The Samsung Galaxy Ring: Because Your Finger Was Feeling Left Out of the Surveillance Economy.

How Samsung Convinced Us We Need a $400 Bluetooth Mood Ring That Dies Every Week.

Jul 03, 2025

Right, let’s talk about the Samsung Galaxy Ring, shall we? Because apparently, in 2025, we’ve reached the point where every single appendage on your body needs its own subscription to the digital overlords. Your wrist? That’s got a smartwatch. Your ears? AirPods. Your face? Smart glasses. But what about your poor, neglected finger?

Well, thank Christ Samsung has finally stepped in to monetise that last bastion of analogue freedom.

So what does this little miracle of modern stupidity actually do? It packs heart rate, blood oxygen, and skin temperature sensors into a titanium ring that costs $400 and needs charging every week. Yes, you read that right – every bloody week. I mean nothing says “timeless piece of jewellery” like having to remember to plug it in next to your phone charger like some sort of discount cyborg.

The Galaxy Ring tracks your sleep, your steps, your heart rate, and probably your existential dread – though Samsung’s keeping quiet about that last feature. Battery life lasts “up to” 7 days on a single charge but varies by ring size, because even your finger accessories now come with the anxiety of battery management. Brilliant.

Now, here’s where this gets properly mental. Rings, historically speaking, have been symbols of eternal commitment – family heirlooms passed down through generations and markers of significant life events. Your gran’s wedding ring? Still working after 60 years. Your Galaxy Ring? Battery capacity ranges from 17mAh to 22.5mAh depending on size – which means in about two years, when that battery inevitably shits the bed, your £300 “smart” ring becomes a very expensive paperweight.

Can you imagine explaining this to your grandchildren?

“Well, sweetie, this was Great-Grandpa’s Galaxy Ring. It used to track his sleep patterns and tell him when he was stressed, but the battery died in 2027 and Samsung stopped supporting it, so now it’s just a slightly chunky bit of metal that reminds us of humanity’s brief but spectacular descent into digital madness.”

But let’s address the elephant in the room: what problem is this actually solving? We already have phones that track our steps. We have smartwatches that monitor our heart rate. We have apps that analyse our sleep. We have scales that judge our weight and mirrors that reflect our poor life choices back at us in high definition. Did anyone – and I mean anyone – wake up one morning and think, “You know what my life is missing? Another device to tell me I’m unhealthy, but this time on my finger”?

As one reviewer put it:

“My final takeaway is that the Galaxy Ring is a fine option for those looking for a passive way of keeping an eye on their overall health and fitness.”

Passive. There’s the key word. Because apparently, we’ve become so bloody lazy that even the act of checking our health requires less effort. God forbid we should actively engage with our own wellbeing.

The psychology behind this is fascinating – in the same way that watching someone repeatedly walk into a glass door is fascinating. We’ve collectively decided that more data equals better living, even when that data just confirms what we already know: we don’t sleep enough, we don’t move enough, and we stress too much about things we can’t control – like whether our smart ring has enough battery to judge our sleep quality.

One reviewer complained:

“Every time I felt it scrape on a surface or catch on a pocket, I was reminded it was there, and it wasn’t a nice reminder.”

Brilliant. So not only does it die every week, but it actively makes your life more annoying while it’s alive.

But here’s the real thing – imagine the boardroom meeting where this got greenlit. Picture it: a room full of Samsung executives, probably wearing $500 smartwatches, looking at market research that says people want even more ways to be reminded of their biological limitations.

“Right, team, we’ve successfully convinced people they need computers on their wrists. What’s next?”
“Sir, what if we put computers on their fingers too?”
“Genius! And make sure it needs charging constantly – we want them to develop a relationship with yet another charging cable.”
“Should we make it useful, sir?”
“God no, that’s not the point. The point is making them feel like they need it.”

The truly depressing part is that it’s working. Reviews describe it as “an impressive first go at the form factor”, as if creating unnecessary technology deserves applause simply for existing. We’ve become so conditioned to accept innovation for innovation’s sake that we’ve forgotten to ask the most basic question: “But why though?”

Look, I get it. We live in an age where self-optimisation has become a competitive sport. Everyone’s tracking everything – measuring every metric, quantifying every aspect of human experience – until we’ve reduced the beautiful, chaotic, unmeasurable experience of being alive into a series of notifications and battery percentages.

But here’s a thought: what if, instead of spending $400 on a ring that tells you you’re tired, you just… went to bed earlier? What if, instead of tracking your stress levels, you addressed the things causing the stress? What if, instead of measuring your heart rate during meditation, you just… meditated?

Revolutionary concepts, I know.

The Samsung Galaxy Ring represents everything absurd about our relationship with technology in 2025. It’s a solution searching for a problem, a gadget designed to make us feel productive while actually making us more dependent, and a perfect example of how we’ve confused surveillance with self-care.

So congratulations, Samsung. You’ve successfully convinced people they need a $400 Tamagotchi for their finger. Next up: smart shoelaces that track your walking efficiency and judge your sock choices. Because if we’re going to quantify every aspect of human existence, we might as well be thorough about it.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go charge my smart ring. It’s been judging my heart rate for six days straight, and apparently, it needs a nap.