A photo of Pete the cat

Pete's Toy Box: Gundam

TAMASHII NATIONS - Mobile Suit Gundam Seed Destiny - ZGMF-X20A Strike Freedom Gundam, Gundam Universe Action Figure

By: TAMASHII NATIONS

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has acquired what appears to be a small, plastic idol from a company with a needlessly dramatic name, TAMASHII NATIONS. This "Strike Freedom Gundam" is, apparently, a miniature warrior from one of their noisy cartoons. For me, its best features are its silence and lack of assembly; no batteries means no sudden, terrifying whirring, and no construction means the human's attention was only briefly diverted from its primary purpose: serving me. Its so-called "portability" simply translates to being light enough for me to shove off a high surface with minimal effort. While its many pointy bits present a mild curiosity for batting, its rigid posture suggests it will offer none of the satisfying, floppy chaos of a true plaything. It is, most likely, destined to gather dust and obstruct my path to a prime napping spot.

Key Features

  • From "Mobile Suit Gundam SEED DESTINY" comes Kira Yamato's Strike Freedom Gundam!
  • Batteries required : False
  • Is assembly required : False
  • Special feature : Portable

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The monolith arrived in a glossy box, which I dutifully inspected for structural integrity before the human shooed me away. Once freed, the plastic creature was placed on the mantelpiece, a zone usually reserved for framed pictures of my less-impressive baby photos and a hideously fragile glass vase. The human posed it, wings flared, little cannons aimed at nothing. It stood there, a silent, colorful sentry, and I immediately dismissed it as an inanimate bore. It didn't smell like fish, it didn't crinkle, and it certainly didn't wiggle. Useless. For two days, it was merely part of the scenery, another oddity in the human's collection of strange, un-lickable objects. But on the third night, a storm rolled in. Thunder rattled the windows, a deep, angry growl that always set my fur on end. I was hunkered down under the coffee table, pretending to be brave, when a flash of lightning illuminated the room. In that stark, white moment, the Gundam was thrown into sharp relief. Its golden wings seemed to blaze, its white armor shone like bone, and its impassive face looked out into the tempest, utterly unafraid. It was a warrior staring down the sky itself. A particularly violent clap of thunder shook the house, and I flinched, my ears flattening against my skull. My gaze shot back to the mantel. The vibration had been just enough to shift the figure's weight. One of its tiny, articulated arms, the one holding a blue rifle, had drooped slightly, as if weary from the long watch. It looked less like a toy and more like a soldier at the end of a long battle. An odd sense of kinship washed over me. Here we were, two guardians of this carpeted kingdom, facing the roaring chaos outside. When the storm passed and the morning sun streamed in, I leaped gracefully onto the mantel. I approached the plastic sentinel, sniffing its feet. They smelled of nothing. I gently nudged its lowered arm with my nose, a gesture of solidarity. It didn't move, of course. It was, and always would be, a piece of plastic. But it had held its post. I gave a low, approving purr and settled beside it, my soft gray fur a stark contrast to its hard, painted shell. The mantel was now a shared watchtower, and I had decided its new guardian was, against all odds, worthy of the post.

Bandai Hobby - Mobile Suit Gundam Iron Blood Orphans - Gundam Vidar MG 1/100 Model Kit

By: BANDAI SPIRITS

Pete's Expert Summary

My human appears to have acquired another one of his "projects," this time from the reputable house of BANDAI SPIRITS. It’s a box filled not with a ready-to-pounce toy, but with a baffling assortment of flat, plastic sheets holding countless tiny, colorful bits. The claim of "no glue" is a minor mercy, sparing me the acrid fumes of adhesives that so often accompany these endeavors. He seems intent on constructing some sort of blue, angular, and frankly, quite hostile-looking statue he calls "Gundam Vidar." While the final, motionless product will surely be a monumental waste of shelf space, I must confess a certain intrigue. The true prize here is not the assembled figure, but the process: the delicate plastic lattices, or "runners," look perfect for a light chew, and the inevitable escape of a small, critical component across the floor promises a thrilling hunt that could last for days.

