The candy is the creature.
We ate the e.

The candy is the creature.
We ate the e.

Monstr is soft candy you can squish before you eat it. You get gummies and marshmallow-like chews in blob shapes. Some are sour. The flavours come from real fruit juice, and there is no gelatin, so the friend who skips gelatin can share the bag too. A 120 g pouch costs 29–35 SEK at Pressbyrån and 7-Eleven, and the pouch looks good in your hand, on your desk and on camera.
A candy shelf where a 20-year-old can pick a bag for themselves and nobody reads it as childish or as a diet. Candy gets bought for the feeling again, and the bag is something you're glad to be seen holding.
This book is for everyone who makes something with Monstr's name on it: the team, the co-packer, printers, agencies and anyone filming a launch. Read the foundation first — it explains why the candy is the creature. Then use the identity pages as rules, not suggestions. When something is not covered, ask what would keep the candy the loudest thing in the frame, and check with the brand team before it goes out.
The candy is the creature.
Candy is at its best when it neither shouts like a kids' bag nor apologises like a health snack.
We make soft, chewy candy without gelatin, in blob shapes you want to squeeze. Its flavour comes from real fruit juice. We pack it in bags designed to be kept, and we sell it where Gen Z already buys snacks.
For 16–25-year-olds who buy candy for the feeling and share it, Monstr is the soft candy whose character lives in the candy itself: squishy, gelatin-free blobs in a bag worth keeping, neither a cartoon nor a diet.
Every Monstr is soft enough to squish, has no gelatin and tastes of the fruit named on the bag.
No gelatin in any product.
Made with real fruit juice in every flavour.
Six shapes and flavours at launch, some of them sour.
Made in Sweden with a Swedish co-packer.
120 g pouch at 29–35 SEK, and a 400 g share box.
We ate the e.
The category assumes candy needs a personality painted onto the bag. Kids get a mascot, a cartoon or neon. Adults get the personality taken away and replaced with beige and a claim. Both put the character on the outside. Monstr puts it inside: the shape, the squish and the chew are the personality. The bag stays calm and well made, so the candy can be the loud thing in the room.
Monstr sells in the bagged-candy aisle and competes there for the same 30 kronor as Haribo, Cloetta/Malaco and Candy People. In attitude it sits closer to designed food brands like Graza, Omsom and Fishwife than to kids' candy. It refuses two shelves: the kids' shelf, with its cartoons and neon, and the health shelf, with its beige packs and promises of less.
16–25-year-olds who buy their own candy at Pressbyrån or 7-Eleven, eat it with friends and film what they like. Often they are the one who buys the bag for the group, and the group may include someone who doesn't eat gelatin.
Young adults who shop the grocery candy aisle and are tired of both cartoon candy and beige "better-for-you" candy. It also takes in anyone who avoids gelatin, whether for vegetarian, vegan or other dietary reasons, households buying a share box for the evening, and people who collect designed packaging, drops and merch. The core group is reached where they film and share. The wider audience is reached at the shelf, through the pack.
Functional: soft gummies and chews you can squish, sour or sweet, made with real fruit juice and no gelatin, in a 120 g pouch for 29–35 SEK where you already buy candy.
Emotional: the bag you are happy to be seen holding and to share with the whole group, including the friend who skips gelatin. Candy that feels made for your age, not for children and not for a diet.
One brand with no sub-brands.
Soft, squishy candy with no gelatin and real fruit juice, made for you. Not for your little brother, and not for your diet.
Squish it first. The character is in the shape and the texture. Proof: six blob shapes, all soft, no faces.
The bag goes round. No gelatin, so the friend who skips gelatin shares it too. Proof: the gelatin-free recipe and the 400 g share box.
Keep the bag. Packaging designed to outlast the candy. Proof: the pouch and box design.
Tastes like the fruit. Real fruit juice in every flavour. Proof: the juice percentage on the back of every pack.
Order: claim → mechanism → benefit → proof.
Words Monstr owns:
Words Monstr avoids:
How technical terms get translated:
Candy got split in two. One half shouts: cartoons, neon, a bear on the bag, made for someone younger than you. The other half apologises: beige, quiet, telling you what it left out. We don't think candy needs either. We think the character belongs in the candy itself, in a shape you squeeze before you eat it and a chew that pushes back. We left out the gelatin so the bag can go round the whole group. We kept the fruit juice so the flavour means something. We made a bag you'll want to keep after it's empty. No face. No mascot. No apology. Something ate the e. It's soft.
Squeeze it first. It's raspberry, and it pushes back.
Dry and short, with one joke at most per surface. The shape name is the headline, and the fruit is stated plainly underneath. On allergens and ingredients, no jokes at all.
Squeeze first. Then eat.
No gelatin. The bag goes round.
Not for your little brother. Not for your diet.
Monstr can win buyers from both the kids' shelf and the health shelf without looking like either: the 20-year-old who has outgrown cartoon bags and the one who is tired of beige ones. Because the character is a shape rather than a drawn creature, the identity can be built to work small, in one colour and embroidered on merch, where a cartoon would not survive. The mark still has to be designed and tested at those sizes. Monstr can sell a share box because it has no gelatin, without making health claims. It can run numbered drops that build a collection. And it can grow the range by adding shapes and textures without ever needing a character or a sub-brand.
Monstr is a Swedish soft-candy brand launching in spring 2027, and it is built on one observation: candy has split in two. Kids' candy sells with cartoons and neon. "Better-for-you" candy sells by apologising, in beige packs that list what was left out. Neither is made for the 16–25-year-olds who actually buy candy for themselves, for the feeling, and share it.
Monstr's answer is to put the character in the candy itself. The range is soft gummies and marshmallow-like chews in squishy blob shapes, flavoured with real fruit juice, a few of them sour, and made without gelatin, so the bag can go round a whole group. There is no mascot. The name tells the story: something ate the e.
The packaging is designed as an object worth keeping, built on soft, heavy type and bold flat colour. Monstr launches at Pressbyrån and 7-Eleven at 29–35 SEK per 120 g pouch, with a 400 g share box and limited drops online. It is aiming for ICA and Coop within the first year, then Norway, Denmark and Finland, then the UK.
Always:
Never:
The height of the o in the wordmark, on every side. No other element may enter the dashed area — not type, not an image edge, not a partner mark.
The dashed line is the margin from the layout system. The mark never crosses it, and never sits closer to another element than its own clear space.
The divider is one grid unit; the partner mark is scaled to match the optical height of ours, never the literal height. Neither mark may sit inside the other's clear space. Where a partner's own guidelines conflict with these, theirs govern their mark and ours governs ours.
Derived from the core colours — never hand-picked.
Every ratio below is computed, not claimed.
Surface carries the page, ink carries the words, and the accent is spent once. A layout where the accent competes with the surface is the most common way this system goes wrong.
The pattern is made only from the six real candy outlines, traced from photographs of the moulded pieces and set at a scale where they overlap and run off every edge. It comes in three colourways: raspberry, plum and apricot on cream, each with the dark ink as the fourth colour. Shapes never carry faces, outlines or gradients — flat fill only. The pattern is a surface, never a background behind text: copy sits on a cream panel or on a flat field next to it.
One shape is never smaller than a thumb at the size the item is seen — on a pouch, a shape spans at least a third of its width; on tissue and totes, two to three shapes fit across. Let the pattern run off the edge on every side; a shape is never fully framed in the middle. Keep the wordmark and the shape name clear of the pattern with a cream panel at least the wordmark's own height around it.



