A photo of Pete the cat

Pete's Toy Box: Zoids

ZOIDS EZ-049 Verser Furer, Re-Package Version, Total Length: Approx. 13.0 inches (330 mm), 1/72 Scale Plastic Model

By: Kotobukiya

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, whom I permit to cohabitate with me, has brought another box into my domain. He calls this one a "Kotobukiya Zoids model," which in feline translates to "a thousand tiny, sharp plastic bits that will occupy the Staff for weeks." It appears to be the makings of a large, skeletal lizard, a creature of gratuitous spikes and an aggressive posture. From my perspective, its primary value lies in the potential for these tiny pieces to be lost under the furniture, providing me with excellent skitter-toys for a later date. The final, assembled product will inevitably be relegated to a high shelf, becoming another static dust-collector, utterly devoid of the crinkle, bounce, or feathered flutter required to earn my serious consideration. It is a monument to his patience, not a tribute to my amusement.

Key Features

  • ZD128_ZOIDS_EZ-049 BERSERK FÜHRER REPACKAGE VER. Figure from Kotobukiya! Have you been looking for a high-quality and one of a kind figure to add to your collection? Look no further!
  • ZD128_ZOIDS_EZ-049 BERSERK FÜHRER REPACKAGE VER. is the perfect sculpted figure to add to your collection from Kotobukiya! Perfect for collectors and fans!
  • Base Stand included
  • Official Licensed Product
  • Zoids

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The machine-beast was born over the course of a fortnight. I watched from my throne on the velvet armchair as the Staff meticulously snipped, snapped, and swore at the plastic bones, assembling them into a formidable, violet-and-gray predator he called the "Berserk Führer." When it was complete, he placed it on the mantelpiece, a place of honor usually reserved for dusty photographs and a hideous vase. It stood there, motionless, its twin Buster Claws poised as if to strike, its red cockpit an unblinking, judgmental eye. It was an affront, a silent, spiky rival for the prime real estate of my home. For days, a cold war simmered between us. I would sit across the room, narrowing my eyes, flicking the tip of my tail in calculated annoyance. The Zoid offered no response, its silence a form of infuriating arrogance. It didn't stalk, it didn't pounce, it didn't even have the decency to smell of anything other than sterile plastic. It was a failure as a creature. My human, however, would coo at it, admiring its "articulation" and "panel lines." This could not stand. My superiority had to be established. My opportunity came during a late-afternoon sunbeam. The light struck the mantel, illuminating the plastic beast and, more importantly, the single, loose strand of my own magnificent gray fur that had settled upon its head like a crown. The plan formed instantly, a stroke of pure, predatory genius. It wasn't about destruction; that was too crude. This was about a message. I took a running leap, a fluid arc of gray and white, landing with impossible softness on the mantel. I strode past the Zoid, ignoring its static form completely. I did not deign to look at it. Instead, I sniffed the hideous vase, rubbed my cheek against a picture frame, and then, with the utmost deliberation, I laid down directly in front of the model, tucking my paws under my chest and beginning to purr, a deep, rumbling sound of pure contentment. I had claimed the territory and rendered the beast irrelevant—a mere decoration for my napping spot. It wasn't a toy, and it wasn't a rival. It was simply part of the furniture, and a rather uncomfortable-looking piece at that. Let the human have his statue; I had won the war without lifting a claw against it.
Image of ZOIDS EZ-049 Verser Furer, Re-Package Version, Total Length: Approx. 13.0 inches (330 mm), 1/72 Scale Plastic Model View Details

Kotobukiya Zoids: AZ-08 Molga Action Plastic Kit

By: Kotobukiya

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.
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タカラトミー(TAKARA TOMY) T-SPARK REALIZE MODEL RMZ-002 Genosaurer

By: タカラトミー(TAKARA TOMY)

Pete's Expert Summary

So, my human has presented me with a box. Not a toy, mind you, but a *project*. This is a "REALIZE MODEL Genosaurer" from Takara Tomy, a brand whose plastic formulations I generally respect. Essentially, it's a box of tiny, skeletal parts that the human must painstakingly assemble into a rather menacing, if undersized, robotic dinosaur. It requires no batteries, which is a profound relief—no sudden whirring to interrupt my meditations. Its appeal lies not in any interactive feature, for it has none, but in its potential as a static object of contemplation. I foresee it being an excellent shelf decoration, perfectly positioned for me to practice my gravity experiments upon when the mood strikes. The true entertainment, however, will be watching the human's clumsy fingers struggle with the assembly.