Key Features

  • GUNDAM VIDAR from "Mobile Suit Gundam IRON-BLOODED ORPHANS" will join the MG lineup, with an updated Gundam Frame under the direction of mechanical designer Ippei Gyobu!
  • NO GLUE: All of the parts can be easily put together without any glue
  • EASY COLOR RECREATION: The one and only technology that enables four colors to be available in one set of parts, which we call it “runner”
  • RELIABLE HIGH QUALITY: We strive to use our experience and technology to deliver high-quality products to our users around the world
  • The product box will have a Bandai Namco warning label, which is proof that you are purchasing an officially licensed product

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The box arrived with a quiet thud, an unassuming rectangle that smelled faintly of Japanese cardboard and grand, foolish ambition. My human, The Provider of Cushions and Can Openers, placed it on the coffee table with a reverence I typically reserve for a freshly opened tin of tuna. He sat, cross-legged on the floor, and entered a state of focus I found deeply insulting. My tail gave a single, irritated twitch. He carefully sliced the seal and lifted the lid, revealing not a toy, but a puzzle of rigid, plastic skeletons holding tiny, jewel-like components. Blues, grays, and whites, all nested together. He called it a "Master Grade," which I assume is human for "guaranteed to keep him from paying adequate attention to me for several hours." He began his ritual, snipping the pieces from their frames with a small, precise tool. The *click-click* sound was a minor annoyance, but the real offense was the pile of discarded frames. He was just going to *throw them away*. The audacity. While his back was turned, I selected the most intricate of the empty lattices. It was light, spiky, and made a most satisfying *skitter-skattle* as I batted it across the hardwood floor, finally wedging it deep beneath the radiator where his clumsy fingers could never reach. A small victory, but a necessary one to establish the proper order of things. My attention then turned to the main event. He had a small tray where he’d sorted the vital organs of this plastic warrior. My eyes, sharp and discerning, locked onto a single, minuscule piece of dark blue armor. It looked important. A kneecap, perhaps, or an essential bit of its shoulder. As he reached for a different component, my paw, a swift and silent gray blur against the dark wood, shot out. A gentle tap, practiced and perfect, was all it took. The piece flew, not far, but with a perfect arc that landed it silently on the deep shag of the area rug, where it disappeared completely. He didn't notice for another ten minutes. The sudden, frustrated sigh was music to my ears. He got on his hands and knees, patting the floor, his muttering a delightful symphony of despair. I, of course, had curled up on my favorite velvet cushion, feigning a deep, untroubled slumber, the very picture of blameless innocence. The half-assembled Gundam sat on the table, a testament to his hubris. The product itself is a bore—a cold, static thing. But the opportunities it presents for strategic, attention-grabbing mischief? Utterly sublime. A five-star experience in psychological enrichment.

Bandai Hobby - Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury - #26 Gundam Calibarn, Bandai Spirits HG 1/144 Model Kit

By: BANDAI SPIRITS

Pete's Expert Summary

My bipedal staff has, once again, mistaken a box of glorified plastic shards for a "toy." This "Gundam Calibarn" contraption from a brand called BANDAI SPIRITS is, by my estimation, a human-centric activity kit. It arrives in a box promising a formidable robotic figure but contains only flat grids of infinitesimal plastic components. The true appeal, from a feline standpoint, is not the final, static statue that will inevitably gather dust on a high shelf, but the glorious chaos of its construction. The crinkly plastic bags, the tantalizingly tiny pieces just begging to be batted under the heaviest furniture, and the prolonged, focused distraction of my human—*that* is the real prize. The finished product is a monumental waste of my time; the building process, however, is an interactive event of the highest caliber.

Key Features

  • Japan import
  • Style: Regular Edition
  • Color coded plastic model
  • Sotsu, Sunrise, MBS

