Okay, confession time. I used to mix other action figures in with my Star Wars toys.
It’s heresy, I know, but you have to understand — it was a different time then. We were young, we were in love and we didn’t care what society thought. George Lucas had shown the world that franchising your film was where the real money lay, and a dozen space-related properties sprang up overnight. Suddenly there were toys from shows like Battlestar Galactica, Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, and Mork and Mindy, big-budget movies like Star Trek, Flash Gordon, and The Black Hole, plus rebranded import toys you had to see to believe. What was a kid to do?
We suddenly found ourselves in a highly competitive world that was vying for our every dollar. While the Star Wars license was locked up tight, canny toy manufacturers soon realized their next best shot at our money was to make their own products compatible with Kenner’s. After all, one 3 3/4-inch action figure is the same as any other, right?
More discerning children might disagree, but my attitude was the more the merrier! Sure, there were times when my friends and I played “Star Wars” using only the Kenner figures, but my favorite adventures were those unbound by such rules. Using the entire contents of your toy box could be surprisingly beneficial over the course of an afternoon. I learned that sometimes a gang of Cylons were more efficient problem solvers than a scruffy nerf-herder and his Wookie companion. I discovered Tron was actually pretty badass, that Fisher Price Adventure People made excellent cannon-fodder, and the Star Trek characters were always just happy to be there. It was a golden age.
If you were a kid who liked robots, it paid to diversify. C-3PO and R2-D2 were merely doormen to a world of mechanized marvels the likes of which Lucas could not hope to imagine. If you were willing to take that step into the unknown you would find yourself in a wondrous world of Micronauts, Space Raiders, and Metal Men. Beyond the Big 5 there was a world made of die-cast metal, swappable parts, and action features. Sure, the figures might be painted strangely or have different articulation schemes (Elbows? Knees? Wow!) but as long as I could fit them into the Millennium Falcon before it blasted off into hyperspace then it was all good.
These above figures are from Zee Toy’s Metal Men line. It might seem like an unimaginative title, but Zee didn’t want to bury the lead — the fact that these figures were actually die-cast metal was a huge selling point for those of us weaned on plastic. Having a figure like this in hand was a revelation — if these guys could move at the elbows and knees, why couldn’t my other toys? Why weren’t all of my figures metal? I’m not sure if parents caught on that these figures could be crumpled up into a ball and hurled with considerable force or if the line never caught on, but innovations like this always made my toy collection more exciting and versatile.
I wasn’t one of those kids who was satisfied with only one of each ‘droid. By my reasoning, the Star Wars universe was full of these guys — they were as ubiquitous as cell phones and discarded about as often. Why should I settle for one Death Star Droid when I could have three?
Their locust-like demeanor and robotic coldness made them great heavies. I always felt there was something of Darth Vader’s design inherent in the face: the protruding eyes, the ventilator mouth and overall shape of the head all gave Death Star Droid an “illegitimate child” vibe, as if he were the offspring of some unholy union of the Dark Lord and his vacuum cleaner.
One of the difficult things about collecting Star Wars figures as a kid was the fact that they were only available in select locations. Drugstores and 5-and-dimes just didn’t carry them, at least in my neighborhood. What they did have was rack toys. You know the kind: plastic parachute men, punching balloons, knockoff Slinkys and other low-end items. One the whole it was pretty uninspiring stuff, but among the chaff you might sometimes find a gem:
Tomy Corps’ Rascal Robots fit right in alongside their more upscale contemporaries. Their vac-metal detailing, clear colored domes, and (relatively) inconspicuous action feature actually provided more bang for your buck than Kenner’s primarily white, sticker-sheathed RD-D2 figure. Hey, remember when the packaging claimed that clicking sound R2’s dome made when you turned it was an “action feature?” Oh Kenner, you so cra-zee.
Six-inch has become the standard scale for your average action figure line. And while there are always exceptions to the rule, (McFarlanes 4-inch Walking Dead figures. NECA’s 7-inch movie-inspired offerings, etc.) you’ll find most mass-market lines in the 1/12th scale. It’s not done on purpose, mind you. Today’s figures share the same size out of convenience, not because toy manufacturers are trying to manipulate buyers into thinking they’re getting something they’re not. Consumers are far savvier than they were back in the 1970s and aren’t going to assume that just because something has a picture of a robot on it that its somehow related to Star Wars. In a way that’s too bad. Part of the fun was getting fooled, or at least allowing yourself the chance to try something different.
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