#oneaday Day 527: Dangerous toys

Do kids play with toys any more, or are they just plonked in front of a tablet or smartphone as soon as possible, and left to it? I guess in many ways this is the same question as people were probably asking twenty or more years ago, only with "tablet or smartphone" replaced by "TV or computer".

I occasionally think back and have fond memories of playing with toys as a kid. I was fortunate enough to have parents who would buy me cool things for birthdays and Christmas, but who were disciplined enough to not cave in to my every demand at other times, thereby helping me to understand the concepts of Enjoying What You Have and Delayed Gratification. On top of that, I have a brother ten years my senior, which meant that I had a bunch of cool hand-me-downs that I was able to enjoy. They may not have been the latest and greatest, but I still enjoyed playing with them, regardless.

I had all sorts of different things. I've written about Manta Force before, and that was definitely a favourite. I was also very fond of Scalextric and the Hornby train set we had — though both of those were something of a "luxury" option that only got taken out on particularly special occasions and/or when we could convince my Dad to go up into the loft.

There were smaller bits and pieces I have fond memories of, too. We had a big brown plastic box full of Lego, for example, and I used to enjoy fitting together the big "road" pieces from some sort of city set, and attempting to build buildings and cars to go into these scenes. Among this Lego was a beautifully constructed house that (I assume) my brother had built at some point in the dim and distant past, and I could never quite bring myself to take it to pieces — I never quite managed to make something quite as elaborate as that myself, but I enjoyed the attempt, and the tactile nature of just putting the pieces together.

One set of toys that stick in my mind oddly vividly is a collection of sci-fi themed-toys from a firm called Britains. These were distinctly 1950s "retro" in style, but I always thought they were pretty cool as they were modular — in other words, they came apart, and you could slot them together in different ways to make your own custom spaceships and vehicles.

They didn't really do anything by themselves, but for child me, they were a powerful spark for the imagination. Much like I did with Manta Force, I would imagine myself being among the little toy soldiers and their vehicles, playing out a story in my mind, not even thinking about the possibility of getting lead poisoning from these solid-metal models.

I sort of miss that, and I do often find myself wondering if today's kids have any concept of what playing in that way feels like. I, likewise, find myself wondering quite how many adults of my age take a bit of time now and again to disappear into an imaginary world, helped along by a few potentially toxic props. Because, after all, isn't that all people are really doing with a train set or Scalextric track?

Note to my wife: don't worry, I'm not about to start collecting 1980s toys. I absolutely do not have the room to do that. But I am thinking about maybe getting the old Scalextric out again for an evening or two…


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#oneaday Day 723: The Escapist

Escapism is cool, and an important and valid method of keeping yourself sane.

There are, of course, many means of escapism, and different ones are more or less effective for different people.

There's the escapism of a child giving life to the inanimate lumps of plastic they own. Without a child, they're just potential, models, things to be looked at, without life. Add a child (or, more specifically, someone still in possession of their childish imagination) and something magical happens — those objects come alive, engaging in battles to save the galaxy; heroic adventures; or even just a normal day in a normal street.

Then there's the escapism of a good book. Good readers also have one of the most important qualities of a good creative writer: that active imagination again. But it's partly also down to the writer to create a convincing world, compelling characters and a reason for the reader to commit part of their life to staring at tiny print on paper, e-ink or an LCD display. You know a writer's done their job properly if you can hear the characters' voices, see the places they're in, picture the things they're doing. And as a reader, your interpretation and mental imagery might not be the same as the writer (or indeed the person who designed the book's cover) — but that doesn't make it any less valid.

There's the escapism of interactive entertainment. Instead of passively observing an unfolding story, you become a part of it. It doesn't have to be an explicit narrative as such — a long game of Civilization tells a story just as much as a chapter of Heavy Rain. The meaning the player chooses to assign to the experience is what makes interactive entertainment special.

There's the escapism of film. Increasingly designed as memorable spectacles these days, a good movie plunges its audience into darkness before casting them into a whole new world. It could be a world of giant robots; of CIA agents; of lads on a pulling holiday. For those couple of hours, though, the outside world ceases to matter.

There's the escapism of a good TV show. When you find a show that resonates with you, you want to stick with those characters, to find out what makes them tick, what they want, what they find challenging. You cheer for their successes, feel bad when they encounter adversity. And given the amount of time you spend with the cast of a TV show over an average run of a moderately successful show these days, it's not beyond the realm of possibility that the cast might feel like "friends" by the time you're through.

And there's the escapism of music. Music is a powerful imaginative stimulus, but again it means different things to different people. For one person it might stir up dormant memories. For another it might encourage them to close their eyes and picture themselves in a whole new situation. For yet another it might have an emotional impact that reflects the things that are weighing on their mind at that moment in time. And for others still it might inspire them to push forward, to do their best, to power on through and do that extra set at the gym, or put in that extra bit of effort at homework.

All this isn't even getting into what it means to be a creator as opposed to a consumer of all the above media, either.

The fact is, the world can be, at times, a bit of a sucky place. Having something comforting to escape into, whatever form that escapism might take, is important. No-one likes to feel trapped, so even if it's only for a short while, escape into something awesome and return to the real world refreshed, invigorated and ready to tackle any challenges it might want to throw at you.

And if you don't have anything like that? Then you need to have more fun.

#oneaday Day 700: Imaginary Play

I often wonder, with all the video games and DVDs and Blu-Rays and smartphones and augmented reality and assorted other whatnots available today: how do kids cope with play that is purely imaginative?

I don't have an answer to that question, but it occurs to me upon contemplating the impending festive season. Some of my most fondly-remembered toys were, I think, the ones which encouraged imaginative play. I mean, obviously the Super NES was frickin' awesome, but besides that, I mean.

One of my favourites of all time was a line of toys called Manta Force. There were three sets: the titular Manta Force, who were made up of a huge mothership containing air, sea and land vehicles; their rivals Red Venom who had an equivalent, more angular, spiky mothership; and the Manta Force Battle Fortress, which was by far the best bit.

These toys didn't come with anything battery-powered — no lights, no motors, no nothing. Any "life" they were to have had to be provided by you. Without you, they were just inanimate lumps of plastic. But add one or more humans with a good imagination and no sense of shame, and suddenly Manta and Venom's conflict came to life.

The battle escalated with the addition of the Battle Fortress to the lineup, which was a large mountainside base with several landing pads for aerial vehicles, several working guns and, rather inconveniently, some targets painted on the front which, if hit with a plastic disc launched from the conveniently-provided plastic disc launcher, would cause the spring-loaded launch pads to catapult anything standing on them up into the air. I only remember playing with it a few times as it was meant to be — with a friend attacking, and you defending with the Fortress' working guns, all of which fired plastic pellets of variable sizes. But I remember it being a lot of fun.

I'm sure kids still do have "imaginative play" toys these days. It's something you kind of lose focus on as an adult, since you're supposed to be concentrating on grown-up things like savings accounts, tax returns and grocery shopping. But I'm pretty sure that in most of us exists the potential to play with our imaginations — sometimes with a little help from something like Minecraft.

The imagination is indeed a great and powerful thing. Have you used yours lately?