I’m trying to re-establish my routines and habits while I hope time and reflection will help repair the damage to my family caused by Blake’s suicide. As part of that, I’m continuing my Lego 250 reviews from where I left off. Today, I’m looking at an entire range of sets, because they’re tiny and I’m damned if I’m going to review each one separately.
Mixels. They’re totally a thing.
So there was a time when, for the briefest of moments, I managed to get Luscious interested in Lego. Well, if not actually interested as such, then certainly involved. Well, if not involved, as such, then certainly building some stuff . Well, some Mixels.
Well, okay. A frigging heap of Mixels.
What are Mixels? Apart from being one of the more or less — mostly less — successful attempts by Lego to engage in some 1980s-style cross-level marketing (“Hey, if we make a cartoon about this stuff, the kids will just rush out to get it, amirite?”) they’re also vaguely anthropomorphic figurines utilising what was, at the time, some brand new teensy-tiny joint parts to create moveable versions of gaol cells, and keytars, and chainsaws, and… that thing, and… I’m not sure what that’s supposed to be, and… you know what? It’s probably just easier to show you.
Yeah, see what I mean?
In the five minutes Luscious enjoyed building, she enjoyed building these. Then she enjoyed pulling them apart and using the parts to build the Micropolis barrio I mentioned in a previous post. Then she enjoyed announcing she was done with Lego and giving them all to me. Then I enjoyed parting them all out into about 80 different tubs because that’s how I count fun these days. And then I enjoyed building them for this project. And that’s really how Mixels work, because, ultimately, they’re basically cute little part packs if you account for the fact that many of the parts are weird looking eye bits you’ll never find a second use for.
But they are cute. They pack of tonne of personality into no more than 50 or 60 pieces. They each take about 28 actual seconds to build. And because a) Lego and b) a TV series, some of them have weird little secondary figures with scrunchy faces printed onto round plates that would otherwise have been useful, so there’s that.
But what do I do with them afterwards?
Mixels are a lovely little distraction, but like all non-licenced things Lego produce (“Oh really? A thirty-eighth variation on that ship seen in the background of one scene in that Star Wars prequel nobody likes? Just what I wanted…”) the run was limited, and the time has passed. So enjoy your sight of twenty two versions of a theme you can’t get anymore, because the chances of me building them again until we get to Lego 500 — and, you know, even then I’ll probably just link back to this review — is pretty much nil, and you won’t be building them yourself, and that’s that, really.
Fun while they lasted, but they didn’t last. Title of your sex tape.
Of course, you can always go to Youtube and watch the episodes if you really want to. (Voice-over in my best David Attenborough voice: Don’t).
Fun to build and packed with personality. But what do I do with all those eyeballs and weird face pieces?
The League Table of Awesomeness