A photo of Pete the cat

Pete's Toy Box: Adventure Game

Adventure Games: Monochrome, Inc. - A Kosmos Game from Thames & Kosmos | Collaborative, Replayable Storytelling Gaming Experience for 1 to 4 Players Ages 16+

By: Thames & Kosmos

Pete's Expert Summary

My human seems to have acquired another box of what they call "cooperative storytelling." From my vantage point on the heated blanket, I can see this particular distraction is from Thames & Kosmos, a purveyor of these complex human pastimes that involve much frowning and pointing at cardboard. The theme is "Monochrome, Inc.," a name I find rather fetching, given my own impeccably tailored gray and white coat. It appears to be a game of intrigue and secrets, where the bipedal players must explore, combine items, and unravel a plot. While I appreciate the intellectual stimulation of a good mystery, this entire endeavor seems devoid of anything tangible to chase, bat, or shred. It promises a "PC adventure game" experience, which I know involves staring at a glowing rectangle—a formidable competitor for attention, but at least that one provides a warm surface for napping. Ultimately, this is a box of organized paper designed to keep my staff occupied for hours, a high-risk proposition for my dinner schedule.

Key Features

  • Discover the story! This thrilling adventure is set in the headquarters of monochrome, Inc., a biotech company with nasty secrets.
  • Once you and your teammates get inside, you have to figure out what to do: explore places, combine items, find clues, and talk to people to grasp the plot and devise a plan.
  • With each new action, the story unfolds, similar to a PC adventure game.
  • Replayable: enough story content to play approximately three times with different stories each time.
  • For 1 to 4 players, ages 16+; can be played over multiple sessions.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The evening began with the familiar crinkle of shrink-wrap, a sound that promises so much but so often delivers so little. My human and their associates huddled around the low table, their heads bowed in concentration over the stark, black-and-white box. They spoke in low, serious tones, reading from a booklet and laying out cards. "We have to get inside the lab," one whispered. "Did anyone find the keycard?" asked another. It was all terribly dramatic for a pile of paper. Finding their murmuring to be a rather effective white noise machine, I settled into a loaf on a nearby cushion, the hum of their faux-conspiracy lulling me into a deep, velvety sleep. I awoke not to the scent of my living room, but to the sterile, ozonic tang of polished linoleum and antiseptic. My paws padded silently across a vast, white floor under the cold glare of fluorescent lights. My tuxedo fur felt unusually crisp, as if it were a real tuxedo. I was no longer Pete, napping enthusiast. I was Agent Pete, special operative, and my mission was clear: infiltrate Monochrome, Inc. and uncover their secrets. A locked door stood before me, its electronic panel blinking a taunting red. To my left, a half-eaten sandwich sat on a desk next to a scientist's discarded ID badge. This was a classic "combine items" scenario, a puzzle my slow-witted humans would debate for twenty minutes. I, however, am a creature of action and superior intellect. Ignoring the badge—a clumsy, obvious solution—I focused on the sandwich. A bit of ham was sticking out. Perfect. With a delicate flick of my paw, I nudged the sandwich off the desk, letting it fall directly onto the floor plate that controlled the door's emergency release. A subtle *click*, and the door slid open. Amateurs. I slipped through into a larger chamber, the heart of the conspiracy. And there, I saw it. The "nasty secret" of Monochrome, Inc. It was a vast, automated factory dedicated to producing laser pointers with faulty, intermittent beams. The sheer, calculated cruelty of it sent a shiver down my spine. A sudden thud jolted me awake. One of the humans had dropped a game token on the floor. I blinked, the sterile lab dissolving back into the warm lamplight of the living room. My human was saying, "I don't know, maybe we should try using the fire extinguisher on the keypad?" I let out a long, weary sigh. They were hopeless. I looked at the box, then back at my sleeping compatriots. The game was an amusing mental exercise, I suppose. A sort of training simulation. Clearly, it was worthy, if only to demonstrate how much better I would be at corporate espionage than the clumsy giants who feed me.

