Why these adults are suddenly obsessed with a kids toy from the late ’90s

By Chris Lau, Yoyo Chow, CNN

Hong Kong (CNN) — The buzzing of needles and gasps of pain fall silent, replaced by the clacking and rattling of steel and plastic colliding.

Normally, visitors to this small tattoo parlor tucked away in the backstreets of Hong Kong’s bustling nightlife district, are looking to be inked with tigers and dragons, representing the halcyon days of the neon-lit metropolis. But it has drawn a vastly different crowd.

With the tattoo tables pushed to the side, the room becomes a coliseum for adults going to war with Beyblades, a children’s toy made popular a quarter of a century ago.

The customizable spinning tops, launched from a plastic strip, have made a whirlwind comeback in popularity in Asia –– from Japan to Thailand and Taiwan to Hong Kong.

“I’m ready to put up a fight,” said Tiff Tam, 28, as she showed off the arsenal of “Beys” (as fans call them) that she’s splurged almost $400 on.

Tam works at The 59 Tattoo in Wan Chai, which has started wrapping up business early on select nights to host community tournaments, welcoming tattooists from other studios and people in the neighborhood.

“At first, I just didn’t see the appeal,” she said. “But as soon as I started playing, I could feel that tension, excitement and competitiveness.”

Inspired by the traditional Japanese spinning top beigoma (hence BEY-blade), the toy line first became a hit when it was debuted by toymaker Takara in the late ’90s and early 2000s.

Players assemble colourful “Beys” –– named after weapons and characters like “Saber Samurai” and “Arrow Wizard” –– and launch them onto a pizza-sized plastic panel, called a “stadium.” The rules are simple: Stay in the ring and keep spinning to win.

Informal Beyblade battles are popping up in strangest of places, with players huddling in parks, gyms and shopping malls. When a stadium is not readily available, fans innovate. Some even sending their Beys spinning in Chinese woks, social media videos show.

The surge in demand for Beyblade has seen hobbyists lining up outside toy shops in Taiwan and Hong Kong, with some traveling as far as Japan to get their hands on the rarest models, which are being resold for up to $80 by scalpers online, 10 times more than the original price.

Taking nostalgia for a spin

“3, 2, 1, go, shoot!” commanded the umpire, as challengers released their Beys in the tattoo shop.

The toys clanked, the players held their breath and onlookers whispered strategies on the sidelines – until a winner was crowned.

For Marcus Yuen, founder of The 59 Tattoo, hosting the tournaments is about reliving his childhood. “Kids from my primary school used to hang around the park and play,” he recalled. “But as you grow up, people put their toys aside.”

The 36-year-old, 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, so he eventually opened up his tattoo parlor to welcome like-minded fans in the community.

“It’s hard these days to find an event where friends and strangers can get together and play. It’s a very pure kind of happiness,” he said.

Contestant, Tria John Bernard Benito, said he started noticing Beyblade’s revival through social media. A friend living abroad in Japan also told him about it.

“I didn’t get to play when I was a kid because they were too expensive,” said the 30-year-old. “Now I can use my own money to buy them and have fun.”

A 40-minute train ride away, dozens of players gathered at a suburban park in Tseung Kwan O, one of the hottest hangouts among fans in the city.

Makeshift battle stations were scattered across a corner of the park with fans lined up at each, waiting to challenge the host. There were kids battling adults of the same age as their parents. Whoever wins gets to stay – much like a pickup game of street basketball.

These kinetic battles are creating the kind of real-life human interactions that aren’t so common in a modern society that revolves around smartphones.

A co-organiser who gave his name as Hui said he had reconnected with old school friends drawn to the park by the craze. “We play together now even though we weren’t even close back then. It’s very strange,” he said.

The rise of kidults

The sudden resurgence of interest in the game is “quite unprecedented,” according to Toys “R” Us’ CEO Leo Tsoi. It’s been turbocharged by viral social media posts and the fact that it allowed players of all ages to reconnect.

“You can still win as a 9-year-old versus a 39-year-old, so it creates a lot of drama,” said Tsoi.

Demand has spiked in Hong Kong, Malaysia, Singapore, mainland China, Taiwan and Thailand –– with Hong Kong alone seeing a 14-fold surge in sales year on year, the toy chain said.

That explosion in demands is part of a rising “kidult” phenomenon — adults sharing kids’ interests and hobbies — that has driven sales in other nostalgic toys, such as Lego sets, retro digital pet game Tamagotchi and collectible Pokémon cards.

The toy industry has increasingly been pivoting towards the kidult market in recent years. In the US, consumers aged 18 and above overtook preschoolers to become the biggest toy buyers in early 2024, according to consumer research firm Circana.

The strategy is particularly necessary in Asia where many economies – from Japan and South Korea to Singapore and Hong Kong – are logging some of the world’s lowest birthrates, meaning that the odds are stacked against toymakers already facing growing competition from mobile games.

“It’s a matter of fact … this generation’s intention and their family planning strategy (is) different from the previous one,” said Tsoi.

And targeting the kidult market makes economic sense for another reason: they have money.

“You no longer have to beg your mom like when you were a kid,” said Yuen, the tattoo parlor owner. “You can buy whatever you want.”

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