Why Are We So Obsessed with the Blind Box?

Is it bad? Or is it just human nature?

Labubu fever has officially taken over. Everyone and their dog (and possibly their dog’s plush collection) seems to have a Labubu, or a hundred. Rising to superstardom after Lalisa from BLACKPINK flaunted her love for the adorably mischievous critter, Labubu mania has snowballed into something bigger than a passing trend. These days, you can’t scroll through your feed, step into a store, or visit a friend without spotting one of those wide-eyed, toothy smiles staring back at you. And if it’s not a Labubu, it might be its equally sought-after cousins, Smiski, Sonny Angel and our personal favourites, the Crybaby. 

We first got a real taste of this craze a few months back, when we stumbled upon a line so long it could rival a Taylor Swift merch queue. Naturally, we stuck around to see what the fuss was about. That’s when we saw it, a Pop Mart employee ceremoniously presenting an encased, impeccably dressed Labubu as if it were a $500 bottle of wine in a Michelin-star restaurant while the rest of the staff worked tirelessly prepping the boxes of Labubu behind the counter. That was the moment it hit us: this wasn’t just a fandom anymore. This was a full-blown cultural craze complete with its die-hard fans, fan pages, and so much more.

But Labubu is only the latest chapter in a much bigger story. Collector and mystery box culture has been around for decades. Pokémon card collectors have been doing the “buy-and-hope” routine since the 90s, purchasing pack after pack, chasing that elusive holofoil Charizard or the missing piece to complete a set. They line up for drops, camp out for special releases, and guard their binders like treasure chests. I dare you to try to get between a Pokémon collector and their collection...

The gaming world isn’t immune either. Gacha games like Genshin Impact, Honkai: Star Rail, and Infinity Nikki have perfected the art of the pull, tempting players to part with their hard-earned cash (or Primogems) for a chance at a rare character or cosmetic. The thrill of that one lucky drop is a high that keeps players coming back for more. Many on the Colin team have fallen victim to the multi-pull rare 5-star addiction, convincing ourselves that just one more ten-pull will be the one that changes everything.

So what’s the magic ingredient here? Why do we spend big, time and time again, on things we don’t even know we’re getting until we open them? The answer might be a cocktail of psychology, community, and sheer dopamine rush. Things like Labubus and Pokemon cards "heal our inner child" by enabling us to go back to a time of thrill, excitement and even simplicity. I mean, how many of us as children tore through the cereal box or Happy Meal to see what toy or surprise we got? 

But it's not just our childlike desires, blind boxes and random pulls tap into our love of surprises, our fear of missing out, and the satisfaction of completing a set. Add in the social aspect, comparing, trading, and showing off, and you’ve got a recipe for obsession. 

Think about how often you might buy something simply because your peers deemed it desirable or exciting. Suddenly, it’s not just a plush, a card, or a digital skin, it’s a ticket into the conversation. Owning it means you’re “in” on the hype, part of the shared obsession, and that little hit of social validation can be just as addictive as the item itself. Before you know it, you’re queueing up, clicking refresh at drop time, and justifying the purchase with, “Well… everyone else has one.”

And while collecting and blind boxes in itself isn't a bad thing, at what point does it go to far? When you have people camping out overnight or spending thousands in the hopes of finding the “secret,” and hundreds of Labubus, Lafufus, and all the waste that comes with them ending up in landfill, at what point does this harmless collectible become an over-consumerism-fuelled frenzy that’s less about joy and more about chasing the next hit?

Maybe the answer lies somewhere in the messy middle. For some, collecting is a harmless hobby, a way to express creativity, connect with like-minded people, and hold onto small pockets of joy. For others, the chase can spiral into something more consuming, where the thrill of the next unboxing overshadows the enjoyment of what’s already in hand. It’s a fine line between passion and compulsion, and in a world where trends move faster than ever, that line is easy to cross without noticing.

In the end, the blind box phenomenon says more about us than the toys or cards inside. We crave wonder, community, and that rare rush of possibility. Whether you’re proudly displaying your Labubu army, flipping through a Pokémon binder, or chasing your next gacha pull, the question isn’t just “What’s in the box?”, it’s “Why do we keep opening them?” And maybe, just maybe, the real rare drop is learning when to stop.