Pete's Expert Summary
My human presented me with this... artifact from a company called Pressman. It appears to be a formalized arena for intellectual combat, a gridded battleground made of folded cardboard. The actual "toys" are a collection of 32 little plastic statues, in stark black and what they call ivory, but which I see as a rather uninspired shade of beige. For a creature of my refined intellect, the strategic possibilities are intriguing; a welcome departure from the usual frantic feather-waving. However, the pieces themselves feel a bit light, and the entire affair relies on finding a competent opponent, a commodity in critically short supply around here. It might serve as a decent stage for tactical napping, but I suspect its true value lies in the potential for batting these so-called "pawns" under the sofa.
Key Features
- Chess is a two-player strategy game played on a checkered board with 64 squares arranged in an 8x8 grid
- Chess Family Classics edition is perfect for both beginners and experienced players
- Features heavy duty folding chess board for easy storage and years of play
- 32 black and ivory Staunton chess pieces, with 2.5" King
- Manufacturer recommends game is suitable for ages 8 and up and for 2 players
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The Tall One unfurled the board with a sound like stiffened thunder, a crisp *whump-fap* that echoed in the quiet room. It settled on the low table, a stark black-and-ivory desert. My initial assessment from the arm of the sofa was one of profound disinterest. Another flat square thing. I’ve seen better rugs. Then came the pieces, rattling in their box like the dry bones of mice. He lined them up, two opposing armies of silent plastic, and I confess, my tail gave a slight, involuntary twitch. They weren't just lumps; they were statues with distinct silhouettes. The tall, crowned ones stood with a foolish arrogance, the stout castles dared you to approach, and the horses… the horses had a delightful, chewable-looking curve to their heads. My human began to play against himself, a truly pathetic spectacle of indecision. He’d move a white pawn, sigh, then shuffle a black pawn to counter. The sheer, plodding inefficiency of it all was an affront to my feline senses. Action should be swift, decisive, a blur of motion culminating in triumphant victory. This was like watching paint dry, if paint had the audacity to be this boring. I could stand it no longer. This theater of war required a catalyst, a force of nature they hadn't accounted for in their little rulebook. With the calculated grace of a falling shadow, I leaped onto the table, my paws making a soft *thump* on the glossy surface. The human looked up, startled. I ignored him. I was not a pet; I was a reckoning. My gaze swept over the board, past the expendable pawns, beyond the rigid bishops. My target was the Black King, a pompous little tyrant hiding behind his forces. I lowered my head, my white tuxedo-bib brushing against a white rook, and with a delicate but firm nudge of my nose, I sent the enemy monarch tipping over with a pathetic *click*. There. Game over. I saved him at least an hour of tedious shuffling. I then proceeded to select a particularly jaunty-looking Knight and batted it off the table, watching its glorious skittering flight across the hardwood floor. The human sighed, but I knew the truth. This "game" was not for two players. It was a stage for one star, a chaotic neutral arbiter of fate. The board is an adequate pedestal, and the pieces make for satisfactory trophies. As a game, it’s flawed. As a dramatic installation piece awaiting my grand intervention? Worthy. Exceptionally worthy.
