[Monte Williams]

There are few narrative gimmicks more tired, lazy, or hacky than edgy makeovers of children?s cartoons, but it must be said that some franchises lend themselves to such reinterpretations more intuitively than others, and Scooby-Doo, one of our greatest evergreen properties at nearly sixty years old, is arguably the best-suited of the lot.

From the Scooby Apocalypse comic book (Griffin, DeMatteis, Porter, Eaglesham, Wagner, Duursema) to the audaciously moody and ambitious?yet funny!?two-season high-water mark, Scooby-Doo Mystery Incorporated (Watson, Brandt, Cervone, Cook), it is clear that the Dark Scooby notion can support a narrative, and judging by the countless artists and cosplayers who embrace the Scoobyverse through a post-apocalyptic or horror lens, there would seem to be a robust market for merchandise that boasts such a sensibility and aesthetic. The Travis Pitts illustration below, featuring zombie hunter Velma and Scooby, is the first Dark Scooby artwork I ever saw; note that he, too, rechristened the van The Misery Machine.

Unfortunately, the stewards of intellectual properties as lucrative as Scooby-Doo naturally feel obligated to treat their golden geese with conservative caution, and so we are unlikely to ever see a series of official Scooby toys that are truly horror-themed.

Enter The Misery Machine.

A collaboration between Ramen Toy, Zica, and Giant Leap, The Misery Machine offers an eerie, clever, knowing makeover of the existing Ramen Toy van that was previously available in black, white, and A-Team flavors. The result is about as ideal a ?real world? take on the iconic Mystery Machine as a fan could hope for.

For this reviewer, packaging is little more than an obstacle standing between me and my toys, but the box that hosts The Misery Machine is pretty enough to hang on one?s wall?and the outer shipping box is reinforced with several plastic corner bracers to ensure that van and pretty box alike will arrive in good condition.

But while the box is pleasing to the eye, the actual van is of course the main event.

The Misery Machine?s color scheme is more happy-making than I can articulate, with everything rendered sharply and the various vivid tones complimenting one another in a uniquely satisfying manner. One could make the case that the sharpness is actually too much, insofar as the van?s graphics of zombies, text, and bloody handprints are so precise that they don?t evoke a DIY vibe, but this is a minor subjective quibble.

There are only two shortcomings that are objectively problematic. First, the plastic ?walls? of the van utilize plastic that is too thin. To clarify, the van is solid, and it doesn?t feel cheap or lightweight in the manner of so many modern toys, but from certain angles and in certain qualities of light, one can discern through an interior wall the graphics superimposed on the outer walls. This shouldn?t present an issue for anyone who wishes to place the van on a shelf and leave it be, but as a photographer, it can be limiting and discouraging; it?s the reason I didn?t photograph any figures in the back of the van for this review, but for informational purposes, here is a shot of the interior to illustrate my point:

Second, and more importantly, there are optional pieces that attach via magnets (the heavy duty grill, the rooftop spoiler, the front awning piece), only the magnets are not strong enough to hold the attachments in place unless you leave the van, again, untouched on a shelf; admittedly, it?s safe to assume that more collectors will leave the van untouched on a shelf than take it out to dry creekbeds and rocky embankments like I did.

(Pro-tip: the grill seems not to attach at all, but in fact there are two black inserts that can be removed to expose the magnets by which the grill can be attached.)

Since I have no intention of selling my Misery Machine, I took the scorched-earth option and superglued all the optional attachments in place, both because I prefer the armored-up look and because I find reflective surfaces like plastic windshields frustrating to photograph; see the accidental self-portrait below.

And while we?re on the topic of cheerfully destroying the resale value of a nearly $200 toy, at the start of this review I used the words ?tired,? ?lazy,? and ?hacky? to describe edgy cartoon makeovers, but I?m a shameless hypocrite; after taking my Misery Machine out for two photo shoots, I got to studying it and quickly decided it needed to be even more grimdark, so I weathered it with some hasty dry-brushing, stuffed the interior with strange gear and trophies, added some armor plating to the windows on the back doors, and crammed a zombie figure into the front grill.

"I realize I shouldn't be driving, but I was the only one who wasn't affronted by the van's gaudy color scheme!"

I?m quite happy with my double-moody Misery Machine, but even if you leave it as-is, it?s a fun and sturdy toy that?s surprisingly versatile.

While my photos largely don?t reflect this; most typical 1:12-scale figures can fit into the passenger seat or, with some finagling, the driver?s seat, and there are two extra rear seats and plenty of storage besides, so in addition to serving as a fine display piece, The Misery Machine is a fun and inviting toy.

This review is dedicated with thanks to Jarred Fouche.