Pete's Expert Summary
So, you’ve brought home a collection of flimsy, colorful paper squares from a company called "Mattel." I see. They typically make loud plastic contraptions for the smaller, more chaotic humans, so this is a departure. These cards are covered in images from that glowing-rectangle story you like so much—the one with the noisy spaceships and the tall fellow with breathing problems. While the crinkle of the initial cellophane wrapper is always a premium experience, the cards themselves seem... limited. They are too light to provide a satisfying *thump* when knocked off a table, and too flat to be properly ambushed. Their only potential redeeming quality, from my perspective, is the small cardboard box they came in, which might offer a moment's confinement if I'm feeling generous. Otherwise, this "game" appears to be an activity that involves staring and pointing, a complete waste of perfectly good lap space.
Key Features
- It's the classic UNO card game everyone loves, now pitting the forces of the Light Side and the Dark Side against each other! Perfect for Younglings and Master Jedi alike, ages 7 years and older
- Each card is decorated with an iconic image from the Star Wars franchise, including classic characters from the original trilogy, the prequels and the sequels -a great collector's edition!
- Just like in the classic UNO game, players match cards by color or number in a race to empty their hand
- Includes an exclusive wild "The Force" card. Play it, choosing another player and a color. If that player has at least one card of that color, they are forced to draw 2 cards. If they don't, play just continues with the chosen color
- UNO Star Wars makes a great gift for Star Wars fans of all ages
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The evening began with an unwelcome disturbance. My human, having finished her ritual of staring at the large glowing rectangle on the wall, produced a small, noisy box. From my command post on the velvet armchair, I watched with deep suspicion as she tore away the delightful, crinkly outer skin to reveal the prize within. It was not a fish-shaped treat. It was not a feather wand. It was a deck of stiff, glossy rectangles. A profound disappointment settled over me. She and the other human began laying them out on the low table in the center of the room, creating patterns and stacks. They called to each other, using strange words like "Draw Two" and "Skip." It was clear this was some sort of coded strategic planning, and I, as head of household security, could not allow it to proceed un-inspected. I made my approach with the silent grace befitting my station, a flowing shadow of gray and white. I leaped onto the table, landing squarely in the center of their "game." The protest was immediate but ignored. I surveyed the battlefield. Each card bore the face of a combatant: the sad-looking farm boy, the small green elder, the hairy beast they call "Chewbacca." It was a gallery of potential rivals. I sniffed at a card featuring the golden droid; it smelled faintly of ink and indignity. This would not stand. My authority had to be asserted. With a flick of my tail, I sent a "Wild" card scattering. The humans gasped. Emboldened, I selected my primary target: a small pile of cards they referred to as the "discard pile." It was a chaotic mess of colors and numbers, an affront to the elegant simplicity of my worldview. I placed a single, deliberate paw upon the pile. Then another. I began to knead, my claws extending just enough to puncture the top card, the one with the masked villain. A soft, rhythmic purr rumbled in my chest. This was the true purpose of the cards. They weren't for "playing," they were for calming a superior being. They eventually gave up, sweeping the perforated artifacts back into their box. I watched, victorious. They thought they were playing a game of "UNO," but I was playing a different game entirely—a game of dominance, comfort, and strategic napping. They spoke of a special card, "The Force," which could make others bend to your will. Amateurs. They needed a special card to do what I accomplish with a single, well-placed stare. The toy is, therefore, approved. Not for their reasons, of course, but for mine. It makes a surprisingly comfortable, if slightly lumpy, place to rest my chin.
