There's no prop on television that's more coveted than Game of Thrones' Iron Throne. For the past four seasons, the Iron Throne — built from the swords of a thousand fallen enemies, and forged by dragon fire — has been at the center of most of the conflicts in Game of Thrones. It has become so iconic that it even popped up in another TV show: It's hard to imagine a Game of Thrones fan who wouldn't have that kind of freak-out if the Iron Throne suddenly materialized in their living room. Fortunately, HBO sells a full-scale replica; unfortunately, that replica costs $30,000 (plus $2,500 for shipping). But while the actual Iron Throne might be as elusive in real life as it is on the screen, there are a surprising number of real-life alternatives that don't require a lot of bloodshed or a Lannister-sized bank account. Here are six cheap ways to get your own Iron Throne: You already have at least one throne in your house, so why not just add a few swords and call it a day?
A quick search turns up plenty of sellers offering a sword-laden decal designed to fit perfectly behind a standard toilet bowl. At around $30, it's a cheap but no-frills option — but you can always get a little more elaborate if the spirit moves you. The Iron Throne is one of the most coveted chairs in pop-culture, but it's not exactly known for being comfortable. Fortunately, Nerd by Night blogger Isabell Kiko came up with an ingenious compromise: a beanbag version of the Iron Throne. Kiko provides helpful, detailed instructions, so with a sewing machine and "a gazillion hours free time," you can make your own softer, gentler riff on the Iron Throne. If you don't have the strength to lug a 350-pound chair around, why not settle for the ability to turn any chair into an Iron Throne? Sky Atlantic partnered with NOW TV to give away a cushioned seat with a sword-laden backboard that fits onto everything from an office chair to an easy chair. The only catch: just like the real Iron Throne, you couldn't just buy it.
You had to win it by answering a Game of Thrones trivia question: "What is the name of Joffrey Baratheon's mother?" Real tough one, guys. (CC BY: Doug Kline/The Conmunity — Pop Culture Geek) For a brief, magical moment, anyone could take a free ride in their very own mobile Iron Throne. To promote the premier of the third season, HBO unleashed a series of Game of Thrones pedicabs to shuttle people around at SXSW. The mobile Iron Thrones didn't pop up again this year — but given the show's tendency to revisit long-forgotten stories, who knows where they'll show up next? One ingenious Game of Thrones fan, who goes by the handle flaming_pele, built an impressive Iron Throne replica out of an Adirondack lawn chair — and he was kind enough to provide step-by-step instructions to help you do the same. All told, he estimates the project cost around $100 to complete. It may be wood and plastic, but it's a lot more reasonable than paying the iron price. If you're really bent on building your own Iron Throne from scratch, it's theoretically possible — but you'd better have some time on your hands.
Professional swordsmith Jake Powning speculates that it could take as long as 700,000 hours to forge the 1,000 swords that make up the Iron Throne. From there, you'd need to mold the swords to fit a chair frame — preferably by dragon. (If you can't track one down, welding torches would also do the trick).AMESBURY, Massachusetts — Fred Smith, the founder and commissioner of the World Musical Chairs Federation, has set an ambitious goal for himself, and his sport. Smith, a short, balding and — he says — “beautiful,” man, recently left a career as a corrections officer to make the childhood game of musical chairs a worldwide sport. “This is what I plan to do with the rest of my life,” he said in all seriousness. As if that weren’t ambitious enough, he hoped to draw 8,000 people to the World Musical Chairs Championship. “I’m doing something no one’s done before,” he said Saturday, perhaps oblivious to the thought that may be because no one’s wanted to do it before.
No more than 1,500 people showed at Amesbury Sports Park on a surprisingly chilly, overcast summer day, and about 500 actually participated. Smith fell far short of his goal of setting a world record, but the best weird sports often take time for their genius to be fully realized. “It’s definitely a silly game,” said Smith, who also hosts a popular scavenger hunt each September. “But anyone can hone their skills to play musical chairs.” Smith dreamed up the event about 18 months ago. He’s full of crazy ideas, and someone asked him to suggest a benefit to help their favorite charity. Musical chairs, he thought. The first match drew 35 people. There are rules for musical chairs. The most important of them state that you must be at least 18, you can’t be too aggressive — in other words, don’t be a jerk — and you must keep moving until the music stops, then take a seat within 7 seconds. Do not grab a chair with your hands. “It’s all ass,” Smith said.
Smith playfully taunted the athletes as he read the rules, telling them, “You don’t want to be the first one eliminated in the first-ever musical chairs world championships.” Can you imagine the shame? The field of play included 18 sections of 40 seats. I’ll do the math for you: That’s 720 chairs. Smith could have probably staged the event in one round, but what’s the fun in that? Instead, he broke it down into four heats, with the survivors advancing to the next round. Those finishing in the top 10 received a cushioned folding chair. The champion took home a chair and $10,000. The action started casually and playfully. People danced around the chairs, showing moves typically seen in dark high school gyms. But when the music stopped, the scene turned chaotic as people scrambled for open chairs. Think Black Friday at Walmart. A dozen referees in orange T-shirts were on hand to judge close calls, and there were plenty as the competition wore on and the number of seats dwindled.
Friendly bouncers, er, enforcers wearing earpieces and gray T-shirts were only too happy to “escort” those who argued or ignored a ref’s call. I asked one if he ever thought he’d be an enforcer at the Musical Chairs World Championships. “No, never,” he replied with a smile. Ironically, one of the first to be kicked off the island was former pro wrestler Steve Chamberland. You’d have thought he’d know his way around a folding chair. Just like Highlander, there can be only one. As the competition wound down to the final two, a championship chair was placed in a circle and the finalists danced to Sir Mix-A-Lot’s classic, “Baby Got Back (I Like Big Butts).” Stepping into the circle before the music stopped meant disqualification. Mike Sugalski of Nashua, New Hampshire, was the last man seated. A friend had hounded him into entering just a few days earlier, and he threw himself into training. How does one train for a musical chairs championship? “Sitting down, eating raw eggs, the yooz,” he said, using what apparently is New Hampshirese for “the usual.”