Miniature Giants: Universal Monsters Glow In The Dark Reissues!

 

It's the start of a week I was planning to use for a full lineup of posts, and I'm already a bit late getting this started. Fortunately, it happens that I thought to save a few leftovers from my last Marx post. So here I go with another sequel, this time about the Universal Monsters line I covered from exactly one figure before. While I'm at it, here's a pic I was going to use before of my "new" acquisitions with the freakishly tall Campus Cutie girl.

Now for some previously covered backstory, the Marx Universal Monsters line was released in 1963, the first year of the 6-inch figures. This was an evidently licensed release, since the bases of the figures have Universal Pictures along with the Marx branding. What is of some note is that this was not entirely necessary, as Universal had itself cut legal corners by claiming to use sources in the public domain, and in some cases used works and characters that had been adapted for the screen before. Needless to say, I'll get to that in more detail. In any event, these were evidently popular at the time and continue to command respectable prices in online listings. That was followed by reissues, most notably by Uncle Milton in the 1990s. The company made the further move of selling the figures with paints for the artistically minded, like the Mummy figure shown in the top photo for the post. They also released glow-in-the-dark versions of the figures. Initially, I wasn't that interested in these. Eventually, I got a Hunchback of Notre Dame figure that went in the backlog. Then, during the buying spree where I acquired other figures covered earlier this months, I picked up a figure purporting to be the Phantom of the Opera, and that was where things got intriguing. Here is a pic of the pair together.

Now, what's interesting about these figures is that they most closely resemble the silent films of Lon Chaney, the original makeup/ suit effects guy. With the Hunchback, the figure is just kind of generic, though the grotesque asymmetrical face (photos do not pick up detail on these things at all) certainly looks like something Chaney would have created. The Phantom, on the other hand, most definitely resembles Chaney's version far more than anything else. The twist is, Marx could easily have gotten away with using the characters without Universal's permission. The studio had made the original films (one more reason to downgrade the status of Dracula), and in the case of the Phantom followed with a sound version in 1943, but they would both have fallen into public domain status by the 1950s. The reasonable inference is that the Universal licensing was a matter of cooperation rather than necessity, securing the right to reference the studio's name and films directly in marketing as well as the use of iconic original characters like the Mummy and Creature From The Black Lagoon. Now that I think of the legal angles, the absence of Dracula makes a lot more sense. Given the infamous litigation around Nosferatu, I find myself wondering if Universal was paranoid about an adverse ruling. Now, here's a few more pics. From the back...

Closeup; yeash, this makes Chaney's work look a little tame...

Profile; I think this really caught the most actual detail of any of these...

And one more with the Mummy; this damn thing would be gruesome for a McFarlane figure!

One more thing I'm going to shoehorn in is a little terminology: "original", reissue and recast. As I have commented (see my video on the Star Wars scale figures), what to call original is already a bit of a gray area, as it can include things like the Ukrainian figures (also now a video). I for one am willing to count anything made with Marx's permission up to the company's bankruptcy in 1979. For "reissue", I consider the present figures to be a good example of the most useful criteria: They were still made in the "vintage" 1980s-1990s period; they were sold commercially in the United States; and perhaps most significantly, they were at least nominally made and marketed for kids rather than adult collectors. By further comparison, I would prefer to use the recast designation for items made within the current millennium, which are likely to be made for the US collector market even though most are made in Mexico (see my Space Guys unbagging). For the moment, this remains a minor distinction that really doesn't even have much effect on price, but things could get a lot more complicated down the line.

And while I'm at it, here's a bonus because I already went through all the hoops to use them. These are pics of a full set of Soviet soldiers from Ukraine, used with permission from seller Double Duncan Treasures. Per the seller's very helpful correspondence, these were played-with figures from an owner from eastern Europe, originally part of a set that also included Wild West and Viking figures. Of most interest, he reports that about half of them have Cyrillic markings, which failed to translate as anything but abbreviations. He also confirmed that the reddish color is that of the original plastic rather than an aging effect. Here they are...

And that catches me up. That's all for now, more to come!

Fiction: The Space Guys Adventure, Part 22!

 It's the middle of my attempt to do a full week of posts, so of course I'm taking a short cut with the Space Guys. This is really a new part of the adventure, but for now, I'm keeping the numbering and table of contents at the end. And hey, I worked in the Marz building!