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The ritual began on a Saturday, a day usually reserved for extended sunbeam sessions. The human laid out a special mat on the coffee table, a green field of sacrifice upon which the contents of the box were scattered. It was a boneyard of plastic, organized onto thin frames my human called "runners." The air filled with the sterile scent of new plastic and the sharp, rhythmic *snip… snip…* of a special tool clipping the pieces free. I watched from the arm of the sofa, my throne, observing this strange symphony of creation. It was, I admit, a rather pathetic concert, but one I felt compelled to oversee. The human's focus was absolute. He’d peer at a sheet of paper covered in cryptic diagrams, then hunt for a specific, minuscule part. This one, number C-14, was a sliver of translucent, iridescent plastic, shimmering like a beetle's wing under the lamp light. He clipped it free, held it in a pair of metal tweezers, and his hand trembled slightly as he moved it toward the partially assembled torso of the plastic warrior. He was building a rival, I mused. A silent, plastic nemesis to challenge my authority. I narrowed my eyes, my tail giving a slow, deliberate thump-thump-thump against the upholstery. And then, it happened. A moment of clumsiness, a twitch of the wrist. The iridescent piece, the very soul of this plastic golem, sprang from the tweezers. It sailed through the air in a lazy arc, a tiny, doomed rainbow, and vanished into the deep shag of the rug below. The symphony stopped. A heavy sigh escaped the human. He got on his hands and knees, patting the floor uselessly. I could have helped. My senses, honed by generations of apex predators, had tracked its trajectory perfectly. I knew its exact location, nestled deep within the plush fibers. But a proper master of the house knows when to assert dominance. I merely stared at him, a silent, gray-furred judge, enjoying his futile search. After several minutes of pathetic scrambling, he gave up and slumped back onto the sofa, defeated. I waited a beat, then two. Then, with the unhurried grace of a king, I hopped down. I located the piece instantly, of course. I did not nudge it toward him. I did not meow. I simply picked it up gently in my mouth—the taste was disappointingly inert—and trotted over to my food bowl, which was tragically only half-full. I dropped the shimmering piece directly into my kibble with a soft *plink*. I looked back at him, meeting his gaze with a level stare. The message was clear: my services are not free. This plastic pretender is of no interest to me, but if you wish for its heart back, you must first pay tribute to the true ruler of this domain.

Funko POP! Super: MS Gundam - RX-78-2 Gundam - Mobile Suit Gundam - Collectable Vinyl Figure - Gift Idea - Official Merchandise - for Kids & Adults - TV Fans - Model Figure for Collectors and Display

By: Funko

Pete's Expert Summary

So, my human has procured another plastic effigy to clutter a perfectly good shelf. This one, a "Funko POP!" of some mechanical warrior from their glowing-box stories, is apparently a big deal. It's a six-inch vinyl statue, meaning it's hard, unyielding, and completely devoid of any appealing texture for rubbing against. Its purpose is to be "collectible" and to be "displayed," which in feline terms means its only function is to sit there, judging me, until I eventually get bored enough to test its relationship with gravity. It's made of "durable vinyl," which is human-speak for "no fun to chew." Frankly, this is a monument to wasted potential; all that plastic could have been used to make a dozen crinkle balls.

Key Features

  • SUPER COLLECTIBLE SIZE - At approximately 6 inches (15.24 cm) tall, this vinyl mini figurine complements other collectable merchandise and fits perfectly in your display case or on your desk.
  • PREMIUM VINYL MATERIAL - Made from high-quality, durable vinyl, this collectible is built to last and withstand daily wear, ensuring long-lasting enjoyment for fans and collectors alike.
  • PERFECT GIFT FOR MOBILE SUIT GUNDAM FANS - Ideal for holidays, birthdays, or special occasions and as a present this exclusive figurine is a must-have addition to any Mobile Suit Gundam merchandise collection
  • EXPAND YOUR COLLECTION - Add this unique RX-78-2 GUNDAM vinyl display piece to your growing assortment of Funko Pop! figures, and seek out other rare and exclusive collectible items for a complete set
  • LEADING POP CULTURE BRAND - Trust in the expertise of Funko, the premier creator of pop culture merchandise that includes vinyl figures, action figures, plush, apparel, board games, and more.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The thing arrived in a clear prison, a box from which it stared with oversized, soulless eyes. The human freed it with a reverence I usually only see reserved for the opening of a fresh can of tuna. He placed it on the mantel, a high perch overlooking the entire living room. Then, the strangest thing happened. The human, holding his morning mug of brown water, looked up at the plastic soldier and said, "Alright, Gundam, what's the verdict? Productive day or nap day?" He was consulting it. This wasn't a toy; it was a shrine. I observed this silent, big-headed oracle for days. It never moved, of course, but its presence seemed to shift the very energy of the room. When the human angled it slightly toward the window, we had sunbeams for a full four hours. When he turned it to face the sofa, he spent the evening there, providing an exceptional lap for my slumber and doling out chin scratches on demand. I was skeptical, but the correlation was undeniable. This immobile warrior was no mere decoration; it was a conductor of household harmony, a silent arbiter of my comfort. My moment of truth came yesterday. The human had left the figure facing the barren, uninteresting wall, and the mood in the house was accordingly dull. The air lacked the scent of impending treats, the ambient light was poor for napping, and the human was distracted, tapping on his shiny rectangle. This would not do. In a fluid motion of gray-and-white fur, I leaped onto the mantel. With the practiced precision of a seasoned hunter, I nudged the Gundam with my nose, turning it a full ninety degrees until it faced the kitchen. I then hopped down and waited. Not five minutes later, the human stood up, stretched, and said, "You know what? I think it's time for a snack." He ambled into the kitchen, and the glorious sound of the treat bag crinkling filled the air. I purred, a low rumble of triumph. The plastic soldier was utterly useless for play, but as a silent, powerful vassal for communicating my will to my dense but lovable human? It was indispensable. The Gundam could stay. It understood the true hierarchy of this domain.

