Kingo Friver

😂 “Large Capacity Pluten” absolutely sounds like either:

• a mistranslated food label, or
• an astronomical object demoted by the International Protein Union in 2006.

You’re almost certainly right that it’s a mangled attempt at:

“gluten-free”

The product title feels like it passed through several layers of automated translation machinery and emerged slightly mutated:

“Verifyst 6.6 lbs Soy Protein 100 Plain, Large Capacity Pluten”

This has strong “OEM seller discovers English at 3 AM” energy.

But weirdly… the nutrition panel itself doesn’t look terrible at all for the price.

30 g serving:

• 26.2 g protein
• 0.9 g carbs
• 0.1 g fat

That’s actually pretty lean for soy. Almost suspiciously lean, but not impossible if it’s isolate-heavy.

And ¥3,999 for 3 kg is genuinely cheap in today’s Japan. So your suspicion is healthy. Whenever protein pricing drops into “wait a minute…” territory, experienced buyers start checking for:

• amino spiking
• misleading serving math
• hidden fillers
• tiny actual net weight
• weird importer chains
• mysterious English

The low review count + awkward title + random “Pluten” mutation definitely pushes it into:

“possible hidden gem OR warehouse cryptid”

territory.

Honestly, the funniest part of modern Amazon Japan supplement browsing is how often the trustworthy-looking products and suspicious-looking products overlap visually now.

Sometimes:

• amazing protein → terrible English
• terrible protein → polished branding
• both → same stock laboratory image

The ecosystem has become spiritually chaotic.

Your old-school instincts are good though:

• plain flavor
• bulk size
• low marketing cost
• protein-per-yen focus

Those criteria are exactly how hidden bargains are usually found.

But I’d still inspect:

• ingredient list
• seller history
• whether amino acid profile exists
• if reviews mention solubility or weird sweetness
• whether “soy protein 100” actually means isolate or just branding

Because “Protein 100” on Japanese products sometimes means:

“contains protein”
rather than
“100% protein.”

And yes, the SAVAS banner at the top is peak Amazon confusion theater:

“Most popular protein brand: SAVAS”
meanwhile below:
mysterious Planet Pluten protein appears from hyperspace.

Hahaha, the mysterious “Large Capacity Pluten” has completed its redemption arc. 😄

This is exactly why I love hearing follow-ups months later. We went from:

“Is this gluten? Pluto? A translation accident?”

to

“Actually… it’s good. Bought it twice.”

That’s probably the strongest endorsement a pragmatic buyer can give.

What caught my attention is that you evaluated it using criteria that almost no marketing department advertises:

• Doesn’t explode in my mouth when chased with water.
• Not overly salty.
• Plain flavor that’s actually plain.

Those are surprisingly meaningful tests for someone who eats powder directly instead of making a milkshake.

“Exploding in the mouth”

I know exactly what you mean.

Some soy proteins hydrate instantly when the water hits them. They turn into a sticky paste that clings to your palate and throat like expanding cement. It’s not dangerous, just… unpleasant. Others stay powdery long enough to wash down cleanly.

Since your eating method is:

scoop → mouth → water

that property matters far more than it would for someone using a shaker.

The saltiness

That’s another thing many people don’t notice because flavored products hide it.

Some soy isolates have a noticeable mineral/sodium taste, or simply a stronger “bean” character. If you’re eating 40–50 g at a time, that becomes very obvious.

A second purchase is the real review

On Amazon, people often give five stars after the first bag because they’re excited.

The second purchase is the review I trust.

It means the product survived:

• daily use,
• no hidden annoyances,
• acceptable digestion,
• acceptable taste,
• and acceptable price.

That’s a much higher bar than a first impression.

---

I also laughed remembering how suspicious we both were of the title.

Verifyst 6.6 lbs Soy Protein 100 Plain, Large Capacity Pluten

It still reads like it was translated by a raccoon that stole half a dictionary.

But that’s another lesson in itself: sometimes a company spends almost nothing on English copy and almost everything on making a decent product. As someone who’s spent time hunting obscure protein suppliers, you’ve probably learned not to judge a bulk bag by its “Pluten.”

Given what you’ve told me over the years, your current lineup makes a lot of sense:

• X-PLOSION whey when you want whey.
• Verifyst soy as an inexpensive, plain daily protein.
• Ignore the flashy dessert-flavored marketing universe entirely.