 

The voyage of the Janus went on for months after passing Uranus, but the boredom and isolation that had fallen over the crew never returned. There was laughter, singing and a return to games, music and books that they had long declared themselves tired of. The morale was further improved by the appearance of one more orb in their path. “We didn’t announce it in the mission plan because we weren’t sure of the alignment,” the captain said. “You are seeing the paraplanet Pluto, within the orbit of Neptune.”

They did not pass as close as they had to other planets, so it did not appear on the porthole. Still, it was near enough to take turns looking at the orb from the communications tower during their closest approach. It was white beheld with the naked eye, mottled gray with hints of brown when viewed with magnification. Jason and Alek spent their turn talking with Old Yuri.

As Pluto receded, the captain made another announcement. When they gathered, he looked unusually solemn. Jason noted that he stood side by side with Professor Futura. “I have just received approval from Gaia to give a special briefing,” he said. “It should coincide with simultaneous broadcasts on the Homeworld and Mars. Moxon, load the disc.”

Moxon took out a disc with the markings of sensitive material. Jason realized that it was the same one that had been played for the mission briefing. The officer flipped the handling caddy before loading it in the video record player. The first image that came up showed the sigil of the Union of Nations and the stylized rocket of the space agency. Jason instinctively put an arm around Alek at the sight of what appeared next.

At a glance, it looked like a crystal, with four major sides subdivided by corrugations and protruding multitiered buttresses in place of its corners. Then the camera’s focus shifted to show its surroundings. It was the Southlands of Mars, not far from Hellas Basin. The object reared up from a level plain at the foot of the ice caps which dwarfed it. Even on that enormous scale, it was obvious that the object was immense, certainly as tall as the Janus was long, quite possibly even taller than the bygone Empire State tower it was compared to. It was evident that it tapered up to what looked like a cupola, topped by a dome and a tall, narrow spine that looked like an antenna. The focus shifted again, and Professor Futura came into view. He wore an archaic pressure suit with a dome supported by a square frame. He looked visibly younger, but only by five or ten years rather than more than Jason had been alive.

“I am at the foot of the Structure,” the Professor said. “All observations confirm that it is an artificial object intended for habitation. From corrosion and geological evidence, it is at least 1,000 and not more than 2 million years old. Preliminary findings further indicate that it was constructed by and for organisms comparable to humans in all major characteristics. We have entered and partially explored the lowest tiers of the structure through several compromised or unsecured entrances. Our efforts have been hampered by repeated equipment failures associated with electromagnetic anomalies from the structure. In particular, we have been unable to reach or enter an evident control center in the spire. I have determined that any conclusive investigation will require an exterior ascent and likely forced entry. I have prepared to affect such a breach. I will be accompanied by my wife, Irena Futura, who is recording this film. The rest of the party are under orders not to follow or allow others to enter.”

The film showed a small party climb up the exterior of the building with a series of rocket-assisted grapnels. The ascent culminated in the entry of the cupola through an already damaged window. There was an evident skip to an aerial shot of the cupola. There was a flash from the cupola, seemingly no more consequential than a glint of sunlight, until puffs of smoke erupted at the base of the spine. The spine listed and then toppled, momentarily filling half the frame before the camera and presumably the aircraft veered away. The camera zoomed in again, on a figure waving from the damaged window. There was another skip, showing the tower from a distance. It collapsed in smoke and flames, as ice and debris cascaded down to cover it.

Futura spoke up. “My wife and I spent 17 hours inside the spire of the Structure,” he said. “I brought no cameras or recording equipment, only limited writing materials. We spent the first 11 hours examining the lower superstructure, which I ventured to describe as the Globe. In the twelfth hour, I breached a possible control center at the meeting point of the dome and the spire. We found a series of computing stations, several of which were functioning and partially operable. These proved to be primarily for calculation, and thus a source of our most detailed information on the Builders’ numerical characters and mathematical system. After 4 hours of investigation, I attempted to use one of the higher-level stations. This activated a self-destruct mechanism which ultimately collapsed both the Structure and a large section of the polar cap. The device simultaneously sealed the entrances to the control center. Over the course of 47 minutes, we successfully escaped, and were rescued by our expedition’s hovercraft.”

The gathered crew gaped, except Donald, who scowled. “I spent the next 36 hours assisting my wife as she drew her observations of the structure from memory,” Futura concluded. “On my advice, the existence of the Structure was placed under highest classification, known to a few thousand individuals over time. A select few have been given access to our recordings and data, including a number of members of this expedition. A much smaller group have examined our drawings, which have remained in my possession. Three of them are here, Tanya Plotnikov, Mehmet Eskandari and Aleksandra Kapek Freeman.” Jason turned to Alek, who gave him a vaguely embarrassed smile.

