#0115: Technodrome

When you are an innocent child, toys will generally come and go into your life with regularity. They're provided by your loving carers so often, you see, that their individual value is diminished (unless you're a poverty-stricken Icelandic kid hopeful to merely avoid being eaten by the Yule Cat).

Some of them, however, are acquisitions so momentous, they stand out in your mind. My exact recollection of the day I landed the Technodrome is a little fuzzy, but I just remember seeing it, wanting it, and knowing that it was a big ask — its sheer size no doubt inflating its price tag by quite a bit.

Despite this, mom and dad relented, and I grappled with the idea that I was about to receive the single biggest, baddest playset short of Castle Grayskull. I peered over at my mother, a look of shock crossing my face.

"Reiner," I gasped. "Are we doing it?! Now?! Right here?!"

"Yeah," she muttered in response, a stoic look crossing her face. "We settle this... right here, right now!"

Mikasa Ackerman then emerged, seemingly from nowhere, burying her blade deep in the side of mom's throat. A bloody battle would ensue.

I'm pretty sure that's how it happened, anyway. So let's take a closer look at the home base for nefarious baddies like Shredder, Krang, and Short Stack when he wants to feel popular.

Sensing this is a place where turtles come to die, the passing Dry Bones feels a chill up its spine. Or perhaps its greater concern was the enormous thumb that was holding the apparatus in place.

Foreboding though the Technodrome may seem at first glance, my version is decidedly lacking. Practically every knick and knack once contained within has long since gone missing, rendering it less into an impregnable stronghold and more like a ransacked supermarket in a zombie movie.

In its completed form, this dastardly hideout was a sight to behold, riddled with traps and torture devices that made it the perfect training ground for consolidating homicidal maniacs. Do you think Jeffrey Dahmer would have gotten a kick out of subjecting the heroes to every manner of abuse? Or Ted Bundy? Or Ed Gein? Or Donald Trump?

Without any of these, it is literally and functionally an empty shell, tragically adorned with only one blue platform that inexplicably remained intact, and a series of haphazardly planted stickers that make it resemble the Springfield police station radio.

Indeed, my miniature Tokka Technodrome actually comes out looking more like the real thing. It at least has the iconic eyeball still available — perhaps the reason the full-size version is so barren is as simple as them having lost their only lookout system.

As you can see, Toon Raph has since taken up residence, using this as a means of forcibly wresting leadership duties from his brother. Rest In Peace Leonardo, you were a real one, for sure. 

The ravages of age have stained the plastic casing, but curiously this is isolated only to certain locations. The left and middle sections, which have been inside the house for all these decades, are yellowing as if they took up smoking at some point in the early 2000s. Meanwhile the right section, left to rot in the garage and thereby exposed to the nastiest of elements, is encrusted with dirt but otherwise untarnished.

It truly begs the question: what in the fuck am I breathing in this house and how am I not dead yet?

Most disappointing than anything else, is the guilty realisation that beyond its initial purchase, I don't necessarily have any vivid memories attached to this thing. I've exhaustively described my affinity for childhood protagonists over the many years of this blog, so ownership of a playset that operates like a wicked sex dungeon doesn't really align with my values.

In actuality, I probably spent most of my time having Raphael ninja kick things while spouting pithy one liners. Rob Paulsen would have been proud of little Anthony, though probably ashamed of big Anthony who is somehow still playing with his Ninja Turtles toys.

Odds are, after this entry is complete, I will inadvertently track down some of its remaining accessories, from its crucial wheels to its home and contents insurance. For now, at least, I hope you enjoyed this reflection upon its battered state. Like the very children who adored it over thirty years ago, in 2022 it finds itself somewhat incomplete... but who knows what next year shall bring?

#0104: Pride Rock

They say the lion is calling Dad
Say uhm a lion

As the lions go, they are
We say uhhmm a lion
Lion

It's Victorious
Lion
The lion and the leopard

The above may not seem awe-inspiring by any stretch of the imagination (it actually sounds borderline schizophrenic), but return it to its original Zulu, and kids around the world are belting it out with passion and shameless cultural appropriation.

