I will be the first to profess that a rushed job can be a slop job. Too fast, and mistakes happen. So, for mission-critical designs, I never, ever rush. (I've screwed up too many times and have learned from my mistakes - mostly.) But there are times when "just so," "almost," and "close enough" will all do. In these moments, getting the job done quickly is not only nessesary but also exhilarating.
Winging it can be a blast.
The most straightforward example of this is the recent Halloween costume we created for my son. He wanted to go as Link from The Legend of Zelda (“LOZ”) franchise. I wrote about this video game and its cultural significance in an earlier post, describing my son's enthusiasm and his initial work creating this year’s Halloween costume.
"'LoZ' has been around since I was a kid, one of Nintendo's earliest and most popular offerings. Loosely inspired by The Lord of the Rings and similar sword and sorcery tales, LoZ follows the adventures of Link, an elfish boy, on a quest to save Princess Zelda from the evil clutches of Ganon."
It's classic fantasy fare.
Link fits the part, outfitted in a tunic, leather armor, a sword, and shield, among other related kit. My son wanted an authentic costume this year, so we started early.
But not early enough.
He and I spent weeks working on and off on the costume, drawing initial designs, fabricating the sword and shield from EVA foam, and assembling random items from around the house, my shop, and, with his mom, a local thrift store. The tunic we made out of an old blue tee shirt of mine. The leather armor I made from actual leather, held together with snaps and rivets along with several second-hand leather belts. With the addition of a pair of silicone elfin ears and a costume blonde wig, we were nearly there - but not all the way. Several small but significant details remained, not even a day until Halloween.
Yes, I was working on the costume on Halloween morning.
Luckily, we finished many of the aforementioned particulars, and most of the last-minute stuff involved some painting and weather that I rushed along with a helpful hair dryer. Nearly complete, I sat back and did a mental check of what, if anything, remained. And that's when it hit me.
We forgot to make the battery pack!
Link, as a video game character, accumulates "power" along his adventure that he stores in a device on his belt called an "energy cell." It's basically a battery pack fueled by "Zonai charges" that Link collects and then draws from to do various tasks in the game. The more he has, the more he can do. (Again, classic stuff here.)
The design is quite distinct, with the green glow of the cells hanging on his belt being a quintessential part of Link's look. My son's costume would be glaringly incomplete without it. But how to make it now, in the eleventh hour? This isn't hyperbole; I had quite literally an hour to wrap everything up. There wasn't time to build something so elaborate.
Or was there?
One thing was certain: I couldn't build a cosplay-worthy replica in that limited time. No, it would take weeks to create an accurate reproduction. But I could possibly cobble a decent facsimile with all the essential elements. It was worth a shot. Much to gain and little less than an hour to lose, I surmised.
So, I began formulating a plan.
I'm fortunate that, over recent years, I've accumulated a treasure trove of random materials to build with. So, after deciding on a basic foundation of EVA foam, I cut out the handle shape and then grabbed eight plastic syringes from my cabinet. (I use these in the molding and casting work to dispense liquids.) I cut these down to size on the band saw and drilled the tips wide enough to accommodate a couple of wires. Handily, I had a whole stock of pre-wired color LEDs, so I pulled out eight green ones and began wiring them up. For power, I used a two-cell 18650 Li-ION pack supplying about 8 V DC, just enough juice to make the eight LEDs shine nicely.
Given this was a rush job, I took only one pic initially, so bear with me as I continue describing the basic process.
With the syringes cut to size and the LEDs threaded in, I hot glued these eight “lighted cells” to the EVA foam frame, and then, with some zip ties and more hot glue, I tidied up the wiring and attached the power supply and a small toggle switch I wired in line for the system. I embellished this contraption with thin strips and shapes cut from more foam and finally spruced it up with gold paint and a little weathering. The last touch was adding a metal clip so my son could attach it to his belt.
In about 45 minutes, I had built what would ultimately be the pièce de résistance for my son's Link costume - his energy cell!
As to not get entirely full of myself here, I have to admit this thing is definitely a hack job. It only loosely resembles the actual device from the game, and it's unmistakably cobbled - cluttered with globs of excess hot glue; there isn't a line on it that's straight.
Oddly, the exposed zip ties and syringes make it look more like some illicite medical device than a fantasy character prop. But the saving grace is the thing actually lights up! And on my son’s otherwise well-put-together costume, the soft green glow makes for a dramatic accent that any LOZ fan will recognize. And recognize it they did.
Touring the neighborhood at night, trick-or-treating, house after house, kids and adults alike shouted out my son's character - Link!
For me, I am, of course, proud of the costume. And not just in myself; my son was instrumental in it, making those initial drawings and working alongside me on many of the steps. He was so delighted and surprised with the result that it warmed me all the way through. And to see the look on his face when I surprised him with a working energy cell - priceless!
It's a special thing to have one's son proud of his dad. I am honored to do these things for him, my favorite human on the planet.
But winging this last part was a particular joy all its own, outside of those other wonderful feelings. Honestly, I didn't know if I could develop a convincing piece in such a limited time. It was a thrilling test to rack my brain for ideas and then scour my stores for materials to make it happen. I felt like Macguyver in one of those montage bits where he pulls together something from nothing more than chewing gum and a paperclip. I only lacked the cheesy eighties music score for my go at it!
The take-home here is that not everything has to be perfect. Not every build needs to be our best. No, there are many times when slapping together something is what's called for. The goal is to get it done, whatever "it is, and ready it for whatever lies ahead.
A joy all to its own, winging it creates incredible satisfaction in a job done - not entirely well - but well enough for the purpose ahead. This is the beauty and joy in seat-of-the-pants making.
Until next time.
JRC
Well, that was was really a cliffhanger John. Great effort and seriously entertaining. The urgency was infectious 👍
Thanks, Bill! Yeah - I was wondering myself how it would turn out.