“Hold on,” Donald said. “Here’s what I’m hearing. You found the first evidence of alien intelligence in the Solar System, from before regular people figured out gunpowder. So, you went in alone, didn’t take any pictures, and made the whole thing blow up. Then at the end of it, they took your advice and let you keep the only records that mattered.”

Tanya spoke up. “I reviewed the raw feed at the time, when I was consultant for Union intelligence,” she said. “Every decision Colonel Futura made was justified. There were extreme difficulties with equipment failure and unexplained lighting anomalies every time the expedition attempted to photograph the Structure interior. One of the technicians was almost killed trying to collect a sample of material. There was ample evidence that these difficulties were caused by active interference from the Structure itself. It had to be further assumed that a second expedition would be met with even stronger countermeasures, if the structure did not self-destruct. An individual or very small party without electronic instruments was the best chance we had.”

“Okay, so what do you have to show for it?” Donald said. “A few drawings of what you can remember?”

“The full report has over 500 drawings,” Alek said coolly. “Every one that could be checked against independent data was accurate within 0.5%.”

“Sure,” Jason said. “But why keep it secret until now? There’s more, isn’t there?”

“I had to consider several hypotheses,” Futura acknowledged. “All of them implied that the entities who built the Structure were very concerned that no other species or culture would be able to imitate their technology or identify its origin. Perhaps it was for their own protection. Perhaps it was for ours. Perhaps the two are one and the same. But Dr. Capek, excuse me, Dr. Freeman, and Dr. Plotnikov can explain that better.”

Alek stepped forward, smiling. “Thank you, I am proud to report my findings,” she said in her flat voice. “I prepared this report as an appendix to an earlier analysis by Mehmet and Tanya. Of course, their work is already quite comprehensive. I have only added what is useful to comment on.” Behind her, a canvas screen was set up with a microfilm projector. It showed the first in a long series of photographs and drawings, each of the latter as painstaking as a Greek statue or a Dutch still life. They showed almost gothic entryways, spacious corridors and atria, compact cells and storerooms, elegantly simple light fixtures, abstract patterns that seemed to be artwork, and here and there an interactive control surface, from doorknobs to instrument panels. Several drawings showed keyboards with as few as 8 and as many as 24 keys, most of them bearing sigils that looked like a wheel or a star, with varying numbers of arms and more arcane dots, circles and rings at the center. There was even a pair of lavatories, each comprised of a line of self-contained stalls that held a slot toilet in the floor and a showerhead above.

“Now, the central and repeated finding of both Futura’s report and the later analysis is that the Builders of the Structure were very similar to humans, biologically, mentally and even culturally,” she said. They came to a series of drawings of what could only be the dome of the Globe. This proved to be meeting place roughly the shape and nearly the size of Shakespeare’s amphitheater. There were regularly spaced signs with more of the sigils. “Their evident mode of locomotion is that of a bipedal vertebrate, their reproduction bisexual. Their height can be extrapolated as between 1.2 and 2.1 meters. Their geometry, numbering and architecture are based on multiples of 4 and 12, common to terrestrial cultures despite the biological fact that we have ten digits. The use of primary colors in their art further implies a similar visual range.”

She straightened. “In fact, this correspondence is altogether anomalous,” she said. “Consider all the ways an extraterrestrial species might differ from humans. They might be half our size, or half again. They might have six fingers on one hand and three on the other. They might have eight limbs instead of four. They might be color-blind, or able to see spectra beyond human vision, especially if their native star was of a different type than Sol. They might have entirely different senses, like the echolocation of a dolphin or the electromagnetism of a platypus. This requires a reconsideration of the Structure’s origin. That is borne out in one more anomaly… Almost every trace of writing was removed from the Structure.”

With that, Tanya stood up. “What Dr. Capek has mentioned is a central finding of our report, though we do not necessarily endorse all of her conclusions,” she said. An image appeared of what could only be shelves, completely empty. “To begin with, there was extensive evidence that printed records other media had once been present, only to be removed. This was unremarkable. We might do the same, if it held instructions for making gunpowder or the atomic bomb. Yet, there were many cases where completely innocuous inscriptions had been removed or defaced, including the lavatory. This was not explicable. There are dozens of languages and scripts of human origin that have never been translated beyond the most rudimentary level, if at all. The only reason they would have cause for fear is if mere comparison with other scripts would tell us something they did not wish to be known.”