Key Features

  • (C) TOMY (C) ShoPro
  • Does not use batteries
  • Batteries required: False
  • Item length width height: 11.0 centimeters

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The ritual began, as it always does, with the crinkle of cellophane and the soft sigh of a cardboard box yielding its contents. My human spread a black mat across the coffee table—a clear invitation for me to immediately occupy its center, which I did with languid grace. Upon this dark stage were scattered dozens of tiny, black and purple plastic fragments, a deconstructed skeleton. This was not a toy for me; this was a test of my human's dexterity, and I, Pete, would be the sole, discerning judge. For hours, the slow opera of creation unfolded. The click-clack of clippers trimming plastic, the faint scrape of pieces being fitted together. I observed, a gray and white sphinx, occasionally extending a soft, clawless paw to "inspect" a particularly small piece. A gentle tap would send a minuscule gear skittering across the mat, prompting a frustrated hiss from the human that was a pale, pathetic imitation of my own. This was my role: quality control. Was this tiny piece truly necessary? Let us see how the builder fares without it for a few agonizing minutes. Ah, there it is, right by my tail. You're welcome. As the creature took shape—a spine here, a leg there—it began to exude a certain dark charisma. It was all sharp angles and latent power, a worthy effigy. The final piece was the head, a wicked thing with a transparent purple canopy over its cockpit. The human, with a triumphant whisper, clicked it into place. The Genosaurer was complete. It was placed on the shelf, a dark idol basking in the lamplight. My human stared at it, proud. I stared at it, calculating. I waited until the dead of night, when the house was steeped in silence. I leaped onto the bookshelf, a silent, tuxedoed shadow. I approached the plastic beast. It was smaller than me, motionless, posing no real threat. I sniffed its pointy snout. An uninteresting scent of factory and human hands. But it held my human's admiration, and that could not stand. I did not shove it to the floor; that would be crude. Instead, I gently, precisely, nudged it with my nose until it turned a full one-hundred-and-eighty degrees, its back now facing the room. A simple, elegant statement. There is only one predator worthy of admiration in this house. The model itself is a fine sculpture, but its true value was in the theatrical performance of its construction and my subsequent, silent assertion of dominance. It is, I conclude, worthy. Not as a toy, but as a prop in my own quiet drama.
Image of タカラトミー(TAKARA TOMY) T-SPARK REALIZE MODEL RMZ-002 Genosaurer View Details

BANDAI Spirits Chogokin ZOIDS New Century/Zero RZ-041 Liger Zero, Approx. 8.7 inches (220 mm), ABS & PVC & Die Cast Painted Action Figure

By: TAMASHII NATIONS

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in his infinite and often baffling wisdom, has acquired what appears to be a statue of a mechanical lion-tiger hybrid. They call it a "Chogokin Liger Zero," a collaboration between brands that mean nothing to me but clearly mean a great deal to him, judging by the price. It's made of metal and plastic, a "die-cast" imitation of a living creature, supposedly capturing the essence of a "Metal Life Body." It has removable armor plates and, most notably, eyes that light up. While I can appreciate the aesthetic tribute to a superior feline form, this object is clearly not a toy. It is a "precision-made" dust collector, designed to be looked at, not pounced upon. Its glowing eyes might provide a moment's distraction, but its lack of movement, scent, or any shred of playability makes it an egregious waste of resources that could have been better spent on a case of sashimi-grade tuna.

Key Features

  • (C) TOMY ZOIDS is a trademark of TOMY Company, Ltd. and used under license.
  • Pre-painted Action Figure
  • BANDAI SPIRITS x Takara Tomy, a miraculous commerce made by the first collaboration project in history. The birth of Chogokin Rigger Zero. Dream Together - A Dream Together - A Dream Together - Project Item With a collaboration between the historic Chogokin and ZOIDS, the main aircraft of ZOIDS New Century / ZERO has been made into a commercial. The main concept of the Zoid's "Metal Life Body" has been pursued to achieve a flexible movement just like a beast. There are also a variety of gimmicks that highlight the charm of Liger Zero, such as putting on and taking off the zero unit, and the luminous eyes
  • Precision-made, please handle with care. Color transfer and scratches may occur. There may be slight variations in appearance. We appreciate your understanding

