#0094: THINKChip Pokemon Battle Stadium

I try to strike a balance on this blog as I send yesteryear's paraphernalia into the ether; the major impetus, obviously, is to select things that may be of some interest to the wider toy-collecting demographic. Folks out there tend to get a kick out of items related to popular '90s fads like Street Sharks. Less so when it's a pig I made from a sock. Go figure.

The other side of the coin, I must confess, is how much benefit I will receive from jettisoning these toys. Not fiscally, mind you, because I've made no more than a $4 return for Madden NFL 2005 on the DS (I legitimately had to argue with the staff member over trading in SmackDown: Just Bring It, as if it was carrying an ancient curse). Nay, the benefit I receive is slightly less clutter, hence why I've been trying to up the ante lately by turning my attention towards more unwieldy items.

It From the Pit no longer haunts the laundry room. Rock & Roll Elmo has ceased from tumbling out of the closet. And hey fuck you, those Gashapon figurines took up more space than you'd think.

So today, we shed the THINKChip Pokemon Battle Stadium. Now, the only battles we shall enjoy are the ones of our mind.

Two men enter. One will be blessed with immortality. The other, ripped piecemeal by the gnashing of a thousand bloodied fangs. Gotta catch 'em all!

Based on principle, this was one of the more relevant pieces of Pokemerchandise. You pitted your beasts against one another in the form of detailed figurines with a microchip lodged up their rectum. You could choose between a standard or a special attack depending on the type matchup, then press the button to stop a light on the floor as close to the middle as you could to maximise damage.

That made very little sense in hindsight, and I'm the one who wrote the goddamn sentence. It's all a bit much to explain it, so let me just refer to YouTube for further information. It's win/win, really. They get the extra two and a half clicks that come with my blog, and I cut approximately 800 words off my total. That gives me more room to say 'fuck', and that's very important.

Well, that sure was fun! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeb!

There were a couple of issues holding it back from being a rollicking success, however. If you've recently read my entry on the B.I.O-Bugs, you can probably guess one of those issues already (if you haven't, well fuck you you're not invited to my slumber party). For you see, it's all well and good to have these fancy electronic devices where you could trade data and battle your friends and rellies, but the odds are, nobody else is going to own a single figure to justify it.

So what was I going to do? Invite people over to play with my battle toy thing? How do we decide who gets which Pokemon? They're mine, after all, I earned them through hard work/wise investment/pleading with mommy and daddy. So to be perfectly honest with you, I don't think I ever actually engaged in mortal combat with anyone other than myself, and remarkably, all of those matches were gerrymandered to ensure that Bulbasaur would always win, because he's my boi.

These were all of the Pocket Monsters I managed to collect. As you can see, it's a fairly conservative figure (pun? Maybe?). Squirtle and Geodude came with the stadium, and near as I can recall, tracking down the others was an absolute nightmare. Bulby and Charmander were must-haves, because damn those Kanto starters make me moist, but I never got around to amassing anymore. Either I reasoned that I had plenty of time to find the others, or I saw the writing on the wall and knew that I would hardly ever use them. I kinda doubt the foresight on the latter.

Only during my current investigation have I discovered that they actually went as far as releasing a few gen 2 critters like Cyndaquil and Totodile, but had the audacity to deprive the world of Venusaur. Clearly, they reasoned that Ivysaur was already too overpowered, and they would have to suppress its potential before it overthrew the Indonesian government.

As you can see, the figures look really damn good. You can even move Geodude's arms around to help boost his street cred. The actual functionality of this is probably to make him a lot less fragile as you haphazardly yank him to and fro. Even if you ended up snapping off a limb, that would be fine - because let's be honest, nobody was using Geodude to begin with.

Once again, any intention I had of taking my THINKChip posse for a spin was put on indefinite hold once I opened up the battery compartment. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times; take your fucking batteries out of your fucking toys. They're mean old pricks who demand your constant attention, and if you leave them to their own devices (or more accurately, your devices), they will leak aggressively.

Is it irreparable? Probably not. Is Tony going to repair it? Oh hell no. He's got more important things to do! He hasn't worked out what they are yet, but he's well aware that he's got to do them eventually.

