Pete's Expert Summary
My human has presented me with what appears to be a flat, glowing tray for her own amusement. She calls it a "Lite-Brite Touch," a reimagining of some primitive light-and-peg device from her kittenhood. This version, thankfully, has no tiny plastic pegs for me to accidentally ingest and later inconvenience her with. Instead, it has 100 buttons that light up in various colors, which she can poke to create art or play rudimentary games. I'm told one of these games is called "Lite Snake," which sounds like a pathetic digital imitation of a proper string, but the moving lights might hold a flicker of interest. Honestly, it seems like another screen designed to steal her attention from more important duties, like filling my food bowl or providing a quality lap. Its only potential redeeming quality is if the surface warms up enough to make for a superior napping spot.
Key Features
- Create Art Without Pegs: There are 12 art guides included that you can follow along to create your art. Or get creative and make your own pictures with light.
- Play 3 Fun Games: There are 3 games to play including Lite Break, Lite Match and Lite Snake! Play on your own or join a friend for even more fun.
- Animate with Light: Choose from 5 ready to go animations to light up your room or any social video you have in store!
- Lite-Brite Reimagined: This Lite-Brite features button instead of pegs. Press the 100 light-up buttons to swap through seven colors as you create art or play games.
- Portable Fun for Everyone: Lite-Brite Touch's lightweight and portable design is perfect for long car rides or a quiet afternoon for kids ages 6+, tweens, teens and kidults of all ages!
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The box it arrived in was, as always, the main event. A superb, corrugated fortress from which I could survey my domain. The actual contents were secondary. My human, whom I permit to cohabitate with me, slid the black plastic slab out and began tapping it with her clumsy digits. It lit up, a garish display of colored squares. She was utterly mesmerized, a state I typically reserve for the hypnotic sway of my own tail. I watched from the arm of the sofa, feigning sleep but with one ear swiveled in its direction, processing. She made a clumsy-looking flower, then a lopsided rocket ship, before leaving the device on the coffee table, displaying a cycling animation of shifting colors. An offering, no doubt. That night, long after the house had fallen silent and the moon cast long shadows through the blinds, I descended from my velvet throne. The slab was still glowing, a silent beacon in the darkness. I padded closer, my paws making no sound on the hardwood floor. The lights pulsed rhythmically, a slow wave of blue, then green, then a sudden flash of red. It was not random. I’ve watched enough blinking server lights on my human’s strange desk-altar to recognize a pattern. This wasn't a toy. It was a communication device. I leaped onto the table. The surface was cool and smooth beneath my paws. This was a test from the Neighborhood Watch, the clandestine committee of felines that governs these blocks. The flashing lights were a cipher, a challenge to my intelligence and authority. A red square blinked in the top corner, followed by three greens in the middle, then two blues at the bottom. "Intruder at the bird feeder. Identity: Squirrel. Threat level: Annoying." I understood. I had to respond, to show I was vigilant. My soft paw pads, however, were too refined to activate the crude buttons. A lesser cat would have given up. I am not a lesser cat. I nudged the device with my nose, then carefully, deliberately, pressed a single button with the hard point of a claw, which I extended just for this purpose. The button lit up purple. My signal. "Message received. Monitoring situation. Will dispatch terrifying glare at sunrise." The slab then began displaying a slow, undulating snake of light. Acknowledgment. The humans believe this is a game. Let them have their little fantasies. We know its true purpose.