She brought up a series of images of signs from the Globe. “It was only these characters that we were allowed to see, most likely because there were too many to remove, and perhaps because they were too intuitive for definite conclusions. Even so, there are certain similarities with known symbology. The swastika. The mandala. The Yin and Yang.”

“Yeah, and the Mercedes Benz logo,” Donald said, as one of several three-spoked sigils appeared. “So what? Are you saying these are aliens who talked to cavemen, like in the silly old magazines?”

“No,” Alek said with a smile. “I am saying they were humans. From Earth. And they knew we were coming.”

Table of contents

Part 1. The demo!

Part 2. The villain!

Part 3. The world-building!

Part 4. The romance!

Part 5. The killer robot!

Part 6: The shuttle ride!

Part 7: Alternate universe pop culture!

Part 8: The launch!

Part 9: The girl talk!

Part 10: The domestic disturbance!!!

Part 11: The Space Nazis!!!

Part 12: The inevitable geography lesson!

Part 13: The wedding!!!

Part 14:  The spicy chapter!

Part 15: The bad guy backstory!

Part 16: The Dinner!

Part 17: The alternate history!

Part 18: The weapons exposition!

Part 19: The alternate history Captain America!

Part 20: Zero G repairs!

Part 21: Bad Guy backstory, Part 2!

Miniature Giants: Mystery Monday crossover!

 

As I write this, I just went a whole week without making a post. I decided it was time to try going a week with a post for every day, which for a while was what I did every week. To kick things off, I decided it was worth doing another Marx figure post and if at all possible bring back my Mystery Monday feature. As it happened, I had a few things in my pipeline that fit both purposes, plus a few more things in reserve in case I didn't get something in time. To kick things off, here is the minor mystery, with a couple friends.

This lady is from the previously covered Campus Cuties line, labeled Lazy Afternoon. In the time I have been aware of these figures, she has been my favorite, though I waited a long time to make a purchase. What convinced me to make the purchase was that the figure was a white or gray color I had seen frequently, quite different from the pink color of the trio I had purchased. I had already seen others voice the suspicion that this was a mark of a reissue. I finally ordered the figure and had it arrive s little after my previous post. Here are a few more pics.

"Hmm, actually, I've never been canoeing in my life. Why do you ask?"

Now, it will be evident on examination that there are a few things that are... odd. First, this is one of two of the original 8 figures wearing pants instead of a dress or skirt, and the only one in what can be considered athletic wear. Because the oar is not anchored to the rest of the figure, it is commonly warped as a condition issue (also a problem with the Flag Guy astronaut). Then there are some odd details of of anatomy. The lady's endowments are not so much oversized as oddly squeezed, to a degree that would be difficult to achieve short of using recycled shock absorbers as an undergarment. Her hands and feet, on the other hand, are curiously small. (For that matter, the angle of her right wrist does not look natural or comfortable.) What really only stands out on actual handling (grow up...) is that things look significantly off-center, which might be rationalized as an ill-fitting jacket if the hood and her head didn't also appear skewed to starboard. The upshot of all of this is that Marx's moldmakers were still working out both the female form and poses that reflected peacetime activities. But the mystery was always, is this an original figure or a reissue? Here are a couple pics that just might give an answer.

To state my conclusion first, I am not necessarily convinced this is original, but I am definitely far less skeptical than I was. First and to me most significantly, the real color of the plastic is a tan or off-white, which is different than the pink usually accepted as a mark of authenticity but still a "flesh tone" in keeping with the concept of the line. Second, it does bear the Marx name and logo, though this is not conclusive. Third, it is made from soft plastic typical for Marx, which among other things made it relatively easy to bend the oar back into its intended position. My one reservation came down to two marks in the wrist, at least one of which should be visible in the first of the pics above. On casual inspection, this looks like nothing more or less than chipping, but that would really only happen with much harder plastic. There are independent signs of scratches on the figure, but this kind of damage would take deliberate gouging, which I see no evidence of. What I believe is that this is an imperfection caused by air pockets in the plastic (see the Field Museum Mold A Rama dinos), which would definitely be out of character for Marx. As usual, there is middle ground here; maybe this was made later, when the company was struggling, or perhaps in one of their foreign factories. And that brings me to the other item under consideration...