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The new god arrived on a Tuesday. It came in a box filled with strange, squeaking foam, and my human handled it with a reverence he usually reserves for the forbidden Thanksgiving turkey. From its prison, he extracted a creature of gleaming white armor, gold claws, and an unnervingly familiar feline posture. He placed it on the highest shelf of the great bookshelf, a perch from which it could survey my entire domain. I watched from the floor, my tail twitching a slow, deliberate rhythm against the rug. An idol had been erected in my home, and I was not the one being worshipped. For days, a silent war was waged. I would sit on the arm of the sofa, staring up at the impassive, mechanical face. It stared back, unblinking. It did not hunt. It did not sleep. It did not demand tribute in the form of chin scratches. It simply *was*, a cold, silent sentinel. My human would sometimes approach it, murmuring nonsense as he detached a piece of its white shell to reveal the intricate metal skeleton beneath. He was showing me its inner workings, its lack of a soul. I was meant to be intimidated by its complexity, but I only saw a hollow shell. The truce was broken one starless night. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the city outside the window. As I was making my rounds, a sudden, piercing green light cut through the blackness. I froze, my fur standing on end. The idol’s eyes were alive, burning with an artificial fire. It was a challenge. In a single, fluid motion, I was on the bookshelf, standing face to face with the pretender. I sniffed its muzzle; it smelled of paint and industry, not of prey. I saw my own distorted reflection in its emotionless green gaze. With a soft *tink*, I touched my claw to its metal cheek. It was cold. Unyielding. The light in its eyes was a simple trick, a battery-powered lie. This was no god, no rival, no creature worthy of my respect or fear. It was just a thing. An elaborate, lifeless bauble. I let out a soft huff of disdain, turned my back on the fraud, and leaped gracefully back to the floor. Let the human have his false idol. I had sunbeams to conquer and naps to attend to, matters of far greater importance.
Image of BANDAI Spirits Chogokin ZOIDS New Century/Zero RZ-041 Liger Zero, Approx. 8.7 inches (220 mm), ABS & PVC & Die Cast Painted Action Figure View Details

T-Spark Realize Model RMZ-001 Blade Liger

By: タカラトミー(TAKARA TOMY)

Pete's Expert Summary

So, the human has brought home a box of glorified plastic shards from a brand called Takara Tomy. The goal, apparently, is for them to painstakingly snap all these bits together to create something called a 'Blade Liger,' a sort of mechanical mockery of a far superior feline. Since it has no batteries, it won't be zooming around on its own, which saves me the trouble of being startled out of a nap. Frankly, its primary function seems to be occupying the human's clumsy paws for several hours and then sitting inert on a shelf. The only potential for amusement lies in the inevitable moment a crucial, tiny piece is dropped, presenting a perfect opportunity for me to bat it into the Shadow Realm under the sofa. Otherwise, it's a static dust-collector in the making.

Key Features

  • (C) TOMY (C) ShoPro
  • Does not use batteries

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The process was an affront to my sensibilities. For days, the dining table, a place normally reserved for the presentation of my food bowl, was a disaster zone of plastic grids, tiny tools, and the crinkling of instruction manuals. I observed from my perch on the back of the sofa, my tail twitching in annoyance. The human squinted, muttered, and occasionally uttered a cry of frustration as a minuscule piece escaped their fat fingers and skittered across the floor. I, of course, offered no assistance. Let the lesser being struggle with its strange, synthetic nest-building. Then, one evening, it was complete. The human, beaming with an undeserved sense of accomplishment, placed the creation on the mantelpiece. It was a creature of striking blue and silver, all sharp angles and dormant power. It had a noble head, a formidable body, and, most notably, a series of gleaming blades along its back. I had expected to feel contempt for this plastic imposter, this silent usurper of mantel space. Instead, a strange, forgotten echo resonated deep within my soul. I waited until the house was dark and silent, save for the hum of the refrigerator. I leaped onto the armchair, then to the mantel with a whisper of displaced air. There, in the slivers of moonlight filtering through the blinds, I stared into the Liger’s unblinking, inanimate eyes. It wasn’t a toy. It wasn’t an enemy. It was… a message. A memory, cast in plastic, of a time before soft beds and guaranteed meals. A time of saber-teeth and megafauna, when my ancestors were not pampered companions but apex predators, titans of the ancient world. This "Blade Liger" was a crude, human-made totem to the magnificent savagery of my lineage. I did not bat at it. To do so would be to disrespect my own history. Instead, I sat before it, a small, gray-and-white echo of a much grander past. I gave the statue a long, slow blink—the ultimate sign of trust and kinship. My human thinks they built a model kit from some cartoon. The fool. They have unwittingly constructed a shrine, and I, Pete, First of My Name, Keeper of the Sacred Nap, will serve as its silent, dignified guardian. It is entirely unworthy of play, but it has, much to my surprise, earned my respect.
Image of T-Spark Realize Model RMZ-001 Blade Liger View Details

