Pete's Expert Summary
My Human, in a fit of what I can only assume was profound boredom, has presented me with a box full of tiny gray plastic bits. Apparently, this is a "Zoids Molga Action Plastic Kit" from a company called Kotobukiya. My initial analysis suggests this is less a toy for me and more a complicated, multi-hour puzzle for the biped. The appeal, should the Human prove competent enough to actually assemble it without losing critical components to the dimension under the sofa, lies in its promised motorized movement. A mechanical worm that can advance *and* retreat is a novel concept, offering a more complex tactical challenge than the usual "charge forward until it hits a wall" variety of electronic prey. However, the entire endeavor hinges on the Human's assembly skill and their forethought in procuring a "AA battery," making this a high-risk, high-reward situation for my precious time.
Key Features
- An import from Takara Tomy
- Flip the switch to choose between forward and backward movement
- Built-in missile weapon can be moved manually at the base
- Includes a regular soldier figure
- Requires one AA alkaline battery, not included
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The operation began under less than ideal circumstances. My Handler—the Human—had spread the target's components across the sacred rug, a chaotic field of gray armor plating and minuscule gears. The intelligence dossier, a colorful box from a firm known as Kotobukiya, promised a formidable opponent: codename MOLGA. For two days, I observed the Handler's clumsy attempts at assembly, offering my expert guidance by occasionally batting a crucial-looking piece into the shadows. The most egregious oversight was, of course, the power cell. A frantic, last-minute supply run was required before the target could even be activated. Amateurs. Finally, it stood before me. A segmented, armored worm, silent and still. Its tiny, useless pilot figure was perched near the front, a permanent expression of grim determination on its microscopic face. The Handler flicked a switch on its underbelly, and the MOLGA jolted to life. It didn't just crawl; it undulated with a hypnotic, rhythmic clatter, a sinuous wave of plastic and metal. It moved forward, a determined invader on my pristine hardwood floors. I watched from my observation post on the arm of the chair, tail twitching, calculating its trajectory and speed. It was predictable. Simple. Then, the Handler intervened again, flicking the switch to its other position. The MOLGA shuddered to a halt and began its slithering retreat, moving backward with the same unnerving fluidity. This changed everything. This wasn't just prey; it was an adversary with tactical options. I descended from my perch, my movements fluid and silent. I let it advance, stalking it from the side. As I prepared to strike, it reversed course, forcing me to readjust my entire attack plan. The manual missile pod was a non-factor, a trivial bit of decoration, but the core movement… that was a worthy challenge. I engaged. A feint to the left, a quick pounce to halt its progress, a gentle but firm tap with a paw armed with strictly sheathed claws. It wobbled, its internal motor whirring in protest. I allowed it to "escape," letting it retreat before flanking it again. This dance continued for a satisfactory twenty minutes until, with a final, decisive move, I hooked a paw beneath its central chassis and flipped it onto its back. It lay there, segments twitching uselessly. Mission accomplished. The Handler may be a clumsy technician, but their procurement skills are, on occasion, quite exceptional. The MOLGA has been approved for further training exercises.
