Construx Toys

Back in the golden haze of the 1980s, when Saturday mornings were sacred and the living room carpet doubled as a battlefield, I had a deep and abiding love for building toys. LEGO was always a favorite, of course. Those little bricks had a way of turning a rainy afternoon into a medieval castle siege or a moon base launch. But there was another toy that, in many ways, outshined even the mighty LEGO. It was called Construx.

Fisher-Price rolled out Construx in 1983, and to my young eyes, it was a marvel of engineering. These weren’t just blocks. They were beams, plates, axles, wheels, pulleys, and connectors that snapped together with a satisfying click. You could build bridges, towers, vehicles, weapons, and anything else your imagination could conjure. It was like someone had taken the Erector Set, stripped away the sharp edges and tiny screws, and handed it to kids with a wink that said, “Go build something wild.”

My first set was the Bridges and Tower set. I remember sitting cross-legged on the floor, the instruction booklet spread out beside me like a treasure map. It wasn’t easy. My older brother breezed through his builds like he had a degree in toy architecture, but I took my time. I studied each piece, each connection, and slowly brought my tower to life. When it was done, I felt like I had built the Empire State Building with my own two hands.

But Construx wasn’t just about building for the sake of building. It was about enhancing the worlds we already lived in. My brother and I used our Construx creations to expand our G.I. Joe adventures. We built gooseneck trailers for our Tonka trucks, forklifts to load them, and obstacle courses to test our action figures’ mettle. I’d watch a martial arts movie and immediately start constructing swords and ninja stars, then run around the house like a one-man dojo.

Sleepovers with my cousin became epic battles of imagination. We’d each build rolling vehicles armed with Construx “weapons,” then stalk each other through the darkened house, He-Man versus Skeletor, armed to the teeth with plastic ingenuity. We made armor, daggers, and flashlights using glow-in-the-dark pieces from the later space-themed sets. Those sleepovers felt like missions, and Construx was our gear.

One of my proudest moments came in 1986, after watching The Road Warriors and The Midnight Express battle it out in a scaffold match at Starrcade. Inspired, I built a scaffold over the wrestling ring my dad had made for me years earlier. My G.I. Joe figures, now moonlighting as pro wrestlers with names like “The Crusher” and “Mad Dog,” settled their feuds high above the canvas. That scaffold became the centerpiece of my wrestling federation, and every match felt like a pay-per-view event.

Construx wasn’t just a toy line. It was a supporting actor in every story I told. It was the set designer, the prop master, and sometimes the star. It didn’t matter if I was reenacting American Gladiators or building tunnels for Hot Wheels. Construx was always there, ready to transform.

Mattel tried to revive the line in 1997, but it never quite caught on. Maybe the world had moved on. Maybe kids had too many screens and not enough carpet space. But for a glorious stretch of time, Construx was king. It was versatile, imaginative, and endlessly fun. If I had a Toy Hall of Fame ballot, Construx would be on it, no question.

And though I don’t have enough pieces these days to recreate the scaffold in its full glory, I still remember how it felt to build it. That click of plastic, that thrill of creation, and the joy of watching my imagination take shape, one beam at a time.