A Frustrating History of the Claw Machine

Exploring the origins of claw machines, their controversial regulation, and the truth behind their fairness

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One aspect that really annoys me about the first Toy Story film is the scene where Sid snatches Woody and Buzz from the claw machine. He effortlessly catches one of those aliens obsessed with the claw, followed by Buzz Lightyear, which is grabbed securely by his helmet. It’s so tight that Woody can’t even rescue Buzz.

Even though this movie deals with animated toys, that moment is definitely the most unrealistic part of the entire flick. As a passionate advocate for claw machines, I assure you no claw machine has ever functioned with such proficiency. You might say, “Oh, he could have been lucky!” and while that’s a possibility, understanding how claw machines operate unveils just how unfavorably the odds are stacked against players.

Vox revealed in its extensive examination of claw machines that the owners can manipulate various adjustable characteristics to make the game easier or much harder. One major aspect is claw strength; operators can control not just the intensity of the grip but also how frequently it operates at full strength. Essentially, the claw only gets its full might occasionally; most of the time, it's weakened by reducing voltage. Additionally, a concept known as dropped skill involves pre-programming the claw to pick up items only to drop them, creating the illusion of being close to a win, even when you had no genuine chance.

The most astonishing feature, however, is the capacity for operators to set a desired profit margin. After inputting the prize value, gameplay costs, and targeted profit, the machine will provide potent voltage to the claw inconsistently, determining intervals based on the established profit goal. For example, if playing costs 50 cents, while the prize is worth $7, the machine might grant full strength to the claw roughly every 21 attempts (not precisely, to limit pattern recognition by players).

This unsettling information may ignite your frustration, but some argue that such features serve legitimate purposes. James Roller, an amusement historian with roots in running claw machines, has noted, “Historically, all carnival games raise suspicion about rigging and understandably so,” while asserting the claw strength adjustments can accommodate heavier or lighter items. If prizes include stuffed animals, beanie babies, or even tech gadgets, machines can be calibrated accordingly.

As for programmed winning intervals, Roller contends that it balances skilled players against novices, providing casual players with occasional successes. By implementing these pre-scheduled victories, claw games—mainly designed for younger audiences—can reward less adept players at times, potentially even mischievous children like Sid from Toy Story.

To comprehend the reality of claw machines better, consider rethinking your perspective on them. Rather than viewing them as beatable skill games like skee-ball or Super Shot Basketball, recognize them as a game of chance, akin to a slot machine. This aligns with governmental perceptions, as numerous states impose laws concerning claw machines, typically categorizing them as gambling devices. Instead of dictating operational specifics, which may be challenging due to overseas manufacturing, states instead concentrate on the permissible prize values, creating a layer of child-friendly gaming by limiting potential wins to lesser-value items.

Nonetheless, the mere regulation of prize value pales compared to the extent of earlier government oversight. Initially, claw machines, also termed crane games, weren’t designed as games but rather as amusement displays showcasing miniature steam shovels utilized for constructing the Panama Canal. As documented by Roller, the first commercially viable crane digger game is acknowledged as the Erie Digger, which emerged from Hartford, Connecticut, in the early 20th century.

These machines, initially stocked with candy, quickly gained immense popularity due to their minimal play and operational costs, as they didn’t require electricity. However, as described by Mental Floss, with rising popularity, operators diversified their prizes to appeal to adult players, incorporating items like cigarette lighters and watches, ultimately attracting federal scrutiny.

The Johnson Interstate Transportation Act of 1950 strictly prohibited the transportation of gambling devices or their components across state lines, leading to clampdowns on claw machines. This regulation prompted numerous operators to exit the market. Nevertheless, Lee Moss, the owner of Erie Manufacturing Corp, contested the government’s classification and managed to have specific claw machines recognized as amusement devices, distinct from gambling devices, although electrically powered crane machines remained illegal into the late 1980s.

By the early 1990s, federal regulations relaxed slightly, allowing claw machines to regain prominence. They also became coin-operated once again after a lengthy hiatus from 1985 to 1990. However, a new type of claw machine emerged from foreign markets during the late 1990s, introducing larger, technologically advanced machines featuring claws instead of shovels. These newer machines appeared in a variety of locations, from Walmarts to rest stops, solidifying their place in the entertainment industry.

Prior to this evolution, claw machines presented considerable challenges; players had to master moving those tiny shovels meticulously. However, contemporary machines, with their adjustability, have transformed the experience from challenging to almost unattainable in certain scenarios. While I appreciate Roller’s theory of claw machines as a game of chance over skill, it’s disheartening that out of 95% of the times I insert my coins, winning is almost certainly out of reach.

Nevertheless, armed with the knowledge regarding claw machines’ mechanics, I still find myself unable to completely resist their allure, particularly when an enticing plush toy catches my eye as I pass by. Perhaps, laden with the knowledge of intermittent payouts and a little luck on my side, I might just secure a win. I could find myself at a moment when the machine dispenses its occasional victory or in a situation where the claw's strength is unexpectedly heightened.

Interestingly, despite the adjustable settings that lean towards making these games seemingly unfair, some players have honed their skills to conquer these challenges. Perhaps one day, armed with practice and a willingness to spend, I could match Chen Zhitong, who has retrieved over 15,000 prizes from claw games, or even Sid from Toy Story, who managed to snag an alien, Buzz Lightyear, and Woody with just two attempts. Talk about lucky!