Pete's Expert Summary
My human has acquired what appears to be a digital time-sink from a company called BANDAI NAMCO. It's some sort of interactive story called "Digimon Story Time Stranger," which involves staring at a screen where little pixelated monsters engage in "dynamic turn-based combat." Frankly, the only turn-based combat I respect is the delicate dance of deciding which side of my body to nap on next. While the flickering lights on the screen might provide some fleeting entertainment, akin to watching a moth bounce off a lightbulb, the true value of this "toy" is indirect. It will render my human immobile for extended periods, creating a warm, stable lap—a premium napping surface. The pre-order box it came in also shows significant promise for sitting purposes. The game itself, however, seems a profound waste of opposable thumbs.
Key Features
- Pre-order Bonus: Uniform of Certain School, Agumon (Black), Gabumon (Black) and Adventure Item Set
- Ultimate Retail Edition: Base Game, Digimon Collectible Card, and Digital Ultimate Content - see description
- Uncover the mystery of the world’s collapse, where chance encounters with unique characters will shape your journey across time and parallel worlds
- Journey between the parallel human world and the Digital World: Iliad where Digimon reside
- Enjoy dynamic turn-based combat that combines strategic elements with evolved battle component
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The box was, I must admit, a respectable piece of craftsmanship. Sturdy, with excellent corners for chin-rubbing. My human, however, ignored this primary feature and instead liberated a small plastic cartridge, inserting it into her glowing rectangle. The screen flickered to life, displaying the words "Digimon Story Time Stranger." A fitting title, as I felt like a stranger to this particular brand of human foolishness. She cooed about her "pre-order bonus," some black-furred creatures named Agumon and Gabumon. An insult, really. My own gray and white tuxedo fur is far more elegant than any mere "black" coloration. I settled onto a nearby cushion, prepared to ignore the whole affair. But the light was… persistent. It pulsed with an unusual rhythm, and the air began to hum with a low static charge, making my whiskers tingle. I crept closer, my curiosity overriding my better judgment. As a character on the screen stepped through a shimmering portal into the "Digital World: Iliad," I placed a single, cautious paw on the screen's warm surface. A jolt, not unpleasant, shot up my leg. The world around me did not simply blur; it fractured into a million glowing squares. The scent of warm laundry and my human’s lavender tea was replaced by the sharp, sterile smell of ozone and electricity. I was no longer on the velvet cushion. I was standing on a grid of light, under a sky that churned with raw data. Before me stood a small, bipedal lizard with dark scales and wide, vacant eyes—the "Agumon (Black)" she'd been so pleased with. It stared at me, then took a step back, and waited. And waited. I blinked. Was this the famed "turn-based combat"? The creature was practically offering up its flank, yet it simply stood there, awaiting some invisible signal. What utter nonsense. I could have pounced, executed a perfect bunny-kick, and been grooming myself clean in the time it took for this thing to decide its "move." This wasn't a battle; it was a queue. Losing interest faster than a sunbeam moving across the floor, I turned my back on the digital amateur and began inspecting a nearby pulsating cube for napping potential. It was hard and cold. This "Iliad" was a world entirely devoid of comfort. Just as I was about to voice my displeasure with a world-shattering yowl, the grid beneath my paws flickered violently. A wave of force washed over me, and I was tumbling back through the strange, fractured space. I landed with a soft thump on the familiar cushion, my fur standing on end. My human was cheering, having apparently won her nonsensical staring contest. This toy is a menace. It disrupts the very fabric of reality and offers no quality napping surfaces. It is, unequivocally, not worthy of my presence. I shall retreat to the top of the bookshelf to watch from a safe, and judgmental, distance.
