| Being a fanboy inspires as many preconceptions as there are things that inspire fanboys. To some, the word is an unfortunate euphemism for overzealous addicts, children of varying ages with too much time on their hands. Others think of unkempt, jobless geeks.
But Aki Fukui doesn’t exactly fit in with any aforementioned category; his job status, outgoing personality, and respectable hygiene eliminates him from most of the above. Be that as it may, there can be no denying his zeal for a certain Japanese cartoon.
The unassuming 35-year old arrived to a recent interview at an Alhambra Starbucks proudly displaying the flags of his fan-dom: a red “Transformers” shirt—the logo spelled out in katakana—and three aluminum-coated, beach ball-sized replica helmets from the Japanese import cartoon.
The name may not be immediately familiar, but perhaps you know Fukui’s work. In 1999, he won a Halloween costume contest at a club in the Luxor Hotel in Las Vegas for designing an actual “transformable” Transformers costume that converts the user from a world-saving robot, or Autobot to be precise, into his vehicular alter ego. The suit brought Aki much adoration from other fanboys (in any case, he had given them a chance to become the robots they adored), $3000 for first place, a story in Wizard magazine, and plenty of recognition from strangers.
“I was totally flattered,” he said with a bit of incredulity in his voice. “I had no idea what impact the costume made.”
Fukui says he is sometimes approached on the street by people asking him if he is “the Transformer guy.” He had no idea a simple home project could have gotten him so much attention. All of that seems even more unbelievable considering that he almost didn’t make it to Vegas.
At the mention of the Club Ra competition that started the hubbub, Fukui grins.
“I wanted to take [the costume] to a local club for a competition first, but it started to fall apart. I told my mom I couldn’t go to Vegas and she got mad and I had to stay up all night fixing it. Without any sleep, I drove to Vegas. I didn’t have enough time to see if I fixed the problem.”
When he eventually arrived at the hotel, he found an isolated spot and began gingerly putting on the suit. A group of onlookers formed around him as he slowly transformed, growing larger while he continued modifying. By the time he had finished—his entire body consumed by the blue-tinged car—everyone started cheering.
Besides the vast amount of time and money that went in to his project, the costume was fairly easy for Fukui to build. The frame was made out of cardboard, reinforced with aluminum and foil tape, and colored with several coats of glass paint. It took him a year to build at a cost of close to $1,000.
What is it that draws him to the cartoon in order to absorb such a staggering amount of time and money? Perhaps it is what draws anyone to his or her passion—it defines him.
“It’s the diversity of each character, their personal appearance, and their individual personalities. They each have their own power, like us, we all have our own gifts. [Transformers] has influenced everything I have done, from building replicas from Legos and bringing out my creativity, inspiring me to draw, and even inspiring me to be [a Transformer]. And it gave me the arts skills and talents I have today.”
It is rare that a person can create a commodity from their passion; rarer still that they can generate the word-of-mouth buzz that Fukui’s costume has. And considering the scope of its popularity, he would naturally want to take advantage and start mass marketing his gear. But when the idea of selling the suit is brought up, he shrugs.
“It’s not something I want to market or really can,” he said. “I did talk to someone who worked on the original design team who made the movie costume at Universal Studios. He said whenever I wanted to get together we can work on a prototype.”
The exposure from his Wizard piece has Fukui reaping in the contacts. Besides the magazine article and the Universal gig, other media outlets have contacted him, including the L.A. Times and Wired News; Disney Imagineering and the
Mainframe animation studio have discussed possible job opportunities.
With all the networking prospects and job offers afforded to Fukui following his 15 minutes of fame, you would think that he would be planning his escape from the grocery as we spoke (he was taking a lunch break in order to meet.) But for the moment, Fukui is content to weigh his options.
“I didn’t think I am ready,” he said. “Maybe it’s a perfectionist thing. Everything has to be perfect.”
Waiting until he thinks he’s ready for the post-grocery job world is fine for
Fukui, but his parents may have different opinions on his employment opportunities. We know that his mother wants him to do the best that he can—hence getting him to drive to Vegas without sleep—but is working at Ralphs working for her?
“I think I’m fortunate,” he said. “My mom’s been supportive since I was a little kid building Legos and Transformers. Especially with all the costumes.”
Fukui, whose parents came to America in 1957 from Fukagawa, Japan, is a typical Nisei American. His hobbies include toy design and basketball (could a Robotic Kobe be in the works?), he enjoys listening to movie soundtracks, and counts the “Matrix,” “Spider Man,” and “The 40- year-Old Virgin” as favorite films.
Outside of his tendencies towards robotics, his families’ connection to Japan is as close to having a Japanese heritage as Fukui has. He considers himself first and foremost an American and considers the only connection to Japan that he feels is important to him is through “all the robot things I do.”
He is unsure what is in store for him next. That is, not until he thinks he is ready to consider it. But one thing about Fukui’s future you can be very confident in knowing is where he will be next Wednesday night: at the cineplex, where he will be enjoying the latest Transformers movie. He is a fanboy after all. |