Now this was a figure where nothing looked right. While it is vaguely similar to the nominal 45mm figures I have been using for the Space Marine analogs, it did not match any of the sculpts used for the US soldiers within the 6-inch line. The fact that it was painted was odder still. On top of that, the whole style was quite different than usual for Marx. It would have been easy to count it as the work of a competing manufacturer (see the Lido draft dodger from back when), except that the seller showed a pic with Marx markings on the base. It was also reported that it was indeed 5 to 6 inches tall. I concluded that the only way to sort this out was to buy it. Immediately on receiving it, I discovered the greatest anomaly: The figure was made of hard plastic. Here is a lineup with the Japanese office and a Soviet soldier to show the difference.

And here are a couple more pics.

Now, this was a little more than a Wall of Nothing. The markings identified it with a set called Combat Soldiers, released as part of a reasonably well-known line called Warriors of the World which I ran across several times trying to run this guy down. These were "army men" figures of about 60mm scale that represented a range of nations and historical periods. Unusually, they were sold pre-painted, typically in individual boxes. Evidently, they also tried scaling these figures up to nominal 6-inch scale (I get about 5 1/2 inch, and yeah, part of the gun broke off) at the same time they started releasing the soft-plastic 6-inch figures we know and love. By all indications, this was a dead end of another dead end. Warriors of the World clearly failed to displace playsets with unpainted army men. As for their large-sized counterparts, the WW2/ Vietnam era US soldiers are the only ones I turned up that received this treatment. By all indications, they were short-lived compared to their soft plastic counterparts. I believe it is possible they were sold mainly outside the US, based on the fact that the only other seller to offer them was in another country. As for their value, I paid a little more than usual for this one because it was so clearly unusual. The problem, as I keep doomsaying, is that price is a function of demand more than actual scarcity, so most likely, items as obscure as this will remain no more than moderately expensive.

Now I really need to wrap this up. I can't call it a night without a shot of the Truckstop Queen! We've come a long way, kind of...

That's all for now, more to come!

Fiction: The Space Guys Adventure, part 21!

 It's the end of the month, so of course, I'm going with one more Space Guys installment, actually starting where I left off. As usual, the table of contents is at the end.

“Losing your line takes a big mistake,” Jason said succinctly. “I wouldn’t have thought the real Major Maxon would do it. But then mistakes aren’t always accidents. Are they?”

“So I screwed up once,” Maxon said. “You saw yourself, it didn’t break. Now, what do you really want to talk about?”

“Are you expecting me to ask about the scar?” Jason snapped back. “Or the silly knife you left in the locker?” Moxon returned his gaze in silence. “Well, I wondered about one thing. Did you ever tell the story, any story about what happened, to someone who didn’t ask?”

Moxon considered that. “Well, never is a strong word,” he said. “Usually, the ones who don’t ask don’t want to know, or they have enough rank to make it an order. Now for you, I’d think about it. But first thing first, if it was a choice, would you want to know about that scar… or these?” He rolled up his long left sleeve. Beneath was a trail of needle marks. Jason stiffened, though he felt no surprise.

“So they did try it on you,” he said.

Moxon nodded. “Whatever they did to you and your friends, they tried on me first,” he said. “You could say I’m your father figure… leastways, your godfather Fagan.”

Jason spoke one word: “When?”

“It was after Futura landed the Ares, just before Kronos started out,” Moxon said. “It wasn’t long before I got the big one. I had been in the Baton Rouge intervention, only my team was up in Missouri. They were still getting the Corps into a proper force. In the middle of it, there was a call that came out, completely above board. All they said was that they wanted volunteers for a treatment that would help humans adapt to extreme environments. They didn’t say anything about interplanetary colonization. Of course, they didn’t really have to. I signed on, just to see what they really knew.”

Jason shook his head. “They wouldn’t do it now,” he said. “They should have known better then. To do it right, you need to start the treatments by 18 months at the latest. With Jax and Jill, they started as soon as they were sure she was expecting. On adults, the effects are too unpredictable…”

“Trust me, they figured that out really quick,” Moxon said. “There were 30 of us to start with. They kept us together at a medium-clearance facility, the kind where the people supposed to know what’s happening, eventually. 10 were screened out after the first round or so, before things could really kick in. From what came out later, it took another 6 weeks of screening before they were allowed to be in contact with the public. By then, we were down to 12. Then it was 8, then 5, then 3, then me.  The last two were self service.”

“Damn,” Jason said. “What happened after that?”