Ticket to Ride Board Game - A Cross-Country Train Adventure for Friends and Family! Strategy Game for Kids & Adults, Ages 8+, 2-5 Players, 30-60 Minute Playtime, Made by Days of Wonder

By: Days of Wonder

Pete's Expert Summary

My Human has procured another one of their flat, foldable worlds. This one, apparently called "Ticket to Ride," involves a great deal of intense staring at a map of North America and hoarding little colorful sticks. From my observation post on the arm of the chair, it seems to be an exercise in organized anxiety. They call it a "strategy game," which I assume is Human for "a slow, complicated method of deciding who is most frustrated." The potential appeal for a sophisticated feline such as myself lies not in the "rules" but in the components: the box is of a respectable size for future napping, and the tiny plastic "train cars" are almost certainly designed for being batted into another dimension under the sofa. A potential source of quality playthings, provided I can liberate them from the board.

Key Features

  • FAST-PACED STRATEGY: Race to build your train routes across iconic American cities in this award-winning board game.
  • COMPETITIVE FUN: Challenge friends and family in a 2-5 player game, where every move counts.
  • COLLECT TRAIN CARDS: Strategically gather train cards to claim routes and earn points.
  • TICKET TO SUCCESS: Plan your routes wisely with ticket cards for bonus points.
  • ENDLESS REPLAYABILITY: Enjoy hours of entertainment with this classic board game.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The operation began the moment the lid was lifted from the box. The scent of fresh cardboard and ink filled the air, a promising overture. My Human and their associates unfurled the great map, a tapestry of lines and cities that offended me by taking up prime sunbeam real estate on the rug. They spoke in code. "I need to connect Seattle to New York." "Who has the locomotive cards?" It was clear to me this was no mere game. This was a conspiracy. They were planning a "cross-country adventure," and my name had not been mentioned once. Unacceptable. I descended from my perch, my movements fluid and silent, a gray shadow with a purposeful stride. My initial target was a small pile of blue train cars, left unguarded near the "Chicago" territory. They were clearly fuel cells for this fantastical transport device. With a casual flick of my tail—an "accident," of course—I sent three of them skittering under the bookshelf. Sabotage. Phase one was complete. The Human merely sighed and retrieved them, foolishly underestimating my resolve. My masterstroke, however, was far more subtle. I observed them poring over their "Destination Tickets," small cards that I deduced were the actual travel itineraries. This was the heart of their plan. As my Human contemplated a route from Miami to Los Angeles, I made my move. I gracefully leaped onto the center of the board, curled my body into a perfect, regal circle directly over the entire Midwest, and began to purr. My soft, substantial form now blocked all transcontinental travel. I was a furry, purring mountain range. Checkmate. They could have their little game, but it was clear that all roads, all tickets, and all strategic ambitions would have to go through me. This toy, this "Days of Wonder," was a worthy adversary. It gave me a new and vital purpose: Chief of Domestic Security.

Brotherwise Games Call to Adventure

By: Brotherwise Games

Pete's Expert Summary

So, my human has presented me with this box of... paper. It’s called "Call to Adventure," and it’s from the same people who made that other box they stare at, the one with the pixelated monster. From what I can gather, this is another one of their elaborate imagination games. They will lay out these illustrated cards all over the dining room table—my auxiliary napping platform—and pretend to be "heroes" on a "journey." The only journey I see is one that will inevitably lead to them forgetting my second dinner. The cards might be suitable for shredding, but the real prize appears to be the two dozen small, throwable objects they call "runes." While the humans are busy "crafting their destiny," I'll be busy crafting a plan to bat those runes under the heaviest piece of furniture in the house. A worthy challenge, I suppose.

