Monday, Oct. 01, 1984
Hot Toys with a Special Twist
By J.D. Reed
Tricky robots capture little kids and big bucks
Recently on the planet GoBotron, the vile Cy-Kill eluded the dragnet of staunch and stalwart Leader1 by changing himself into a motorcycle. Where would he go next to foment trouble? "Planet Earth is ripe for the taking!" sneered the nefarious one to his henchmen. "The earthling young can surely be persuaded to nag their parents until our triumph is complete."
The villain should be in sales. From FAO Schwarz in New York City to Talbot's Toy land in San Mateo, Calif., the invasion by pint-size plastic and metal robot figures is well under way and just may be the hottest toy trend ever. Yes, trend and trivia buffs -- ever. Tonka Toys reports well over $100 million worth of orders for its Cy-Kill and 29 other GoBots since they were introduced last January. If Tonka can fill those orders, GoBots will easily overtake last year's $60 million worth of Cabbage Patch Kids. And Hasbro's rival 29 Transformer figures are expected to do as well as if not better than the GoBots. With a handful of other companies also producing versions, the new little robots will have the most lucrative first year of any nonelectronic toy in U.S. history.
Retailers cannot get enough of the leading lines. Some 200 subteens recently snapped up 600 GoBots in Macy's Manhattan store in one day. "If we could get three times the number of robots we've ordered, we might be able to supply the demand," says Stanley Walsh, toys merchandise manager for the 105-store Child World chain.
The robot conquest has been accomplished without those twin evils of kids' toys: batteries and $99.99 price tags. There are some larger versions, even a few that are battery-powered, but the 3 3/4-in. to 5 1/2-in. GoBots and their competitors are not to be confused with the fancier adult playthings that fetch drinks or sweep the kitchen. Rather, many of these unwired "action figures," which cost a modest $3 to $22, get their go from a special twist. They are fantasy machines and long-favored hot-rods all in one. With a crank of the arms or a snap of the legs, each can be changed from a robot into a race car or a truck or a plane, then back to robot again. One of the Transformers, for instance, resembles an innocent cassette player until he is snapped open to become the despised Decepticon, Soundwave ($15). GoBot's Leader1 can be folded up to become an avenging jet fighter.
These transmutants are so compellingly keen that Kiernan Rancilio, for one, forgot about playing with the motorized fire truck he received for his sixth birthday when he unwrapped his GoBots. "I felt so good when I saw them," says the Detroit youngster. "I carry them around everywhere."
GoBots first appeared in Japan last year but did not test well in the U.S. at first. Then marketers packaged comic-book-style stories of good vs. evil featuring their violence-prone figures, and the GoBots and other robots took off into hyperspace.
Such spin-offs as fan clubs, lunch boxes and watches are being added to spur interest. Ideal (ten nonconvertible Robo Force figures such as Cruel and Vulgar) even issues a slick, 90-page magazine with feature articles on robotics and the future.
Predictably, robots are revving up in the TV listings. A syndicated show, The Transformers, began last week; a Robo Force cartoon, Maxx Steele, is scheduled to air in December; and a five-episode Challenge of the GoBots, animated by Hanna-Barbera, is set for next month.
Why do boys love them? Tonka Consultant Robert Malone, author of The Robot Book, a pictorial history, sees them as provoking a new sophistication. Says he: "They fascinate because they show kids that the world may not be what it seems."
Well, maybe. A more down-to-earth appraisal: they are simplified Rubik's cubes on legs. No matter what, however, come Christmas morning, there had better be a few under the tree, or a lot of little kids will be thinking that their parents are evil Decepticons.
-- ByJ.D. Reed. Reported by Sara White/Boston, with other bureaus
With reporting by Sara White/Boston