Starfox & Champion: Cosmic Punch in Plastic Glory
Cosmic Odd Couple: Hasbro’s Marvel Legends Starfox & Champion Pack
The box art alone is a declaration of war on shelf space. Two towering figures glare across a starfield backdrop, one all violet skin and silver hair, the other a crimson-skinned colossus with knuckles the size of grapefruits. Marvel Legends Marvel’s Starfox & Champion of the Universe isn’t just a two-pack; it’s a miniature morality play cast in high-impact plastic. One figure represents pleasure as power, the other power as pleasure. Hasbro didn’t just sculpt action figures—they bottled the Eternals-Thanos-Infinity Gauntlet era and shook it until the colors separated.
Let’s start with the man who makes Thanos look like the family disappointment.
Eros of Titan: The Eternal Who Skipped Leg Day (But Not Charm School)
Starfox—real name Eros, because even cosmic entities have parents with a sense of humor—debuts in the Marvel Legends line with the kind of swagger that makes you check if the figure comes with its own theme music. The head sculpt captures the 1973 Jim Starlin design: high cheekbones sharp enough to cut vibranium, a mane of silver hair that defies gravity and good taste, and a smirk suggesting he’s already calculated how long it’ll take you to forgive him for mind-controlling your wallet.
The body? Pure 1980s excess. The purple and teal costume clings like it was painted on by a committee of disco enthusiasts. Hasbro’s sculptors leaned hard into the original Iron Man #55 aesthetic—before the Eternals movie softened Eros into Harry Styles cosplaying a Trust Fund Jedi. This is the Eros who joined the Avengers in 1983, who once convinced a courtroom full of jurors that attempted mind control was “just flirting, your honor.” The figure’s articulation hits 20 points, including double-jointed elbows that let him strike the classic “finger-guns at the universe” pose from Avengers #243.
Accessories tell the story Hasbro wants to sell. Starfox comes with two head sculpts: the default “I’m about to ruin your emotional boundaries” grin, and an alternate “oh no, Mentor’s disappointed again” neutral expression. The hands? Four pairs—open palms for pleasure-wave attacks, fists for the rare occasions when charm fails, and a pair of “come hither” gesture hands that look suspiciously like they’re about to ask for your Venmo. The energy effects are translucent pink, molded to snap onto his forearms like cotton-candy gauntlets. In the comics, these represent his psionic ability to stimulate pleasure centers. In your display case, they represent the exact moment your significant other questions your life choices.
Tryco Slatterus: The Elder Who Punches Reality for Fun
Across the box, Champion of the Universe—real name Tryco Slatterus, because “Champion” wasn’t on the nose enough—looms like a redwood with anger issues. The Elder of the Universe stands 7.5 inches tall, a full head above Starfox, because cosmic power hierarchies must be respected even in plastic. The sculpt channels the 1982 Marvel Two-in-One Annual #7 design: a crimson-skinned boxer with a jawline that could deflect bullets and a mustache that screams “I bench-press galaxies.”
Hasbro didn’t skimp on the details. The boxing trunks are sculpted with individual stitches, the championship belt features tiny engravings of past victories (including a microscopic “Property of Thanos—Return If Found”), and the boots have actual tread patterns. The figure’s 18 points of articulation include butterfly shoulders that let him wind up the infamous “Infinity Punch” from his bout with the Thing. The alternate head? A rage face so intense it comes with its own sound effect in your imagination—think “HULK SMASH” but with better dental work.
Champion’s accessories are weapons of mass instruction. He includes four sets of hands: relaxed (for when he’s merely destroying planets), gripping (for holding the included cosmic dumbbell), and two sizes of boxing gloves—one pair standard, one pair comically oversized to represent the Power Primordial-enhanced fists that once knocked out the entire Fantastic Four. The dumbbell is a nice touch; in the comics, Tryco trains by lifting neutron stars. Hasbro scaled it down to something you can actually pose without snapping a wrist peg.
The Box Set That Shouldn’t Work (But Absolutely Does)
Pairing these two is peak Marvel absurdity. Starfox is the Eternal who uses empathy as a weapon; Champion is the Elder who uses weapons as empathy. One manipulates emotions, the other manipulates physics. Yet their paths crossed in the comics—most notably during the 1991 Thanos Quest miniseries, where Starfox briefly allied with Champion against, well, Thanos being Thanos. Hasbro’s packaging nods to this with a diorama backdrop showing the two on a shattered asteroid, mid-argument about whose turn it is to hold the Infinity Gem.
The engineering synergy is where the pack shines. Starfox’s energy effects fit perfectly over Champion’s fists, creating a “pleasure-punch” combo that looks like a rejected Street Fighter special move. The height difference means they scale correctly with other Marvel Legends figures—put Champion next to a standard Hulkbuster, and he looks like he could take it. Put Starfox next to Captain America, and suddenly Steve Rogers needs therapy.
Paint Applications: Where Cosmic Budgets Go to Die
Let’s talk paint. Hasbro’s factory apparently hired the same team that airbrushes Warhammer 40K armies. Starfox’s violet skin has a pearlescent sheen that shifts under light—subtle, but enough to make him pop on a detolf shelf. The teal costume uses metallic flakes that catch reflections like a disco ball at a funeral. Champion’s red skin employs a candy coat process usually reserved for custom motorcycles. The wash on his abs is so deep you could lose a Q-tip in there.
