From Tamagotchi to Labubu: The Legacy We Leave Our Children Through Fads and Collectibles

Introduction: Small Toys, Big Imprints

In every generation, there’s a must-have toy or collectible that captures the imagination of children and adults alike. In the 90s, Tamagotchis—a simple digital pet housed in a plastic egg—dominated schoolyards and kitchen tables. Shortly thereafter, Pokémon trading cards introduced a new layer of social interaction and competitive excitement. Fast-forward to today, and we see children—and a fair number of adults—scrambling to collect Labubu figurines, the art-meets-toy phenomenon crafted by Pop Mart and Kasing Lung.

At first glance, these might appear to be little more than passing fads. But when placed under a cultural lens, they reveal something deeper. They mark significant generational values, reflect shifts in parenting styles, and showcase evolving relationships with technology, identity, and community.

These collectibles are not just objects. They are conduits of nostalgia, social currency, emotional development, and even artistic expression. They form a lineage—a thread—that ties our childhoods to those of our children. In this 7000-word journey, we explore how these seemingly trivial toys have helped shape generations and what they reveal about the legacy we’re leaving behind.

Chapter 1: The Digital Pet Revolution — Tamagotchi

The Birth of the Tamagotchi

Launched in 1996 by Bandai, the Tamagotchi was born out of a simple but profound idea: what if a child could carry around a living creature in their pocket? Designed by Aki Maita and Akihiro Yokoi, Tamagotchis were handheld digital pets that required constant care. They needed feeding, cleaning, playing, and even discipline. Failure to do so would result in a virtual 'death', much to the devastation of the young caretaker.

In an era before smartphones, Tamagotchis introduced millions of children to the concept of real-time digital interaction. They were a precursor to the always-on digital world we live in today. More than that, they acted as a training ground for responsibility, time management, and empathy.

Digital Responsibility and Emotional Bonds

The core mechanic of the Tamagotchi was simple: keep it alive. But in practice, it became an emotional endeavour. Children set alarms to feed their pets, smuggled them into classrooms, and even experienced grief when their Tamagotchi died. In many ways, it was their first introduction to emotional attachment through technology.

This interaction sowed the seeds of our current digital relationships. Today, adults manage work and personal relationships through screens. Virtual pets evolved into apps, and our emotional bandwidth has adapted to include digital interactions. In that sense, the Tamagotchi wasn't just a toy; it was a generational experiment in emotional technology.

Parenting by Proxy

The Tamagotchi experience also reflected a subtle shift in parenting. In the 90s, latchkey kids—those who returned from school to an empty home—were common. Working parents sought ways to instil responsibility in their children during unsupervised hours. Tamagotchis offered a low-stakes, high-reward opportunity to learn care and accountability.

It was also one of the first mass-market toys that blurred the line between play and self-regulation. It was play with purpose.

Chapter 2: Pokémon Cards — Capitalism and Community

Gotta Catch 'Em All

Few toy lines have had the cultural staying power of Pokémon. Launched as a video game in Japan in 1996 and quickly adapted into trading cards, the franchise became a cultural juggernaut. Pokémon cards weren't just games or collectibles—they were social currency.

Holographic cards like Charizard or Mewtwo became schoolyard legends. A child’s value, status, and circle of friends could rise and fall based on their binder contents. It was both exhilarating and harsh.

Lessons in Negotiation, Strategy, and Value

Pokémon introduced children to the concept of scarcity, trade negotiation, and value perception. Kids debated worth, bartered with their peers, and often learned hard lessons in deal-making. It was capitalism in its purest form, experienced at recess.

Unlike Tamagotchi, which focused on individual responsibility, Pokémon cards demanded social interaction. They required collaboration and confrontation. In a way, Pokémon was the MBA for ten-year-olds—minus the student debt.

Intergenerational Continuity

Today, many of those who grew up with Pokémon cards are passing them down or collecting them anew. Some cards have gained substantial monetary value, reinforcing the idea that what was once play is now investment.

Moreover, the enduring success of the franchise—with constant releases, new games, and anniversary editions—has turned Pokémon into an intergenerational experience. It’s now a bonding ritual between parents and children, linking nostalgia with modern iteration.

Chapter 3: Labubu — Toys as Art, Identity, and Social Media Currency

Who (or What) Is Labubu?

Labubu is part of the "The Monsters" series by Hong Kong artist Kasing Lung, distributed through Pop Mart’s blind-box toy system. These figures are expressive, odd, and undeniably modern. They are sold as collectibles, not playthings, and often displayed in curated shelves or social media posts.

