There is a tale that tells of the gods’ end. Where one who beckons lightning dies a quiet death to snake venom. Where a tree that tethers worlds tumbles to ash. It is called Ragnarök, and it is yet to come. It is the Nordic Apocalypse, and it has already happened.
In the Norse myths, endings and beginnings are cyclical things. The end of the world is just another word for the Big Bang. Not even immortals last forever, except in legend, writ in poetic Eddas. And what has become of them now? In a time where stories are not told around a fire, but sold for gold and turned into intellectual properties for hire.
Even tales have a tail end. But Capitalism, the laws of coaxing coin for control, begs to differ. It is another breed of deity that perverts stories for its own benefit. In mythology the God of Thunder dies to the venomous fangs of Jörmungandr, the serpent that encircles the world. In reality, he is trapped in the clutches of another snake entirely.
Cannibal Capitalism argues that this enduring economic system feeds on itself. It is an ouroboros that gawps at its fat surplus value, salivating at any chance to grow. It eats the world, the elements beneath our feet, the leaves above our heads. It eats stories, legends as old as time, and repurposes them for modern audiences, repackaged to sell toys and streaming services. It even eats critique. Facts and numbers become food for its rebranding of the same sin.
Pop Mart is the latest successful product of this bloated beast. Plastic entities in a landfill world, and products that tell a tale that never ends — for good or for ill. Its story goes like this:
How Nordic Creatures Become Fluffy Critters
Pop Mart is a toy company from China, known for selling collectible figurines hidden inside blind boxes. One of its most popular series is Labubu, a bunny-like monster designed by artist Kasing Lung. Its inspiration is said to come from Nordic fairy tales, being often referred to as an elf.
Though elves are only described and rarely depicted in the original myths, Labubu’s look appears to be derived mostly from children’s books. Its distinguishing features — large eyes, wide smile, long ears, and fur that covers its body — are present in other creatures aimed at children, from Disney’s Monsters Inc. to Where the Wild Things Are.
Labubu is the perfect poster child for Pop Mart precisely because it juxtaposes the monstrous with the innocent. It is arguably an archetypal example of a beast made benign. Most of Pop Mart’s toys have a chibi design, cutesy creatures at home in children’s books, but the majority of people who buy and collect them are adults with disposable income.
Pop Mart prides itself on being a “designer” toy brand. What the toys evoke is a longing for a childhood that has passed. The toy line strikes that balance of something a kid could buy, yet justifying its price point with rarity tiers and the commercial nature of collection. Thus, the appearance of Labubu captures the essence of childhood innocence in plastic, selling a window to the past for a meager $29.99.
A viral precursor to Labubu is Sonny Angel. Another blind box craze, this time hailing from Japan. With a different country of origin, its inspiration comes from a different corner of myth. It is Cupid — from the Romans — who comes from Eros — the Greek god of love — who later bears a resemblance to Cherubs, baby angels painted in Christian art. Again, it is youthful innocence that becomes the main source of inspiration.
Now, people in their 20s have taken a liking to purchasing these miniature angels as charms, accessories that depict joy in a life that feels like it has forsaken them. People transitioning into adulthood all over the world are being disillusioned. Even something as simple as the promise of job safety is not guaranteed. Freedoms are being trampled worldwide. Human rights, abused. Every day, people work jobs they don’t like, living paycheck to paycheck for a future they aren’t sure exists. So when they can, when their check clears every month, Pop Mart becomes their saving grace, a treat in the apocalypse.
But this memento of the past is mass-produced for multiple purchases. That’s why the first thing that goes into its design is its cuteness. And another is its personalization. There are multi-colored Labubus to collect and a secret one that’s extra rare. Sonny Angels wear different hats. What’s your favorite? You have to keep buying and test your luck.
There’s always a gambling undercurrent that drives blind boxes. In fact, this business model thrives on it. The addition of chance creates an element of surprise for consumers. There’s a building tension when you’re unboxing a Pop Mart, slowly unveiling what you’ve just purchased; it could go either way. What rests inside may be relief when it’s what you wanted, or disappointment when it’s a duplicate. This builds the stakes when you choose to purchase another, and without knowing it, you’ve spent a day’s wage.
