back. I have attention issues, so if not for the nasty beeps to remind me when to feed the animal, I might as well have thrown my Tamagotchi into a black hole (although I wore it on my wrist for the major part of the weekend). Feedings were rare and I didn’t realize it, but my animal’s well-being was slowly fading away.

I wore the full Tamagotchi, clumsy bracelet and all, to my friend’s wedding. It happened to match perfectly with my rainbow French nails and the colorful floral dress that I thought was worthy of a Californian wedding. For something so big, and let’s be honest, tacky in appearance, it kind of pulled the whole thing together with a big splash of pink. I was ready for marriage. If only I could have said the same about Simagurutchi.

Far from feeling too stuffy, my Tamagotchi watch felt right at home at the whimsical wedding. All of the wedding guests went to a nearby park after the ceremony to take photos. Children and adults twirled ribbons attached to wooden pegs. Another group of friends created giant puppet replicas of the groom and bride that stood ceremoniously above the party. A man wearing brass glasses played a giant music box, and a stuffed monkey with matching brass glasses sat atop bringing joy to guests. When taking a group photo, the photographer told us all to stay at the window, “prom style”. Naturally, I stood on the Tamagotchi side, as directed by my supportive friends.

I discussed it with a friend from college and although I was a little nervous about talking to them, I was prepared with the ultimate icebreaker: my Tamagotchi. I wanted to show them a minigame that takes advantage of the watch’s pedometer and challenges you to mirror dance like a Wii minigame. I tried to click on the screen, but all I saw was an image of a ghost with large lips and a single tear rolling down the side of its face. It was Simagurutchi, and he was dead.

I cuddled up with a friend and my partner, let out a collective “Oh nooooo” and quickly got to work finding a new pet. Neither button combination seemed to work, until a friend remembered his childhood days with Tamagotchi and realized there might be a little button on the back to reset it.

I took the watch off and flipped it over and there it is, the little pen tip sized button on the back. The only problem was that we were in a park and didn’t have a pen. We asked a lady dressed in black and thin angular sunglasses if she had a pen; She did not do it. We asked the man playing what appeared to be a huge music box decorated with tiny dioramas of revelers – he didn’t have any either. We went from person to person to no avail, until a friend looked into their black leather fanny pack. He didn’t have a pen, but he had a fine comb. As I held the Tamagotchi, my friend pulled the comb aside and used a tooth to press the button.

Within moments, we reset the toy and reset our lives. I cracked open a new egg and took in a new underdeveloped blob, and cheered in the California sun with my friends.

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