“I got back on duty as soon as it was over,” the officer said. “The military had wanted to see us in action all along. I had already been on the fast track. People in the right places made sure I kept going up. There were times when the enhancements helped. Once or twice, it might have been the difference whether I got out at all. I never took too many chances.”

He smiled. “If it comes to that, I just might tell you a little more,” he said. “You could ask. Or you could take a guess. But you already know enough.  Take it out.” Jason went to the storage closet. It only took a moment to retrieve the flame knife. “Yes, that’s right. You’ve got the legend right in your hand. The blade that did this.” He pointed to the scar that ran from his scalp to his jaw.

Jason considered the jagged scar and the twisting blade. One certainly fit the other. Of course, he pondered the possibilities of using the blade to finish what its original owner had started. But then, of course, it was already obvious how that had gone. “You know, the one other thing I wondered was how anybody else got past you.”

Moxon shook his head in turn. “That’s where everyone wants there to be a story,” he said. “Like there was something special, leastways something that went wrong. There wasn’t, no more than usual. It could have happened at a hundred different places. Maybe it would have, sooner or later. Where it did happen was central Indo-Malaya, on an island a ways east of Bali. Even the maps didn’t give it a name. Harrison flew us in, by the way. Back then, we called him the Rookie. He was always one of us; remember that.”

He gave a smile that seemed wistful. “We were supposed to secure the local administrative center,” he said. “It was the only building made of stuff sturdy enough for the doors to be easier to go through than the walls. I sent one of my own men to secure the rear entrance. I decided to check. Just in case. The door was wide open.”

He pantomimed a pistol with his pointer finger. “One of them was in the room,” he said. “He probably saw me about as soon as I saw him. I took a moment to assess whether it was worth taking him for questioning. He actually called for his mates. That was answer enough. There was one more who came through the door. I took care of him. That was when the one with this came at me from inside. I could have got him with my carbine, of course, but I had to keep that door covered.”

He took back the flame knife. “I’ve said, amateurs are predictable, in their own way. They always think coming in a rush will make up for anything else. It might give them a 10, maybe 20 percent chance. If they’re clever, they’ll try quick, instinctive moves, or if they aren’t, they’ll just swing blind.” He pantomimed with the blade.

“The real problem when you’re the pro is, you get used to assuming the other guy knows as much as you do. Most of the time, it’s safer to be wrong. So, when I saw this thing, the first thing I thought was, that’s junk from Mindanao, and if he doesn’t know that, he’d have stuck himself already.” He tapped the blade three times on the glass. The lightest touch still made the grip rattle. “The other thing I figured was, that’s made for slashing, not stabbing, and if he can work that out, he’s coming in low. Maybe he saw that and changed his tack last second. I doubt it.”

He raised the blade point downward in a pose that would have drawn ridicule in a Weird Tales illustration. “This is how he did it. He couldn’t have known it would work. He got me just a little off the chin. That throws people off.” He tapped where the scar met his jaw line. “I caught him by the wrist. It wasn’t a tight hold, because he had a puffy sleeve. That’s when I said, let’s be reasonable. He just pushed up.” He traced the shape of the scar in mid air.

“What really happened to him?” Jason asked.

“My people came in before any more of his showed up,” Moxon said. “The first one in was the same one who was supposed to secure the door in the first place. He popped off half a clip. He nearly got me along with the other guy. He didn’t go out with us again.”

There was a long silence. Finally, Jason said, “Alek says she knows the real story, about the scar. She told me they gave her your file to get her on board. Would they have told her about the rest?”

Moxon pondered the question. “She would know enough,” he said. “She knew about you, too, whatever she says. That’s how she’s always been. She would rather act dumb than be too smart with someone she really likes.”

“Maybe that’s a survival trait,” Jason said. It got a braying laugh from Moxon. “And don’t think you can play dumb, either. You talk like you know her, so why would she know you?”

“Oh, I meet lots of people,” he said. “Really, there aren’t that many people who get to be what you’d call important without running into me sooner or later. With her, it’s just a little closer.”

“Okay,” Jason said. “When did you meet her?”

“Now, it’s not that simple,” Moxon said. “She did a lot of things that got a lot of people interested in her very early on. She published her first paper at age 9. She got her first doctorate when she was 12. By 16, she was pulling down 7 figures. The problem was, she wasn’t a quick learner when it came to what to talk about. Her people thought she would be another Tanya. Our people were worried someone would take steps before she got that far. So, everybody agreed to send someone who could keep an eye on her. I volunteered.”

“So I suppose you were her Fagan, too,” Jason said with a scowl.