Bandai Hobby - RG 1/144 Mbf-P02 Gundam Astray Red Frame

By: BANDAI SPIRITS

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has brought home a box of plastic shards from a brand called BANDAI SPIRITS. Apparently, this is not a toy, but a *project*. They will spend hours hunched over, squinting and clicking tiny red, white, and gray pieces together to build a small, robotic warrior. The process itself will be a magnificent source of entertainment, offering countless opportunities to "assist" by batting crucial components under the furniture. The final product, a "Gundam Astray Red Frame," seems mostly pointless—a statue to gather dust. However, one feature gives me pause: an electroplated, chrome-finished katana. A shiny, slender object of that quality might, just might, be worth investigating should it ever become separated from its plastic guardian. The rest is just clutter.

Key Features

  • Colored plastic
  • No glue required
  • The Gundam Astray Red Frame is recreated for the Real Grade line!
  • his katana wielding Gundam from Gundam Seed Astray features a new Advanced MS Joint system that recreates its internal structure through sophisticated color separation that allows for a highly articulated completed model.
  • he Gerbera Straight katana, its signature weapon has been electroplated with a chrome finish.
  • Also includes Beam rifle, 2 beam sabers, shield, and pilot figure. Runner x9, Realistic decal, Japanese instructions.
  • Bluefin Distribution products are tested and comply with all U.S. consumer product safety regulations and are eligible for consumer support

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The thing arrived not as a warrior, but as a ghost. It came in pieces, spread across plastic grids that the human called "runners," which I found to be delightful, if slightly sharp, chew toys. For what seemed like an eternity, the human sat at their desk, performing a strange surgery. Click. Snap. A tiny decal, applied with the focus of a predator. I watched from my perch on the cat tree, a silent, gray-furred judge overseeing a bizarre creation myth. The human was building an idol. When it was finished, it was placed upon a high shelf, a silent crimson knight forever frozen in a dramatic pose. It was an affront. This shelf, previously a premium napping location with an excellent view of the garden, was now occupied. I studied the interloper for days. It had a shield, a rifle, and two "beam sabers" which were, frankly, unimpressive. But it also held a sword, the "Gerbera Straight." The light from the window would catch the chrome plating, sending a sliver of pure, tantalizing light dancing across the wall. It called to me. A silent challenge. One moonless night, I decided the shelf must be reclaimed. I made the leap, landing with a soft thud that didn't so much as rattle the pretender. I stood nose-to-helmet with it. It was smaller than I imagined, a fragile thing of plastic and pride. I saw the so-called "pilot figure" inside the cockpit, a speck of unpainted plastic no bigger than a kibble. Pathetic. I gave the Gundam a slow, deliberate blink, the ultimate expression of feline dominance. It, of course, did not blink back. With a flick of my tail for dramatic effect, I extended a single, precise paw. I did not swat it. That would be crude. I simply… nudged its electroplated katana. The model, for all its "Advanced MS Joint" system and supposed articulation, was poorly balanced. It tilted, wavered, and then collapsed sideways with a faint, unsatisfying clatter. The magnificent sword remained in its hand, now pointing uselessly at the ceiling. I had won. The shelf was still mine. The idol was a hollow shell, unworthy of my fury. I sniffed it with disdain, turned my back, and settled into a triumphant nap right beside its fallen form. It makes for a decent, if slightly pointy, bedfellow.