Indeed, these are the opening lyrics to the Circle of Life from The Lion King, and they paint the perfect picture of the Pride Lands where our story is to be told. Because indeed, the lion is calling, and all of the animals are hurriedly gathering to catch a brief glimpse of the newborn prince.

Not sure what's up with the fucking leopard, though, and why he gets top billing. Must have been a contractual thing.

Today's entry will be a little bit weird, even by my standards, because I'm struggling to assemble the suitable toys nowadays for a vaguely coherent post. What we have here, obviously, is Pride Rock, a legendary monument that represents the strength of the kingdom. It also sounds like a really cool place to host your next LGBTQ function.

However, I can't for the life of me find any Lion King toys to adorn it with. The long departed Scar would have been right at home here. Maybe even a couple of the appropriate Pogs scattered about. I certainly wouldn't bother with Timon and Pumbaa's Jungle Games, though, because that game is fucking woeful.

I will persevere, because I'm sure that a fraction of my readers are foaming at the mouth with anticipation to see what this proud rock is all about. Considering only one person reads this, that would make it a fraction of 1. Does that mean I get to use the √ symbol? I like it because it looks like a tick, and I'm always desperate for approval.

Here we see the reverse of Pride Rock (also known as Shameful Rectum), and the eager peasants fused into the stone wall forevermore. How this tragic fate befell them is anyone's guess, but it could have something to do with the fact that I can't find my Simba figurine, and as a result they've had to wait there for twenty-five years.

They could do a lot worse, as far as prisons go, because they have the pleasure of a perpetual sunrise peeking over the horizon, and that's all very nice as long as they're wearing sunscreen and drinking lots of water.

But the true adventure lies inside, for Pride Rock opens to reveal a whimsical tapestry of storytelling and mirth. It's like a popup book and a playset all at once, and it is the most exciting thing to happen in all of 2019. I'm so keen, I'm dripping with sweat from every pore. I should stop delaying and crack it open once and for all, or at the very least, get out of the oven.

Again, a precursor: I'm absent the Lion King toys necessary to construct a Lion King chronicle, but I'll make do with the knick knacks I have lying around. I'll try not to incorporate the cocaine, unless it happens to flow with the narrative.

We open in the elephant graveyard. Wait, what? Why in the fuck did we open here? This shouldn't come until the latter half of the first act, we haven't even enjoyed the peace and tranquility of the savanna! It would be like going to a friend's house to watch the big fight and getting assaulted by Mike Tyson upon arrival.

Remember: if he winks at you, that's your cue to start swinging. Either your fists, or sexually, because that could be fun, too.

Anyway, the elephant graveyard is not a place to be trifled with, evident from the tiny purple hyenas lurking in the background. Sonic the Hedgehog was feeling brave enough to test his limits, but was quickly dismembered by a bombastic white stallion that proceeded to feast on his tasty brain tissue.

Nearby, I intended for Mike Wazowski to be trapped within the cage of bones, but he didn't fit particularly well and his smug demeanour doesn't really allude to an imprisoned man. Instead, we will simply assume that he is the Elephant Graveyard Overlord, and he watches the carnage with a sick satisfaction.

"Look, little Mikey!" he coos to his beloved teddy bear, "He bleeds like all of the rest!"

I know what you're thinking... this mirrors the actual events of The Lion King a little too closely, right? My apologies.

It's much calmer on the other side of the wall, however, because it is set in the jungle during the fun scene where Simba declares about how he 'just can't wait to be king' and attempts to murder his butler.

The fact that, chronologically, this should come before the elephant graveyard leads me to believe that this toy was supposed to be used from right to left like a manga. Could it be repurposed as a hentai, maybe? I don't have a lot of sexy toys, unless you get off on Yakko Warner and the Muppet Babies.

In any event, we have found a Simba facsimile in the form of this delightful kitty Koosh who will henceforth be known as Archibald. He watches on with glee as Michael Jordan performs a festive jig that he calls the 'triple threat position'.