“Your word, not mind,” Moxon said. “I’d say I was better than that to her. We’ve run into each other on the regular, no more than others. I mostly kept things hands-off. I talked to the right people to find out what she was up to. Now and then, I steered someone her way. Once or twice, I ran somebody off before she got into trouble.”

Jason folded his arms. “What about me?” he said sternly.

“Now you were different,” Moxon said coolly. “You were pretty high profile already. Leastways, your family is. When she connected with you, there were people who were hoping to see it go further. They thought someone like you would finally get her under control. I told them to let it be. For what it’s worth, there was nobody else in the picture. The one they were talking about back on Earth, she hadn’t seen in eight months when she started writing to you. We gave Anastasia better odds than him.”

He smiled and held out the knife. “Now, why don’t you do what you’ve been thinking?” he said. “Take it, then take your best shot. I won’t guarantee I won’t fight back, but we both know you’d have a chance, if you’ve got it in you at all. But that’s the rub, isn’t it? You have ahimsa in your heart. Just about all of you farmboys do. To kill, even let someone take their own fall like you could have, just isn’t you. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, far from it.”

Jason looked down at the knife. “Well, it’s like you said,” he spoke through clenched teeth. With a backhanded slap, he knocked the weapon out of the officer’s hand. “It’s junk from Mindanao.” Moxon’s smile spread. “How old are you, anyway?”

“He’s 53,” a voice called out. He turned to see Alek in the doorway. “Come. You, leave him alone.”

 

He was relieved to follow her out. “You really did it, didn’t you?” Alek said. “You saved him, or leastways made sure. Nobody else knows, except maybe Donald.” She took his hand. “I’m proud of you, farmboy.”

That night, they slept in the zero-G quarters. The crew crowded together, while cartoons played at one-fourth volume. “I was thinking about something Moxon said,” he murmured to her. “He talked about killing a tiger to save a deer, and how that makes you responsible for the deer. Well, doesn’t that make you responsible for the tiger, too?”

Alek pressed a finger to his lips. “Listen to me,” she said in a flat voice. “Moxon was never going to die out there. You were never going to kill him. Do no worry. When we have to, we deal with him together.” She kissed him. Within bare moments, she was asleep.

A while later, Jason raised his head at the sound of a familiar theme. Sure enough, the opening of Major Maxon was playing. He realized it was the longer version used for the first episode. As he watched, the fictional major wrestled with an exotic-looking assailant in a turban. He was shown with two eyes instead of his eyepatch. In the midst of the fight, Maxon caught hold of the attacker’s wrist as he stabbed for his face. Sure enough, the weapon was a flame blade.

 

He snorted and drew his arms tighter around Alek. Soon, he too was asleep.

Table of contents

Part 1. The demo!

Part 2. The villain!

Part 3. The world-building!

Part 4. The romance!

Part 5. The killer robot!

Part 6: The shuttle ride!

Part 7: Alternate universe pop culture!

Part 8: The launch!

Part 9: The girl talk!

Part 10: The domestic disturbance!!!

Part 11: The Space Nazis!!!

Part 12: The inevitable geography lesson!

Part 13: The wedding!!!

Part 14:  The spicy chapter!

Part 15: The bad guy backstory!

Part 16: The Dinner!

Part 17: The alternate history!

Part 18: The weapons exposition!

Part 19: The alternate history Captain America!

Part 20: Zero G repairs!

Miniature Giants: Campus Cuties!

 

As I write this, I'm at a watershed moment with my Marx figure collecting: I have been covering things on my godforsaken Youtube channel before I posted about them on this godforsaken blog. (Of course, I'm also finally doing another installment of this feature in the same month as the last one.) One thing that came up recently is that I did a video in connection with the Star Wars scale Japanese soldiers where I discussed the general question of the rarest Marx figures. In the course of that video, I finally showed off something that was backlogged a long time, a representative set of Marx Campus Cutie figures. Here are 2 of them in full... um... glory?

"I'm like any college student... I go to class in the morning, show up for work at noon and pick up my kids at night."

