Posted Thursday, 17 June 2010
I was in Shopko the other day, where I beheld three Batman action figures on the clearance rack. Somewhere in the back of my mind, an observant sector sensitive to pleasing colour-schemes activated as I looked at these figures. I don't even like Batman, yet I was captivated by these toys.
The area of my brain that was the most active was one which I hadn't had need for since the late '90s. It was the same perception centre which controlled my interest in the Incredible Crash Dummies. I would use it in the Toys section of whatever store I happened to be in.
The novelty? Colour.
Each Batman had a different thing it could do, thus meriting the need for a diverse colour scheme.
Why is this remarkable, anyway? 'Cos, nowadays, it's all about continuity in the toy-making industry. Taking for example Buzz Lightyear. You have a range of Buzz action figures, each with a separate ability -- say, a space-wings Buzz, a talking Buzz, a laser Buzz, a karate-chopping Buzz. But, even with all of these fantastic features in the range of stock, you only ever see Buzz in the same colour scheme. A white base, green pads, and purple trim.
I referenced the '90s in the title because action figures released during the first half of that decade would have a different colour scheme depending on the function each iteration would perform. Take for example, my old standby, Inspector Gadget. You would have a range of Inspector Gadgets, each capable of a different thing. Gadget Hat, Gadget Legs, Gadget Arms, Gadget Neck, Gadget Copter, Gadget Watergun, and Fumble Gadget (akin to the Crash Dummies: press a button on his back and he falls apart). Now, each of these Gadgets merited a different colour scheme. Only Gadget Hat was the same blue and grey colour as the cartoon character. Gadget Legs wore two tones of blue, Gadget Arms wore lavender and green, Neck wore violet and green (I think), Watergun wore a dull green and blue, and Fumble Gadget wore yellow and blue. See? Each function had a different colour scheme to distinguish between the others in the line.
The Crash Dummies, too, were made in similar fashion. Granted, there was a great deal of functional overlap between the figures in the line (in 1991 alone, there were seven dummies who would fall apart on demand), but each dummy was given a different name. Each name, in turn, got a different colour. Spin was my personal favourite. He wore a purplish-blue colour. Of course, colours all across the spectrum were given to the dummies. White, grey, blue, red, yellow, green, purple, red and blue, red and grey. Only Daryl and Spare Tyre performed different functions and had different shapes, but the line still managed to be one of the more colourful in toymaking history. I'm convinced their colours and novel functions for the time were what made them the most-remembered 1990s toy line.
The point? It's good to see that at least one toy company has seen the value in the need for colour variation. Children are attracted to colour. Hence the appeal of a candy shop. If all of the sweets in a particular line are blue, regardless of flavour, some kids will like it, but most will not. The candy-makers know this. To that end, confectioners have created a sort of synesthesia, inasmuch as they colour their creations based on its flavour.
"Synesthesia?" you ask, puzzled. Yes. The general definition is, a fusion of two or more senses. In this case, taste or smell and sight. A child who likes bananas will probably like the colour yellow. However, if that child had an jalapeno-flavoured Jelly Belly bean, he will probably be wary of dark green.
Particularly as a child, one's favourite colour will govern what they want to have purchased for them. Me, I was totally into artificial grape flavour in 1991, so it's no wonder I was attracted to the similarly-coloured Crash Dummy, Spin.
Variety is the spice of life, after all. Toymakers ought not to forget that.
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