#0111: Dragon Ball Battle Figures

If I may go on a personal tangent (and of course I may, it's my fucking blog), 2020 has been a great year for anime. Lots of solid premieres, plenty of compelling cliffhangers, and most significantly, my debut as a freelance blogger with AnimeLab.

It's just another feather in my cap as I continue to ascend towards career stability that eluded me for three decades, and I watched no less than 88 different programs in my exhaustive research. Dude, I get paid to watch and write about anime.

It has very little relevance to today's post, but it's as gratifying as filler can possibly be, particularly as the items in question were acquired during far darker days in my life. Maybe this is going to end up being a self-therapy session disguised as a blog entry? I've done much worse, and yes I'm referring to the talented fucking Mr. Cluck.

For about two and a half years, I toiled away as a staffer of EB Games. As is often the case, my colleagues were about the only redeeming factor in this nightmarish position. Upper management were a bunch of soulless ghouls, the customers ranged from awkward to repugnant, and every day, I stood there reminding myself that I held three diplomas, including a master's degree, only to end up in this dismal place.

I hark back to one interaction where I asked how to spell a customer's surname, only for him to respond with, "I don't know. I'm not smart, I dropped out of school".

Moral of the story? Don't study arts, become a fucking accountant. Plenty of career stability, and the cocaine flows freely.

Anyway, one of the minor perks was that I had free rein over unclaimed preorder bonuses when they were about to be jettisoned. Whether or not I had any interest in the product was irrelevant; shit was free, and gee whiz that made me moist.

To celebrate the release of one of the Dragon Ball games (either Xenoverse 2 or FighterZ, only Lord Beerus knows for sure), we received an armful of colourful capsules housing mystery contents of the Dragon Ball Battle Figures variety.

I never bothered opening them, as the primary purpose was merely having them, however today, I've elected to crack them open and unveil the prizes within. I hope I get a Krillin, or a Jeice, or a rolled up twenty. That last one is my favourite Z Fighter, incidentally.

Alright, it looks like a lot of interesting warriors who are very clearly not Krillin, but we'll persevere all the same. I can recognise Goku and Gogeta, and what appears to be a large red penis.

It's like all of my Christmas wishes came true at once!

So there they are, the battle figures in their splendour (I also added a suitable keychain to help them maintain balance, as well as proving a solid motivational tool). As suspected, we've got Goku and his fused alter-ego Gogeta, alongside the antagonistic duo Jiren and Janemba, the latter of whom apparently didn't get the memo about see-through stones.

On the note of those see-through stones, they act as a means of keeping the more dynamically posed figures aloft, but it also kind of seems like Goku's clambered atop a bar stool and is trying desperately to remember what he was supposed to order for Master Roshi. Five Cougars, thanks!

Meanwhile, Jiren is treading on ultimate boob squeeze territory, which is pretty much in line with his personality, if I recall correctly. That was Jiren's thing, right? He was strong, distrusting and incredibly into fondling breasts? If not, it was definitely implied.

Overall, I'd say that these gaffers are pretty much par for the course, as far as capsule prizes go, though they get bonus points for being particularly well painted and detailed. The Saiyan hair is pointy enough to take your eye out, and I'm partially considering holding onto it as an obtuse murder weapon.

The only enigma here is what this weird ass yellow substance is that was coating Gogeta. It smeared right off of his body and onto my fingers, and then subsequently, every surface I touched thereafter. It seems quite unsanitary, perchance an elicit lubricant he uses to ease himself into each battle.

Also pictured: a hidden phallus. Because one dick joke just wasn't enough.

#0075: Pogs/Tazos/Dizks

I don't claim to be an educator of any sort, but I don't think I'm out of line when I make the assumption that teachers worldwide hate collectible toys with a passion. Because it's so fucking important for kids to gather as many as possible, and if anyone fucks with your collection, there will be hell to pay.

I remember when I was in year 7, and a bunch of year 10s looked through my Pokemon cards. When I came home that day, I realised that several were missing. My mom had sent over some of the new Jungle series cards that hadn't yet reached Australia; Jigglypuff, Meowth and the like, and those motherfuckers stole them. What a bunch of heinous ball sacks! They had no interest in the cards, they probably just wanted to sell them for a couple of bucks. I hope they've since died of botulism. Seriously, fuck those assholes.

It's no wonder the various collectible series are soon banned from the schoolyard. We feel slighted as kids, because we weren't doing any harm, and true enough, we weren't; it was those soulless little shitballs that ruined it for everyone. Fortunately, I didn't go through that kind of distress back in my early collecting days. Because back then, I didn't go to school in the shitty western suburbs of Melbourne. I had a most delightful time gathering Pogs. Then Tazos. Then Dizks. Then spores, moulds and fungus.

Oh, Pogs, you crazy little pieces of cardboard. They were veritable schoolyard currency twenty-some years ago, and I remember that no Pog was to be left behind. At a school event with various games and activities, one of the stands gave out Pogs as a prize. So long were the lines, they eventually had to implement a three-game limit. We were being told we'd had enough Pogs, man.

