This Still Counts as Playing

I’ve been collecting action figures for many years. From Christmas in 1972 through my late 50s (HEY! I’m still in my 50s for a while—listen up!) I’ve loved these plastic warriors and adventurers. The imagination they spark is pure joy.

Play is the work of childhood.” — Jean Piaget

I arrived a little too early for He‑Man and the Masters of the Universe. My sweet spot was the military—and quasi‑military—world of 1/6th‑scale GI Joe figures. By the late 70s I began to “outgrow” toys (more on that later), and my younger brothers took over the jungle expeditions and covert missions. But the imprint was made, and it waited dormant, like the great Cthulhu.

Between the late 70s and early 90s, GI Joe disappeared from U.S. shelves. He lived on elsewhere, though: Action Man in the UK, Combat Man in Japan, Geyperman in Spain, Falcon in South America. The uniform sometimes changed, but the spirit stayed the same.

In the early 1990s, 1/6th‑scale figures made a comeback. Hasbro wasn’t the only game in town anymore—Dragon, Formative International, 21st Century Toys, and BBI all added their own spin on the classic Joe. Even though Hasbro owned the name, “GI Joe” became a kind of generic trademark for the whole category. Seeing these guys return for the first time in fifteen years was the spark.

I reopened that little metaphorical can of worms and became a GI Joe collector again. I didn’t play with them the way I did at six—those days of lying on the floor with a Jeep full of guys taking small‑arms fire and crashing into the couch were over. But that doesn’t mean I stopped playing entirely.

The toys are still inspirational. Each one offers a chance for backstory—a headcanon of who they are and where they fit on the team scattered across my shelves. The adventures are still in there. If you listened at my door, you wouldn’t hear engines roaring or sergeants yelling for everyone to fall back. But you might hear me clicking away at the keyboard. Or you might see me at my desk with an action figure in pieces, being restrung, repainted, or customized.

My process has four steps. First, I imagine a character or situation. Sometimes it’s inspired by a movie, TV show, or book, but more often it’s my own idea. Second, I assemble the physical figure—mixing vintage items with newer products, modifying clothing and equipment however I like. I’m not bound by collector value or “mint in box” preservation. Third, I write the character’s story: who they are, what they do, and how they fit into the world. And finally, I create the visual. My photography skills are, to put it kindly, rudimentary, and my camera equipment is primitive. Anything more specialized than a blurry selfie tests the limits of my abilities. Luckily, technology steps in. A couple of AI image‑generation tools can take my written narrative and produce a surprisingly good representation. It usually takes a few rewrites and revisions, but that’s part of the fun.

 

 

When I’m done, I have a short story, woven into a shared universe of my own creation.  It is then represented by a detailed image. They say a picture is worth a thousand words.

I think that’s true—give or take a few hundred words, anyway.

The pictures aren’t for sale, and the backstories aren’t written for any formal publication. They really aren’t even written for anybody else.  They’re simply my own little projects.

 

But who knows? Maybe someday, I’ll share my toys.

Toph

Yo Ho Ho, and a bottle of glue

As you may know, I really like old toys. A lot of the models I build are either exact re-releases of 50+ year old kits, or new ones that are inspired by them.   Tamiya constantly creates fresh models (with much higher detail and more accurate scale), while simultaneously continuing to offer ones that were first tooled in 1974. And Aurora (who ceased operation decades ago), still sees re-releases of their classic favorites under new brands. The line-ups are also frequently augmented with new, but related subjects, sometimes referred to as ‘what if’ kits; ‘What if Aurora had continued their Universal Movie Monster series?’

I have several of these on my shelf, waiting patiently. And several others in various stages of near completion; two things that scale model builders are notorious for doing – collecting kits they hope to someday build, and starting new projects while others remain half-done. The saga continues. As an example, a little over a year ago I started a figure kit of Blackbeard (the pirate captain). He is currently marooned on just such an island.

I hate you, Toph.

But I found a deal on a model I clearly remember from the early 1970s. I never personally owned it, but a neighbor across the street had the whole series of them, and I always thought they were cool.

Like the gunfighters of the old west, pirates have a certain mystique.

To quote Bernard Williams,

The average man will bristle if you say his father was dishonest,

but he will brag a little if he discovers that

his great-grandfather was a Pirate.”

The original 1972 Pirates of the Caribbean

MPC produced a series of models based on the Disney theme park ride Pirates of the Caribbean. The initial release was 5 kits in 1972, with 2 more added later, for a total of 7. Those originals can easily be found online, if you’re willing to dip into your treasure chest to the tune of over a hundred doubloons each, and that’s for one of the cheaper ones!

New, with minimal improvements

My Round2Models re-release (under the ‘Jolly Roger Series’ moniker) was just under $30.

I suspect the lower price-point is a result of the missing Disney branding. In fact, the actual kits have been renamed. “Freed in the Nick of Time” was the original title. My reissue is “Escape the Tentacles of Fate.” The scene is the same, but the name and box art are slightly different. I was really more interested in the contents than I was the box, so it’s a non-issue for me.

They all feature a simple rubber band mechanism to make the assembled pirate skeleton characters move. It’s a cheesy, cool gimmick that simulates the ride’s animatronic pirates, and sails the fine line between model kit and plastic toy – bringing out what I think is the best of both worlds. The kit is molded in glow in the dark plastic, giving the builder the option for unpainted glow finish, or a more colorful, ‘realistic’ look. (At least as realistic as animated ghost pirates can be.)

It is this dichotomy of realism and whimsy that I intend to exploit. I’m making the scene dank and gloomy, with a sense of mold and decay, while leaving the skeleton bones unpainted and glowing. A thin dark wash on the assembled and painted pirates should help define the textures, while allowing the eerie glow feature to come shining through.

A personal goal this year is completing projects. I’m already seeing some of that effort pay off in home repairs and landscaping jobs. In the very near future, I intend to have both the animated ghosts and the Blackbeard kit completed. Then perhaps, a grand reveal.

Shiver me timbers!

-Toph