If you’ve been around anime fandom at all, you’ll recognize that Gundam’s more than a show about giant robots—it’s a cultural phenomenon. For some of you, it’s the most amazing space opera ever created. For others, it’s a psychic teenage fever dream filled with bottomless boxes of model kits. But how did Gundam start as a resourceful little 1979 TV show and become a multi-generational franchise with more timelines than even the Marvel universe can keep up with? The narrative is as surprising as a Zeta Gundam plot twist.
Gundam began in the late 70s, when designer Yoshiyuki Tomino drew inspiration from Star Wars, Battlestar Galactica, Thunderbirds, and Space: 1999. But in contrast to Western space operas, which relied somewhat on good vs. evil, Gundam’s Universal Century timeline had a more complicated reality. Earth was full of pollution, overpopulation, and driving humans into space colonies—just so people continued to wage the same old wars, but now with giant pilotable machines known as mobile suits. The twist was that pilots were not battle-hardened veterans but children, coerced into battle and struggling with moral ambiguities, trauma, and existential horror.
The music has been every bit as ambitious as the narrative. Takeo Watanabe’s 1979 original score combined disco, slap bass, and orchestral motifs. Swirling strings and more ominous tones were added by later composers such as Shigeaki Saegusa and Akira Senju. By Gundam Seed’s 30th anniversary, Toshihiko Sahashi was recording entire symphonies with the London Symphony Orchestra at Abbey Road—placing Gundam’s soundtrack in the same gravity as Star Wars. As one critic wrote, Gundam’s theme songs span a broader spectrum of musical styles than nearly any Western science fiction franchise.
But it wasn’t easy going. Tomino, also known as the “Kill ‘Em All” director, fought consistently with sponsors and toy manufacturers during the 80s and 90s. They demanded more robots, more spaceships, more excuses to sell Gunpla. By Victory Gundam, Bandai’s influence was so overwhelming that Tomino had to cram in new mobile suits and even bizarre wheel-mounted battleships to satisfy merch demands. The series became so bleak and chaotic that Tomino himself later told fans not to buy the DVDs. It was a low point that left him depressed, isolated, and almost completely detached from the franchise.
But from that burnout came unforeseen creativity. Turn A Gundam, for instance, is both a dreamlike post-apocalyptic story and a reflection on healing. Tomino channeled his angst into a narrative about getting past it, set in a world of moon aristocracy and notoriously mustachioed mobile suits. Yoko Kanno’s music drew on Gershwin, Bernard Herrmann, and even Indiana Jones, forging a musical quilt that demonstrated Gundam could be rich in emotion as much as it was rich in visuals.
No overview of Gundam would be complete without addressing Newtypes. Hyped as mankind’s next step in evolution—space-born telepathic psychics who could speak without words—they added a mystic twist to the hard science fiction. Initially, it was good. But over time, as the franchise grew, Newtype abilities became an abused crutch, allowing compact groups of characters to determine the destiny of humanity. By the time Gundam Unicorn, Newtypes were more about reality-warping displays and less about subtle psychic connections, splitting the fandom into spectacle-addled fans and those who yearn for the grounded political soap opera of the earlier Gunmys.
And yet, Gundam continues to reinvent itself. A new one, Mobile Suit Gundam GQuuuuuuX, a joint work by Studio Khara and Sunrise, turned the formula on its head with an alternate history where Zeon takes the One Year War. It leaned into sci-fi spectacle rather than politics, added Clan Battles as a central theme, and rebooted traditional characters in daring new styles. With high-gloss production, polarizing mecha designs, and a soundtrack of retro TM Network staples mashed with contemporary J-pop, it was as much remix as sequel. Some fans adored the boldness; others weren’t so certain.
So what is Gundam, then? It’s a little bit of everything: a war and peace meditation, an experiment in fancy animation and music, and, yes, a machine designed to sell model kits. Its legacy is messy, complicated, and fascinating without end. Disco soundtracks and teen psychics live alongside political intrigue and existential despair. And as the franchise approaches its 50th anniversary, one thing is certain: whether you’re here for the Newtypes, the politics, or just the Gunpla, there’s never been a better time to be a Gundam fan.