In any event, you'll just have to venture over to YouTube for any battle fixin's you were craving. There's a fair few. Some of them are fairly cringey, I must confess, whereas I'm fairly confident that mine would have only proven to be mildly cringey (and rigged as fuck, because you know that everyone is jobbing to Bulbasaur).

So thank you, THINKChip Battle Stadium, for being there through thick and thin, during some of the greatest times of my life, and some of the worst. I'm not suggesting that it was super supportive, I just mean that it was literally there, sitting around. Doing jack shit. A bit like its owner, actually.

#0092: XS.02 B.I.O-Stomper

Sometimes, the ambition of toys can be so great, there is no way for them to ever live up to such lofty expectations. Often, this comes down to technological shortcomings or poor execution. On other occasions, however, it is as simple as a really cool idea that just doesn't receive the adulation and widespread fascination required for it to reach its potential.

Enter the B.I.O-Bugs, or more specifically, the XS.02 B.I.O-Stomper, who for ease of use I will henceforth refer to as either Stomper, Stompo, or DJ Thrillin' Villain.

The B.I.O-Bugs first emerged in the early 2000s, in a time where smart electronics were all the rage, and we were convinced that our toys were becoming more intelligent than we were. The Bugs came in four different varieties; the Stomper with its long limbs to help it traverse uneven terrain, the stocky Destroyer capable of tanking damage, the Acceleraider and its quick movement speed, and the Predator, clearly favoured by its marketing team, and the resident asshole of the group.

Using a transmitter control, you would be able to give the Bug commands, or leave it to its own devices as it autonomously explored its new surroundings. The more it meandered about the place like an obtuse Roomba, the more it would learn. Though I doubt this went as far as knowing when to stop before careening off the edge of a table, it was still a pretty nifty concept, especially if you could use it as a means of terrifying your technology-adverse grandmother.

As you can see, the transmitter looks more fun than a lot of actual toys currently on the market.

The real treat of the B.I.O-Bugs, however, is in their interactivity. Should they encounter another bug of the same species, they'll exchange information, sometimes travelling together for a short while or engaging in playful combat. But as soon as they come across an enemy bug, shit gets real.

They'll size each other up, working out the threat level of the assailant. If they're outmatched, they'll flee to live another buggy day. But if they think they have a chance, they'll duke it out. A winner is determined either when one bug is able to clamber atop of their competitor, when one of them retreats in disgrace, or when your little kid sister picks one up and runs away with it.

When a Bug is bested, it'll send out a distress signal. If a friendly species is in the area, it may jump into the fray, eager to shiv any rival in this ongoing turf war.

Honestly, just explaining it gets me hyped, let alone actually seeing it in action. Fortunately, a brave Bug rancher named Cheats32123 has uploaded rare footage of B.I.O. Combat and lived to tell the tale.

Well... There you go. It's a little more awkward than I had envisaged. It vaguely resembles when you and your friends get drunk and start taking swings at one another. Inevitably, one of you ends up wedged under the cupboard, and an enormous hand scoops you up to reposition you for the next round. All it needs is the part afterwards where you laugh it off and buy another jug.

According to a 2001 press release, B.I.O-Bugs were set to launch at a RRP of $39.99. Through use of an arbitrary inflation calculator, I've determined that that would be roughly $55 in today's market, and frankly, I think that's an absolute bargain. I would be happy to fork over $70+ for such an elaborate toy, especially since back then I wasn't even spending my own money.

Those savings!!

Seriously, it can't be understated just how much potential the B.I.O-Bugs had. The transmitter was capable of a multitude of commands including training and feeding modes, or even sending out a signal for the Bug to follow. That feeding mode, incidentally, was to make sure that your B.I.O-Bug didn't starve, because dammit, kids need to learn about responsibility.

Amusingly, the Bugs would 'feed' off any infrared source, so in theory, changing the channel with the TV remote may attract the interest of the Bugs, causing an infestation of hungry insects. Again, your poor grandmother's day would be ruined. I can just visualise the image of her frantically kicking the toys aside in what could be her last stand.

The major issue, of course, is that I was the only fucker who had a B.I.O-Bug. This meant that Stomper had nobody to communicate with, nobody to engage in fisticuffs with, nobody to love, dammit. Had he been involved in a robust Bug community, who knows what kind of possibilities we would have experienced. In my mind, he would have participated in an underground Bugfighting ring; a hardened warrior with a thirst only for blood and infrared technology.

