#0110: Blaster T-1000

Not too long ago, I showed off a pair of Terminator toys that were made to tie-in with the genre-defining summer blockbuster of the same name. Among other things, I claimed that they were among the only figures I owned from that particular line, alongside John Connor and his nifty motorbike.

I have since learnt the error of my ways, as I'm also in possession of what the Internet tells me is the Blaster T-1000. To be frank, I'm not sure how much I believe, as this garish customer looks nothing like my bishi Robert Patrick, and the web is littered with similarly audacious lies about a flat Earth or the benefits of voting republican.

Still, I'll press on unimpeded, as it's the most logical explanation I have for this chonky policeman, short of him being a prototype for Victor Willis of the Village People.

In the above mentioned Terminator entry, I opined that neither figure was quite faithful to the source material (I swear I'll stop referencing it at some point, mostly because I want you to click the damned link so I can get some sweet ad revenue boost my view counter). Be that as it may, they're leaps and bounds further on the authenticity chart than the Blaster T-1000.

When I think of this metamorphosing villain, my mind instantly defaults to svelte efficiency. Part of the reason the T-1000 made for such a compelling antagonist was how he looked and felt different from what we were used to, moving swiftly and methodically. Meanwhile, the Blaster edition scarcely moves at all, as his legs are completely unarticulated.

Just let that sink in for a moment. You're about to portray a gripping scene where the T-1000 is approaching his prey, ready to make the lethal blow that dooms mankind forever, but all he does is waddle along as if he's got his pants around his ankles.

It's not intimidating in the slightest, unless you also consider Al Gore to be a potential threat to humanity.

The reason for this baffling design choice, is that the Blaster T-1000 has got a weaponised booty. You've heard of junk in the trunk? Well this junk is more crunk than you thunk, punk.

Pushing down on the T-1000's head will push his spine forward in an agonising fashion, eventually unleashing a rocket launcher from (his) behind. As I'm too lazy to make accompanying videos nowadays, I'll defer to this handy demonstration, as long as you promise to please return once you're done.

Yep, they decided that of all the things the T-1000 should be capable of, literally being a rocket launcher should be chief among them.

I'm pretty sure there was an exchange of dialogue in Judgment Day where John Connor's concerns that his foe would transform into a bomb were dissuaded due to the fact that "the T-1000 can't form complex machines" due to guns and explosives having chemicals and moving parts in them.

A fucking rocket launcher in your asshole though? Yeah, that shit totally checks out.

As you may have noted from my photo above, it really looks more like someone's just dropped a coconut from above and he's shielding his head from more blows, and as my rockets were decommissioned decades ago, he's out of ammunition anyway.

So alas, there will be no fabulous pants weapon for you, Blaster T-1000. At the very least it does vaguely resemble a denim jetpack, so that's a plus.

Overall, I'd have to say that this is probably my least favourite of all the Terminator toys, doubly so considering I forgot I owned it in the first place. Even with the shoehorned mechanics of its contemporaries, it still manages to stick out like a sore thumb, and it's yet another reminder of how far we've come in the years since.

In lieu of it serving any kind of purpose as a Terminator-adjacent toy, I might just repurpose it as a generic police officer who goes about enforcing the law against any criminal who he can somehow catch up to without the aid of weapons and/or moveable joints.

"I'm not a crook!"

#0107: Sky Escape Joker

It's that time again! Thanks to the efforts of Joaquin Phoenix and that guy from the Hangover (Mr. Chow), the whole world is abuzz over that loveable old psychopath, the Joker.

The response has been divisive due to the thematic content and questions of morality, but frankly, you can colour me unsurprised, as nearly every DC movie nowadays fails to grab universal acclaim. Honestly, it's like my career; tragically disappointing and only made more tolerable when accompanied by copious amounts of alcohol.

In the end, it's bound to be thrown onto the pile with the rest of the also-rans, leaving the world pining for a definitively solid film featuring the clown prince of crime. Among his grinning contemporaries is Jack Nicholson, who garnered generally positive responses for his appearance in the 1989 Tim Burton Batman flick, impeccably cast as a particularly charismatic version of himself Jack Napier.

And you know what that means, right? Toys.

Many toys! Toys for girls, toys for boys, toys, toys, let's make some noise!

Now that I've sufficiently boosted my SEO, let's take a look at this stupid Sky Escape Joker.

At first glance, it appears much like any other Joker action figure. It does vaguely resemble Jack Nicholson if you look at it the right way, but that could probably be said of anything or anyone if you have enough conviction.

So what does a Sky Escape Joker do? Does it sky escape, and... joke? The latter is somewhat debatable, but it most certainly can sky escape when provoked. It came — note the past tense — with a 'whirling copter pack' that he could use 'to escape from trouble', whether that was a brush-in with the law or an awkward social situation.

It's definitely an appropriate Joker ploy, however it's a real stretch for a movie tie-in. At no point did the Joker suddenly sprout a helicopter from his back and take off into the night, cackling with glee. Yes, he did attempt an ill-fated evacuation via helicopter at the movie's climax, but that's really grasping at straws.

The more logical explanation is that this copter is how Jack Nicholson got around between scenes. It seems like something he'd do, I reckon.