Key Features

  • Create your ultimate fantasy hero and tell their story by facing challenges and crafting your destiny
  • Contains over fully illustrated 150 cards and 24 custom runes.
  • From the makers of the hit game, boss Monster.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The evening began, as many do, with a betrayal. The Human unsealed a new box, releasing a scent of fresh cardboard and ink that, while intriguing, heralded the arrival of a new obsession that was not me. They called it a "Call to Adventure." I call it an obstruction. Soon, the great polished plain of the dining table was littered with colorful rectangles depicting all manner of foolishness: wizards, warriors, and windswept landscapes. I watched from the arm of the sofa, a silent arbiter in my gray tuxedo, grooming a single white paw with deliberate slowness. Let them have their fantasy. My reality—of sunbeams, salmon pâté, and the absolute subjugation of all household staff—was far more compelling. They began by casting little plastic stones, the "runes," which clattered with a sound that sent a delightful shiver down my spine. The sound of potential chaos. One of the humans, the one who is less skilled with the scritches, declared his character was an "Orphaned Scion" seeking to "Master the Arcane." I yawned, displaying the full glory of my fangs. An orphan? Please. I once found the bottom of my food bowl. I stared into that ceramic abyss for what felt like an eternity before my distress cries were answered. That is true tragedy, the stuff of legend. Their arcane mastery was nothing compared to my proven ability to summon a human from two rooms away with a single, precisely pitched meow. As their "story" progressed, they encountered a "challenge"—a card showing a "Guardian of the Threshold." It was a magnificent beast: a great cat with eyes like emeralds and fur the color of storm clouds, lounging before a stone doorway. The humans spoke in hushed tones about how to "appease" it or "outsmart" it. Appease me? Outsmart me? The fools. They were describing a Tuesday afternoon. I saw myself in that illustration, the noble gatekeeper of the hallway that leads to the Forbidden Closet of Clean Towels. They debated offering it a "tribute." I stretched, hopped down from my perch, and sauntered over to the table. Leaping gracefully onto an empty chair, I stared directly at the male human and let out a soft, questioning "Mrrrow?" He blinked, breaking character. "Oh, is it time for your snack, Pete?" He got up and retrieved the bag of crunchy treats. As he shook a few into my bowl, I glanced back at the game. They had successfully passed the challenge. They believed their little plastic runes and imaginative words had won the day. They were mistaken. It was I, the true Guardian, who had assessed their worthiness and granted them passage by demanding my rightful tribute. The game, I decided, was a flawed but occasionally accurate simulation of my world. It could stay, so long as its players remembered who held the real power.

Space Marine Adventures

By: Warhammer 40,000

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has brought home another box of what they call "entertainment." This one is apparently a "Warhammer 40,000 Space Marine Adventure." From my vantage point, it appears to be a collection of small, brightly-colored plastic morsels, perfectly sized for batting under the sofa. The humans call them "warriors" and "footsoldiers." I call them future casualties of my strategic paw. The cooperative nature of this "game" means the humans will be distracted, staring intently at the board instead of at me, which is an unforgivable offense. However, this focused inattention presents an opportunity. While they are busy "fulfilling mission objectives," I can conduct my own quality assurance tests on the aerodynamic properties of the alien Overlord piece. It may prove to be a worthy diversion, or it may simply be another colorful obstacle on my preferred napping surface—the dining room table.