Over in the far distance (read: the left hand side), is the tree of life, where there is nary a soul to be seen, but the faintest sound of rustling can be heard in the branches...

Oh my! What's this?

Why, Rafiki was there the whole time, after all. He was touching himself while he watched from the shadows. What fun!

Overall, it seems to have been a wonderful journey around the Pride Lands. We got to see a truly special dance from an NBA legend, a chilling feast with an equine foe, and even Rafiki's engorged genitals. I'd call that a pretty successful Saturday, all up.

But now, it's time to leave Pride Rock and move onto greener pastures. We'll head out the back way, so as not to attract attention from the paparazzi...

Macho Man: "Ohhhhh yeeeaaahhhh! I've got the sweetest of the sweets at my disposal, unquestionably envied across this GREAT NATION of Africa. The only question... ohh yeah... the only question remaining is whether you possess the GUMPTION to partake of this most LEGENDARY bounty?"

Big Boss Man: "I'm very clearly a cop."

Macho Man: "Nothing means nothing!!" *spins in a 360 degree circle*

#0100: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Mini Mutants

Holy fucking shit.

I can't believe we finally got there. Since its inception in January 2011, INAKA has seen all kinds of weird, wonderful and occasionally woeful toys. Action figures, plushes, video games, figurines, books, board games, and even a godforsaken finger puppet.

Though it started off with a lot of steam, I lost momentum as the years went on. Some months would see the posts coming heavy and hard, while others would go by without a peep. But through a concerted effort between all of the team members (me, myself and I, the latter of whom is an asshole), we made the push, and we arrive, at long last, at #100.

It feels special. It feels bizarre. Man, it feels like a woman.

Who knows what lies ahead? It all comes down to how much free time I have, really. You have to understand, that every moment I'm spending on this blog is time that could feasibly be spent doing something more productive. It's the rigors of adulthood, and it gnaws on my conscience like a ghoulish wraith.

But enough of the preamble. The fact that that last paragraph didn't have a single joke makes me feel uneasy. When we hit the midway point, I saw fit to send the mighty Ripster puppet on his merry way. He remains one of the largest offerings I have put upon the pedestal up to this point, and I knew it would be hard to top that. So instead of trying to locate something bigger, I went the other way. I opted for smaller. More plentiful. Maybe a little too Raph.

Ladies and gentlemen, these are the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Mini Mutants.

Crikey, that's a mouthful.

Miniature playsets were something of an acquired taste back in the day. Though their diminutive stature made them more affordable than full-sized locales, their actual usage was fairly dubious. They were so wee and prone to going missing. Should you look away for just a moment, they would make a break for it and dive into the folds of the couch, never to be seen again. I assume it's similar to having a newborn baby; it's just upsetting every single time.

Despite this, the Mini Mutants became a must-have in my life, and I was the lucky recipient of oh so many playsets. Each of them came with their own unique themes and the appropriate figurines within them, ranging from staples like the Technodrome and the Turtles' home in the sewers, all the way to more obscure things like sporting events and a motherfucking war.

I can't really be certain of how many Mini Mutants sets I acquired, because more of them are AWOL than present. One of them was inside of Raphael's sai, another was connectable in a manner similar to the world of Sodor. And I know for sure that I had that Tokka Technodrome. It'll be super awkward when I locate it decades down the track and I have to messily shoehorn it into another blog entry.

Or maybe I'll just edit this one? I'm pretty shameless, after all.

Oh look, heads! I do like heads. These are the surviving Turtle-Tops; Michaelangelo's Adventurer Playset, Raphael's Baseball Playset and Leonardo's Mutant Military Playset. The completionist in me is seething with rage that I never acquired Donatello's Basketball Playset. Not that that would have actually finished the collection, but having three out of four Turtles just feels friggin' wrong. Not nearly as wrong as the fact that the basketball figurines had four fingers on their right hands, but wrong all the same.

Before we venture in, I'll take a moment to remind you who you're dealing with here. If you want to see these items in their full glory, I recommend you venture over to a more respectable blog like the Sewer Den, where these things are treated with dignity and reverence. I'm just a higgledy-piggledy motherfucker who misplaces crucial elements a day after receiving them.