Fortunately, it has a completely arbitrary secondary feature that is more in line with the source material. Dip the Joker's head in cold water, and his face will turn bright orange, vaguely resembling the scene where the Joker paints his face in skin tones as a method of better blending in with the people.

He then bolsters this plan by blasting out Prince and throwing money at the crowd, and alas, this toy does neither, unless I'm just using it wrong.

So let's see it in action, shall we? Bring this Oompa Loompa motherfucker out for real.

...Well shit, that was awkward. I think I just waterboarded the dude. Judging by that smile, he didn't seem to mind.

Funnily enough, this is potentially the only Batman action figure I ever owned. As you're well aware, the Turtles were my only comic book love, and aside from the early 90s Archies issues, I never even read the damn things.

Considering the Sky Escape Joker came out in 1990, my parents either hedged their bets that a one-year-old Anthony would become a big fan of Batman or pale homicidal maniacs, found this fella languishing in a bargain bin, or just straight up stole it from a small child with poor grip strength. I like to think it's that last one.

That's about all she wrote for the Sky Escape Joker, really (I guess I'm the she in this scenario). He also comes packaged with a pistol with a comically long barrel, the same he used to fell the Bat...plane, or whatever it was called.

No, I don't have any of these accessories. I probably threw them out immediately to protest my distaste for guns and aeronautical devices. Fortunately, I didn't lose the colour changing face, because misplacing a figure's head would have been a new low for me.

Toy Flashback: Armless Fun

 

"Wait! I'm unarmed!!"

"I guess you'll never be in the army."

#0095: The Terminator(s)

Deciding which Terminator film you prefer is similar to comparing pizza with ice cream. On the surface, they're both foodstuffs, and one can easily be enjoyed immediately after the other. However, they evoke different sensations within you. The first movie was harrowing and gritty. The second was spectacular and fun. They are very different beasts, and combine to make one hell of a cinematic one-two punch.

Unless you opt for Terminator 3, in which case you eat shit and you die.

As a child of the '90s, Terminator 2 was always my preference growing up. With its emphasis on catchphrases and special effects, it was practically made for kids, just as long as you looked away when he cut open his arm. Or shot all the people. Or when the T-1000 stabbed the security guard in the eye.

You know what? It actually wasn't child-friendly at all. Who knows what the fuck we were thinking, it was a different time. Regardless, action figures came out in the dozens, and I myself was the proud recipient of these handsome Terminators.

On the left is the Power Arm Terminator. I figured this out thanks to this blog entry from Poe Ghostal, which is incidentally a really excellent read that I highly recommend. I will resist the urge to steal material from that post as best I can, but I'm only human. To his right is the Meltdown Terminator, complete with a canary yellow singlet and a 'white-heat bazooka sprayer' (read: a spray gun). The main meltdown is the one your child will have when they realise that you've given them the wrong toy.

They each feature a few curious design choices that can make you scratch your head and wonder aloud when that ever happened in Terminator 2. The Power Arm variation looks more the part with his black leather jacket, albeit a sleeveless variant that suggests that the seasons are a'changing and he wants to get a more even tan. However, it comes with three interchangeable arms that do a series of things that the T-800 has never been able to do.

The first one sees him pushing a metallic beam from his fist in his best Robert Patrick impersonation. The second is a claw kinda apparatus that looks particularly good for pinching bums. And the final is a goddamn rocket launcher, although in my case, it's down a rocket, so it's just a launcher. A launcher of nothing. A nothing launcher, perchance.

So what gives? Why is Uncle Bob suddenly wielding a magic arm? In all fairness, Kenner had to come up with a plethora of variations of the same basic concept, so creative license had to be taken. My fondest memory of this toy was slowly lowering him in the bath while humming the Terminator theme, ala the climactic scene in Judgment Day. Unfortunately, he was incapable of gesturing with a thumbs up before he went into the imaginary molten steel, so I just had to settle for him firing off a ceremonial rocket at the last moment.

Then there's this asshole.

Despite arguably being the better made figure (that battle damage exposing his inner chassis is a nice touch), all it takes is one look at the bright yellow wife beater that renders his army pants completely useless, and you know that mistakes have been made. And if you thought that interchangeable arms was a curious decision, you haven't seen our dude Meltdown here unleash his fearsome weapon on hapless foes. Y'all are about to be H2OWNED.

The packaging suggests that you're supposed to shoot the water at the White-Hot T-1000 figure, which would change colour upon contact with warm water. But does that mean that you actually have to buy two toys to really make this one relevant? Power Arm has threatening weapons, while Meltdown is reduced to spraying water like a damned five year old? Unless he decides to load up with acid or really cheap gin, it's just not going to cut the mustard. Not even the mustard singlet.

Beyond the two Terminators, the only other T2 toy I collected was John Connor. As you can appreciate, it didn't really see much playtime, because the only thing an Edward Furlong action figure would be good for is hacking into computer systems and releasing lobsters from their tanks. He had a pretty sweet motorcycle that probably ended up in the possession of Raphael, so it wasn't all bad.