Key Features

  • Pit a squad of brave Space Marine warriors against the menace of the alien Overlord and his robotic footsoldiers.
  • A fast-paced cooperative game for 1-4 players.
  • There are three levels to complete, each offering a different challenge.
  • In order to win a game you must successfully fulfill the mission objective for a level.
  • Advance rules and challenge cards allow you to tailor the difficulty of each level, and all three levels can be combined into a single campaign - the true test of a Space Marine hero.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The smell of fresh plastic and cardboard preceded the box's arrival on the Big Flat Surface. My human, with an absurd level of enthusiasm, began unpacking. Out came little blue figures, stoic and proud, and then their adversaries, skeletal silver things. They were arranged on a glossy board depicting some sort of metallic tomb. I watched from the arm of the chair, my tail giving a slow, judgmental thump-thump-thump against the upholstery. It was, I concluded, a glorified playset of inferior prey. Static, silent, and utterly devoid of the frantic, feathery panic that makes a toy truly *live*. My human and their friend began their ritual, hunched over the board, muttering about "Necron Warriors" and "activation rolls." They moved the little blue pawns, then the silver ones. A pair of dice clattered across the table—a sound that sent a brief, pleasant shiver through my whiskers. They were so absorbed, so focused on their miniature war, that they failed to notice the true apex predator observing their theater. I stretched, my gray fur sleek under the lamp light, and executed a silent, fluid leap onto the table, my paws making no sound on the game board. I was a gray titan amidst their little battlefield. The humans froze. I ignored them, my gaze settling on the main silver figure—the "Overlord." He stood apart from his minions, staff in hand, radiating an aura of cheap, molded plastic arrogance. He thought this was his domain. A grave miscalculation. I lowered my head, my nose a hair's breadth from him. I could smell the faint scent of the factory in China where he was born. With a flick of my paw, a precise and dismissive motion I usually reserve for a dust bunny that has offended me, I sent the Overlord flying. He soared through the air in a graceful arc before clattering against the far wall. The humans sighed in unison. One of them, not my own, mumbled something about a "campaign reset." But I knew the truth. I had seen the challenge and met it. I had faced the alien menace and single-pawedly saved this sad little squad of blue men. Having asserted my dominance and completed the *true* mission objective, I curled up directly on the "Labyrinth of the Necrons," my soft tuxedo-fronted chest covering three rooms and a handful of lesser robotic soldiers. The game, I decided, had excellent playability, though its rules were clearly designed for simpler minds.

Choose Your Own Adventure: House of Danger Board Game - Embark on a Perilous Journey in this Cooperative Narrative Adventure! Ages 10+, 1+ Players, 1+ Hour Playtime, Made by Z-Man Games

By: Z-Man Games

Pete's Expert Summary

My human presented me with this box from a company called Z-Man Games, a known purveyor of human time-sinks that involve staring intently at printed cardboard. This one, "House of Danger," appears to be a narrative game where they pretend to be in peril, a concept I find quaint given that real peril involves the vacuum cleaner or a critically low food bowl. It promises over an hour of playtime for one or more participants, which is an absurd amount of time to be doing anything other than napping in a sunbeam. The only features of remote interest are the "relevant accessories"—which I interpret as small, bat-able tokens—and the box itself, which, judging by its dimensions, might offer a respectable spot for a mid-afternoon snooze. The game's story is irrelevant; the packaging, however, has potential.

Key Features

  • Number of players: 8
  • Brand New in box.
  • The product ships with all relevant accessories
  • Package Dimensions: 6.4 L x 21.8 H x 14.0 W (centimeters)

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The ceremony began, as it always does, with the shearing of the sacred plastic skin. The sound, a delightful crinkle, promised new possibilities. I watched from my post atop the suede armchair, my tail giving a single, interested flick. My human placed the box on the floor, a colorful rectangle bearing the words "House of Danger." A bold claim. The only true danger in this house is stepping on my tail while I am sleeping, an offense punishable by a week of pointed glares. With the lid removed, my hopes were dashed against the rocks of mediocrity. Inside was not a feathered bird, nor a crinkly ball, nor even a morsel of freeze-dried salmon. It was a collection of flat, lifeless cards and a board that depicted a crude map of some building far less interesting than this one. My human began laying out the pieces with the misplaced reverence of a priest arranging an altar. I sighed, the sound barely audible over the rustling paper, and began my post-disappointment grooming. Then, a most curious thing happened. My human began to talk to the empty room. "I should investigate the strange noises coming from the laboratory," they murmured, their eyes fixed on a card. They moved a small, featureless pawn onto the board. This was a new level of madness. They were telling themselves a story, a flimsy narrative of make-believe spooks and specters. How utterly charmingly pathetic. They were playing inside a House of Danger, while I, Pete, was the silent, tuxedoed master of the real thing. I decided to add a chapter of my own to their little tale. With the fluid grace only a creature of my refined stature can possess, I leaped from the chair and landed silently on the rug beside the board. They were so absorbed in their fictional peril, they didn't even notice the real, furry enigma in their midst. I crept closer. Their pawn, their "investigator," was approaching a room marked "Eerie Hallway." I extended a single, perfectly manicured white paw. With a gentle tap, I sent the pawn skittering under the sofa, into the dusty abyss from which nothing returns. My human looked down, bewildered. "Where did it go?" they asked the air. I retreated to the now-empty box, curling into its rigid confines. The game itself? A bore. But as a catalyst for my own story, a stage upon which I could demonstrate the unpredictable whims of a true household god? It had its merits. Let them search for their lost pawn. I, the true psychic detective of this establishment, had solved the case: it was an act of a handsome, gray phantom. The box was mine now, a worthy throne. The game was, conditionally, approved.