| Style | Size | Line height | Tracking | Sample |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Display | 76 px | 0.95 | -0.03em | Monstr |
| H1 | 54 px | 1.0 | -0.02em | Monstr |
| H2 | 38 px | 1.1 | -0.02em | Monstr |
| H3 | 27 px | 1.2 | -0.01em | Monstr |
| Body | 17 px | 1.6 | 0 | Monstr |
| Caption | 13 px | 1.5 | 0.02em | Monstr |
Display carries the argument; the text face carries the evidence. Nothing in a layout should need a third size that is not on the scale — if it does, the hierarchy is the problem, not the type.
Monstr uses words before icons. A circle with a diagonal reads as a prohibition sign and makes the candy look like a warning.
Where an icon is needed, such as the sour marker, web navigation or a pack detail, it follows these rules:
The sour marker is the word Sour, set in Figtree in capitals, inside a soft-cornered tab in the pack's text colour. It sits in the same place on every sour pack.
Certification marks, such as a vegan label, are used only once the certification is granted.
Icons are drawn on a 24 px artboard with a 2 px keyline, on the same 8 px base unit as every other measurement in the system. Square shapes fill the keyline; circular shapes overshoot it slightly so the two read at the same optical size.
One piece of candy per frame, in a hand or under a thumb, close enough to see the surface give. No faces, no props that suggest kids.