Overall, I'd say that these figures are decidedly okay. They could have stood to have a few extra firearms on them to make them feel more movie authentic, but knowing me, I would have lost those within a week anyway. Indeed, before I started this entry, I figured I was going to do this whole thing without Meltdown's water gun or any of Power Arm's powerful arms. So in that sense, I'm coming out of this much further ahead than I had anticipated.

#0084: The Littlest Pet Shop

Rub your eyelids furiously, kick off the dust, and shoot some heroin into your veins - because we're back, baby!! I can't be held responsible for any enjoyment you may get from this blog entry, nor from any drugs you took on an ill-advised whim. Side note: I always found it funny that heroin and heroine sound so similar. Side side note: I mean, I didn't always find it funny, obviously. It's not like I was an infant in the crib giggling to myself about heroin. At least, I don't think I was. It was a long time ago, after all.

What? Blog? Oh yes.

So 2016 was a year of grim absence - only one blog post to its name, and it wasn't even a proper toy-related entry: instead, it was a way of showing off my amiibo collection! More the pity, no wonder a spambot added a comment linking to a variety of illicit websites. The punishment should fit the crime, and in my case, my punishment was a computer virus and an eyeful of dong.

What of this year, though? What opportunities has it afforded me? Well, I've started writing for a quirky pop culture website known as Nerds4LifeBlog (cheap plug), and I've even gotten some stuff published on Fox Sports, too. It's tucked away in a quiet little corner of the site, but you know what? It's there. It's mine. It's exciting.

But enough about that! Considering I'm the only one who really looks at this blog, this is reading more like a diary entry than anything else (next I want to talk about Charlie Fitzpatrick from chemistry class - he's dreaaaaamy). Fuckers aren't here for exposition. They're here for exhibition. Of toys. And who did I decide would make the perfect hosts for this return? Why, it's the Littlest Pet Shop, that's who!

Before you start pointing digital fingers at me like a surly group of naysayers, I assure you that these were my sister's toys. I was into more masculine things like Ninja Turtles and Sonic the Hedgehog and Murder, She Wrote. I was able to convince my sister that it was time to free these sad animals from the garage, and unleash them on the world. It'll either be a wonderful experience, or they'll spread the deadly T-Virus. Fingers crossed its the latter, I'm sick of this shit already.

The basic concept of TLPS (oh god, that's a horrible acronym) is that you buy a variety of cute little animals in lovely enclosures. As you can see from the header photo, complete with terrible lighting and questionable feng shui, critters range from kitties to puppies to goddamn swans, making me assume that this pet shop has some particularly loose morals. For ninety bucks, they'll give you a puppy! For two hundred, they'll kill a man.

It should come as no surprise, that several of the animal population and their homes are now missing, an eerie form of genocide that my government still hasn't recognised officially. Now there's just a bed, a lonely, empty house, some poop litter and a basket that may or may not actually be part of this collection. It's sad, but not nearly as sad as the former residents of this once great (and yet somehow decidedly little) pet shop. There's fluffy tailed furries and clawing critters that no longer have the scratching posts they once possessed. So now, they look more like they just want to strangle you.

Some of them are actually miniature figurines that came as part of a little playset, suggesting that the aforementioned pet shop was not in fact the littlest, a misnomer that perhaps led to the company's demise.

Here we see little Abigail resting in her cot, watching idly as her bunny friend Amber hops along the rolling fields of grey. Amber's younger sister Wendy observes cautiously from a nearby tree, while Bruce and Betty spin merrily about for hours on end. The evil pink starfish watches unseen from above, because every tale needs a villain, and more importantly, I forgot to include it in the group picture.

My favourites? I'm so glad you asked. There's the fluffy Yorkshire terrier that has long flowing hair that can be pulled from behind to make it into a long flowing tail - just like a real doggie! Then there's the large grey cat with its mouth agape that is perpetually crawling along the floor like some sort of struggling alcoholic. And not to be left out, there's a pair of mice that used to be part of a cute little enclosure. Only the bottom part of this feature remains, a delightful maze in which to test your wits. One of the mice has a magnet in its butt like some sort of test subject, you see. Originally, you would place a magnet on the other side of the plastic, and have it navigate the maze to collect the many pieces of cheese haphazardly stuck to the floor. It has no access to this magnet now, so it can only sit there at the starting line in misery. It could be worse, though - the other mouse doesn't even seem to have a face at all.

The series has continued to this day, relaunched in the mid-2000s with a new art direction that chiefly consisted of REALLY BIG EYES. Like, seriously, those things won't just stare into your soul, they'll look right through it and perv on your wife's soul before you even realise what's going on. Call me a purist (go on, I fucking dare you), but I prefer the more understated appearance of the original series. Especially the drunk cat - seriously, that chick is awesome.

Odds are, as the years go by and I continue to unearth more items from dad's garage, I'll end up finding more and more of these fun friends, so doubtlessly you can look forward to those being arbitrarily shoehorned into other entries when I can't be bothered to make a follow-up post.

For now, though - there's something more exciting to prepare for... A FROG JUMPING CONTEST. That's right, just like we used to do in the old country. Join on in, it'll be a hoot! Or at least, a warble.