But most of it is there, and that definitely counts for something. That's the same justification that got me through six years of university, after all.

First off is the Adventurer set. With its mysterious theme and abundance of traps, it would have been my absolute favourite had it included Raphael. Without him, it felt distinctly lacking, and it lost serious brownie points as a result. Sure, I could have just put one of the non-safari Raphaels in there, but it wouldn't have been the same. For one thing, he wouldn't have been wearing a hat, and that's just not sun smart.

There's a whole lot going on here, and many of the pieces are thankfully still intact. The ancient civilizations erected a monument to Rocksteady in the lower segment, but eager explorers who venture into the basket will be sent into the deadly viper pit below. Their only hope for escape is a nodding crocodile to fling them aside. It's a bit Trainspotting, actually.

It's not much safer up above, however, as Leonardo is soon to discover the folly of disturbing the ancient jewel. Should he remove it, the floor will collapse and he will plummet from a deadly height of two inches. Over to the side, there are a couple of chambers that house untold wonders. One of them was an unrelated Leo figurine that I had forgotten about. He suffocated decades ago, obviously, but it was a nice surprise all the same.

Alas, the Turtles have returned to find that the world has fallen into great conflict. Welcome to the Mutant Military playset, soldier. You fight for your country. You fight for your people. You fight for Baxter Stockman.

This one was a little more cramped than other sets, due to so much real estate being taken up by the flying disc apparatus below. To make up for this, it really does fly, and it is fucking satisfying. Wind it up with a click, click, click, press the switch and whoosh! Away it goes, majestically soaring into the air. I don't know what militaristic purpose it served, but in all fairness, I have never joined the army. It's probably on a need-to-know basis. Also, I probably shoehorned too many onomatopoeias into this paragraph.

Private Porknose Bebop is outnumbered as he tries to fend off the Turtle menace, but one of his guns is bent, which makes aiming very difficult, and also looks very silly, to boot. Lieutenant Leonardo lays in wait nearby, brandishing a weapon/speed camera that fell onto the floor immediately after I took this photo. As it is the same colour as the carpet, I have accepted the fact that I will never see it again. I hope he put it to good use.

Last but not least, Pro Pilot Raphael has climbed aboard his aircraft and is ready to go. He has his oxygen mask on because he is safety conscious! However, it is entirely superfluous as his cockpit is completely exposed, suggesting that it would never reach altitudes high enough to risk hypoxia. Further, the propellers are positioned in such a way that he can only actually go upwards, which would prove useless in an actual dogfight. Should he be a Pro Pilot as advertised, he would surely realise this before even attempting a takeoff.

...No, you're overthinking my Ninja Turtles toys.

We move onto my most treasured set. It holds this lofty position for many reasons, and yes, one of them is because it starred Raphael. If it's possible to have nepotism for Ninja Turtles, then I have achieved this.

Beyond that, however, it also has a hilariously dangerous feature in its spring loaded baseball bat. Pull it back, and it will send the little red balls careening across the dining room and into your uncle's bowl of soup. Is that a home run? Or just unsanitary? It's up to you, but it sure makes Raphael's job as outfielder borderline impossible.

I find it kind of strange that they relegated Raph to the outfield, by the way. If he's the main man on this squad, you'd think he'd have been given a more glamorous position. Donnie's the pitcher, while Mikey plays the role of catcher, as I have carefully illustrated here in this photo. Once upon a time, a full-sized figure dubbed him the Grand Slammin' Raph, so I guess he's mostly here for his offensive prowess. I wonder where I would put him if he was DH? There isn't a dugout, as near as I can tell.

The set is loaded with plenty of places for the baseball to go, from a fully functional pipe to a series of holes lining the ground that will mercilessly gobble up foul balls. I also found that they were a perfect size for getting stuck up your nose.

...No, I'm not even fucking kidding. I have no idea what I was thinking, especially since I was six or seven and knew better than to be shoving things in my schnoz. Most likely I thought it would be funny if I walked into a room with a baseball in each nostril, but I inexplicably forced it further than necessary and freaked out when I couldn't extract it.

