Last Updated on May 14, 2025 by nice2buy
Here it is: the 3Doodler 3D Printing Pen. A gadget that sounds like something invented by a sugar-high toddler who just discovered the words “future” and “melty plastic.”
Now, in theory, this is brilliant. You plug in a pen, feed it plastic like it’s some sort of thermoplastic spaghetti monster, and draw in the air. Draw. In. The. Air. You’re basically becoming a wizard. A slightly sweaty wizard with burned fingers and no idea how to stop the filament from drooling everywhere.
They say it has two speeds: fast and slow. I’ll translate that for you. Fast means “everything melts, warps, and collapses in a spaghetti mess,” and slow means “you’ll finish your Eiffel Tower sometime in 2037.”
There are two temperature settings too, for ABS and PLA — which is lovely if you’re a chemist, but completely irrelevant to the average person who just wanted to make a tiny giraffe and ended up hot-gluing their artwork to the table.
And let’s talk about the “quick warm-up time” — one minute, they say. That’s long enough to question your life choices, realize you’ve forgotten what you were going to draw, and find plastic strands wedged in the carpet.
Yes, it comes with 50 strands of plastic in 10 colors. Sounds generous — until you realize you’ll burn through 12 of them just trying to make a vaguely functional cube. And don’t even think about replacing the strands easily. You’ll be hunting for “3Doodler-compatible filament” like a rare jungle orchid.
Now, the marketing tells you “anything is possible.” Which, I assume, includes frustration, mild burns, jammed gears, and the crushing realization that you are not, in fact, an architect, artist, or engineer. You are just a grown adult playing with molten plastic like it’s Play-Doh from the underworld.
In summary:
- Does it work? Occasionally.
- Is it fun? Briefly.
- Will it end up in a drawer next to your half-used VR headset and that drone you flew once? Absolutely.
The 3Doodler is a brilliant idea wrapped in a plastic mess of ambition, overheating, and minor regrets. Like owning a Fiat Multipla — interesting, yes, but not something you’d ever recommend to a friend without feeling slightly guilty.