The only flaw? Starfox’s left eyebrow has a tendency to smudge if you look at it wrong. It’s a known issue with the deco process—Hasbro’s quality control is 99% perfect, but that 1% always finds the most visible spot. Pro tip: seal it with a matte coat before handling, unless you want Eros to permanently look like he’s questioning your life choices.
Scale, Compatibility, and the Art of Not Breaking Your Shelf
At 6 inches for Starfox and 7.5 for Champion, the pack plays nice with the rest of the Marvel Legends ecosystem. Champion towers over standard figures but doesn’t dwarf them—think “intimidating uncle” rather than “Kaiju attack.” Starfox’s slimmer build means he fits in the same display space as Spider-Man or Daredevil without causing a cosmic pile-up.
The peg holes are standardized, so you can swap parts with other figures. Give Champion Hulk hands, and suddenly he’s the Elder of Lifting. Give Starfox Iron Fist hands, and he’s ready for a very confusing Defenders reboot. The possibilities are limited only by your willingness to explain to guests why Thanos is wearing boxing gloves.
The Lore: When Hasbro Does Its Homework
Hasbro’s packaging bio for Starfox reads like a Wikipedia entry written by someone who actually read the comics. It mentions his Titan origins, his psionic powers, and his Avengers tenure (complete with the controversial She-Hulk trial from 1989). Champion’s bio name-drops his Power Primordial, his obsession with boxing, and his record of 0 losses in 10,000 years—conveniently ignoring the time Drax punched him into orbit.
The included comic reprint? A smart choice: Marvel Two-in-One Annual #7, the issue where Champion challenges Earth’s heroes to a boxing match. It’s the perfect primer for why these two characters belong together—both are cosmic powers with very human flaws, both are obsessed with proving something, and both look ridiculous in spandex.
Display Options: Because One Shelf Is Never Enough
Option 1: The “Cosmic Bar Fight” Diorama. Pose Champion mid-punch, Starfox dodging with pleasure-waves, backdrop of shattered asteroids. Add a Marvel Legends M.O.D.O.K. as the bartender for maximum chaos.
Option 2: The “Avengers Therapy Session.” Starfox in neutral head, hands in “I’m listening” pose, surrounded by judgmental Captain Americas. Champion in the background, lifting the couch.
Option 3: The “Thanos Family Reunion.” Line up Starfox, Thanos (any version), and Nebula. Watch the plastic tension build. Add Mentor for extra awkwardness.
The Price of Cosmic Glory
At $59.99 MSRP, the pack isn’t cheap—roughly $30 per figure, premium for the size and accessories. But you’re paying for exclusivity (this is the only way to get these characters in Legends scale), engineering (those energy effects don’t sculpt themselves), and the sheer joy of owning a toy that lets you recreate the moment Champion punched a hole in the space-time continuum because the Silver Surfer wouldn’t shake hands.
Comparison Corner: How They Stack Up
• Starfox vs. MCU Eternals Harry Styles: The Legends version is bulkier, comic-accurate, and doesn’t come with a post-credit scene. Advantage: plastic.
• Champion vs. Maestro Hulk: Same height class, but Champion has better abs and worse anger management. Tie.
• Two-Pack vs. Single Releases: Hasbro could’ve split them, charged $35 each, and made bank. Instead, they bundled them for story synergy. Respect.
The Final Verdict: To Buy or Not to Buy
This isn’t a toy. It’s a conversation piece, a history lesson, and a flex all in one. Starfox & Champion represent the best of Marvel Legends: deep cuts from comic lore, executed with premium sculpting, packed with accessories that reward creativity. The price stings, but so does getting punched by an Elder of the Universe.
Display them together, and you’re not just showing off figures—you’re curating a moment. The moment when pleasure met power, when charm met fists, when Hasbro looked at two of Marvel’s weirdest cosmic entities and said, “Yeah, we can make that work.”
In a line filled with Spider-Men and Iron Men, Starfox & Champion are the reminder that Marvel’s universe is big enough for a pleasure-powered Eternal and a galaxy-punching boxer to share shelf space. And sometimes, that’s all the heroism we need.
Punch-Drunk on Plastic
Hasbro’s Marvel Legends Starfox & Champion pack isn’t just a two-fer deal—it’s a thesis statement on what makes the Marvel Universe tick. Eros and Tryco represent opposite ends of the cosmic spectrum: one manipulates hearts, the other breaks faces. Yet here they stand, shoulder to massive shoulder, proving that even in plastic, Marvel’s weirdest corners deserve the spotlight.
Keep them mint in box if you’re a collector. Crack them open if you’re a kid at heart. Either way, you’re holding a piece of comic history—one that reminds us the universe is vast, ridiculous, and occasionally wears boxing trunks. In a world of endless Spider-Variants, sometimes the real heroes are the ones who never needed a solo movie to matter.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a detolf shelf and a very confused looking Thanos figure. Time to explain why his brother brought a boxer to the family reunion.
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