Here's the family. As you can see, I had a whole bunch of Lion King Pogs. The lion's share, if you will. One of my less proud moments was when someone threw away their Power Rangers Pog, and I frantically chased it down. Who in the flying fuck is Aisha? Who cares, she was a Pog - she was a GOD. And I know you're all super jealous of my slammers and my limited edition 'secret weapon' Pog. Although I'm fairly sure they just put the limited edition line on there for shits and giggles, and it held no actual bearing on the rarity of the Pog.

In case you're wondering, no, I never played the actual game of Pogs. Especially not for keepsies - are you crazy? They were far too important for such frivolity!! From my Nickelodeon Gak Pog to my magic 8-ball hatching from an egg Pog, from my Ren & Stimpy Pog to my piece of styrofoam Pog depicting some kind of robotic foot.

Nowadays, Pogs are a relic of a time long gone. Most kids would have no idea what you were talking about, and anyone brave enough to explore pogs.com.au are led to the disappointment that is the Perth Obstetrics Gynaecology Specialists. That's no fun. I want to study Pogs, not vaginas.

Much bigger in Australia was the Pog equivalent, Tazos. As you can see, I entered the game far too late, and didn't really garner much of a collection. I like to think I got the most important ones, though, representing Space Jam and the significance of Duff beer.

Eventually however, they grew wise to the morning viewing habits of kids around the country. What happened next would boost the sales of chip packets by some astronomical percent. Possibly over 9,000...!

Meet the Dragon Ball Z Dizks. These sons of bitches were (figuratively) huge, and kids bought snacks in bulk not for their daily intake of potato, but for the chance to increase their collection of Dizks. As you can see, they were separated into three categories: the red good guys, the black villains, and the yellow 'super characters'. Unveiling a mighty Super Saiyan Goku or Super Namek Piccolo was cause for celebration, as you triumphantly thrust that silly little yellow circle into the air. You were cooler than cool! You were the hip happenin' thing, baby. Do a boogaloo shuffle!

In case you were wondering, yes, I collected all 40 of them. It has led to a better life for me and my children. But sadly, even the most complete collection is waiting to be dwarfed. While we thought the yellow Dizks were top of the pops, we later discovered glorious Dizks with bright orange backgrounds. We knew these were irregular, and hence, more important. As you can see, I only had three. And beyond that, there were even rarer gold ones that I only once ever saw in person - walking through a forest in the rocky mountains one day. I tried to snap a photo, but alas, it was gone.

Later on, they introduced newer characters in fascinating new shapes, as well as branching on to other shitty animes like Beyblades, but the magic was gone. We had already invested enough time, energy and cholesterol into the fine art of Dizk collecting. In my youth, they told me that I had had enough Pogs. All those years later, I was able to tell the distant Pog relative... 'nah, bro - I've had enough of you.'

Krillin Unleashed

You know what really whets my whistle? Unboxing videos. When somebody's got themselves a brand new console, or a collector's edition boxset, or whatever... watching them unveil each packaged item, leering at it with lust, counting down the days until we too get the chance to unbox.

...Does it still have the same impact if that toy has been sitting in your room for the last nine years? I dunno. Let's find out!


This is a Krillin figure from the Striking Z Fighters series. He features his trademark Destructo Disk, and a table to take his fury out on. He has been sitting on my wall as a decorative piece since 2002, gazing out from his plastic prison with a melancholy grimace upon his face.

Notice the spiderweb dangling lazily over the top? Spotted the layers of dust caked upon the plastic containment? Apparently, I don't clean my room very much. And I don't really recall ever touching him again since planting him up there all those years ago.

Who knows why exactly I wanted a Krillin on my wall. Granted, he's my favourite character from the Dragon Ball franchise, and this particular figure looks pretty badass (and bald, as Krillin was during his best years), but for a fourteen year old to make such a curious decision seems odd.

Granted, I was (and still am) an odd young man, but I just can't decipher the logic behind it.


Here are the other figures from this series, and clearly, Krillin is the one with the best action. All of the other ones look kinda fruity, really. Be it Goku's hand-twisting action, reminiscent of assembling invisible balloon animals, the Great Saiyaman's double-arm chop that looks more like he's losing his balance, or Perfect Cell's ability to spin his fucking wrists, Krillin has them trumped.

I don't know about you, but I'm excited to unleash Krillin and his famous Destructo Disk upon the world. Hide your mountains, here he comes!

Fantastical. Krillin breathes his first gasp of air.


So obviously, the first thing I attempted was for Krillin to fling his Disk at a nearby enemy (that sounds really naughty if you read it wrong), and the results were... hmm, I dunno.

I followed the instructions as best I could.


I placed "destructo disk" into his right hand. Not his wrong hand, but his right hand. The surface could have been more solid, I suppose, but it certainly wasn't sand or jelly. It should have sufficed. Then, I pushed on his head, causing the right arm to swing launching the "destructo disk"! Alas, disappointment, and one more menacing Koopa Troopa roaming the bedroom.

With that not exactly being a world-beater, I opted instead for thumping the living shit out of the breakable table.

Wow. So it seems that Krillin in toy form is just as futile as he is in the animated series. Oh well. At least now, he can put his past, locked away in a display-based prison, behind him. Free now to supervise the insides of my drawer at his leisure. Though now, I begin to ponder what kind of value a fully boxed Krillin would have... And indeed, whether or not his increasing value was a deciding factor behind not opening him up to begin with...

Oh crap. ...I'm sorry, young Tony. I'll make it up to you someday, I swear.