Instead, I think I used him for all of thirty minutes before I turned him off and put him in the closet for twenty years, much like I did with my Tamagotchi, my Furby, and my bastard son Charles.

But now, he has a final shot at redemption. I've loaded him up with four AA batteries, set up a target for him to murder, and given him a pep talk that would inspire armies.

Go forth, DJ Thrillin' Villain. For the kingdom of TONY!!

Oh for fuck's sake. All we need now is for Neil Patrick Harris to declare that 'it's afraid'.

Welcome to the garage, we've got fun and games

Occasionally (and by occasionally, I mean once every six years), I venture into the garage to do a ruthless clean out. It chiefly consists of old clothing items and schoolbooks from the early 90s, so there's not really much worth crying over, unless you're into tiny little onesies and poorly written acrostics.

However, there are a few knick knacks that surface for one last gasp that might catch your collective fancy, albeit not so much that they warrant their own individual posts. As such, their final sendoff comes in the form of a content dump loaded with (blurry) photos and (shitty) witticisms.

And what do you know; here they come now!

We open with a modern tragedy. This Etch A Sketch proclaims itself to be magic, but in actuality its only trick is that it is completely fucking broken. I struggled to even manage the tiny squiggly line on the left of the screen, which when combined with the dust and grime, resembles a face locked in a scream of agony.

I also found this shitty Ninja Turtles backpack. Not shitty in the sense of its quality, because it packs backs with the best of them, but because I think there is literal shit encrusted on Michaelangelo's nose. It has made him so mad, he's taking his fury out on a trapped and rather defenceless Rocksteady.

Do you really care that I have found the box for a Mighty Morphin Power Rangers crayon by numbers kit? If not, you may be more excited to know that...

I at least made the effort to colour in Rita Repulsa's collar. She looks drunk as fuck. I think the Power Rangers are dancing. I like all of these things.

Here is a dinosaur Halloween costume I wore one year. Unfortunately, it is now extinct, and I will resist the urge to force myself into it like I did with the Sonic the Hedgehog outfit. My nads still haven't forgiven me for that debacle, which is a shame since they so rarely talk to me in the first place.

A handsome collectors case for all of my Ninja Turtles toys, it would later become a collectors case for little more than filth and misery. I can't help but question the art on this one. This doesn't seem stealthy at all, the Turtles look more like they've been caught with their dicks out. Leonardo has recovered well, but Donny and Mikey are obviously struggling. Raphael, meanwhile, is simply fucked. Why would you have him at the front of your formation? He is probably going to die.

With Raphael most likely dead, we may have to make use of My Turtle Maker. The poses here are much more laid-back, I think they're throwing a surprise party and you just arrived. Leo got hammered too early and snapped his katana blade in half. Who will you choose as your fifth Turtle? Slash? Venus de Milo? Motherfucking Kirby?

So you've finished assembling your five Turtles. In the end, you decided to make the final one a sexy OC who wields a san-jie-gun because it's the most obscure ninja weapon you could think of. I was going to link a creepy piece of artwork here here, but Google Image search was too grim even for my standards.

Now, it's time to bring the action of the Batman®* movie to life! Or if you'd prefer, pour ranimer les aventures du film de Batman®* with no exclamation mark because apparently French people don't find the concept that exciting. My favourite scene was definitely the one where Batman lassoed the Joker out in the middle of the street, while Commissioner Gordon watched on eagerly.

The reverse of the box is also excellent. One child opines that the Joker®* is such a trouble-maker! That loveable scamp. The other observes how the Batmobile®* canopy lifts up so Batman®* can jump inside. I like to think that they are actually saying registered trademark apostrophe every time.

Most of the parts to my Batman playset are missing aside from some ancient dried up tubs of Play-Doh, and inexplicably, the Joker's avant garde vehicle. Shredder hitches a ride with intentions of causing mischief about Gotham, but soon discovers that it doesn't have a steering wheel.

"This is getting very monotonous!" he snarls, before sheepishly continuing on foot.

Why, it's none other than our old pal, Thomas the Tank Engine! He gives us a warm smile and offers a red string for us to enjoy at our leisure. We gamely tug at the string, keen to explore all of its wonders.