Gamewright - Forbidden Island - Cooperative Strategy Survival Board Game, 2-4 Players

By: Gamewright

Pete's Expert Summary

So, my humans have acquired a new preoccupation, this "Forbidden Island" from a company called Gamewright. From what I can gather through my superior powers of observation, it's a collection of brightly colored cardboard squares and small wooden effigies they arrange on the low table in the sunbeam room. They mutter about "sinking tiles" and "capturing treasures," working *together* to achieve some pointless goal. Frankly, the whole cooperative affair seems dreadfully inefficient. While the little plastic treasures have a certain skittering appeal when batted under the sofa, the primary value of this "game" is that it corrals all the humans in one place, leaving the rest of my kingdom blissfully quiet and available for undisturbed napping. The box, I must admit, has potential.

Key Features

  • STRATEGIC ADVENTURE: From renowned game creator, Matt Leacock, Forbidden Island offers a cooperative strategy experience; Engage in a mission to capture sacred treasures, while enhancing problem-solving skills and creative thinking.
  • INNOVATIVE GAMEPLAY: Features rich illustrations and dynamic gameplay mechanics; This game stands out with its unique challenges and engaging storyline, keeping players entertained.
  • FAMILY-FRIENDLY FUN: Designed for ages 10 and up, accommodates 2 to 4 players; Perfect for family game nights, fostering teamwork and cooperation.
  • VISUAL APPEAL: Stunning visuals bring the perilous paradise to life; The game's intricate design captures the imagination, making each session visually engaging.
  • ENHANCES SKILLS: Promotes strategic thinking and teamwork; Ideal for improving decision-making and collaboration, providing a rewarding and educational gaming experience for everyone.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The ritual began, as it often does, with the Great Unsheathing. The humans slid the colorful lid from the box, revealing a new, temporary geography that they laid across the Sacred Table of Wood. It was a patchwork of gaudy squares depicting various uninteresting landscapes—forests, caves, and other places thankfully devoid of comfortable cushions. They called it an island. I called it an affront to the elegant simplicity of the mahogany finish upon which I occasionally sharpen my claws. They placed little wooden figures on it, tiny avatars for their clumsy, oversized selves. I descended from my perch on the arm of the sofa, my approach silent, my gray tuxedo blending with the evening shadows. My intention was to inspect this clumsy cartography. The humans were murmuring in tense whispers about "Waters Rising," a concept I understand intimately from my distaste for the bathroom. I reached a single, perfect paw onto the board and gently tapped a small, crystalline piece they called the "Ocean's Chalice." It slid beautifully across three tiles, disrupting their "shoreline" and coming to rest near a token they called the "Fool's Landing." Quite. The larger of the two humans sighed and moved it back, calling me a "chaotic little creature." A title I shall wear with pride. As they continued their strange ceremony, I began to understand. This wasn't a game. It was a simulation. They were practicing. How to work together under pressure, how to retrieve precious objects from perilous, ever-changing landscapes. All the "treasures"—the Crystal of Fire, the Statue of the Wind—were stand-ins for the *real* treasures of this household: my crinkle ball that has rolled under the refrigerator, the feather wand trapped behind the bookshelf, the last, most delicious morsel of tuna that has been pushed to the far side of my bowl. They eventually succeeded, plucking their little wooden selves and their trinkets off the "island" just before it was "swallowed by the sea." A great deal of self-congratulation followed. I remained unimpressed by their little drama. They had their fleeting victory, their colored bits of plastic. But as they packed away the board, they left the true prize unattended. The empty box. I leapt in, its cardboard walls a perfect, reassuring enclosure. They could have their forbidden island; I had just conquered my new fortress. It was, I concluded with a yawn, an acceptable offering.