Bandai Hobby Bandai Deathscythe Hell Ver EW 1/100 Master Grade, 167078

By: BANDAI

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in a display of breathtaking audacity, has brought home not a toy for me, but a project for *himself*. He calls this plastic puzzle the "Deathscythe Hell," a name far too dramatic for a collection of grey and black bits on a plastic sprue that he clicks together for hours on end. It appears to be a constructible effigy of some dark, winged creature brandishing an oversized can opener. The primary appeal, I suppose, lies in its "active cloak"—wings that can be posed as if flapping. Anything that mimics a large, ominous bird holds a sliver of potential to interrupt the monotony of a sunbeam. Ultimately, however, this thing's main purpose seems to be occupying the Human's hands, a criminal waste of perfectly good petting and chin-scratching time. The final product will likely just gather dust, a monument to his neglect.

Key Features

  • The marking is designed by Hajime Katoki.
  • The active cloak has new gimmicks. You can make it hold a natural pose of flapping wings or closing them.
  • Easy to snap together, no glue required
  • Molded in separate colors, no paint required

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The rites began at dusk. For three consecutive evenings, the Human hunched over his desk under the glow of a lamp, performing a strange ritual. The air, normally scented with my faint, distinguished musk and the Human’s various lotions, was tainted by the sterile aroma of molded polymers. I observed from my perch on the back of the sofa, my tail twitching in silent judgment. He was assembling a golem, a plastic homunculus, from a skeleton of flat, numbered frames. The sound was a maddening series of tiny clicks and snaps as limbs and armor were freed from their plastic prison and forced together. On the final night, the creature was complete. He placed it on the mantelpiece, a space usually reserved for framed photographs and other dust-catchers. It was a dark, skeletal thing, all sharp angles and malevolent stillness. Its wings, vast and segmented like a robotic bat’s, were folded around it, a protective shroud of black plastic. In one articulated hand, it held a scythe of absurd proportions, a green blade of transparent plastic gleaming even in the dim light. It was an idol of midnight, and it was trespassing in my domain. I waited until the house fell into the deep silence of 3 a.m., my preferred hour for patrols. I leaped silently from the floor to the armchair, then to the mantel. The polished wood was cool under my paws. I approached the effigy with the caution of a hunter. It was smaller than me, but its presence was unnerving. I sniffed its base. Nothing. Just cold, dead plastic. My initial skepticism hardened. It was just another piece of human clutter. A disappointment. But then, as a test of its structural integrity, I reached out a single, soft paw—claws sheathed, of course; I am a gentleman—and gently tapped the edge of its folded wing. The section gave way with a soft click, swinging outward slightly before an internal mechanism pulled it back into its closed position. It was a subtle, deliberate movement. This was no cheap, flimsy toy. The "active cloak" was responsive. I nudged the great scythe. It was firm in the creature's grip, perfectly balanced. This wasn't a plaything to be batted about and lost under the furniture. It was a sentry. I gave it a slow blink of grudging respect. It could keep its perch. It was not a toy, no, but it was a worthy statue, a silent, black gargoyle for this modern age. It could watch over the fireplace, and I would continue to watch over everything else. An understanding had been reached.

Bandai Hobby - Gundam Wing - #38 Gundam Epyon, Bandai Spirits RG 1/144 Model Kit

By: BANDAI SPIRITS

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.

Bandai Hobby HGAC Wing Gundam Zero Model Kit (1/144 Scale)

By: BANDAI SPIRITS

Pete's Expert Summary

My human seems to have mistaken a box of plastic refuse for entertainment. It's a kit from a company called BANDAI SPIRITS, which apparently specializes in giving bipeds complex, multi-part puzzles to keep their clumsy paws busy for hours. The allure, for me, lies not in the promised winged statue that will eventually gather dust on a shelf, but in the nine plastic grids—"runners," he calls them—teeming with tiny, flickable pieces perfect for batting under the heaviest furniture. There is also a sheet of foil stickers, a brief, shimmering delight before they are inevitably stuck to the final, non-interactive effigy. This seems less like a toy for me and more like an elaborate, long-term distraction for him, which at least means the lap will be stationary and available for an extended period.