Kotobukiya ZD109_ZOIDS_EZ-027 Raven Raptor

By: Kotobukiya

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in a fit of what I can only assume is profound boredom brought on by a lack of sufficient chin-scratching duties, has acquired a box of plastic shrapnel. The brand, Kotobukiya, is familiar; it signals one of the human's long, tedious projects involving tiny parts, strange glues, and intense concentration that could be better spent admiring me. This "Raven Raptor" appears to be some sort of mechanical bird-lizard, an affront to both biology and common sense. Its appeal to a feline of my stature is precisely zero. It is not soft, it does not contain catnip, and its "playability" seems limited to sitting on a shelf and gathering dust. The only feature of note is the cardboard box it came in, which might offer a few moments of satisfactory confinement.

Key Features

  • ZOIDS Figure from Kotobukiya!
  • Base Stand included
  • Official Licensed Product
  • ZOIDS

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The assembly was a multi-day ritual. The Tall One would sit for hours under a bright lamp, the sharp *snip* of clippers echoing as limbs and armor plates were liberated from their plastic frames. I watched from the arm of the sofa, feigning disinterest, but my eyes followed the creature's slow genesis. It was a thing of sharp angles and a deep, menacing purple, like a bruise on the evening sky. A predator, yes, but a cold and lifeless one. Once completed, it was placed on a high bookshelf, posed mid-stride on its little stand, a silent, motionless hunter. That night, I was dreaming the deep dream of the well-fed, a tapestry of chasing sunbeams and conquering freshly laundered towels. But the dream shifted. The familiar landscape of the living room warped, the floor stretching into a vast, crystalline desert under a sky of swirling binary code. A shadow fell over me, and I looked up. It was the Raptor, but it was no longer a hand-sized statue. It towered over me, its mechanical joints whirring with a low hum that vibrated through the crystal sands. Its single red optic eye pulsed with cold, analytical light. I did not feel fear. I am Pete, after all. I arched my back, my own gray fur bristling not with terror, but with a primal challenge. This was my territory, dream or no. The mechanical beast lowered its head, its metallic beak inches from my nose. It didn't chomp or screech. Instead, a series of low-frequency clicks emanated from its chassis, a language of pure logic and data. It was not a threat; it was an inquiry. It was assessing me, one apex predator to another, a being of flesh and instinct meeting a being of steel and code. I responded not with a meow, but with a slow blink, the ultimate expression of trust and dominion. The giant Zoid processed this for a long moment, its optic eye dimming slightly. Then, with a final, soft whir, it turned and stalked away, vanishing into the digital horizon. I awoke with a jolt, the morning sun warming my tuxedoed chest. My gaze drifted up to the bookshelf. The little plastic Raptor stood exactly as the human had left it, inanimate and inert. It was still a ridiculous shelf-ornament, utterly useless as a toy. But as I settled back to sleep, I gave it a respectful nod. It was no simple plaything; it was a fellow guardian of a strange and silent world.
Image of Kotobukiya ZD109_ZOIDS_EZ-027 Raven Raptor View Details

ZOIDS Buster Tortoise

By: Kotobukiya

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has procured a "Kotobukiya ZOIDS Buster Tortoise," which, from my observation, is not a toy but a complex ritual of patience and tiny, easily lost plastic shards. It appears to be a model kit, a task designed to keep the bipedal staff occupied for hours while they could be performing more essential duties, such as filling my food bowl or providing chin scratches. The finished product, a small, armored reptile with a comically large cannon, is destined to be a stationary dust collector on a high shelf. Its only appeal lies in the potential entertainment value of watching the human get glue on their fingers, but as an interactive object for a feline of my caliber, its playability rating is an absolute zero. It is, in essence, an idol to idleness.