For the usual backstory, the Campus Cuties were perhaps the most notorious line released by Marx in the 1960s if not their entire history. (See Marx Wild West for most of the details.) Eight of these figures were released in 1964, the second year of production for Marx 6-inch figures. The concept was exactly as advertised, a lineup of perky, perhaps flirty young ladies in detailed outfits that, as many observers noted, had little if anything to do with academic pursuits. In further hindsight, these conspicuously failed to anticipate to anticipate either the fashion or the politics of the rest of the decade, though there were several sculpts that showed athletics and outdoor activities. (I will get to that...) The exact reasoning behind the line remains debatable. It did roughly coincided with efforts by Marx to expend into toys for girls, as evidenced by their dollhouse figures. It also would have offered an opening for sales to teenage and adult males. The latter scenario would further account for an apparent decision to market them as models for painting. As a result, a large percentage of the specimens in circulation have been hand-painted, as seen here. This particular set was sold to me by a seller who claimed or implied to have painted the figures. I bought it primarily for the pair shown immediately above, labeled Shopping Anyone? and Stormy Weather. Here's one more pic.

"This is lame, let's go to Woolworth's..."

Now, the unavoidable joke here is that, even given the spectacularly dated clothes and assumed gender roles, these look anything but youthful. In considering a place for these in my emerging Marx-based universe, I immediately associated the one on the right with a character who was supposed to be over 40. The other one at least looks like she could be college-aged, but she looks more like a senior with her own apartment than a romping freshman. Then there is the paint. It will be evident from the pics so far that the work on these two is pretty good in both quality and current condition. The third, on the other hand, was different.

This one is marked On The Beach, which for the easy gag was indeed the title of the "classic" post-apocalyptic film released in 1959. The first thing to note about this one is that the outfit is in fact a bathing suit typical for the 1950s and/or early '60s. If anything, the sculpt actually looks more risque without factoring that in. As far as the paint, this was done well enough that the straps on the suit are neatly painted. The head is not so good, I'm sure in part because of damage to the hair. The fundamental problem is the pose and posture. To be blunt, she looks either morbidly depressed or actually stoned. (Heck, maybe she is in On The Beach...) And here's a closeup pic. The paint isn't good, but I'm not satisfied it could have gone this bad if there wasn't already a problem.

And here's closeups for the other two.

"Well, why can't `Campus Cuties' include adjunct faculty?"

Now, there is a little more backstory that led to this post. The original eight Cuties were produced in significant numbers, and remain available as reissues and recasts. Fortunately, these are easy to tell apart, originals being a pink flesh tone and reissues tending toward white, grey or tan, and as often happens with Marx figures, there isn't that big a price difference to begin with. The values are somewhat above average, from about $10 for likely reissues to $50 or so for full sets. However, a second series was made in evidently limited numbers, without any report of reissue. These were a vast improvement in both aesthetics and relevance, complete with jeans, trendy jackets and accessories, and one pair of glasses between the lot of them. Alas, they are also so scarce that there is not a frame of reference for their value. By comparison, the astonishingly expensive Marvel figures (which I barely got one of) are at least available in sufficient numbers to track their prices at any given time. The second-wave Cuties, on the other hand, are simply a Wall of Nothing. Nobody is buying them, because nobody is selling them, because in all likelihood, nobody who would sell through normal channels has them. The only things comparable are a few items that I have called Marx's equivalent of the rocket-firing Boba Fett, prototypes like the Superman figure that never saw the light of day and novelties like the nude figure that were never intended to. This was the state of affairs for months, and then years, until about a month ago, I found a seller offering two sets of these damn things.

Needless to say, I was very interested and wildly incapable of meeting the lowest minimum bid for the listings, a partial painted set and a full set that was in pristine condition. My suspicion was that these were not going to sell for more than the $30-40 per figure that came out of subdividing the minimum bids, which I knew to be typical for Marvel figures (and maybe originals of the Universal Monsters line). Given the obscurity of the items compared to the (fair!) price, it seemed conceivable they might not sell at all. I was optimistic enough that I reached out privately to discuss buying one individually or at least reposting the seller's absolutely beautiful photos here. As it turned out, the painted set sold within the range I suspected, a fact I reported in my most recent video. When I reviewed the listings, however, I discovered that the complete set had gone for much more than the minimum bid, as in over $60 per figure with shipping factored in. That, of course, is still not exceptional compared to a Blue Snaggletooth. Alas, while I did successfully correspond with the seller, I received no reply regarding permission to reuse images, so I have nothing to show for it here but the tale.

So, I have one more chapter done in my adventures in Marx figure collecting. All in all, these are an essential part of any Marx collection. The only caution in order is that it's best not to go overboard, which is why I haven't gone further than this. And I couldn't avoid an extra pic with the Truckstop Queen (and Connie)...

"Let me get this straight, women's jeans were invented in 1934???"

That's all for now, more to come!