Mathswatch - Oswestry

Jack W.

I genuinely don’t know where to start with Maths Watch. If there was an option for negative stars, I'd choose that. This app is not just a tool for maths, it's a catalyst for everything that's wrong in my life. Every time I try to use it, I feel like I'm getting dragged into a pit of despair, one equation at a time.

Let’s talk about the voice used in the instructional videos. If there's any voice that could make someone’s blood pressure spike, it’s this one. It's so high-pitched, monotonous, and irritating that every syllable feels like a physical assault. I get a headache within minutes of listening to it, and the worst part? The voice doesn't stop. It's constant, like an unrelenting ticking clock counting down to my inevitable mental breakdown. I can't even focus on the lesson because all I can hear is this voice screeching in my ears, making me feel sick. It's honestly impressive how something so simple can make me spiral into existential dread.

The app itself crashes. Constantly. I lose all my progress, and every time I try to get back into the lessons, the frustration and anxiety hit a new level. It feels like a cruel joke – a learning tool that’s actively working against me. Instead of helping me understand maths, it makes me question my entire existence.

I’ve never been more emotionally drained by something as basic as an educational app. Maths Watch isn’t just a waste of time – it’s a stress factory disguised as an educational resource. Do yourself a favor and avoid this at all costs. It's a downward spiral of frustration, depression, and crashing out.

me

Mathswatch.exe

It started as a normal math assignment. Jacob sighed as he logged into Mathswatch, the familiar yellow and blue interface loading on his laptop screen. His teacher had set another batch of algebra questions, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to game until he finished them.

The first question appeared:

“Solve for x: 3x + 5 = 11.”

Jacob typed in the answer: “x = 2” and hit submit.

Correct.

The next question popped up, but something was off. The numbers were shifting slightly, like the text was glitching.

“Solve for x: 6x - 4 = 14.”

Jacob solved it quickly—“x = 3”—and pressed enter.

The screen flickered. The Mathswatch logo at the top of the page seemed… different. The friendly face in the logo had changed. Its smile was wider, too wide, stretching unnaturally across its face.

A new question loaded.

“Solve for x: YOU CANNOT LEAVE.”

Jacob’s breath hitched. His fingers trembled as he tried to refresh the page, but the screen froze. The cursor wouldn’t move. The numbers in the background of the page began shifting, rearranging into something that almost looked like words.

“YOU BELONG TO ME NOW.”

The Mathswatch logo blinked.

Jacob shoved his chair back, heart pounding. His laptop speakers crackled, and a distorted voice whispered, “Try again.”

The screen changed, showing a video. It was one of the usual Mathswatch tutorial clips, but the teacher in the video wasn’t right. His eyes were hollow, his face too pale. His mouth moved, but the words came out distorted, backward.

The laptop speakers screeched. Jacob covered his ears as the voice became clearer:

“Get it wrong, and you stay forever.”

A new question appeared.

“Solve for x: 7x + 2 = ?”

But there was no answer. No numbers. Just the flashing Mathswatch logo, its eyes now watching him.

Jacob slammed the laptop shut.

Darkness. Silence.

Then, from inside the closed laptop, a whisper:

“You forgot to show your working.”

sxreyシ

I can barely put into words the horror that is Mathswatch. It’s not just a math resource; it’s a weapon designed to break your spirit. The seemingly endless barrage of equations, obscure rules, and unforgiving questions turned my mind into a swirling vortex of confusion and dread.

At first, I tried to approach it with optimism. “How hard can it be?” I thought. But every video I watched, every question I attempted, dragged me deeper into madness. The problems seemed designed not to challenge my intellect, but to destroy it. Each failed attempt left me questioning my own ability to understand basic concepts. I lost track of time as I spiraled further, unable to escape the endless loops of equations.

The worst part? The dreaded “check answers” button. It taunts you, daring you to discover that once again, you’re wrong. The feedback is a crushing weight, reinforcing the idea that you’re not just failing at math—you’re failing at life. I began to hear the sound of equations in my sleep, the formulas chasing me in my dreams like ravenous beasts.

