Hong Kong —
The buzzing of needles and gasps of pain go silent, replaced by the clatter and rattle of steel colliding with plastic.
Usually tucked away in a backstreet in Hong Kong’s bustling nightlife district, visitors to this small tattoo parlor seek out tattoos of tigers and dragons, symbolizing the halcyon days of the neon-lit metropolis. But it attracted a completely different crowd.
Push the tattoo table aside and the room becomes a colosseum of adults fighting with Beyblades, a children’s toy that became popular a quarter of a century ago.
Customizable spinning tops made from long strips of plastic have experienced a huge resurgence in popularity across Asia, from Japan to Thailand and Taiwan to Hong Kong.
“I’m ready to fight,” Tiff Tam, 28, said as he showed off his “Bays” (as his fans call him) weapon, which he spent about $400 on.
Tam works at The 59 Tattoo in Wan Chai, which closes early on certain nights to host community tournaments and brings in tattooists from other studios and the neighborhood.
“At first, I didn’t understand the appeal,” she says. “But as soon as we started playing, you could feel the tension, the excitement, the competitive spirit.”
Inspired by the traditional Japanese spinning top Beigoma (where Beyblade comes from), the toy line first became a hit when it debuted by toy manufacturer Takara in the late ’90s and early 2000s.
Players build colorful “beys” named after weapons and characters like “Saber Samurai” and “Arrow Wizard” and fire them at pizza-sized plastic panels called “stadiums.” The rules are simple. Stay in the ring and keep spinning to win.
Unofficial Beyblade battles are held in strange locations, with players gathering in parks, gyms, and shopping malls. When stadiums aren’t readily available, fans get creative. Videos on social media show some people spinning beys in woks.
Demand for Beyblades has soared that enthusiasts are lining up outside toy stores in Taiwan and Hong Kong, with some even traveling to Japan to get their hands on the rarest models, which are being resold by online scalpers for up to $80, 10 times their original price.
“Three, two, one, go, shoot!” the referee ordered as the challengers unleashed Bey on the tattoo shop.
Toys clanked, players held their breath, and onlookers whispered strategies until a winner was determined.
For Marcus Yuen, founder of The 59 Tattoo, hosting tournaments is about reliving his childhood. “Kids from my elementary school used to hang out and play in the park,” he recalled. “But as people grow up, they put the toys aside.”
The 36-year-old, who is now a father himself, said he was reintroduced to the game by a younger colleague earlier this year and fell in love with it again. The more the merrier, he thought, eventually opening a tattoo parlor and welcoming like-minded fans in the community.
“These days it’s hard to find events where friends and strangers can get together and have fun. It’s such pure happiness,” he said.
Contestant Toria John Bernard Benito said she started noticing Beyblade’s resurgence through social media. A friend living overseas who lives in Japan also told me about this.
“When I was a kid, it was too expensive to play,” the 30-year-old said. “Now I can buy and enjoy it with my own money.”
Dozens of players gathered at a park on the outskirts of Tsung Tsung O, a 40-minute train ride away. This is one of the hottest fan hangouts in the city.
Makeshift battle stations were dotted around the corner of the park, with fans lining up at each one, waiting to take on the host. There were children fighting against adults the same age as their parents. Whoever wins gets to stay – much like a pick-up game of street basketball.
This Japanese toy is involving parts of Asia
Beyblade, a Japanese spinning top toy first released in 1999, is making a comeback in some parts of Asia, driven by the thrill of the game and nostalgia.
These intense battles create real-life human interactions that are less common in today’s smartphone-centric society.
A co-organizer who gave his name as Hui said he was reunited with friends from his school days who had come to the park because of the boom. “We weren’t that close then and now we’re playing together. It’s very strange,” he said.
Toys R Us CEO Leo Tsoi said the sudden resurgence of interest in the game was “absolutely unprecedented.” The game was further fueled by the fact that social media posts went viral, allowing players of all ages to reconnect.
“Even 9-year-olds versus 39-year-olds can still win, so there will be a lot of drama,” Tsoi said.
Demand is surging in Hong Kong, Malaysia, Singapore, mainland China, Taiwan and Thailand, with sales in Hong Kong alone surging 14 times year-on-year, the toy chain said.
This surge in demand is part of the “kidalto” phenomenon, where adults share children’s interests and hobbies, and is boosting sales of other nostalgic toys such as Lego sets, the retro digital pet game Tamagotchi, and collectible Pokemon cards.
The toy industry has placed increasing emphasis on the kidult market in recent years. Consumers 18 and older will overtake preschoolers as the largest toy buyers in the U.S. in early 2024, according to consumer research firm Circana.
This strategy is especially needed in Asia, where many countries, from Japan and South Korea to Singapore and Hong Kong, have some of the lowest birth rates in the world. This means that toy manufacturers, which are already facing increased competition from mobile games, remain at a disadvantage.
“The fact is… this generation’s intentions and family planning strategies are different from previous generations,” Tsoi said.
And targeting the Kidult market makes economic sense for another reason. Because they have money.
“I no longer have to ask my mother for help like I did when I was a child,” said Yuen, the tattoo parlor owner. “You can buy whatever you want.”
