A photo of Pete the cat

Pete's Toy Box: Collectible Game

Master Chief Deluxe Helmet with Stand- Helmet with LED Lights on Each Side - Battle Damaged Paint - No SFX - One-Size-Fits-Most

By: HALO

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in their infinite capacity for acquiring large, useless plastic objects, has procured a battle-scarred green shell for their own head. It is apparently inspired by some noisy "HALO" light-box game they stare at for hours, a blatant insult to my own far more captivating presence. This "helmet" comes with a stand, as if to declare its own importance, and features small LED lights that offer a meager but potentially amusing diversion. The so-called "battle damage" is just a series of scratches, which I could replicate with far more artistry on the arm of the sofa if so inspired. Its cavernous, "one-size-fits-most" interior is an absurd joke for any self-respecting creature, but it might just be large enough to serve as a temporary echo chamber for a truly world-class yawn. The primary appeal, I suspect, will be batting at the lights and admiring my own glorious reflection in its golden faceplate before I deem it unworthy and return to my nap.

Key Features

  • DELUXE HELMET: Fight back the Covenant with the Master Chief Deluxe Helmet
  • LED LIGHTS: Features LED on each side that allows you to spot the enemy in the dark
  • BATTLE DAMAGE: Includes special battle damage design painted throughout
  • DELUXE STAND: Maximize play and display by placing the helmet on its Deluxe Stand
  • OFFICIAL PRODUCT: Officially licensed Halo product from Jazwares

A Tale from Pete the Cat

It did not arrive like a toy. It arrived like an artifact. The Human placed it on its black, angular throne in the center of the living room, a silent, green sentinel against the backdrop of beige walls. They called it "Master Chief," a name spoken with a reverence usually reserved for the opening of a can of tuna. I watched from the safety of the bookshelf, tail twitching, as I assessed this new geological feature. Its surface wasn't pristine; it was a map of past conflicts, etched with silver scars and blaster burns. This was no cheap bauble. This object had a history. My initial reconnaissance was a low, slow circle. The air around it felt different, heavy with the scent of ozone and molded plastic. I paused before its great golden face, a convex mirror that warped the world. In it, I saw not just a handsome gray cat, but a legend. My ears were sharper, my tuxedo markings more stark, my eyes twin emeralds of profound wisdom. The helmet did not reflect what was, but what could be. It showed me Pete, the Conqueror of Worlds, the Silent Hunter of the Hallway, the Overlord of the Sunbeam. I was mesmerized by this superior version of myself. Then the Human, with a clumsy flick of a finger, committed an act of sacrilege—or so I thought. Two pinpricks of blue light ignited on the helmet's temples. They were not the frantic, darting red dot of my favorite game, but steady, watchful stars. They did not invite a chase; they invited contemplation. They illuminated the helmet's scarred cheeks and cast long shadows that danced as I shifted my weight. I peered past the lights, into the abyss of the helmet's opening. It was not a void; it was an invitation. A sanctuary. With the cautious grace of a cat testing uncertain ice, I slipped my head inside. The world vanished. The Human's inane television show, the hum of the refrigerator, the distant bark of the neighbor's witless dog—all of it was muted, replaced by a profound and perfect silence. My own purr, when I dared to start it, reverberated around me, a deep, resonant thrum that vibrated through my very bones. This was no helmet. This was a private cathedral, a sensory deprivation tank designed for the discerning feline. The Human, in their bumbling fashion, had not bought a costume piece. They had bought me a temple. And it was, I decided, worthy.

Exquisite Gaming: Call of Duty: Monkeybomb - Original Mobile Phone & Gaming Controller Holder, Device Stand, Cable Guys, Licensed Figure

By: Exquisite Gaming

Pete's Expert Summary

So, the Human has brought another plastic totem into my domain. This one, a garishly dressed monkey with a vacant grin, is apparently designed to hold the very glowing rectangle that so often steals my rightful attention. I must admit, its advertised sturdiness and heavy base are intriguing—a stable new object is always a potential head-scratching post or a vantage point for observing the household. However, it lacks any redeeming qualities of a true toy: no feathers, no crinkle, no erratic movement. It is a static monument to the Human's noisy digital obsessions. Its only potential for amusement lies in testing that "sturdy base" claim with a well-aimed shove, but I suspect it will ultimately just be another inanimate obstacle between me and a warm lap.