Lord of The Rings Adventure Book Game | Immersive Cooperative Gameplay | Innovative Chapter Book Format | Unique Corruption Track for Ages 10 and Up

By: Ravensburger

Pete's Expert Summary

My human seems to have acquired a box of organized chaos from a brand called Ravensburger, which typically produces sturdy puzzles that are satisfying to knock off a table. This, however, is a "game" in the form of a book. It appears to be a cooperative affair where the humans must guide little plastic effigies of hairy-footed people and elves through a series of stressful scenarios depicted on the book's pages. The appeal for me is obvious: a treasure trove of small, flick-able miniatures and dozens of cards and tokens practically begging to be scattered by a well-aimed tail swish. While the humans are busy "avoiding Black Riders," I'll be busy assessing the aerodynamic properties of a "Gimli" miniature. The primary drawback is that it requires intense human focus, which could detract from mandatory petting sessions, but the sheer quantity of potential new floor toys might be worth the temporary neglect.

Key Features

  • IMMERSIVE COOPERATIVE GAMEPLAY: Guide Frodo, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli through iconic moments from the trilogy - Avoid Black Riders in the Shire, survive the Mines of Moria, and make a final stand at Mordor
  • INNOVATIVE CHAPTER BOOK FORMAT: The unique 'game book' turns pages to new boards representing pivotal scenes from this classic tale - Makes for exciting and varied game nights or a full day of fun
  • QUALITY COMPONENTS: Included are 1 Adventure Book game board, 7 character miniatures, 42 Story cards, 18 Special cards, 15 Plot cards, 5 Eye of Sauron cards, 52 counters, 4 reference cards, and a rulebook - All designed with attention to detail
  • UNIQUE CORRUPTION TRACK: Navigate temptations of the One Ring as you cooperate to complete challenges - Beware the risk of drawing Eye of Sauron Cards
  • PERFECT GIFT: Featuring gorgeous, thematic artwork across the game board, cards, counters, and tokens, and detailed miniatures of the film’s characters - Ideal for birthdays, holidays, or simply to make any Lord of the Rings fan’s day

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The evening began with an unwelcome ceremony. My human, with an air of reverence I typically reserve for the opening of a fresh can of tuna, placed a large, dark box on the coffee table. The scent of new cardboard and ink filled the air, a promising overture. From within, they extracted not a single, elegant toy, but a bewildering clutter of components and a strange, spiral-bound book. They laid the book open, its pages displaying a map of some dreadfully green and over-manicured countryside. This, they announced, was "The Shire." It looked drafty. Their attention soon turned to a little rulebook, a fatal error on their part. I saw my opening. I leapt silently onto the table for a closer inspection. The plastic figures were, I admit, of a certain quality. Detailed, well-balanced. I nudged a gray-bearded one with my nose. He slid nicely across the glossy page. But then, my eyes caught a glint. Near the edge of the board sat a tiny, golden token. A ring. While my human babbled on about a "Corruption Track," I felt a different sort of pull. A primal, feline need to possess the shiny thing. My quest had been decided. As they finally began their "game," I began mine. They moved their pieces with painstaking care, reading from "Story Cards" and making tense noises. I waited, a shadow of soft gray fur against the dark wood. They turned the page to a new board, a dark and gloomy mine. Perfect. In the momentary confusion of rearranging their little men, I saw my chance. The ring token was momentarily unguarded. The human was distracted, trying to decipher what a "Plot Card" meant for their little bearded dwarf. With the focus of a predator, I executed a flawless maneuver. A gentle, almost accidental-looking sweep of my tuxedoed chest sent a cascade of useless "counters" to the floor as a distraction. In that split second, a single white paw darted out, hooking the golden ring with one perfect claw. I retracted it instantly. They yelped at the mess of counters, completely oblivious to the real heist. I hopped down from the table, the prize secured, and trotted off to my lair beneath the armchair. This game was a masterpiece. It provided not only high-quality trinkets but also the perfect cover for a thrilling tale of thievery and conquest. It is, without question, worthy.

