October 24, 2006:
When it comes to slimy toys, Mattel has always been top dog. From the humble beginnings of Slime in a can to the subsequent, decades-spanning revisions to that one original idea, this is a company that will look you in the face and tell you outright, "We will kill if you do not buy and love our slime." Though I'll always consider the Masters of the Universe Slime Pit the pinnacle of Mattel's ooze-related triumphs, what we're about to look at is a very close runny runner-up.
Mad Scientist was an exhaustive collection of toys rooted in gross motherfuckage, taking the idea of toy slime to a thousand new levels of intrigue. Most fondly recalled is the Mad Scientist "Monster Lab," the largest and most expensive toy in the series, and one that let kids give a funky skeleton green flesh before dissolving it in a cup full of safe acid. This wasn't the prevalent trait throughout the line, but it was the prevalent theme: Mad Scientist toys universally afforded us the chance to be, in the interest of non-repetition, "insane doctors," proving that the only thing better than being the puppeteer for action figures was being their god damned god. We brought them into this world, and we could take them out.
Within whatever I was talking about up there lies the true bullet point for the entire line: Mad Scientist combined the collectability of action figure toys with the hands-on goofy fun of, I dunno, Nerf or something. It was a messy mesh, but look at it this way: For a toy series character-fronted by a pathetic half-bald old dude in a white coat, it's amazing that Mad Scientist was able to compete with franchises bearing icons who looked and acted so much cooler. Kids had no penchant for half-bald old dudes. This was not in the "pro" column. We bought into Mad Scientist because it was an awesome series, not because we were blinded by costumes and other aesthetics. Hrm.
(click either pic to enlarge)
The larger toys in the line were essentially misshapen chemistry sets, but I always preferred the collection's smaller offerings, which didn't necessitate saving up a month's worth of allowance and could be bought pretty much whenever we pleased. Above are two of the better examples, "Ogore" and "I-Chomp." Most Mad Scientist toys were boxed, but smaller ones like these came blister-packed, featuring intense comic strips on the reverse side of the cardbacks that detailed the creatures' origins and whatever else.
These were terrific but nominal toys, and only through the power of these comic strips would I have ever cared about a fat blue oaf who never appeared on a cartoon and who never had a Star Comics series.
I mean it when I say that people are sadistic before puberty, and through the powers of subversive terming, Mattel more or less admitted that Mad Scientist toys were for the same sick bastards who found pleasure in smooshing fireflies against the pavement for the thrill of seeing smeared neon bug guts. "If Ogore gets too wild, SQUASH and mold him again!" Yes, Ogore, I will make you, but you better be good, or I will pound you into a pile of pain. Admit that you were like this, and you'll finally be able to empathize with how much of a kick Dinosaur Megatron got out of fucking around with Rampage's spark. Or how Pee-wee ejacked when Francis's father screamed about the hot gum.
There were three different "Monster Flesh" kits with three different creature molds. Perhaps more popular were the three different "Living Ice" kits, which shared an idea but had a toy slime that definitely wasn't from the same mother. Meet I-Chomp...
They basically repurposed the same comic strip for I-Chomp, save for a few changed words and switching out a blue beast for a red dragon, but the comics were still an awesome way to see what your creature was actually intended to look like. After all...as cool as the slimy toy mold things were, they didn't necessarily equate to figurines that looked like anything in particular.
Each creature had its own special "compound." I-Chomp was composed of "Living Ice," which is this really nice semi-translucent red stuff that makes me feel like I've finally gotten away with running my fingers through dry ice. Don't be misled by your own preconceptions about what toy slime is, because "Living Ice" is like well-made Jell-O -- it doesn't drip and it doesn't bend, and it takes real manpower to stretch it apart. Ogore's "Monster Flesh" compound is a bit more like Play-Doh, except with a more plasticky scent and ambiance. The examples used for this article haven't aged incredibly well, but in the line's heyday, Mad Scientist slimes of all types seemed several notches above the crap we got out of vending machines, in color, consistency, durability and everything else.
Best of all, with Mad Scientist toys, you always got a lot of gunk. Enough to sacrifice a handful to the perils of the carpet and still have enough leftover to gross people out with fake sneezes.
These smaller kits didn't come with tools on anywhere near the same level as the larger playsets had, but the small creature molds worked well enough, and worked almost as well at letting us create little chocolate chip cookies shaped like Ogore and I-Chomp. Yes!
Dump a bunch of "Living Ice" or "Monster Flesh" into the appropriate mold (or the not-appropriate mold...it didn't really matter), crush down the top part, trim off the edges and VIOLA! Monsters! Monsters for you, to have and to hold, and to roll up into little balls and throw at the dog when you get bored.
I seem to recall being more fascinated with "Living Ice" as a child, probably because I knew it would be revealed as something cherry-flavored if I ever ate it, but the "Monster Flesh" certainly does a better job of making monsters that look like monsters. I-Chomp looks like a post-arson gummy candy. Then again, the compounds are like two decades old. It's a miracle they weren't shriveled rocks by now. I wish the miracles that happen to me didn't always have to do with things like toy slime and finding a receipt for a sweater I was sure I'd lost.
I remember being revolted at the idea of squishing my Mad Scientists creatures after they were created. As soon as I made them, they became action figures, and I only ever broke my action figures on purpose when my older cousin visited and I needed some method of impressing him. Destroying my toys always seemed to work for some reason. That and saying "shit" without pausing first. But, other than that, I wasn't really attracted to the idea of birthing Ogore just to kill him a minute later.
I know they don't look like much, but there was always something about these Mad Scientist toys that made me feel like high society. Conceptually "bigger" than most of the kiddy stuff I was into, there were few forays finer than sitting under our big desk and pretending my tub of "Monster Flesh" was alive. I'd pop the lid and tell it to stay quiet. It did, because it was good "Monster Flesh."
