Pete's Expert Summary
So, my human has acquired another one of his loud, plastic contraptions. This one, a "Nerf Rampage," is apparently a high-capacity delivery system for what are, essentially, 25 brightly colored chew toys. The primary appeal for me is not the obnoxious "Slam-Fire Action" which will undoubtedly interrupt my naps, nor the absurd claim of a 90-foot range which merely means more places for me to lose my new playthings under furniture. No, the true value is in the sheer quantity of the foam darts. Twenty-five of them. That's twenty-five opportunities for me to engage in my life's most important work: batting things into inaccessible locations and then staring pointedly at the human until he retrieves them. It's a tedious arrangement, but the hand-powered nature means he has to do all the work, which is as it should be.
Key Features
- High-capacity 25-dart drum: The Nerf Rampage blaster’s drum holds up to 25 darts and includes 25 official Nerf Elite foam darts giving you plenty of firepower for Nerf battles
- Slam-fire action for rapid dart blasting: shoot a rapid-fire dart Storm at targets with the toy blaster’s slam-fire action feature as you hold down the trigger and slide the handle
- Hand-powered blasting up to 90 feet (27 meters): you're in control as you prime and fire the Rampage Nerf blaster by hand -- No batteries required -- and send darts flying up to 90 feet (27 meters)
- Includes 25 darts: includes 25 official Nerf Elite darts that are designed for distance, tested and approved for performance and quality, and constructed of foam with flexible, hollow tips
A Tale from Pete the Cat
I was dreaming of a river made entirely of cream when a series of dull, rapid thuds disturbed my slumber. It sounded like a woodpecker with a vendetta, but softer, more synthetic. I opened one eye, a sliver of green judgment, and surveyed my kingdom from my perch atop the velvet armchair. The Larger Human was crouched behind the sofa, a bastion of poor tactical decisions, clutching a grotesque blue and orange machine. He was making a low, rhythmic *sh-chunk... sh-chunk... sh-chunk* sound as he manipulated a handle. This was the source of the disturbance. My attention was then drawn to the aftermath. The battlefield, once a pristine beige carpet, was now littered with small, vibrant blue-and-orange projectiles. They lay scattered like fallen fruit from an alien tree. I descended from my throne with a grace the human could never comprehend and approached the nearest one. It lay still, a victim of the earlier assault. I gave it a test-pat with a single, perfectly manicured claw. It skittered away, light and unpredictable. I pounced, trapping it beneath my soft white paw. It had a pleasingly firm, yet yielding texture. I picked it up in my mouth. Not bad. A bit plasticky on the palate, but the foam body offered a satisfying resistance. The human, finally noticing me, let out a triumphant cry. "See, Pete! Fun!" He then made a critical error. He pointed the terrible machine in my general direction—not *at* me, he isn't that foolish—but at the wall just above my head. With a mighty *THWUMP*, a new dart shot past, whistling faintly before bouncing off the drywall and landing near the curtains. My ears flattened for a moment at the sudden noise, but my eyes... my eyes followed the dart's entire trajectory. My hunter's instinct, usually reserved for dust bunnies and the occasional brave spider, flared to life. I dropped the dart in my mouth and immediately stalked the new one, my body low to the ground, my tail twitching with strategic intent. The human chortled, apparently believing this was a game for his amusement. He is mistaken. This is not a game. This is a harvest. He is the loud, clumsy farmhand, and I am the lord of the manor, gathering my tithe. The blaster is crude, noisy, and beneath my notice. But its bounty of 25 perfectly chaseable, chewable, and ultimately losable darts? I will generously deem it... adequate. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a dart to hide in his shoe.