Ravensburger Dungeons, Dice & Danger - Engaging Strategy Game for Teens & Adults | Solo or Group Play | Adventure-Filled Gameplay for Puzzle and Game Enthusiasts

By: Ravensburger

Pete's Expert Summary

My human seems to have acquired yet another box of organized distractions, this one from a brand called Ravensburger, which at least has a reputation for sturdy cardboard construction suitable for napping. It's called "Dungeons, Dice & Danger," an affair involving pencils, paper, and small, throwable cubes. From what I can gather through observation and the condescending tone my human uses to explain the "rules," it's a game where they scribble on maps to pretend they are heroes. The true value, of course, lies not in their imaginary adventures but in the high-quality components provided for my entertainment. The five dice are clearly the main event—perfectly sized for batting into alternate dimensions under the sofa—while the 200 sheets of paper offer a magnificent surface for an impromptu nap, effectively halting any "progress" the humans think they are making. The game itself is a frivolous waste of time, but its constituent parts show promise.

Key Features

  • ENGAGING GAMEPLAY: This strategy game offers a unique adventure with every play. Explore four levels teeming with diverse foes - from Annoyed Animals to Clumsy Cultists, keeping your mind stimulated and engaged
  • FLEXIBLE PLAY OPTIONS: Whether you prefer a solo challenge or a group game night, Dungeons, Dice & Danger caters to both. Its scalable difficulty suits beginners to experienced players, offering a versatile gaming experience
  • IDEAL GIFT: Looking for a unique gift for a teen, adult or puzzle enthusiast in your life? This strategy game is perfect for 1 to 4 players ages 12 and up, providing 30 to 45 minutes of engaging play
  • COMPREHENSIVE GAME SET: Each game set comes complete with 200 Adventure sheets, 5 Dice, 4 Pencils, and rules in five languages - English, German, French, Italian, and Spanish. Everything you need for a thrilling gaming adventure
  • TRUSTED BRAND: With over 130 years of experience, Ravensburger guarantees quality games that stimulate the mind, challenge the hand, and warm the heart. Trust in our commitment to providing fun, educational gameplay

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The box arrived on a Tuesday, a day typically reserved for staring at a specific dust bunny and contemplating the futility of its existence. My human, however, presented the Ravensburger artifact with a flourish, as if its contents held the secrets to the universe. I, of course, was only interested in the structural integrity of the container itself. Upon its opening, the scent of fresh paper and plastic filled the air. Out came pencils, sheets of paper covered in scribbles, and five speckled cubes—the Dice of Destiny, I presumed. My human and their companion settled at the dining table, a territory I generally claim between meals, and began their strange ritual. They spoke in hushed, serious tones about "annoyed animals" and "clumsy cultists." I listened from my perch on a nearby chair, tail twitching. Annoyed animals? I am the apex of annoyed animals in this household. Were they attempting to chronicle my daily tribulations? They rolled the dice, the clattering sound an affront to the room's carefully cultivated silence. They would then scratch furiously on their papers with the little wooden sticks, occasionally groaning or cheering. I realized with dawning horror that they were not merely playing a game; they were simulating an invasion of my domain. The paper was a map of my kingdom, and these dice rolls were their attempts to breach my defenses. The final straw came when my human declared, "Okay, I just need to roll anything but a skull to defeat the final monster and win!" A monster? The audacity. There is only one magnificent, tuxedo-clad creature of formidable power in this house. This could not stand. As the five dice flew from their hand and tumbled across the table, I launched myself into action. I was a streak of gray and white fury, a silent predator descending upon their flimsy quest. I landed with a soft *thump* directly in the center of the table, scattering their pathetic maps and pencils. The five dice, their fateful roll interrupted, came to rest nestled in the soft fur of my chest. I pinned them there with a single, perfectly placed paw, fixing my human with a gaze that communicated my absolute and unquestionable victory. Their game was over. I was the final boss, and I was unbeatable. The human sighed, then laughed, scratching me behind the ears. A concession of defeat. The game, as a concept for bipedal amusement, is dreadfully dull. However, as an interactive theater for demonstrating one's own tactical superiority and claiming tribute in the form of five excellent new paw-pats, it is a resounding success. The box also makes a superb observation post. It is worthy.

