Tech Fails of the 90s That You Totally Forgot About

The 1990s were a time of rapid technological experimentation. As companies raced to create the next big thing, many products launched with the hope of revolutionizing daily life—only to fizzle out spectacularly. From gadgets that no one asked for to bold ideas that were simply ahead of their time, these tech missteps leave us wondering: What were they thinking? Let’s take a closer look at the tech fails of the 90s and marvel at how unpredictable the future of innovation really is.

Apple may have paved the way for handheld tech with the iPhone, but its first foray into portable computing, the Newton, was a mess. This “personal digital assistant” promised to revolutionize note-taking with handwriting recognition—but the technology was so inaccurate it became a punchline. While the Newton planted seeds for future devices, it was expensive, bulky, and ultimately overshadowed by Palm Pilots. In hindsight, it’s baffling that Apple thought a $700 gadget with sketchy functionality would win over the masses.

If you’ve never heard of Microsoft Bob, consider yourself lucky. This software was supposed to simplify Windows by turning your desktop into a virtual living room, complete with a cartoon dog named Rover to help you “navigate.” Instead, it confused users and treated them like children, all while requiring more processing power than most 90s PCs could handle. The concept was so poorly received that it disappeared within a year, leaving behind one of the biggest head-scratchers in Microsoft’s history.

Nintendo has a history of innovation, but the Virtual Boy was a rare stumble. This early attempt at virtual reality gaming featured a clunky headset that displayed games in monochromatic red and black, causing headaches and eyestrain for many players. The games were uninspired, the device was uncomfortable, and its steep $180 price tag made it a hard sell. It’s amazing that Nintendo thought this would catch on, but the Virtual Boy now lives on as a fascinating misstep in gaming history.

The CueCat was meant to revolutionize how we interacted with print media by letting users scan barcodes in magazines to access online content. In reality, it required proprietary hardware and a clunky setup that no one had time for. By the time it hit shelves, the concept was already rendered obsolete by basic search engines. The CueCat feels like the perfect example of a tech solution to a problem no one had.

What, you don’t remember the Sony Glasstron? This family of portable head-mounted displays hit the market in 1996 and it didn’t last long. An early attempt at putting users inside a video game (we’re reticent to call this VR), the Glasstron looks super cool by standards of the era, but it was so cumbersome and expensive with few uses that it was phased out by 1998.

The MiniDisc was supposed to be the future of personal music, combining the best of CDs and cassette tapes. But while it offered better durability and skip resistance, the device never caught on. It was pricey, required proprietary discs, and launched right as CDs were solidifying their dominance. The MiniDisc is a classic example of good technology that arrived at exactly the wrong time—and one wonders if Sony was just trying to out-tech themselves without checking if anyone wanted it.

The Philips CD-i was advertised as the future of multimedia, promising to be a gaming console, educational tool, and home entertainment system all in one. In reality, it did none of those things well. Its lackluster graphics, clunky controls, and absurd price ($700 at launch) ensured its demise. Perhaps most hilariously, it’s remembered today for spawning some of the worst Legend of Zelda games ever made. It’s hard not to marvel at how Philips thought this unwieldy contraption would become a household staple.

Developed as a superior alternative to cassette tapes, Digital Audio Tape (DAT) offered crystal-clear sound quality—but at a price few were willing to pay. The players were expensive, the tapes were even pricier, and the average listener couldn’t hear much difference compared to CDs. DAT found a niche among audiophiles and professionals but failed miserably in the consumer market. Looking back, it’s unclear who the target audience was supposed to be—or why anyone thought consumers would abandon their trusty CD players for this.

Sega’s 32X was meant to bridge the gap between the Sega Genesis and the upcoming Sega Saturn, but it ended up confusing and alienating fans instead. The add-on required its own library of games, but few developers bothered to support it, leaving the system with a paltry catalog. By the time it hit shelves, the next generation of consoles was already on the horizon. Sega’s decision to release this half-step upgrade remains one of the more baffling moves in gaming history.

Before the iPhone and iPad, there was the Pippin, Apple’s ill-fated attempt at a gaming console. Partnering with Bandai, Apple produced a $600 machine with mediocre games and limited functionality, all while competing against far superior systems like the PlayStation and Nintendo 64. The Pippin sold fewer than 50,000 units and quietly disappeared. It’s hard to imagine why Apple thought this overpriced, underwhelming console would succeed, but it now serves as a cautionary tale for overextending into unfamiliar territory.