My mother had to pick it out of my nose as I bawled loudly. I suppose from that day, she realised that I would never become one of the world's great thinkers. Or a baseball player.

Here are the miniature Toon Turtles that now find themselves homeless. Remember how I alluded to 'connectable playsets'? I have since ascertained that they were in fact known as Bodacious Battlesets, and more startlingly, I actually owned all four of them. Long ago, Toon Turtle Leo, Mike and Don used to roam the streets of New York, while the fourth slot was reserved for Shredder and Dimension X because nobody liked Raphael, right?

Except me. And everyone. Dammit Playmates, just give us five if you're so keen on including Shredder. I should send them a strongly worded letter, demanding my Raphael Bodacious Battleset. They'll either give into my demands, or send a pair of orderlies to come and take me away. It's win/win, really, as I wouldn't mind the company.

Despite the fact that the City Wars playset where he resided is nothing more than a series of fragments and memories, Toon Turtle Leonardo can take solace in the thrilling concept that he is the only figurine who still has both of his weapons intact. With his silly blue katana safe and sound, you can see the elation in Leo's face. Mikey's only down to one nunchaku, but he's still having a hoot thanks to his upbeat attitude and the fact that he is high as balls 24/7.

But not Don, unfortunately. Not even his beloved Turtle Blimp can cheer him up, for his bo staves are much like Pauline Hanson's groceries; just gone!

This eclectic mix of fellows has no particular meaning, but this entry is already atrociously long and I figured it would be quicker if I just threw as many together as I could. Hence, we see Movie Star Mike and Movie Star Splinter being downright abusive to Shredder and his friends. They were just trying to have a nice picnic on this lovely, sunny day, when Mike came rolling in on a motorbike with a gun attached to it and began blasting blindly at everyone.

Most of the shots hit him in the back of the head due to poor ergonomics, but at least one was enough to send poor Bebop into the trash. Soon, Splinter descended atop a helicopter brandishing a bow and arrow. How he survived the propellers is anyone's guess, but he definitely means business. Shredder is agog, and Krang's Android Body is playing dead.

Did you enjoy that scenario? I fucking hope so, because it was a nightmare to set up. I have unsteady hands at the best of times, but trying to position fiddly little toys that are particularly fond of falling down and knocking the others over in the process truly tested my nerves. How in god's name do people build model ships inside of bottles? Is it easier when Bebop isn't involved?

Meanwhile, Movie Star Raphael is so good, I have two of him. You may choose whichever one you like better, but in my humble opinion, it's easily the one on the right. He's holding his trademark sai, while the other one is wielding the time scepter, which implies that he's from the third Ninja Turtles movie. Sha-wing!

And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Over 2,000 words of exposition on Mini Mutants. Honestly, you deserve no less for sticking with this blog for seven and a half years. The scary realisation is dawning on me that with each passing month, I edge closer to the point where I could feasibly have kids of my own, at which point we reach a crossroads - do I continue shedding excess toys? Or do I pour them upon my offspring in a well-intended but possibly hazardous gesture of gratuity? The answer probably lies somewhere in the middle, because in all honesty, they probably wouldn't want Ugly Laser Man any more than I do.

So thank you, adieu, and cowabunga, motherfuckers.

"Wait, he didn't talk about us! I feel shortchanged here. Do I mean so little to him?"

"Yeah yeah, Donnie, nice puns... But who in the hell is this guy?"

"Hey there! Do you fellas wanna come over to my place?"

"I have pizza!"

#0079: Thomas the Tank Engine miniature playsets

When I was a wee sprat, I went apeshit for playsets. For as much fun as it was to have my toys galavanting about the house and leap from couch to couch, or for them to wander the unknown territory of the backyard (I lost a Bebop figurine out there for a solid year), playsets allowed us to put them right in their element. Fuck you, creativity! For I have the Technodrome.