But who can blame us? When the future is dark, all anyone can do is look back. The past will be far brighter by comparison. And Pop Mart is the past personified, packaged in exaggerated features. It is food for the well-documented inner child phenomenon. Its existence pacifies people dissatisfied with the state of the world. It presents a simple call to action: purchase.
In that sense, it is no different from the use of myths. By all accounts, the Vikings worshipped Thor for great bounty. In crisis, the Greeks prayed for their pantheon to save them. Just as people purchase Pop Mart for comfort, social recognition, and diversion from modern malaise.
When Thor is Defeated by Terrible Content
Just as the Greek gods inspired the subsequent Romans, and bits of Christianity influenced Norse mythology, so too do toys take inspiration from foundational stories of old. Labubu may be loosely based on some form of Nordic elf, and Sonny Angel on Christian cherubs, but some toys are straight-up merchandise from other media. As Pop Mart grows in popularity, it inevitably partners with multiple intellectual properties for collaboration. One of the results is Thor, a Norse god, a Marvel comics superhero, and a blockbuster movie.
Thor is now a household name because of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Due to this, his merchandise is many. Thor backpacks, Thor credit cards, Thor popcorn buckets. And of course, Thor blind boxes. Originally part of Norse mythology, and the reason the fourth day of the week is called Thursday (Thor’s Day), writer Stan Lee and artist Jack Kirby adapted this publically available character into their burgeoning comic book universe in 1962.
Continuing to this day, the changing creative teams have had to deal with conceiving different relevant issues for Thor to face. In his most current iteration, written by Al Ewing, the God of Thunder is challenged by the most menacing foe of all, a businessman. Dario Agger is a capitalist minotaur who uses his company, Roxxon, to deface the Earth and hoard power. Close to home, its real-life counterpart, Exxon, has faced allegations of climate crimes and human rights violations for years.
In the comic, one of Agger’s ingenious plans involves creating a comic book that commercializes Thor, stripping him of his meaning.
The basis of a story usually starts either in written text or oral form. The reader or listener would imagine the exact occurrence of the story and pull subjective meaning out of it. A comic takes away one of the hard parts of narrative by providing visuals. A movie is two steps ahead, giving voice and motion. But a toy is an artifact of a story, a pointer to a story that it cannot tell by itself.
A product’s purpose is not to convey a message. Only the opposite. A corporate machine creates a message that causes consumers to purchase a product. The product is not a delivery system. It is the goal. Recently, we have been flooded by so much content — from mass media, to streaming services, to short-form videos — that the reality of a thing becomes muddled, prone to crossed wires and mixed messages. In this post-truth and postmodern era of storytelling, irony has overtaken sincerity. The message is everywhere. Our attention and beliefs have become the product that corporations are so eager to cater to and alter.
Presidents have become parodies. They make fools of themselves so that every damning statement can be defended as being a joke. People buy tickets to watch bad movies to make fun of them. Ideology and identity have been replaced by the appearance of a personality. An act for the stage. Politicians gyrating for the surveillance state. To be memed and voted on. Made into hats and bobble heads. Making us laugh to stop our revolt. Actors calling back to catch phrases. Everything is made by committee to appease every target market and ensure the highest return on investment. Meaning… becomes missing.
Pop Mart is not the cause of this. Rather, it is one of the effects. An object of nostalgia fails to possess depth because what people long for is the appearance of the past, not the truth of it. A simple childhood, neglecting the turmoil that has always been present regardless of times and places.
Therein lies the question. Does a blind box throw away the meaning of what’s inside, making stories nothing but a tool for capitalist gains, or is it just an innocent pastime? I’d argue it can be both. Its success only stems from the increasing demand of adults who long for some tactile joy in their lives, a permanent object that they can look at to remember fonder times. There is nothing wrong with collecting. The problem is that this engenders indulgence from people, feigning fulfillment through overconsumption.
