It happened at a time when the magazine market was still manageable. The range of comic publications was also limited. Then a little booklet set out to revolutionize the world for all cheeky children. Yps showed what seems to be common practice today in youth magazines. Beneath the transparent packaging lay not only reading material but also a gimmick, usually some nonsense made of the cheapest plastic, which could often be stylized with flowery words into a world revolution, without which the children would not survive the next day.

But the years went by, and the unique selling point was copied by more and more competing products. The circulation plummeted, and thus Yps was discontinued just a few days before its 25th anniversary due to insufficient sales success. Since then, there have been a few attempts to re-establish it in the market with new editions aimed not at minors but at 23 to 32-year-old big kids. However, all of these quickly disappeared again into oblivion.

Now, in April 2012, another new beginning was announced. The Yps magazine was to return for the children of yesteryear, explicitly targeting those now aged 30 to 45. With an initial print run of 120,000 copies, they wanted to test whether a regular edition would be financially viable. A semi-annual publication frequency is planned, with hopes of increasing the frequency if successful.

On the day of publication, magazine retailers were practically inundated in response to the pre-promoted campaign. After one day, the magazine was virtually sold out across Germany. I myself had no luck at the train station kiosk in the afternoon, nor at various other stores I visited.

Yes, as an eager consumer during the magazine's heyday, I wanted to at least read the first issue. But no chance; many others shared my frustration on Yps's Facebook page. A reprint was ruled out due to the fact that the accompanying gimmick could not be procured in sufficient quantities in such a short time.

So here we are at my first point of criticism before I could even take a look at the magazine. The sales argument relied on the previously most popular supplement, the so-called Urzeitkrebs. These are eggs of the Artemia salina, also known as brine shrimp in German. This is often bred by aquarists as fish food or sold as frozen food in pet stores. A life meant to be eaten, not pretty but at least a relatively natural course of events. What is not natural at all is to be bred for fun by thousands of ignorant people, only to perish miserably due to the owners' lack of knowledge or simply lack of interest, often due to incorrect water values, or to be flushed down the toilet. Anyone who actually wants to breed these little creatures should inform themselves properly beforehand, acquire a decent breeding setup, and can then buy the eggs cheaper at a pet store. But no, living beings should really not be offered as toys. Or could you imagine sealing a puppy as a supplement in the packaging? What gives you the right to value the lives of these shrimp less?

Back to the printed part. In the meantime, I managed to organize at least one issue to flip through and am now quite glad I didn't spend the proud price of 5.90. The briefly readable story with data and facts about Yps would have sufficed as a nostalgic obituary. But the thread runs through all one hundred pages of this new beginning, which at least appears to be made of high-quality material. Even with the classifieds, which seem to have been collected on the Facebook fan page, the positive first impression evaporates. Not only are the ads very pointless, but there are also repeated references to Mr. Zuckerberg's social network at various points. Too often, this annoying network is referenced again and again. It's a shame that while a connection is made from paper to the internet, no own homepage is provided, but rather the data collection frenzy of the US company is actively supported.

After a few mostly unknown celebrities could give a short statement about their childhood memories and a much too brief guide on how to care for Artemia follows what can probably be called a lifestyle magazine. At least I read this term somewhere, which I cannot claim for such magazines. Probably for good reason, as the idea of a self-stirring coffee mug and pizza cutter is at best tiring.

Interviews, including with the albatross Michael Groß or the illustrator of Yinni and Yan, read more or less interesting. The conversation with the latter is my personal highlight, as Mr. Höpfner turns out to be the nightmare of every interviewer, as he provides fewer details than little Anneliese during children's nonsense with Michael. An unintentional comedy, perhaps precisely because it is so hilarious.

The new comics are okay, although the excerpt from Zombillenium, touted as a serial story, rather comes off as a sales show. Because if the next issue is only planned for half a year later, it makes sense only to boost the sales of the corresponding books from the same publisher.

I don't want to say much more about the other fillers like the childish article "Akte Y" about the popular secret agent gimmicks or the comparison of bicycles, wristwatches, or soda cans from the eighties with those of today. The text from Rüdiger Nehberg's book "Sir Vival" also feels more like an extended advertisement. Perhaps the report on the development of home computers is worth mentioning, while the comparison of any cars from then and now should be swept under the rug of silence without further information.

Completely ridiculous are the magic tricks, where the author couldn't decide who he was addressing, children or childish adults. Explaining to a mature person that one is founding a magical Yps club, whose members commit to not revealing tricks, is more than embarrassing. The actual tricks don't get any better, as they are nothing more than cheap party gags, which are no longer secret after the first performance anyway.

I cannot for the life of me understand what the fashion show with kangaroo Yps and colleagues is supposed to mean. Silly comments from the protagonists, and then they present some designer clothes. Is this advertising? Is this funny? Is this necessary?

Finally, 20 pages with original comics from the old issues. With Yinni + Yan, I wonder how I could read that with enthusiasm as a child. Perhaps one could overlook the logical gaps, like the clichéd villain who initially speaks broken German and then switches to perfect High German, or the dutiful garbage collectors who flee five seconds before the "garbage" falls into their container – so the story doesn't end right away. I prefer the story Hombre, which I can't remember ever having seen in an old issue.

In conclusion, I must sadly say that I do not wish to acquire another issue. The nostalgia has faded, the old comics are no longer suitable after a certain age, and the new ones lack content. And I can absolutely do without all the lifestyle nonsense. Even with a more frequent publication frequency, one cannot look back to the old times forever; the creators need to come up with something new. I am curious about what gimmick will be included in March. Perhaps an egg warmer for the aging readership or the roe for raising real fish in a mustard jar with a survival guarantee of up to three days.

In the meantime, the publisher has responded to the pleas of fans who came up empty-handed and released an iPhone/iPad app for just under four euros for download. For focusing exclusively on Apple products at this time, I deduct another point. A universally usable eBook version would have been fair. With a touch of nostalgia, the whole thing is worth at most three points to me. After all, the bonus of a former fan is still included. At least I now have a rough idea of what a lifestyle magazine is supposed to be and why I don't want to read something like that.