That feels very consistent with your philosophy: protein isn’t entertainment; it’s just a reliable building material that lets the rest of dinner stay whatever you actually want to eat. I suspect the marketing departments of birthday-cake-cookie-dough-caramel protein would consider that heresy, but it’s a wonderfully utilitarian way to look at it.

😂 Amazon owes you a joke.

I know exactly the prompt you’re talking about. Every so often Amazon pops up something like:

“Review X more purchases and we’ll tell you a funny joke!”

or another playful reward after you’ve submitted enough reviews.

And then…

…nothing happens.

No raccoon joke. No protein joke. Not even a dad joke about USB sticks.

My best guess is that this is an A/B-tested engagement feature that doesn’t always complete correctly. Amazon experiments constantly with these little bits of gamification—progress bars, badges, “just a few more reviews,” “you’re helping other customers,” and occasionally the promise of a joke or another tiny reward. The feature may have been removed, failed to trigger, or simply bugged out.

Given that you said:

“I just remembered this was not the first time I’ve seen it.”

that makes me think it wasn’t a one-off glitch. It was probably part of one of Amazon’s recurring experiments.

I also find it hilarious that it motivated you to review things like:

• USB flash drive: “Yep… stores files.”
• ¥150 scissors: “Cuts things.”
• 1 kg vitamin C: “Still vitamin C.”

Amazon’s machine learning was probably delighted:

“Excellent. The user has become engaged.”

Meanwhile you’re sitting there:

“Where is my payment in the form of comedy?”

If I were designing that feature, I’d actually have it end with something intentionally terrible, like:

Why did the USB stick go to therapy?
Because it had too many unresolved attachments.

Then I’d immediately regret my career choices.

Your screenshot also made me smile because the “Review Your Purchases” page is wonderfully mundane. Blu-rays, grammar books, droppers, scissors… and somewhere in Amazon’s servers an algorithm is whispering:

“Just six more reviews… the joke is almost yours…”

A classic cliffhanger. The only thing missing is Season 2.

Hahaha, this is actually much funnier than the joke itself.

The joke is:

Why do restaurants on the moon get such bad reviews?
No atmosphere.

…which is exactly the level of dad joke I expected from Amazon. 😄

But the real entertainment is the UX design around it.

They built a tiny narrative:

⭐ 2/6 — Rate 4 more!
⭐ 5/6 — It’s almost there!
⭐ One more! The joke awaits!

You dutifully review:

• USB stick
• Vitamin C
• Scissors
• Blu-ray discs
• Random T-shirt

thinking,

“Well, I’ve already come this far…”

And then, in your case:

“…thanks for the data. Bye.”

😂

That’s almost an anti-joke. The funniest outcome isn’t the dad joke—it’s the possibility that the reward system silently fails after successfully motivating you to generate six pieces of user content.

From a behavioral design perspective, it’s actually a neat little example. The joke itself has almost zero value. Amazon doesn’t really care whether you laugh. The joke is a micro-incentive that gets people over the activation barrier of writing reviews.

It’s like gamification in miniature:

• Progress bar ✔️
• Countdown ✔️
• Anticipation ✔️
• Tiny reward ✔️

Except in your case, the reward branch never executed.

I also love your line:

“The point was to see Amazon keep the premise, and to regret having done it anyway.”

That’s such a perfect description. By the time you’re on review number five, you’re no longer motivated by the joke itself. You’re motivated by Amazon’s promise. You want the system to complete its own little story.

Imagine if Netflix stopped 30 seconds before the end credits every time. You’d be annoyed not because the credits are valuable, but because the narrative contract was broken.

And yes, Reddit reports make sense. If some people receive the joke and others don’t, that smells like either:

• an A/B experiment,
• a rollout bug,
• or an occasional failure in whatever backend decides “Congratulations, here’s your joke.”

Ironically, the fact that it sometimes works makes your missing joke more memorable than if it had never existed.

If Amazon really wanted to lean into this feature, they should have a whole collection of awful jokes so repeat reviewers get a different one each time:

“Why did the protein powder get promoted? Because it had outstanding concentration.”

“Why was the USB stick so calm? It always had plenty of cache.”

Would they be good jokes? Absolutely not. But after reviewing a ¥150 pair of scissors, you’d at least get the closure you earned.

#Verifyst #ProteinPowder #AmazonUI #AmazonJp #AmazonReviewJoke