When complacency becomes commonplace and people are easily placated by plastic, it is fertile ground for freedom to be threatened. Dissatisfaction cannot be dealt with by the individual purchase of goods. Short-term dopamine hits must not distract us from fighting for long-term welfare.
By being provided a simple solution to modern problems, which is joyful consumption, we get a sudden swell of good chemicals filling our heads, giving the illusion that the problem goes away with our woes. But it persists. The real solution lies in people striving to seek deeper truths, to look at the origin of a thing — the myths that inspire the merch, and the motives behind the marketing. Maybe, in there resides a line that is relevant to current struggles and inspires true change.
When people are used to everything being surface-level, self-referential in-jokes and a-ha’s, then history becomes forgotten. Thor becomes only a hammer you can buy and display in your cubicle. Presidents become only their little dances and out-of-context GIFs. War crimes and abuse are not only left out of the history books, but also public consciousness, only for victims, survivors, and revolutionaries to remember.
Every iteration and adaptation of mythology leaves out the dirty humanity of the gods, until they are nothing but a plastic toy with comically large eyes and tiny hands. Just as the fairy tales popularized by Disney are stripped of their original grit.
That is not to say that these acts are inherently bad. By reaching a wider audience, these stories still convey truncated ideas for people willing to look. But the original should never be forgotten. Lest truth becomes replaced by years of sanding off for popular approval.
“Screenshot the cheesy advertisements. Turn them into memes. Make them viral, a disease that nests inside you. Make them harmless […] We are allowed to play — to be in our own joke. Because in the end, the joke is on you. The joke is you. And we’ll tell it until it eats you alive.” — Dario Agger, Roxxon Presents: Thor (2024)
The bull-headed CEO tells the readers as plainly as possible. We are already in the snake’s belly. One essay or one hundred cannot pierce through and free us. They’re just another source of sustenance. Capitalism has evolved in such a way as to turn its detractors into its greatest ambassadors.
Usually, comic book villains want to either rule the world or destroy it. Here, Agger’s only motive is Roxxon’s success, to acquire and devour for his stock portfolio, to see numbers rise, no matter what the world looks like after he’s finished draining it of value.
It is fitting that the enemy of an all-powerful God of Thunder is someone who can’t be hit with a hammer. Thor fights against someone capable of altering what hammers mean by selling them as a brand. After all, the easiest way to take away meaning is to slap a logo on it. Even criticism can be sold back to us, repackaged as premium text or prestige television. Case in point, Netflix’s Black Mirror making fun of the absurd costs of subscription services whilst simultaneously increasing its prices. While their right hand is being self-aware, their left is happily taking from our pockets.
Al Ewing understands this dichotomy perfectly. In his smart satire, Roxxon dulls the voices of climate advocates by positioning them as the butt of a joke. Ewing knows critique can backfire. It’s especially ironic, knowing how the character he writes is sold in environmentally unfriendly blind boxes.
The Extinction of Myth
We live in a time of falsehoods, where every good idea is milked endlessly for even an ounce of monetary value, until it no longer resembles the form its original creator intended. Here, the storied history of a thing is at risk of disappearing. Books have just become pitches for movies. And movies for toys. Myth is being replaced by media, merchandising, and moneymaking.
But it’s not all bad. Pop Mart is not the death of stories; in moderation, it can even do good for people. Sometimes, even plastic can pique your interest, inspiring you to research and read source materials. Besides, the essence of myth is doubt. Myth can mean an ancient story, but it could also mean something with an imaginary or unverifiable existence. Like blind boxes, we don’t quite know what is real and honest until we dig deep.
The solution to discontent is not content, but action. Not dwelling in the imagined past, but the efforts of building a worthwhile future. The search for truth in the words of world leaders and alternatives to the apocalypse. It starts with our curiosity; only then can we keep classic mythology alive and dispel the myths of modern marketing.