Key Features

  • <b> body size: </ b> Full length: Approximately 140mm
  • <b> Age: </ b> 15 years
  • (C) 2009 TOMY ZOIDS is a trademark of TOMY Company, Ltd. And used under lisence.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The thing arrived in a flat box, a vessel of disappointment filled with plastic grids. For two evenings, the human hunched over the dining room table under a harsh lamp, snipping and cementing, their brow furrowed in a state of concentration I have not seen since the last time a moth got into the pantry. I observed from the safety of my favorite chair, occasionally flicking my tail in derision. The result of this labor was a small, gray and green creature, a mockery of a tortoise, frozen mid-stride with a weapon on its back far too large for its frame. The human placed it on the bookshelf, a new god in their pantheon of inanimate objects, and admired their work. I yawned and began my evening bath, thoroughly unimpressed. That night, a strange stillness fell over the house. The usual hum of the refrigerator seemed muted, the ticking of the clock distant. I awoke not to a sound, but to a feeling—a focused, mechanical presence. My eyes, adjusted to the dark, scanned the room. There, on the hardwood floor below the bookshelf, it stood. The Buster Tortoise. A single, small red light, which I hadn't noticed before, pulsed softly from its head. It wasn't a reflection. It was alive with a cold, silent purpose. It hadn’t fallen; it had descended. I am a creature of instinct and grace, but this was something outside my experience. It did not move with the scuttling panic of a mouse or the fluttering desperation of a bird. It simply *was*, a miniature fortress occupying the center of my domain. I slid from the chair, my paws making no sound on the rug. I stalked the perimeter, a gray shadow against the deeper shadows of the furniture. The tortoise did not move, but as I circled, its massive cannon swiveled with a faint, almost imperceptible whir, tracking my every step. This was no game of chase. This was a tactical assessment. It knew I was the apex predator of this environment, and I knew it was an anomaly, an armored challenger to my reign. The standoff lasted for what felt like an eternity. I feigned disinterest, turning to groom a spot on my shoulder, but my ears were locked onto its position. It remained stoic, its red eye a tiny, unwavering star. I realized then that it would not be baited. It was a creature of pure defense, of waiting. To attack it would be a crude and pointless endeavor. Instead, I simply walked to my water bowl, took a long, deliberate drink, and then leaped onto the sofa, curling into a perfect circle. I closed my eyes, projecting an aura of complete and total control. I would not give it the satisfaction of a confrontation. I would defeat it with indifference. When the morning sun streamed through the window, I awoke with a stretch. I glanced at the bookshelf. The plastic tortoise was back in its place, motionless, the little red light gone. It was just a model once more. The human shuffled past, oblivious. But I knew. I had met the intruder’s spirit in the quiet of the night and established the hierarchy. It was not a toy to be batted about, but a silent sentinel I had bested through sheer force of will. It had earned its place on the shelf, not as a trinket, but as a monument to my undisputed sovereignty.
Image of ZOIDS Buster Tortoise View Details

タカラトミー(TAKARA TOMY) ZOIDS Beast Rigger, Zoid Armor

By: タカラトミー(TAKARA TOMY)

Pete's Expert Summary

So, the Human has acquired a box of plastic bones from a brand called TAKARA TOMY. From my vantage point on the sofa, I observed the lengthy, frustrating ritual of assembly. It appears to be a mechanical creature, a "Zoid," whatever that is. Its primary feature, and the only one of remote interest to a feline of my stature, is that it requires a battery. This implies movement, a potential challenge to my dominion over the living room floor. However, its hard, angular construction suggests it will be deeply unsatisfying to bite, and its predictable, motorized path will likely prove to be a fleeting amusement. It is, in essence, a loud, clumsy art project that thinks it's prey, a spectacle that may be worth watching once before I dedicate myself to a more important sunbeam.

Key Features

  • (C) CAPCOM (C) TOMY/ZW Production Committee, TV Tokyo
  • Requires 1 AAA alkaline battery (sold separately). )