Oh no! We fucking killed Thomas!!

A strange liquid oozes from his carriage, and in his dying breaths, he begs for us to 'blow him'. That's just rude, pal.

This Ninja Turtles-related katana has clearly been very broken for a very long time. The handle is snapped right through, and at some point we just said fuck it and decided to patch it up with packaging tape.

Having worked on-off as a technician over the years, I can confirm that this is actually how 90% of repairs are done.

Oh shit Savage Garden in Paris?? Time is running out, the draw date is on August 27th, guys! If we don't win the big prize, hopefully we'll at least nab the consolation of 1 of 5 Savage Garden denim jackets. I may need a little bit of help identifying Savage Garden's first hit single, though, because everything they put out on that album was solid gold.

...Not even joking on that last bit, it was a fucking amazing album from start to finish.

Why do I still have the packaging for an off-brand Tamagotchi? Probably because its super fun, and claims to perform things I never actually saw it do. Did your Ganbare Ryuuta-kun ever spin plates, tip its hat to passersby, and complete its doctorate? Mine sure as hell didn't, but maybe I just had a dud one.

Hahaha this popup card is fun. I daresay it's even more fun than murdering Thomas. Tweet, tweet, tweet!

This Ninja Turtles placemat is actually pretty cool, and in surprisingly good condition, all things considered. I wish they used these alternate colour schemes more often, Donatello looks really cool in brown. The only thing I can't quite work out, however, is why...

The placemat cost thirty fucking dollars. What are you trying to pull with that shit, that is more than a fucking action figure, you maniacs. No wonder Toys R Us went under, we must have grown sick of them scalping us on the small stuff.

Last but not least is the coolest toy I found. I don't remember where or when I bought it, but it looks pretty scary. Unfortunately, it's a bit fragile, as I accidentally pulled one of the legs off when I tried to put it into the Joker's car. Trying to work out how to fix it as we speak, but I think a small bird flew off with the missing appendage. Real shame.

#0074: GeoSafari

Keeping with the theme of old electronics, now we find ourselves face to face with the GeoSafari. This son of a whatnot was a Christmas gift, and it is an educational toy like most no other. It features a slew of cards depicting numbered illustrations, and a list of the names of these things on each side. What you'd do, see, is punch the unique card number into the GeoSafari, and one of the fourteen lights next to the words would illuminate. As you can see, the card I've got in the machine at the moment is of our solar system, and it appropriately features the planets of aforementioned system. This was back when Pluto was a planet, mind you, possibly rendering it as incorrect information in the folds of time. Kind of like a medical card depicting removal of toes with a hammer and chisel, or every single illness being solved with leeches.

Anyhow, say that the top left light (the one labelled Mercury) were to light up: you would then have to punch in the number for Mercury as quickly as possible in order to attain the highest score. If memory serves, that number would be 8. I actually haven't looked at the solar system for many years, because as you can appreciate, it doesn't fall into my daily list of required activities (a list that includes playing my 3DS and watching MasterChef).

At the end, the GeoSafari would tally your score. Hurrah! You were proven smart by a machine! Or perchance, boo! You achieved a miserable score of 3. If this toy were created today, it would contain online leader boards, a forum to discuss your favourite cards, and would exist in the form of freeware on your iPhone. Let's be honest here.

This device was so celebrated at the time, though, that even Mike Rowe wanted to tell you all about it. Mike fucking Rowe.

I'd love to give it a try and test my knowledge of Canadian landforms and waterways, but tragically, like most electronic toys of its time, it was powered by D batteries. Oh, D batteries, how I hate you so. Not as compact and versatile as AAs, and not nearly as much fun to draw as 9-volts. Obscene batteries have become the bane of my existence over the last few entries, and as such, I will not educate myself this sad winter evening. How D-sappointed you must be by this D-sgusting D-velopment.

That being said however, there is another distinct reason that it will not be in use tonight, and it comes down to the fact that my GeoSafari is not exactly in perfect operating condition. In case you were wondering, no, it does not typically come equipped with dusty buttons and built in grime, and I fear that opening the battery compartment would unleash an army of mice into my room, like a modern day Trojan horse.

Oh sure, it seems okay now, but look at how it was when I found it...