Monstr names what it is made of and claims nothing it has not measured. The candy is the loud part of the brand, so the facts around it stay plain and checkable.
What we say:
What we do not say until it is confirmed:
What we never say:
The pack is meant to feel made. The intent is uncoated board with a dry, matte surface that takes the flat colour deeply, so the pack invites a thumb the way the candy does. The final substrate, the barrier inside the pouch and any print finish, such as a debossed wordmark on the share box, are settled in production with the co-packer. They are described here only once they are real.
Allergen and ingredient information carries no jokes. It is complete, set legibly and placed in the same position on every pack.



Every layout is built from one unit: the height of the lowercase o in the wordmark at the size it is used. Clear space around the wordmark is one unit on every side. Pack margins, the gaps between elements and the spacing in social frames are whole multiples of that unit, so the brand scales from the 120 g pouch to the 400 g share box without new rules.
The pack front is a single centred column. Elements are stacked in a fixed order from top to bottom:
Nothing else goes on the front except the sour marker on sour shapes, always in the same position.
The silhouette is traced from a real, photographed piece of that shape, not drawn freehand from a description. The candy's own outline is the trace of the hand in the system.
Headlines and shape names break into even lines. If a name or headline will not break evenly, the copy changes, not the spacing.
The share box uses the same column on its main face, scaled to the larger panel. Social frames use the same stack: the candy or the silhouette in the centre, the shape name large and the facts small. The grid's job is to make the bag look simple, with few elements and wide space. Simple does not mean muted. The colour field always fills the surface.
Things land with a small overshoot and settle, the way a gummy wobbles after you drop it. Type can squash briefly on entry, then hold still. Keep it to one bounce, because a second one starts to look like a kids' cartoon.
Transform and opacity only. Every motion has a still equivalent: with reduced motion switched on, nothing on this page moves.
On the pack, Monstr relies on four tools: the shape name set huge in a soft heavy serif, one flat colour per shape, the faceless silhouette traced from the real candy, and the tactile finish of uncoated board. All other elements are left off. The candy carries the character. The bag is a well-made object that people want to keep on a desk and that holds up on camera.
120 g pouch, front, from top to bottom in a single centred column:
The field colour covers the entire front, flat. The silhouette and all type share one colour, cream or ink, whichever passes on that field. On sour shapes, the Sour tab sits in the same position every time.
Back of pack: a cream panel with ink text carries ingredients, the gelling agent named in plain words, allergens, the juice percentage with the fruit it comes from, weight and "Made in Sweden". The panel holds no jokes. One line of voice is allowed above it, for example "Squeeze first. Then eat."
400 g share box: the same stack, the same unit and the same rules, scaled up by whole multiples of the o-height. The box is built to be opened on a table and passed round. Its field colour is set once the box's contents are confirmed.
Drops: these use the same pack system. "Drop 01", "Drop 02" and so on are set in Figtree above the facts line, in the front's text colour. The number lives on the pack. A drop takes the field colour of the shape it contains. A drop that introduces a new shape waits until that shape's colour has been set and measured. A drop never gets a new name, a new colour outside the system or a new layout.
Material and finish: the intent is uncoated board, or a paper-faced pouch that feels like it, printed in flat colour with no gloss. The final structure depends on the barrier the candy needs and on what the co-packer can produce. Resealing and recyclability are not stated on the pack until they are confirmed.
Language: every line is sized for its longest language version, so the layout survives translation without the type getting smaller.
Pouches are printed on uncoated, matte stock so the fruit colours read flat and the board feels like paper in the hand — no gloss, no metallic inks, no window unless the share box needs one. Colours are proofed on the real pouch stock before every run, because uncoated board dulls them. The supplier and the exact stock are chosen with the co-packer, and every shape colour is approved from a printed proof held next to the juice it is named after.




Every campaign is built from the same four parts:
The launch campaign introduces the six shapes as six fields, one per shape, and uses the tagline "We ate the e." once, as the sign-off. No claim appears in a campaign before it is confirmed. That covers vegan, the juice percentage and recyclability.



On merch the mark is the full wordmark or its M, centred, in one flat colour on one flat ground. Embroidery uses the M; the full wordmark only after a sample at that size. A shape silhouette appears only on items that belong to that shape — a raspberry tote in the raspberry shape's colour. Never faces, eyes or teeth, never neon, never a character mascot.

Walls, counters and signs are built from uncoated board, painted MDF and paper in cream and the shape colours — matte surfaces only, no gloss, no neon, no inflatables. Big type is printed or painted flat, cropped by the edge of the wall where the space allows. Lighting is warm and even so the colours read as they do on the pouch. Fabricators and fire ratings are agreed with each venue before anything is built.

