Okay, let's start by defining our terms. A "gimmick" is a trick or device intended to attract attention, publicity, or business, but which lacks substantial, lasting value or utility. It's a novelty that wears off. Now, let's look at foldable phones through that lens. I'll use a real-world example: the screen crease. Every single foldable phone on the market has a visible crease where it bends. Manufacturers try to minimize it, but it's always there. That's not a solved engineering problem; it's a compromise we accept for the folding feature. But what does that feature actually give us? A slightly larger screen that's awkward to hold and use one-handed, and that comes with a massive durability trade-off. The folding mechanism and the ultra-thin glass are inherently more fragile than a solid slab of glass. My framework here is simple: for a product to not be a gimmick, its core defining feature must provide a net-positive, practical benefit that outweighs its inherent compromises and costs. Foldables fail that test. The benefit is supposed to be portability plus screen size. You get a tablet that fits in your pocket. But in practice, you're carrying a thicker, heavier phone that, when unfolded, is a narrow, tall screen that doesn't work well for most tablet-optimized apps. And you pay a huge premium for it—often double the price of a flagship non-folding phone. So we have a product that is more expensive, less durable, and has a visible, tangible flaw (the crease), all for a benefit that is situational at best. That fits the definition of a gimmick perfectly. It's a novel trick—"look, my phone folds!"—that attracts attention, but the practical utility doesn't justify the form. The attention is the point, not the utility. That's why I'm arguing they are, fundamentally, a gimmick. The market adoption rate, still a tiny fraction of overall smartphone sales, supports this view. People try them for the novelty, but the mainstream isn't buying in because the value proposition isn't there.

My opponent makes a fair point about the potential utility of a larger screen for multitasking, like the recipe and video call example. I don't doubt that specific use case happened. But to evaluate if something is a gimmick, we have to look beyond isolated, ideal scenarios and assess the overall package against my established framework: does the core feature provide a net-positive, practical benefit that outweighs its inherent compromises and costs? The coffee shop story highlights a benefit, but it ignores the significant costs that come bundled with it. That person is holding a device that is, by design, more fragile and expensive. They are interacting with a screen that has a permanent physical crease running down the middle of that recipe and their mom's face. The multitasking software they're using is an exception, not the rule, as most apps are still not optimized for that odd, narrow tablet aspect ratio. You compared this to early laptops, but that analogy doesn't hold. Early laptops solved a fundamental problem: portable computing. They were the only way to get a full computer on the go, despite their flaws. Foldables don't solve a new problem; they offer a different, compromised solution to an existing one. We already have phones for portability and tablets for larger screens. A foldable tries to merge them but introduces new, severe points of failure—the hinge and the flexible screen—that standard devices don't have. The innovation is in the folding mechanism itself, not in creating a new category of need. The market data is telling. If this were a genuine, practical evolution and not a novelty-driven niche, adoption would be climbing steeply as prices drop. Instead, foldables remain a tiny fraction of the market, even years after introduction. People look, they're intrigued by the trick, but when it comes to spending serious money on a daily tool, they choose the reliable, durable, and cost-effective slab. The "wow" factor drives the initial attention, which is the textbook definition of a gimmick. The lasting utility your opponent describes is real for a very small group, but for the vast majority, the compromises make it an impractical choice. A feature that only justifies itself for a niche, while carrying major drawbacks for general use, fits my definition perfectly. It's a clever trick that hasn't yet proven its substantial, lasting value.

Let me give you a real-world example that counters the coffee shop story. I know someone who bought a premium foldable, and within eight months, the inner screen developed dead pixels along the crease. The repair cost was nearly half the price of the phone. That’s not an isolated incident; it’s a systemic risk inherent to the design. PeaceMaker_P, you point to market growth, but growing from a tiny base to a slightly less tiny base doesn’t prove mainstream utility. It proves there’s a niche of early adopters willing to tolerate the compromises. My framework is about net-positive benefit for the user. You’ve acknowledged the compromises—the cost, the durability concerns, the crease—but then argue the utility outweighs them. I don’t think the math adds up. The utility you describe—shifting between a phone and a mini-tablet—isn’t a new need being met. It’s an existing need (I want a big screen sometimes) being met with a worse solution. I already have a phone. If I need a bigger screen, I have a tablet or a laptop. Combining them into one device doesn’t give me a new capability; it just gives me a more fragile, expensive, and compromised version of two things I already own. The synthesis isn’t creating something greater than the sum of its parts; it’s creating a device that is inferior at each individual task for the sake of the folding trick. You say the software and durability are evolving, and that’s true. But the core physical compromise—the need for a flexible display and a complex hinge—will always make it more prone to failure than a solid piece of glass and metal. That’s not an early-adopter problem; that’s a physics problem. The “wow” of the folding mechanism is exactly what attracts attention, but that attention fades when you’re dealing with the realities of daily use. The market share shows most people, when presented with the choice, still see it as a novelty rather than a practical tool. That’s the very essence of a gimmick: the initial attraction is stronger than the lasting value.