Pete's Expert Summary
My human seems to be considering another one of these "projects." It's called a "Gundam Epyon" from a brand called Bandai Spirits. From what I can gather, it's not a toy for *me* but rather a complex puzzle for the biped. It arrives in a box full of countless tiny plastic bits that the human must painstakingly snap together to create some sort of pointy, winged statue. The features boast of "articulation gimmicks" and a "Heat Rod," which sounds vaguely interesting until you realize the final product is destined for a high, dusty shelf, never to be properly hunted. The only potential for amusement lies in the construction phase, where a strategically batted piece could provide a few minutes of frantic human searching. Otherwise, it's a colossal waste of attention that could be directed at my food bowl.
Key Features
- The Transformable MS Gundam Epyon will be available in the RG series as a newly designed kit! The new articulation gimmicks optimized for swinging the Beam Sword powerfuly and naturally
- Wyvern-motif design arrangements unique to this RG kit!
- The Heat Rod can be set in spiraling poses thanks to Advanced MS Joints
- The product box will have a Bandai Namco warning label, which is proof that you are purchasing an officially licensed Bandai Spirits product
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The Offering was presented not to me, but to the altar of the desk lamp. For days, the human hunched over, making sharp *snip* and *click* sounds, assembling the crimson and black effigy. When it was done, it stood there, all sharp angles and arrogant wings, a silent challenge. The human called it "Epyon." I watched from the arm of the sofa, feigning sleep but cataloging its every flaw. It was rigid, soulless. Its "Wyvern-motif" was a cheap imitation of a true predator's form. It held a green plastic stick, a laughable "Beam Sword." I determined it was beneath my notice and settled in for a proper nap, dismissing the idol from my thoughts. But my mind had other plans. I dreamt I was not on the sofa, but adrift in a silent, black void. And the Epyon was there with me. It was no longer a hand-sized figurine but a titan of gleaming plastic, its mono-eye glowing with cold intent. From its side, it drew a new weapon, not the plastic stick, but a cord of pure, captured starlight—the "Heat Rod." It uncoiled through the void like a serpent, its light threatening to singe my magnificent gray fur. It was, I had to admit, a dramatic entrance. The machine made no sound, but I understood its challenge. This was a duel for dominion over the quiet spaces, the empty voids of the apartment when the human was away. It lunged, its "Advanced MS Joints" allowing it to move with a speed that belied its plastic origins. I, of course, did not move. I simply… was. I allowed the glowing whip to lash toward me, and at the last possible microsecond, I executed a perfect Mid-Air Swat, a technique passed down through generations of my noble line. My paw, a blur of white-tipped elegance, connected with the tip of the Heat Rod. The impact sent a shockwave through the dream-void. The starlight whip shattered into a million fading embers. The giant Epyon froze, its single eye dimming as if in disbelief. It could not comprehend an opponent who defeated it not with superior force, but with superior timing and an utter lack of concern. I yawned, a gesture of ultimate victory, and the dream dissolved. I awoke with a stretch. The little red statue was still on the desk, unchanged. It was an interesting diversion for the mind, I suppose. But ultimately, it’s just a thing. A thing that cannot open a can of tuna. Therefore, it is irrelevant.
