Whereas the old dewback’s limbs are lifeless trunks, the new dewback benefits from an attention to musculature. The protruding thighs and shoulders of the animal give a sense of weight and motion that no amount of gimmickry could recreate.

Furthermore, upon closer inspection, the uncanniness of the former dewback can also be found in its rigidity. To support its articulation, the former dewback’s limbs extend outright, as if suffering from rigor mortis. The new dewback not only has more realistic curvatures that imply a skeletal structure just beneath the skin, but look even closer.

Whereas the symmetry of the old dewback is boring, take a look at the placement of the new dewback’s feet. When I first noticed its feet, I did a double take. I thought, “no way do these line up to rows of studs.”

In another stroke of genius, the designer threw out symmetry for a purposeful asymmetry in the animal’s feet. He or she used asymmetry to imply motion rather than literally offer it, to the point that I had to wonder whether this Lego toy could even live up to its namesake and be inserted properly onto a baseplate.

Look at the forward-facing toes! How could a stud even fit between those phalanges? Look at the rear-facing toe, could that truly squeeze between two neighboring studs?

Almost bordering on optical illusion, I found myself struggling to line up the forefoot of one foot to the heel of its opposing limb.

Only one way to find out of course.

Yep, it clicks.

Yes. Silly of me to doubt this designer who has already proved him or herself a patron of quality work.

The dewback, with its asymmetric gait, fits perfectly onto any baseplate. It captures a sense of motion, realism and character while still upholding its fundamental Lego-ness. Which leads me to the final observation.

The Body

It may be a little difficult to tell but the other observation I made regarding this toy is with regards to its seamlessness. Literally. Look at any of the above pictures and you would struggle to find any crevices that are, in stark contrast, plentiful on the old dewback design.

Upon closer inspection, one will notice that this entire creature is designed out of three parts. Three parts only. Two halves of the body and one lower jaw. That’s it.

Now this may not seem like much, but to me, this speaks to Lego’s mastery of industrial design and quality assurance.

The key to any Lego piece is consistent interlocking. If any single Lego piece in the history of production ever failed to interlock with another piece, this would be seen as an existential failure on the part of Lego and its founding family.

True to form, the founding Christiansen family has obsessed over quality since it began manufacturing Legos in 1949. They realized that the process of injection-molding in and of itself offered no long-term advantage versus its competitors or inherent benefit to its customers.

Instead, the family’s singular focus was illustrated by their motto det bedste er ikke for godt, “the best is never too good”. To create a truly high quality toy, they needed to focus on the tactile pleasure of playing with it, i.e. the quality of locking and unlocking each piece.

As such, since 1949, the goal of the Christiansen family remains the same but the methodology has become that much more advanced. Now, there is a pre-determined range of tolerance for each and every one of the billions of Legos produced that is measured by micrometers, newtons of force and several thousand assembly cycles of durability.

While the family could have mailed it in long ago, living off of the perpetuity of their Lego empire, they have continued to stay true to their founding goal of quality above all (although they did lose their way for a period in the early 2000’s, nearly going bankrupt as a result).

And so this brings us back to the dewback. Imagine the permissible tolerance for one small 2x6 brick and all the permutations of Murphy’s Law that could lead it astray in terms of quality. There is a reason that each and every Lego piece is secretly marked with the identification number of the exact mould that created it. On the rare occasion of a defect, the perpetrating mould in question can be identified, located and dealt with in almost sinister fashion.

Now imagine maintaining the exactitude of these parameters for a piece as irregular and cumbersome as this dewback.

The studs on its back are subject to the same obsessive standards as any other piece, lest it give a customer a bad tactile experience. However, given its size, any chance for irregularity and therefore cost is multiplied.

When I see these three pieces with my business hat on, I see cost and risk.

And for that, I give my final salute to both the designer and Lego. They knew the risks entailed with pursuing this ingeniously simple design and they went for it.

Why? Because they wanted to do better. They wanted to delight their customers. They wanted nothing to deter from the simple pleasure of playing with this toy.

In order to do so, they harnessed all their experience, their creativity, their exactitude. Indeed, they bestowed their mastery of craft upon this precious toy.

And, because of that, this humble Lego dewback, in all its majestic lumpiness, spoke to me.

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