A Bargain Made in Hell!

The T*** Experience:

This incessant advertisement from a Chinese-based company, whose name starts with the letter T, kept popping up on my computer and phone. Out of sheer frustration, I finally clicked on the ad, which led me to download their app. With all the hype surrounding their "free wares" and "low prices," I was intrigued, but proceeded with trepidation and suspicion.

Upon opening the app, I was immediately offered four free gifts —two “cash” vouchers chosen by the app and the other two that I selected myself. This led me into a casino-style game called "Fishland," where the objective was simple: claim as much fish food as possible to feed the hungry fish swimming across the screen.

However, the real trick of the game was the constant push to invite friends from my contact list to help me win additional fish food, encouraging them to download the app, amass free gifts and browse a seemingly endless catalogue of trinkets, knick-knacks, snake oil and a few genuinely worthwhile items.

But here’s where the deception starts. Several of the images were misleading. For example, a guitar with an unbelievably low-price tag turned out to be only the neck strap. And several items, which seemed like great deals, turned out to be 2D posters instead of the actual products. Anyone who doesn’t carefully read the descriptions before purchasing, is in for an unpleasant surprise when their “guitar” arrives as a piece of cloth.

The app offered another similar game, “Farmland,” which also involved claiming water to grow crops. Again, I was given free gifts to start with, and after browsing the catalogue, I made a purchase, tempted by the low prices. In return, I was rewarded with a substantial amount of fish food in the Fishland game. This, of course, didn’t last long. I made a second purchase to get more water in the Farmland game, thinking I was progressing toward the elusive "free gifts."

Initially, feeding the fish and watering the crops seemed easy. The fish would consume only 100-200 grams of food before they were satisfied and disappeared from the screen and the crops consumed a small amount of water. But soon, I realized the pattern. As I neared the end of both games, the feeding and watering demands became increasingly excessive. To move from 99% to 99.1% completion in either game required kilograms of fish food and tens of litres of water. The small amounts of fish food and water I could claim each time were just not enough to keep me going.

It became clear that the game’s real goal was to push me to either invite more friends or buy more products to keep up with the increasing demands. I found myself constantly prompted to share the app with my friends, and that's when the true intention of company T revealed itself: to harvest my entire contact list and populate its database. By urging me to link my contacts, the app tricked me into giving away personal information in exchange for insignificant, low-cost gifts.

What company T is really doing is building the largest possible customer database, filled with names that could potentially be exploited for profit. The goal is to convince users to part with their hard-earned money on frivolous products they don’t need.

Looking back, it became clear that the amount of time I spent chasing “free gifts” wasn’t worth it. When you factor in the cost of data usage and the eventual import duties, it would have been far cheaper to just buy the items directly. Yet, there I was, constantly feeding the fish, watering the crops, and investing time for the hope of receiving something that didn’t truly add value to my life.

It’s easy to see how many people—perhaps even the majority of users—fall into the trap. Most likely, they've gone past the point of no return, pushing through the frustration, feeding the fish and watering the crops just to see it through to the end. But here’s the real question: Was it worth it? Was it worth your time, your energy, your frustration, and the exchange of your friends’ personal details without their explicit consent?

The app’s tactics or rather that of the company remind me of a historical bargain made in hell—just like the time when Jan van Riebeeck offered the Khoi-San tribes shiny glass beads in exchange for the land, or how the colonizers exchanged alcohol for vast swathes of North American territory. In the end, it seems the real cost of this “bargain” is far greater than the trivial rewards it promises. The question that begs to be answered, was it worth it, was it worth your time, your energy, your frustration and giving up your friends and family’s details without their explicate consent?