Labubu represents the toy-as-art movement, where design, aesthetics, and exclusivity matter more than function. They’re collectibles for the digital age—curated, photographed, and often flaunted on Instagram.

Aesthetic Capitalism and Childhood

Unlike Tamagotchis or Pokémon, Labubu doesn’t come with a game or rules. Its value is in its look, its scarcity, and its emotional appeal. This marks a stark shift in how toys function in children's lives today.

Modern parenting often embraces aesthetics—nurseries styled like Pinterest boards, toys that match the living room decor. Labubu fits right in. It’s a symbol of aesthetic capitalism, where even childhood is curated.

Moreover, Labubu has become a bridge between parents and kids. Adults often drive the hunt for rare variants or exclusive drops. It becomes a family activity—one rooted more in curation than play.

From Play to Persona

Labubu’s quirky expressions and stylised designs also allow children to project personality onto them. In an age where identity is increasingly fluid, these toys become totems for self-expression. They aren’t just figures; they’re reflections of mood, style, and even social status.

Chapter 4: What Are We Really Leaving Behind?

More Than Toys

Each of these collectible trends—Tamagotchi, Pokémon, Labubu—represents more than their physical forms. They are cultural artefacts. They tell us about the economic conditions of the time, the parenting styles that prevailed, the technologies we adopted, and the values we shared.

• Tamagotchi reflected a need for self-regulation and emotional development through tech.

• Pokémon mirrored economic literacy, social hierarchy, and the commodification of nostalgia.

• Labubu encapsulates aesthetic values, digital storytelling, and hybrid identity.

The Legacy of Fandom

These fads are often dismissed as childish or trivial, but they form the emotional scaffolding of identity. They become nostalgic anchors, binding us to a time, a place, a group. They influence the kinds of adults we become—empathetic, competitive, expressive.

Moreover, they illustrate the power of storytelling. Each Tamagotchi death, each hard-earned Charizard, each rare Labubu carries a story. And in those stories, our children find meaning.

Teaching Values Through Play

Whether we realise it or not, the toys we give our children teach them more than school ever could. Responsibility, trade ethics, artistic expression, community. These aren’t just lessons—they’re values. And values, once learned through play, endure.

As parents, we’re often concerned with leaving a legacy of wealth, education, or opportunity. But perhaps the subtler legacy—the one we pass along through after-school fads and bedtime trades—is equally powerful.

Chapter 5: Bridging Generations

Parent-Child Co-Engagement

One of the most beautiful aspects of these trends is the way they bridge generations. Parents who once nurtured a Tamagotchi or hunted down a holographic Blastoise now find themselves helping their children locate the rarest Labubu variant.

In doing so, we don’t just pass on stuff—we pass on stories. We teach children about patience, value, and even loss. We laugh at shared obsessions and create new memories over old flames.

The Evolution of Play

Play has evolved. It is no longer confined to backyards or bedrooms. It now happens online, through social networks, livestreams, and digital showrooms. What’s crucial is that the essence of play—imagination, identity, interaction—remains constant.

Our toys may change, but our need to play, to connect, and to narrate ourselves through objects, does not.

The Ethics of Consumption

There’s also a lesson in moderation. Today’s fads come fast and furious, and some concern exists around over-consumption, digital addiction, and environmental waste. As stewards of the next generation, it’s worth asking not just what we’re passing on—but how.

Teaching mindful consumption, the joy of quality over quantity, and the difference between value and price can turn these trends from fleeting obsessions into enduring lessons.

Conclusion: Play as Philosophy, Toys as Time Capsules

When we look back on Tamagotchis, Pokémon cards, or Labubu figures, we may first recall a wave of nostalgia. But with closer inspection, we see blueprints—maps of our emotional, social, and cultural landscapes. These were more than fads. They were formative tools.

Through these seemingly small things, we teach our children how to nurture, how to negotiate, how to express themselves, and how to belong. The legacy we leave behind isn’t in the toy itself, but in the experience it brings, the lessons it embeds, and the connection it fosters.

Perhaps, in the end, the greatest inheritance we can give our children is the permission to play—and the space to make sense of the world through it.

Author Bio: Kalpi Prasad is a South Australian finance professional, father, and storyteller who explores the intersection of culture, business, and personal growth. When he's not structuring loans, he's reflecting on life lessons passed down through childhood fads, family, and the toys we never really outgrow.