Key Features

  • Colored plastic
  • No glue required
  • Runner x9, Foil sticker x1, Instruction Manual x1

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The operation began on a Tuesday. The Human, my primary staff member, cleared his great flat desk, a space usually reserved for his glowing rectangle and loud-clicking device. He unsealed a box and laid out the contents with the reverence of a priest preparing a ritual. I observed from my perch on the cat tree, tail twitching. The evidence was laid bare: nine latticed frames of sterile grey, blue, and red plastic; a sheet of arcane symbols he called an "instruction manual"; and a single, tantalizingly shiny foil sheet. His mission, it seemed, was to build a new god for this pantheon of dust-catchers he called a "collection." I descended for a closer inspection, my paws silent on the hardwood. He was hunched over, snipping a small blue piece from its plastic cage. The tiny off-cut skittered across the desk. My instincts flared. I pounced, batting the fragment into the abyss between the desk and the wall, a small sacrifice to the void. The Human sighed, but did not stop me. He was too engrossed, his fingers snapping the pieces together with a series of soft, satisfying *clicks*. There was no foul-smelling glue, a point in the manufacturer's favor. This was clean work, precise. I could respect the craftsmanship, even if the purpose was utterly baffling. Over the next few hours, a form began to emerge. A torso, then legs, then a head with a stoic, impassive face. It was a mechanical warrior, an inert golem. Then came the wings. He assembled them with particular care, two grand structures that dwarfed the main body. As he applied the final foil sticker to the creature’s chest—a brilliant green jewel—I understood. This wasn't a toy. It was a sentinel. A silent guardian meant for a high shelf, a perch almost as good as my own. He placed the finished figure on the bookshelf, its plastic wings spread in a pose of serene power. It stared out over my living room, my domain. I leaped onto the shelf to meet it face-to-face. We were eye-to-eye, two masters of the house. I saw no threat in its plastic gaze, only a shared duty. I would not bat at this one. It had been assembled with purpose and care. It was not a plaything. It was a colleague. I gave it a slow blink of approval, then settled beside it, two silent watchers over a quiet kingdom. It was worthy.

Bandai Gundam Heavyarms Ver EW 1/100 Master Grade

By: BANDAI SPIRITS

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has brought home what appears to be a disassembled plastic soldier from the future. It's a box of colored plastic shards that The Staff is expected to snap together into a small, stationary robot armed with an absurd number of weapons. While the lack of paint or glue fumes is a considerate touch, saving my delicate nostrils from offense, the end product is destined to be a glorified dust-collector on a shelf. The real appeal, from a superior feline's point of view, is not the finished idol, but the construction process. The sheer volume of tiny, intricate parts—missile pods, knives, gun barrels—presents a veritable buffet of items to be "tested for gravity" and subsequently lost under the couch. The assembly may entertain the human, but the disassembly is where my fun begins.

Key Features

  • Gattling Gun+shield x1, combat knife x1, beam saber attachment x1, many missle pods
  • Molded in separate colors, no paint required
  • Easy to snap together, no glue required

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The ceremony began at dusk. The Staff, with a reverence I usually reserve for a freshly opened can of tuna, cleared the coffee table and laid out the strange, plastic skeletons. They were brittle grids, each holding dozens of tiny, colorful bones. I watched from my perch on the armchair, tail twitching in mild contempt. Another one of his tedious projects. He called it "Gun-dam," a foolish name for what was clearly a ritualistic construction. For hours, he hunched over, a pair of tiny clippers in hand, making soft *snip-snip* sounds as he freed the plastic bones. Then came the *clicks*. A soft, satisfying *click* as a leg piece joined a hip, a louder *snap* as an arm attached to a torso. It was a rhythmic, meditative process, and I found myself mesmerized by the focused silence. He wasn't building a toy; he was assembling an effigy. A tiny god of war, bristling with missile pods and a ridiculous Gatling gun. Was this a tribute? An offering to a higher power? Clearly, that power was me. He was building a shrine in my honor. Finally, the plastic deity was complete. My human held it up, admiring its poseable joints and ludicrous armaments. He placed it on the mantle, a silent, colorful sentinel. And then... nothing. It just stood there. It didn't chirp. It didn't wiggle. It didn't dispense treats. As a tribute, it was a spectacular failure. I let out a sigh of profound disappointment and hopped down from my throne. The idol was a bore. But as I stretched, my paw brushed against something on the rug. It was a tiny, gray piece of plastic, a spare armor plate no bigger than my claw, that had escaped the ritual. I nudged it. It skittered. I batted it, sending it spinning across the hardwood before it vanished under the bookshelf. The human let out a small, frustrated noise. Ah. I see now. The statue itself is worthless, a mere monument to the human's wasted time. The *true* offerings are these wonderful, perfectly losable little pieces left behind. The ritual is flawed, but its scattered remnants are divine. This "Gun-dam" is worthy, after all.