No, I wanted the RCX to be gilded, with real gold, and have the heft of a gold brick…
So I walked down to the local watch and jewelry shop in Billund—yes, there is a jewelry shop in small-town Billund—because I knew that they could get toddlers’ shoes gilded in silver or other precious metals.
Inquiring about what it would take to gild an RCX or NXT cover, the store owner told me that the process would use 12-carat gold as a minimum, which would cost about 1,000 Danish Kroner ($200 USD) per cover and that the studs on the cover would barely be recognizable because of the thickness of the metal, even though it would be a thin layer.
The cost and the expected end result made that option a no-go. I had it in my mind that the ‘LEGO’ lettering on the studs on the cover should still be visable, and the studs should somehow still be functional. Furthermore, I did not have the budget (I didn’t really have ANY budget) for it so I went for the next best thing.
At the time shiny LEGO parts were still made using a method called drum-lacquering or metal-plating. Base parts would be covered with a thin layer of colours looking like chrome, gold or silver. I turned to my project manager, Henrik, who as a seasoned employee knew everybody in the company. I mean everybody. He told me to go to see Bo Kristiansen. He was the person who could get things drum-lacquered.
Bo was sitting close by in the DUPLO team’s area in the R&D, so I walked over to ask Bo about the prospect of getting 10 RCX covers and 30 NXT covers processed. He told me the result would be a crap-shoot. For surfaces the size of an RCX cover (8x12 modules) or an NXT (9x12 modules) the coating would possibly create flow patterns and it would not look good. Also getting all these NXT and RCX covers processed was a one-off. I would not have time or favours left to redo the whole batch if something went wrong.
As there were no internal charges for getting smaller batches of parts lacquered, I made a mental note to get a cake for Bo and his colleagues when we were done. Cake was an integral part of the internal favour economy wherever I worked with people! It worked well—especially when the recipients did not expect it. Just sayin’...
The golden RCX as a commemorative piece in itself was not enough. I needed a way to make the pieces personal. I knew some diploma-style letter with a calligraphed name would not cut the mustard. It had to stand out. So I went to one of my favourite departments in the R&D: Ebbe’s workshop. This is like Q’s workshop in the James Bond universe, this is the special ops of the R&D department. Ebbe Lerhardt made things happen. If some mechanical dummy contraption or function was needed for prototyping, this was the place we would go to. They could make anything happen!
I loved visiting his little department. I had many fun brainstorms there, ranging from creating ocean-going robotic sailboats and flying cars—some of these ideas became some wicked working prototypes too! Ebbe suggested embedding the RCXes in acrylic plates, engraved with the names of the ‘founders’. Set at the right angle the RCX would stick through the plate and make the whole thing stand by itself.
Neato! I had a plan now. Next up was to find my stock of RCXes and NXTs for this project. Initially, I had thought it would be cool if all these units could actually work, but it was a stretch. So, I settled for units that at least looked OK without too many scratches or broken innards.
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