Pete's Expert Summary
My human has, with a startling lack of judgment, acquired what appears to be a pair of plastic idols. One is a rather grim-looking female in overly complicated armor, and the other is a massive, metallic gorilla-beast. They are apparently "Gold Label," a term the human muttered with reverence, though it means nothing to me unless it's edible. The primary appeal here seems to be their numerous joints, which suggests they can be posed in various states of falling off a shelf, a physics experiment I am always willing to conduct. The figures themselves are far too large and inorganic for proper mauling, but the female one comes with a tiny plastic stick. This small, easily lost accessory might, just might, be the single redeeming feature in this entire, perplexing purchase.
Key Features
- McFarlane Gold Label Amazon Exclusive
- Incredibly detailed 7” scale figures based off Todd McFarlane’s Spawn Comic Series
- Designed with Ultra Articulation with up to 22 moving parts for full range of posing and play
- Includes She-Spawn 7" scale figure and Cygor megafigure
- She-Spawn includes a sniper rifle
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The air in the den, usually thick with the scent of sunbeams and my own magnificent fur, was suddenly tainted by the sharp odor of fresh plastic. My human was on the floor, making low, cooing sounds not directed at me, but at two newcomers he’d liberated from a cardboard prison. It was an interrogation scene, and I, the silent warden of this household, took my post on the arm of the leather chair to observe. The subjects were a hulking brute of a metal ape, all wires and rage, and a slender woman armed to the teeth. He called them Cygor and She-Spawn. I called them Tuesday’s dust collectors. After what felt like an eternity of posing them in a diorama of silent, pointless conflict on the mantelpiece, the human finally departed, presumably to fetch my dinner. This was my chance. A soft leap, a click of claws on wood, and I was face-to-face with the invaders. The ape, Cygor, was immense, a monolith of molded despair. I gave his leg a tentative nudge with my head. He didn't budge. He was cold, unyielding, and utterly devoid of the satisfying give of a good scratching post. A formidable, if boring, opponent. My attention drifted to his partner. The woman, She-Spawn, was all sharp angles and precarious balance. She was positioned in a crouch, holding a long, thin object my human called a "sniper rifle." It was this object that held my gaze. It was separate. It was small. It was… vulnerable. While the statues themselves were an offense to my aesthetic sensibilities, this tiny piece of plastic whispered promises of skittering across hardwood floors and disappearing beneath the sofa. It was the key. With the surgical precision of a seasoned hunter, I extended a single claw and hooked the rifle. A gentle tug was all it took. It popped from her grasp with a faint click and clattered onto the mantel. A second tap sent it cascading to the plush rug below. Victory. The silent, static drama on the mantel was broken, its purpose fulfilled. The hulking ape and the pointy woman could stand there forever, monuments to my human's questionable taste. I, however, had secured the only part of the deal that mattered. As I pounced on my new prize, batting it into the shadows under the television stand, I gave my final verdict. The statues were merely an elaborate, overpriced delivery system for a perfectly adequate floor toy. Acceptable, but the staff could have saved a lot of money by just giving me the twist-tie from a bread bag.