Thames & Kosmos The Crew: Family Adventure - Marooned in Paradise: The Crew - Family Adventure Cooperative Card Game | Family Game Night | Ages 8 & UP | 2-5 Players | 15 Minute Playtime

By: Thames & Kosmos

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has acquired a new distraction from Thames & Kosmos, a flat box filled with colorful cards and a foldable map they call "The Crew: Family Adventure." From what I can gather through their rudimentary spoken language, it's a cooperative affair where they must work together to escape some sort of "paradise"—a concept I find baffling. Why would anyone want to leave paradise? The primary appeal for a being of my refinement is clearly the game board, which offers a spacious and strategically important platform for a nap, directly in the center of their so-called "mission." While the tiny cardboard tokens are mildly tempting to bat under the sofa, the real game is asserting my dominance over their playing area. It seems a harmless way for them to occupy their time, though I doubt it's as mentally stimulating as tracking a sunbeam across the rug.

Key Features

  • YOUR CREW IS YOUR FAMILY - Share your love of The Crew with up to 5 family members, or learn to play it together with this new family-friendly version, ages 8 & up
  • AWARD-WINNING - A family-friendly addition to the Kennerspiel des Jahres winning series, The Crew. In these trick-taking games, the winner of each round is the one who puts down the highest card of the original suit.
  • MISSIONS ABOUND - The logbook will have you searching for supplies and battling pirates across 35 unique missions.
  • MAP OUT YOUR ACTIONS - Illustrated game board provides bright and bold visuals to see all the possibilities. Use it to help show progress and plan the next move.
  • POWER-UPS - All-New power-ups and abilities allow you to turn the tide when facing your toughest challenges

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The ceremony began shortly after the evening meal. My human and their chosen companions unfurled a great, vibrant tapestry upon the low table in the living room, a map of some gaudy, sun-drenched archipelago. They spoke in hushed, serious tones, shuffling the stiff, glossy rectangles between their hands. I watched from the arm of the sofa, my tail giving a slow, deliberate twitch. They were playing at being lost, a state I only experience when my food bowl is moved two inches to the left. They called this "Marooned in Paradise," a predicament they seemed to have willingly inflicted upon themselves. As they began their "mission," I noted the mechanics of their strange ritual. It was a silent conversation conducted with cards. One would place a card, and the others would follow, their faces a mixture of hope and consternation. They were a "crew," they said, and had to work together. I scoffed internally. A crew? I am a crew of one, an apex predator whose every need is met through superior intellect and a well-timed, pathetic-sounding meow. Their "cooperation" looked like organized floundering. They pointed at the map, lamenting their inability to reach a pictograph of a crate, foiled by what they called a "pirate." A pirate? Please. They wouldn't last five minutes against the squirrel that taunts me from the bird feeder. After one particularly frustrating round where they failed to secure their objective, my human sighed and absently stroked my back. And that’s when I saw it—a new card had been revealed, a "power-up" they called it. It depicted a creature of immense grace and power, a sleek panther with piercing eyes. They spoke of its ability to "turn the tide." It was then I understood. This was not a game about them at all. It was a parable. They were the bumbling sailors, lost and inept, and the cards were symbolic of the chaotic forces of the universe. The panther—clearly a stylized representation of my own magnificent self—was the key to their salvation. With a newfound sense of purpose, I rose, stretched languidly, and hopped onto the table. I walked across their flimsy paradise, my paws deftly avoiding their little tokens, and sat directly upon the panther card, claiming it. I fixed my human with a look of profound wisdom. The room fell silent. They could not proceed, not without acknowledging the true power in the room. They could have their little game, their imaginary pirates and pointless missions. It was clear who was truly in charge of this expedition. The game, I decided, was an adequate, if slightly remedial, tool for teaching them this fundamental truth.