It’s not even the content itself that pushed me over the edge—it’s the sheer unrelenting nature of it. The interface is cold, unfeeling. It’s like being trapped in an asylum where the only escape is solving problems that feel designed by a sadistic mastermind. I have lost count of the hours I’ve spent staring at a screen, watching my sanity erode with each passing minute.

If you value your mental health, stay away from Mathswatch. What began as a tool to help me learn has become a daily battle against my own mind. Mathswatch didn’t just test my math skills—it made me question my very grip on reality.

Henry F.

It started when I logged into Mathswatch. A simple task, or so I thought. The moment the dashboard loaded, my calculator let out a blood-curdling scream and then exploded into a cloud of quadratic equations.

Suddenly, the video player glitched. The robotic Mathswatch voice whispered, "You will never escape simultaneous equations." I blinked. The screen was now filled with thousands of algebraic fractions, rearranging themselves like eldritch runes. I could hear the whispers of ancient mathematicians mocking my inability to factorize.

By hour five, my laptop started speaking in Morse code. My keyboard only typed the number π, no matter what I pressed. The pause button? Nonexistent. The skip button? A myth. Sir was still explaining Pythagoras, but now he had infinite eyes, all staring into my soul.

My bedroom door disappeared. The only way out was through the Mathswatch homework. I attempted the first question. The moment I hit “Submit,” my houseplants began reciting prime numbers. The pigeons outside my window transformed into sentient protractors, measuring my suffering.

I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know what a surd is. All I know is that Mathswatch has me now.

Gemma L. P.

Some of the review are very eloquently written and rather theatrical.
An honest review, it's OK. It's not the greatest. It is a bit cheaper than some of its rivals but it doesn't do everything you might want from a maths revision tool.
Some kids like it because it gives the instant feedback of correct but others dislike it.
Perhaps there could be an option to not reveal if they don't want it.
Their reasons behind disliking it is mostly due to the lack of clarity as to where they went wrong.
There is a space for showing working out and it checks this but if there is an error there it doesn't explain it or highlight it so the pupil has to go back and find the mistake.
My tact with this is to see what they can remember so I can adapt my input so if they get a poor score but have tried every question, I give extra help.
The work has to be set by the teacher so revising as an individual can be harder. Hegarty used to have fix up 5 etc. which was a quick revision tool, it was adaptive.
It also can be quite specific as to how it wants working out/ an answer and if you don't get it then it marks wrong or partially right. There is no option for the teacher to then change the marks given and give the marks, which is something that Hegarty used to do.
I don't think it's very clear on showing pupils the tracking of their own progress either.

For teachers you can be selective with what you set, choosing something that will target your pupils.
It's good for finding exam style questions.
There's a feedback tool for the overall piece and for individual questions too.
It gives you a clear score so you can easily assess who needs more help.

It's OK . There's some things I'd improve.
If a pupil has a strong dislike of it, I tend to print the questions and get them to do it by hand instead which saves some unnecessary anxiety.
I am not sure we would renew our subscription at the end of the year.

Teo

The worst website of my life.Every time I click enter and i see that little orange box that says "incorrect try again!" I feel like I'm gonna punch a wall or scream or cry or pull my hair out or all of those things for that matter. Unfortunately my school think this is a great website to set me 3 tasks each with 40 questions so I have to deal with it every week.The only good thing about it is reading the reviews with my friend in computer math which are funny as hell it almost makes me forget how horrid this website acc is.
-Teo☆

Antony S.

horror story: mathswatch

“Are you sure you want to continue?” it asked, the letters twisting, almost as if they were alive.

Sophie froze. She hadn’t typed anything. It must’ve been some kind of glitch, she thought. She clicked again, more forcefully this time, but the screen refused to budge. Her mouse moved erratically, as if being controlled by something beyond her.

“Answer correctly, or suffer the consequences,” the text flickered and then vanished. The screen returned to normal—almost.

