BEHIND THE SCENES – Tulip Flames: The 2S4 Tyulpan – A Tribute to Cold War Engineering

In the shadowed corridors of Cold War history, the 2S4 Tyulpan stands as a paradox—a weapon of brutal efficiency wrapped in the poetic nickname “Tulip.” Designed in the 1970s as a response to NATO’s fortified bunkers, this self-propelled mortar was engineered to obliterate hardened targets with 240mm shells capable of piercing 12 meters of concrete. Unlike its contemporaries, the Tyulpan didn’t just bombard; it excavated. Nicknamed the “Bunker Buster” by Soviet troops, it became the scalpel in the USSR’s arsenal, carving through obstacles that lesser weapons merely scratched.
For military enthusiasts, the Tyulpan represents a watershed moment in artillery design. Its hybrid chassis—a marriage of a GMZ mine-laying vehicle and a turret housing the colossal mortar—allowed it to fire, reposition, and vanish before counter-battery radars could lock on. “It wasn’t just a weapon,” says Yestin Fun, NifeliZ’s lead designer. “It was a chess piece in the Cold War’s deadliest game.”
Yestin Fun’s obsession began with a single photograph: a Tyulpan poised in the Afghan mountains, its barrel angled like a violinist’s bow. “I wanted to capture that tension between elegance and destruction,” he recalls. But translating a 27-ton behemoth into a building brick set demanded more than reverence—it required engineering alchemy.
The Tyulpan’s 20-foot barrel could elevate to 80 degrees, a feat Yestin replicated using a dual-axis hinge system. “We tested 14 prototypes,” he admits. “Traditional LEGO hinges sagged under the weight, so we combined Technic liftarms with custom brackets. Now, when you adjust the barrel, it clicks into place like the original’s hydraulic locks.”
The mortar’s baseplate—a 1.5-ton steel disc—had to absorb recoil without toppling the model. Yestin’s solution? A collapsible brick lattice inspired by origami. “It unfolds like a flower,” he says, “but locks rigid under tension. Builders will feel that ‘snap’ of stability—the same sensation crews felt when deploying the real Tyulpan.”
Open the NifeliZ Tyulpan’s hull, and you’ll find secrets even historians might miss:
The Ammo Bay’s “Easter Egg”: Slide out the brick-built 3OF-3 shells, and you’ll find tiny Cyrillic markings—a nod to factory stamps on original munitions.
The Cockpit’s Cold War Quirks: The driver’s periscope uses a transparent orange brick to mimic Soviet anti-laser filters. “It’s pointless in a model,” Yestin laughs, “but it’s those details that whisper, ‘This was built by humans, not machines.’”
For Yestin, the Tyulpan’s legacy isn’t measured in rubble but in risks taken. “The Soviets could’ve built another tank,” he notes. “Instead, they created this thing—a mortar that thinks it’s a missile. That’s the spirit we channeled.”
The set’s pièce de résistance? A functional gear-shifting mechanism mimicking the Tyulpan’s 5-speed transmission. Rotate the brick-built lever, and you’ll feel the same resistance Soviet drivers faced navigating Kabul’s ravines. “It’s not about playability,” Yestin insists. “It’s about empathy. When your fingers fumble those gears, you’re touching history.”
As Yestin finalizes plans for a companion model—the Tyulpan’s rarely-seen ammunition carrier—he reflects on the project’s irony. “The real Tyulpan was designed to erase things. We’re using bricks to make sure it’s never forgotten.”
To build this set is to resurrect a machine that straddled madness and genius. Each click of a brick echoes the Cold War’s relentless innovation—a reminder that even in destruction, there’s art.