Pete's Expert Summary
My human’s latest acquisition is a small, plastic effigy of some grimacing creature from one of their noisy screen-boxes. It’s a “McFarlane Toy,” a brand I’ve come to associate with an excess of spiky bits and a general air of gloominess. This one, apparently named “Spawn,” is a seven-inch statue splattered with red paint, meant to signify a recent scuffle. It boasts “Ultra Articulation,” which to my mind simply means it has twenty-two different joints designed to snap off when I inevitably bat it from the mantelpiece. It comes with a laughably oversized axe, a prime candidate for being lost under the sofa for eternity. While the intricate details are a minor curiosity, it’s ultimately a stationary object. Unless it can outmaneuver the red dot, it seems a rather pointless investment of both funds and floor space.
Key Features
- Incredibly detailed 7” scale figure based off the Mortal Kombat Franchise
- Featured in a Blood splattered version of his McFarlane Classic skin as seen in the video game Mortal Kombat 11
- Designed with Ultra Articulation with up to 22 moving parts for full range of posing
- Includes Spawn Axe and base
- Showcased in Mortal Kombat themed window box packaging
- Collect all McFarlane Toys Mortal Kombat 7" Action Figures and 12" Deluxe Figure
A Tale from Pete the Cat
It arrived in a cage. A transparent prison wall separated me from the dark warrior within, its green eyes staring out into the living room with a hollow intensity. The packaging called it a “Mortal Kombat themed window box,” but I knew a containment cell when I saw one. For an hour, I observed the captive. It stood motionless, its flowing red cape frozen mid-billow, its limbs locked in a dramatic pose. The crimson splatters on its body told a tale of a violent past. I circled the box, my tuxedo-furred chest low to the ground, trying to catch a scent. Nothing but cardboard and plastic. Still, there was a palpable tension. This was not some witless bauble; this was a predator, caged. Then, the great oaf I call my provider performed the liberation ritual. With the clumsy sounds of tearing and snapping, the prisoner was freed. The human set it upon its small, black disc of a pedestal, arranging its axe in its grip. For a moment, it was magnificent, a tiny, dark idol commanding the space around it. I approached with the caution a creature of its reputation deserved. I sniffed its foot. It smelled of a factory in a faraway land. I extended a single, careful claw and tapped its leg. It wobbled, the “Ultra Articulation” causing its knee to bend at an absurd angle. The illusion shattered. This was no warrior. This was a fraud. A hollow, lightweight puppet with no spirit, no will of its own. Its fearsome grimace was just molded plastic. Its bloody history was just paint. The disrespect was profound. I could have toppled it with a half-hearted swat, but it wasn’t even worth the effort. I turned my back on the silent mannequin, preparing to leap into my favorite sunbeam for a well-deserved nap. But as I settled, my tail gave a final, dismissive flick. It connected with the axe. The little plastic weapon flew from the figure’s grasp, skittering across the hardwood with a most satisfying *clack-clack-skitter-clack*. Now *that* had potential. It was small, light, and made a delightful noise as it disappeared under the credenza. The warrior itself was a bore, a complete waste of my analytical skills. But its weapon… its weapon would provide an excellent few minutes of sport. A worthy tribute.
