Gundam mania: how a dad's obsession is fueling a new japanese phenomenon in spain
Remember your mom saying, “If Johnny falls in a well, will you jump in too?” Well, today’s mothers might be suggesting, “If Felipe dives into a Gundam kit, will you join him?” It’s a fair question, and one that’s fundamentally altered my life – thanks to my friends.
From casual comment to lifelong hobby
It started as a simple observation, a lighthearted jab about my friends’ intense fascination with Gundam. But that comment quickly spiraled into a consuming passion: Gunpla. And frankly, it’s a crisis of character for those who underestimate the depth of this particular obsession. For those unfamiliar, Gunpla isn’t just model kits of gigantic robots; it’s a cultural force that’s transcended anime, crossed continents, and now, finally, has a proper foothold in Spain, spearheaded by Namco Bandai.
For years, enthusiasts had to rely on importers, middlemen, or specialized shops bringing kits directly from Japan. But now, the company is deliberately positioning the kits closer to the Spanish consumer base, targeting collectors, anime devotees, and those simply seeking a new, compelling addiction. And believe me, it works. My initial foray into the world of Gunpla began with the persistent nudging of Benjamín Bruña, the driving force behind Poliplasticómanos. Months of recommendations, endless WhatsApp photo dumps, and lengthy podcasts detailing painting techniques finally sparked my curiosity, leading me to acquire one of the more accessible kits: the Classic Gunpla, the most iconic model of them all.
The assembly itself was a revelation. Each piece, each joint, each plastic separating from its mold became a deliberate, absorbing ritual. I savored every moment of that build. For a fleeting instant, I feared this hobby would consume everything – my free time, my focus, my sanity. But then Namco Bandai delivered a deluge of kits, effectively shattering those anxieties. Now, my Sundays are dedicated entirely to Gunpla, and my shelves are increasingly populated by these meticulous robots – an oddly comforting, meditative presence.
The mechanics of the obsession
Gunpla kits resemble classic airplane and tank model kits, but with a distinctly special touch. Each tiny piece comes in plastic matrices that need careful separation and assembly, guided by detailed instructions. The best part? No glue or paint is required; each piece is already molded in its specific color. However, like in Warhammer modelism, many aficionados personalize, paint, and add dramatic effects to their creations. A quick scroll through social media reveals a staggering level of creative ingenuity. Don’t be fooled by the Japanese instructions, though – they’re surprisingly clear, with intuitive graphics. I did encounter one minor hiccup: a misplaced leg joint that I ultimately broke while attempting to rectify it. The plastic is robust, and disassembling a step rarely presents significant difficulty, though sometimes a touch of contact adhesive and a solemn promise to “leave it alone” are necessary.
Minimal tools are required; pieces can be easily separated from their matrices by hand. However, investing in a basic toolkit – including cutters, files, and tweezers – for around ten euros is highly recommended. As you progress, you can upgrade to lupes, supports, brushes, and other specialized tools, but the essentials are minimal. The resulting figures are incredibly detailed and articulated, allowing for dynamic poses reminiscent of traditional action figures. Yet, the sticker application remains a consistent source of frustration – a testament to the meticulous nature of this hobby.
A cultural phenomenon
The cultural impact of Gunpla extends far beyond simple fandom. It’s fostered generational connections, transformed traditional modelism, and introduced Japanese anime to a global audience previously acquainted with it only superficially. Culturally, Gunpla promotes creativity, patience, and meticulous attention to detail, while cultivating communities of enthusiasts who share techniques, customizations, and displays at conventions and social media platforms. Benjamín Bruña succinctly put it: “This Gunpla thing is like a knowledge transfer – there’s always a culprit. My entry into Gunpla is thanks to my partner Miguel Ángel ‘Moe’ de Poliplasticómanos.”
Mario Gómez adds another perspective: “Personally, I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with Gundam’s design philosophy. I adore the gritty, weathered mechs, scarred by the sands of war and the abrasion of the desert, bearing the marks of battle. I find it jarring when I see more fantastical elements, like the Gundam Zero or the Turn-A Gundam (both with wings). So, I’ve largely focused on other series – Patlabor, Armored Core, Mech Warrior – until I discovered YouTube workshops specializing in Gunpla customization: adding weathering, three-dimensional elements, cooler, more earthy colors. Suddenly, what once seemed like a toy became a credible war machine. I also learned about Katoki’s more realistic modeling techniques (labeled ‘ver.Ka’) and the Master Grade line, a more detailed and mature style to my personal taste. Once you understand the sheer scale of this world, it’s easy to get involved, have fun, and boast a fantastic collection. My holy grail is the MG Sinanju Stein ver.Ka, and I’m currently eyeing the MG Gundam Barbatos of IBO. But to avoid clichés, I also adore the 30MM line from Bandai (both Armored Core and EXAMACS).”
The economic impact is undeniable: a thriving market generating approximately 830 million euros annually, not just through kit sales, but also through tools, accessories, and merchandise. This has solidified Gunpla as an industry that benefits manufacturers like Namco Bandai and supports specialized shops, driving the arrival of anime franchises to new territories, including Spain. The combination of creativity, collecting, and accessibility has turned Gunpla into a culturally and economically significant phenomenon – capable of producing a lasting impact on how we consume Entertainment and modelism.
My own journey has been transformative. Beyond the first kit, constructing Gunpla isn’t just following instructions; it’s a process demanding patience, attention to detail, and, often, a surge of creativity. Each model presents pieces that fit with precision, joints that enable dynamic poses, and details that surprise even after weeks of work. It’s a way to disconnect from the daily grind, but also to learn basic engineering and assembly concepts. The reward is seeing your Gunpla come to life, capable of being posed exactly as you envisioned. Even the sticker application, a consistently frustrating element, ultimately yields to the satisfaction of a completed build. It’s a surprisingly meditative experience. My Sundays are now entirely devoted to Gunpla, and my shelves are filled with these meticulously crafted robots – an oddly comforting presence. And it's worth noting, I'm not alone. The recent Interocio fair demonstrated the growing interest, with fans flocking to the Namco Bandai stand like moths to a flame. Even those unfamiliar with Gundam or classic robots were drawn to other licensed titles: One Piece pirate helmets, Doraemon kits, or even Batman statues. It’s a scale of interest that’s rapidly expanding, even in a country as detached from the Gundam franchise as Spain.
Ultimately, Gunpla is more than just a fad; it’s poised to cultivate a dedicated fanbase, attracting both those drawn to the licenses and seasoned modelers. I’m aware that it might not appeal to everyone, but this hobby offers a unique blend of Entertainment, creativity, and personal well-being. With each kit assembled, I feel calmer, more focused, and deeply satisfied. And frankly, I’m not complaining about the growing expense – my shelves are fuller, my patience has improved, and my spirit feels remarkably serene. Thank you, my friends, and Namco Bandai, for introducing me to this extraordinary world. If you think this is just a toy, I assure you, assembling your first Gunpla will change your mind.