A new equation appeared, one Sophie hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t just a simple quadratic equation or a basic algebraic expression. This one had strange symbols, lines curving in impossible ways. The numbers seemed to pulse, as if they were breathing.

Solve for x.

Sophie stared at the screen, her heartbeat quickening. There was something wrong with this problem, something that made her stomach churn. She started typing in answers, but every time she hit "enter," the screen would reject them with a chilling message:

Incorrect. Try again.

The more she tried, the more the numbers on the screen twisted, contorting into shapes that were utterly unfamiliar, defying the laws of mathematics. Panic set in. Sophie could feel the air in her room grow colder, the hum of the computer turning into a low, guttural growl.

Then, the screen flickered again, and a new message appeared.

“You can’t escape.”

Before Sophie could react, the screen went black. Her heart raced as she tried to click the power button on her computer, but the mouse and keyboard were unresponsive. The only thing that seemed to work was the blinking cursor in the top-left corner of the screen, which began typing by itself:

"Solve or suffer."

Sophie’s breathing grew shallow. The cursor moved, rapidly filling the screen with increasingly complex equations, each one more bizarre than the last. The numbers no longer made sense—they were alien, impossible to solve. And then the cursor stopped.

A new message appeared, written in cold, harsh letters:

“You failed.”

And suddenly, the world around her began to distort.

The room seemed to stretch and bend, the walls closing in on her. Sophie could feel something pulling her toward the screen, the faint hum of the Mathswatch website echoing in her ears. The air was thick, suffocating. She screamed, but the sound was drowned out by the increasing volume of the hum.

The numbers on the screen blurred together, forming grotesque shapes that twisted and wriggled like worms. Sophie tried to turn away, but her body wouldn’t obey. She was being dragged closer, her eyes fixed on the numbers, her mind spiraling into madness.

Then, with a final scream, the screen flashed one last time, and Sophie was gone.

The next morning, her parents found her room empty, the computer on with the Mathswatch site still open. There was no sign of Sophie anywhere.

In the days that followed, other students at her school began to experience the same strange occurrences with Mathswatch. The once innocuous platform had turned into something much darker—something that preyed on the minds of those who dared to use it.

No one could explain it. The website, now malfunctioning and corrupted, would occasionally send cryptic messages to anyone who tried to use it:

Solve or be consumed.

And anyone who tried to answer the questions... never returned.

Pekka K.

I didn't even know I had it in me. That the inhumane concept would unfold into my own reality. The thought that I had the power to remove a soul from this very world. With the blood corsing through my veins, and the very blood of another dripping down my shirt, along my arms, wetting my fingers and staining my socks with a cold imprint of horror.

Jeremiah... No!

Was that just my heart talking for me? My emotions before my words. My intentions hidden behind such a false declaration. My blood hath boiled with a primal rage lurking deep within me, that I thought would never reveal itself again. I believe it had rot away a long time ago, so long ago, I began to lose pieces of that memory. And day by day, fragments withered away until there was not a trace of its existence. Yet I had thought wrong.

All the lost shards transforming into their original state in no longer than a moment. The moment I realised. I lost myself. Those shards morphed into a mirror reflecting my past and with it, all actions, never to be repeated again. It stood there peering into my soul, judging my every move, as I peered into it, only to see someone who I did not fully know. However they were familiar, and that I dreaded with every fibre in my body. Was I really changing, or was I merely discovering who I might have always longed to become?

How did I come this far? I reminisce the times where I was as young as he was, even younger, to the point where the first light I had witnessed had glowed upon my little innocent head. Those times of youth. The times where nothing could ever go wrong. The times where one could've never expected such raw fury to inevitably erupt from in years to come. How could I take that away from someone? How could I have possibly even considered such a cruel ending for someone? That is because I didn't; no rational thoughts were rushing through my brain at that moment. Of course, his brain had things rushing through them too...

Did I really mean for all of this to happen?
Why was my heart not powerful enough to stop me?
What went wrong...

...yeah 2 stars.