Gee, it feels like it’s been a while since I’ve posted a Lego review.
Okay, let’s get back on this damn wagon, especially as the reviewing may have stopped but the purchasing hasn’t, meaning I’ve now bought way more sets than I’ve reviews since I set out to cover the 250 I had (at the point I started. How many do I have now? SHUT UP, YOU’RE NOT MY REAL MUM!)
An easy one to begin: Star Wars, and a little fighter plane from that benighted franchise.
It is a fact of life that the more successful creature will replace the lesser, that the better-selling brand will supplant the lower, that the more popular brand will drive out the not-as-much. Which is to say, the golden age of Lego is eight, and eight year-olds are so attracted to the glitter-rolled turd of Star Wars that it doesn’t matter how bad the story-telling is, how moronic the characters are, and how much of a, well…. turd, glitter, you get it.
Star Wars in, Classic Space out. That’s just the way the Universe works.
That said, one of the areas (one of the few areas) where Star Wars does genuinely great things is in the design of its spaceships. There are times when the screen looks like a Chris Foss wet dream come to life, such are the variety and general coolitude of the massed spaceships on display. Such a one is this little 140 piece set, from somewhere in the depths of one of the movies that I don’t care enough to look up.
Given the creators’ lack of understanding of how space actually works, the space battles in Star Wars movies unfold exactly like WWII dogfights– fleets of mosquito-like fighters swarming around giant, lumbering bomber/transport types, all adhering to a perfectly two-dimensional ecliptic plane like up and down are supposed to have any meaning in a gravity-less orb of combat space. (And if you think I’m being uncommonly grumpy because come on, man, movies, check out the space battle at the beginning of the otherwise craptastic Lost in Space movie. Yeah, see? If they can do it…)
Just as naturally, the craft themselves have to conform to an aircraft design spec, with wings (Why?) and a cockpit at the dorsal point of a tubular body (Why?) with completely limited viewing angles (Why? Why? WHY?). Given those dumbass design specs, the V-Wing is a neat-looking little craft indeed.
Clear, round, DIY stands not included, but just try standing this bugger up without them.
It has an appealing delta-shape, and the wing structures are a cute combination of the two main points of difference between the first-era Star Wars craft — the X-wings that give the aircraft its name and the giant-sandwich-boards-designed-solely-to-give-no-vision-whatsoever of the Tie Fighter.
All the spaceship necessities accounted for: cockpit, robot, pew-pew sticks…
The wings fold at two points of articulation, just in case you need to store your V-wing in a 20th century aircraft carrier, I suppose. It does, at least, provide some visual appeal, as does the maroon-and-grey colour scheme. There’s plenty of swooshability — the set is a good size for a child’s hand, and the pew-pew sticks on the side are comparatively giant and pew-pewish.
The wing articulation on display.
And if it wasn’t for that cruddy cockpit, which leaves enormous gaps along the edge that are simply too big to ignore (even for a set that demands some suspension of disbelief, as all Lego sets do to some extent) this would be an excellent example of the sort of set Lego do very, very well: the second-tier set, just larger than the introductory model, designed to give your kid some real sense of building power and clue you into just how expensive a hobby this is going to turn out to be.
Yeah, I gotta be honest. If you’re the pilot, you’re gonna notice that…
As it is, though, this is merely a nice little set that does what it says on the box. Which is okay, I suppose.
Swoosh, swoosh, nyeeeooooowwwm, pew pew pew…
You can’t persuade me a Classic Space set wouldn’t do it better…
The League Table of Awesomeness