Back in the early 90s, it was worth endorsement from Mike Rowe. Now, playing it would be more akin to a Dirty Job. Also take note of the nearby Dinosaur FouFou. It may become relevant at some point in life.

If you fancy a demonstration of your own, it's readily available on Youtube, in one particular instance being operated by a sassy Spanish man, who describes it as being '¿Te gustó?'. Frankly, watching it in action is exactly how you'd expect from reading it in words, though I have to say, I dig that funky light cycling music. It's certainly aged better than the recently departed Speak & Read, which sounded eerily similar to the computer from Electric Dreams.

So sadly, the GeoSafari will find a new home in the garbage bin. Don't lament its fate too much however, because the cards will go on to good use, implemented in my fiancé's classroom. I mean, I haven't pitched the idea to her yet, but I will effectively force it upon her, even if it means appearing during recess and teaching the children myself.

...This is probably why I'm not allowed within thirty feet of playgrounds anymore. Which sucks, because I love monkey bars.

#0073: Speak & Read

Just as a precursor, I am currently unable to access my camera, so this entry will be briefly featured without any photographs. So if you're reading this and wondering what's with the lack of imagery, there's your answer. If you're reading this at a later date, and there are indeed pictures, then might I say, that is the most fantastic photo of the Speak & Read that I have ever seen. Practically orgasmic.

Though they're now better known for calculators, in the late 70s Texas Instruments hit a home run when they came up with the Speak & Spell device. Effectively an electronic tool that taught kids how to say some shit, it was a major revolution for its time, back when using technology as a learning tool was still a novel concept, and not completely and utterly crucial and necessary in every facet in life and kids know how to operate iPads before they even know how to wipe their own ass and what the fuck is up with that and this sentence is over now.

So significant was the Speak & Spell, it was referenced frequently in popular culture, most significantly in E.T. as a means of intergalactic communication, and in Toy Story as a key contributor to the toy society. So far, I haven't been able to use the Speak & Read to contact Mars or to help make plastic corrosion awareness meetings run smoothly, but in all fairness, maybe such features were only available to the Spell model. My loss, I guess.

Supposedly, the Speak & Read helps kids aged 4 to 8 increase their vocabulary, possessing a small army of 250 words. Unfortunately, I lack the four C batteries (or the ability to give a shit) necessary to power this thing, so I can't confirm which of your favourite rude words are included. It's probably for the best, because I don't know how productive spending six minutes shouting 'fuck' at this thing and waiting for its response would be.

It also has six different game modes; Word Zapper, Word Maker, Read It, Picture Read, Letter Stumper and Hear It. Of course, these games mean nothing to me, because other than their titles and the images on the corresponding keys (Letter Stumper appears to have Phanto from Super Mario Bros. 2), I know nothing about what each one consists of. Let's assume Read It lets you read words, Word Maker has you make up bullshit words like Kwyjibo, and Word Zapper forcibly removes words from your memory. That last one isn't very popular, because frequent play has limited the amount of words I currently have at my disposal. I honestly had a really good word I wanted to use today, but I can't remember what it is. So instead, I will use the word 'qualm'.

Want to see the thing in action? I kind of do. Like I said, I'm not going to bother chucking batteries in there, but fortunately the venerable sbdivemaster has the patience, the batteries, and the lovely looking towel to undertake such a task.

Oh wow, that's annoying as shit, isn't it? I had forgotten what these old talking devices sound like. I mean, I shouldn't be too harsh, this thing premiered in 1980, but those tones and buzzes are taxing to my ears. With the amount of knowledge I sucked out of this thing, it also explains why to this day I often talk like the Intellivoice. Damn you, Texas Instruments. Come back to me in twenty-five years when I'm failing math class because I'm too busy playing 'snake' on my calculator to learn anything about bivariate data and box and whisker plots.

Goodbye, Mr. Typewriter!

Today, we gather to honour an old, dear friend, who has lived to a ripe old age, and is ready for the next stage of his existence: to be disassembled at a recycling factory of some description. A day that we all soon shall meet.


This is my old typewriter. Magnificent, he was. You may call him Aragog, if you'd like. He would tippy-tappy-type with such expedience, and he even came with a built-in dictionary, and when you dared test him with a word he didn't recognise, he'd beep angrily, and flash a fierce green light, either in an effort to warn you, or to blind the illiterate.