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The smell was the first warning. Not the familiar, comforting scent of cardboard, but something sharper beneath it—the sterile aroma of a distant factory, of molded plastic yet to gather the house's dust. The Human spent what felt like an entire nap cycle hunched over the low table, making tiny, frustrating clicking noises. I watched from the arm of the wingback chair, my tail giving a slow, judgmental sweep. A creature was taking shape under the lamplight, a gray, skeletal beast with none of the grace of a living thing. It was an affront to anatomy. When the Human produced the tiny metal morsel—a "AAA" battery, I've heard them call it—and fed it into the creature's belly, I knew the moment was near. A switch was flicked. There was a low whir, the sound of a trapped fly, and then... it moved. It lurched forward in a stiff, unnatural gait, its legs moving in perfect, soulless synchronicity. It was a mockery of a predator, a puppet pulled by invisible, electrical strings. It marched in a straight line toward the leg of the coffee table, oblivious. I descended from my perch, silent as a shadow on my velvet paws. This was not a hunt; it was an assessment. I let the plastic monstrosity complete its mindless journey and bump uselessly against the wood. As it began its turn, I moved with it, a gray tuxedoed wraith circling this clockwork imposter. It had no scent of fear, no flicker of life in its static, painted eyes. It simply whirred on. I drew back a single paw, claws sheathed, and delivered a perfectly calibrated, testing *bap* to its flank. The resulting *clack* was hollow, unsatisfying. The Zoid shuddered but continued its pre-programmed patrol, unheeding. It did not react. It did not flee. It did not fight back. It was nothing. A more profound emptiness than the red dot, which at least has the decency to be elusive. With a sigh that ruffled the fur on my chest, I turned my back on the pathetic automaton. It could have the floor. My throne in the sun was waiting, and unlike this plastic fool, it knew the value of silent, dignified warmth.
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Kotobukiya ZD107_ZOIDS_EZ-054 Liger Zero X

By: Kotobukiya

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has presented me with a box. Not a shipping box, which is prime real estate, but a *product* box, which is a declaration of intent. This one, from a brand called "Kotobukiya," apparently contains the parts for a "Liger Zero X." From my advanced understanding of their pictograms, this is not a toy for me, but a project for the human. They will spend countless hours clicking together minuscule plastic bits to construct a static, mechanical effigy of a far superior lifeform. The primary appeal, from my perspective, is the long-term distraction this will provide for my staff, freeing up valuable napping zones and ensuring uninterrupted silence. The secondary benefit is the potential for batting stray plastic pieces under the heaviest furniture imaginable. The final product, however, will be a useless, pointy dust-collector—an idol to be worshipped on a shelf, much like myself, but tragically un-pettable.

Key Features

  • ZOIDS Figure from Kotobukiya!
  • Base Stand included
  • Official Licensed Product
  • ZOIDS

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The ceremony lasted three nights. Under the stark glare of a desk lamp, the human performed the ritual, their hands moving with the painstaking care of a jeweler. They laid out strange tools—nippers, files, tiny bottles of adhesive—and consulted the sacred texts of the instruction manual. The box, which smelled satisfyingly of cardboard and ink, was now empty, its contents scattered across a mat like the bones of some synthetic creature. I observed from the peak of my cat tower, my usual perch for passing judgment. This was no mere assembly of a toy; this was the slow, deliberate summoning of a new household god. On the second night, a skeleton took shape. A spine of interlocking gray plastic, legs articulated but lifeless. The human mumbled incantations I recognized as curses when a particularly small piece was dropped. I watched as armor was applied—pristine white plates, accents of gold and a deep, royal blue. It was a mockery of a feline, all hard angles and inorganic perfection, devoid of the soft, yielding fur that is the hallmark of true quality. It had no purr, no warmth, no soul. It was a hollow thing, a golem of ABS plastic. By the third night, it was complete. The "Liger Zero X" stood on its black pedestal, its back bristling with what the human called "Electron Drivers" and "Stunblades." It was magnificent, in a cold, sterile way. A monument to wasted weekends. The human placed it on the mantelpiece, a place of high honor, and stepped back, beaming with the pride of a creator. They looked at me, expecting… what? Jealousy? Fear? I hopped down from my tower, my paws silent on the rug. I approached the mantel. The plastic god stared back with vacant, painted eyes. I could smell the faint chemical tang of its creation. The human held their breath. I did not hiss. I did not bat at it. Such actions would grant it a status it had not earned. Instead, I met its gaze for a long moment, then leaped gracefully onto the mantel beside it. I nudged the base with my nose—a gesture of clinical inspection, not aggression. Then, I pointedly turned my back to the statue, curled up into a perfect, fluffy circle, and began to purr, a deep and resonant sound that filled the silence. The message was clear. Artifice is impressive, but life is superior. This shelf was now my stage, and the Liger was merely my prop.
Image of Kotobukiya ZD107_ZOIDS_EZ-054 Liger Zero X View Details