Rare were the times when you got a full-sized playset, however, because they were overpriced and, at least in my recollection, hard to find. Fortunately however, miniature figurines allowed for compact little locales that you could literally take with you on the go. In retrospect, there was a definite emphasis on the portability of these self-contained little societies. I don't think I ever really looked at a small village and said to myself, 'Man, I wish I could take this with me everywhere'. But to each their own.

Thomas and all his chums made for excellent playset fare (I'm getting sick of using that word...), because years of rich storytelling made for lots of familiar locations like the Tidmouth Sheds that children would love to have for their very own. Also, it was a show about trains - their very purpose is to travel places, so you could literally just stick a railroad track in any random location and it would seem appropriate. One does not simply walk into Mordor, but Thomas would be more than happy to take you there.

Toot-toot! Let's observe the Thomas the Tank Engine miniature p-words...

Well, shit. That's a glum-looking landscape, isn't it? Bare and vacant, like the aftermath of the bomb in Sarah Connor's nightmare. Those flowers held up pretty well, if that was the case. However, fear not! For deep within the bowels of this unassuming little burgh lurks a collection of fantastic autonomous vehicles, just ready to take you home! ...Though honestly, the fare from London to Manchester is absolutely batshit crazy expensive. I'm not even kidding you.

All it takes is a little bit of common sense, working out where to put each little feature - for example, the tree isn't supposed to go right in the middle of the railroad track, you malicious fuck - and voila! Your masterpiece is complete, and you're now a true engineer! I'm half-convinced this is the actual qualification required to drive a train in some third-world countries.

Fear me, for I am a fucking God. I have invented England.

This is, of course, the aforementioned Tidmouth Sheds. It's well-known for housing all of Sodor's colourfully quirky trains, and subsequently, the place where peer pressure and bullying runs most rampant. It's seriously bad news whenever a scene takes place here, because either someone's ass is getting teased, or someone is talking shit, and his comeuppance is imminent. The only thing for sure in this strange, sad little world is, as I've often stressed, Gordon is always the resident asshole. Always.

This particular set came with everyone's pal Thomas, as well as his passenger cars, Annie and Clarabel. You'd have to be particularly ballsy to ride in one of these coaches, considering how frequently the trains crash. To borrow an actual quote, Annie and Clarabel at one point say of Thomas: 'He's dreadfully rude, I feel quite ashamed. I feel quite ashamed, he's dreadfully rude. You mustn't be rude, you make us ashamed'.

Which is no doubt a respectable thing to say. But imagine if you were inside them at the time? You'd freak out like nobody's business.

'Daddy?' says little Wendy, of no more than four, 'Why is our carriage ashamed of the train?'

Her father holds her close, tears in his eyes. 'I'm unsure, Wendy. But you'd best hold tight - we're about to fucking crash.'

Tragic. Still better than Melbourne's public transport system, at least.

The most exciting thing about this playset is of course the fully functional turntable, which meant you could park within the sheds at your delight. Unfortunately, I've actually positioned Thomas in the wrong direction to get inside the shed, plus, all sorts of mayhem would ensue if I planted him on the turntable with Annie and Clarabel in tow. Little Wendy, she deserves better than that, doesn't she?

...Oh screw it, let's give it a try.

And let's never speak of it again.

Next, we turn our attention away from the foulmouthed locomotive, and escape to the peaceful countryside (the first photo in this entry. Damned if I'm going to recycle it and bloat my upload limit), a place where Bertie the bus is known to frequent. His best buddy good friend vaguely known acquaintance Percy often makes his rounds here, and as you'll note, this particular playset is sadly lacking in functional turntables. For this reason, it is infinitely inferior to the previous set. In its defence though, it features a bush which is abnormally large.

You might note, there is in fact a piece missing. I'm fairly certain it was a boom gate or something of that nature, because otherwise, that's a pretty deadly little stretch of road, isn't it?

There really isn't much more to say about this section of the set, unless you want eight paragraphs professing my love for the large bush. There are hinges on the side that suggest that there were four different parts to create your own perfect vision of Sodor. My world is therefore tragically incomplete, but it still has everything I would ever want.

...Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to playing.