Then, one day (circa 1998), his stores of eraser fluid ran dry. And suddenly, I was confronted with the realisation of what a horrible typist I was. I had resisted the computer movement for long enough, it was time to continue my great American (Canadian) novel in a new medium. It was a novel about a family of cats who went on excellent adventures. It's still awaiting a revision.

So thank you, Mr. Smith Corona. I would drink a Corona in your honour, but I can't afford that shit, and I'm working later tonight. I don't think they'd accept alcohol in the breath in honour of a typewriter I threw out.

#0025: Talking Pikachu

Who here loved Pokémon growing up? A fair few of you, yeah?

Who here… still loves Pokémon? Not as many of y’all?

Well, I don’t care. I still do. Obviously not with as much luster as I once did, it’s not like I’m still drawing pictures of Squirtle and putting it up on my wall, but I didn’t bail out on the franchise when the heat died down. I play the games when they come out, I try and familiarize myself with each new generation of lizards, blobs and angry rocks, and I’ve still got a whole backlog of Pokémon stuff cluttering my laundry room.

In fact, I’m surprised I hadn’t done a Pokémon item prior to this. I must subconsciously be more attached to the critters than I had assumed. Will I then regret parting with this glorious talking Pikachu? We’ll only know some distant date later. If I become a drugged out hobo sleeping in a pile of his own vomit, you’ll be able to point to this as the single event that led to my demise. Or maybe it was the time I bought a Hanson CD. It’s debatable.


The first thing you’re thinking, if you’re anything like me, is… what’s with that wacky colour scheme? Pikachu doesn’t have any white tinting around his face and tail!

The simple answer is… not known to me. Indeed, I’ve been asking myself this since I acquired it roughly thirteen years ago, but I was a particularly pedantic child with apparently less ambitious mysteries to solve, so hopefully you’ll be able to ignore it for now.

After all, other than that faux paus, this Pikachu is pretty spot-on. He’s got Pikachu’s weird little hunched over shape, his stubby little t-rex arms, and his great big brown stripes. He’s got a little bit of paint wear, particularly in black areas like his nose and the tips of his ears, but to be fair, when we get old, our ears and nose tend to be the first things to falter. He’s still a limber dancer, and his prostate is reasonably sized.

As advertised, the trump card held by this Pika lies in his title of ‘ye talking mouse’, powered by the same curious metallic system as the roaring lizard of yesteryear. This is dapper dandy at first, with his light-up cheeks and his sweet little voice, but eventually you begin to ponder what else he offers beyond that. So far, I haven’t unlocked any other hidden wonders, but I remain optimistic.

Is it just me, or did that start to look really, really wrong? I fear that that video will someday come back to haunt me. Potentially at the most inopportune moment, like during a presidential campaign or en route to the high score in Doodle Jump. Logic dictates that I shouldn’t have then bothered uploading it to Youtube or attaching it to this entry or publishing this entry as a whole… but then I would have wasted three precious minutes of my life for nothing, and I can’t handle that.

This Pikachu is still a bit enigmatic; he was made by TOMY in 1997 (by our Chinese overlords), and his ass spews all sorts of Japanese gobbledygook.


I can make out the phrase ‘todoka’ from exhaustive hiragana lessons of late ’05, but I have no idea what that means. I fear that if I were to try todoka-ing my talking Pikachu, he may never speak again. Come to think of it, I’ve never had to change his battery in all the time I’ve had him, which is more than I can say for most other battery operated toys. Those Japanese, they sure know how to make quality electronics, capable of speech, light and todoka.

A quick squiz at eBay reveals that he was part of a promotional package for the first airing of the television show, and they’ve got a boxed one up for sale at $90.

I wonder how much an unboxed one is worth? Surely more, because now that it’s been unpackaged, you can touch his ass and make him all noisy and shit!

I doubt I’m kidding anyone with that, but now that I’m aware that he was once of value, he seems much more precious to me. Could this lead to a treacherous u-turn that shakes the very legitimacy of INAKA to its core? Probably, but he’s fun to play with, so screw it, I’m keeping him.


Doesn’t he make a fantastic addition to the décor?