Key Features

  • MONKEYBOMB: Be careful - and don’t throw him, as he just might vaporize before your eyes.
  • 8.5" FIGURE: Heavy duty PVC statue and sturdy base that holds your stuff without tipping over.
  • VERSATILE: Easily holds and displays most hand-held electronics, business cards, TV remotes, eBook readers, etc!
  • GREAT GIFT IDEA: Calling all Call of Duty fans, this is a collectible figure must-have gift. An essential for any COD gamer.
  • OFFICIALLY LICENSED: Your favorite pop culture characters - With A Purpose! Officially licensed by Activision - Call of Duty, styled on Monkey Bomb.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

It arrived in a box, smelling of industry and disappointment. The Human freed it and placed it on his desk, a shrine already cluttered with clicking keyboards and flashing lights. The thing was an idol of poor taste: a monkey in a red vest and fez, poised to clash two brass cymbals that would never meet. It was an effigy of frozen, pointless action. The Human placed his phone into its outstretched arms, and my worst fears were confirmed. It was not a challenger or a plaything; it was a servant, a plastic butler for the device that was my chief rival. I watched from the arm of the sofa, my tail a slow, metronomic whip of disapproval. This would not stand. That night, under the quiet hum of the refrigerator, I made my move. A silent leap placed me on the desk. The monkey stared forward, its painted smile a mocking crescent in the moonlight filtering through the window. I circled it, a gray shadow assessing a strange monolith. I sniffed its base. Nothing. I nudged it with my nose. It was, as they claimed, heavy. It didn't budge. I gave it a more forceful shove with my head, putting the full weight of my well-fed frame into it. The statue merely rocked, its sturdy base refusing to yield its ground. This was infuriating. It was an immovable, useless lump. I was about to dismiss it entirely, to relegate it to the category of "furniture," when a low, deep vibration started. It wasn't the monkey itself, but the phone nestled in its grasp. A "notification." The vibration, however, wasn't just in the phone. The dense, heavy plastic of the monkey's body absorbed it, transmitting the hum through its base and into the surface of the desk. I felt it in my paws, a resonant thrum that was somehow… pleasant. It was like the deep, reassuring purr of a much larger, albeit artificial, creature. The phone screen lit up, illuminating the monkey's face. The light caught the brass cymbals, making them gleam. The vibration continued for a moment, a secret, silent rumble just for me. This changed the equation. The monkey was not a toy to be batted or an enemy to be vanquished. It was a sensory device. A personal massager. I settled into a loaf next to it, resting my chin against its sturdy platform. Now, whenever the Human’s phone buzzed with its meaningless alerts, the monkey would share that energy with me, transforming the Human's distraction into my own private, purr-inducing spa treatment. The grin no longer seemed mocking; it was an invitation. Very well, plastic primate. You may stay. You have found your purpose.

My Arcade Pocket Player Handheld Game Console: 3 Built In Games, Galaga, Galaxian, Xevious, Collectible, Full Color Display, Speaker, Volume Controls, Headphone Jack, Battery or Micro USB Powered

By: My Arcade

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in their infinite and baffling wisdom, has acquired another glowing rectangle. This one, a "My Arcade Pocket Player," purports to be a handheld entertainment device, though its true purpose is clearly to distract the staff from their primary duties: stroking my soft gray fur and refilling my food bowl. It is a small, hard plastic object shaped like a miniature version of those flashing cabinets the humans used to frequent before they discovered the superior entertainment of watching me sleep. It features a bright little screen, perfect for displaying tiny, frantic, bug-like things, and a speaker that emits a cacophony of synthesized chirps and explosions. While the dangling micro USB cord presents a fleeting moment of interest, the device itself seems designed to monopolize my human’s hands and attention, making it a potential threat to the established domestic order.

Key Features

  • Original Inspired Artwork - For a high quality and authentic retro look
  • 2.75 Inch Full Color Display - For a premium nostalgic gaming experience
  • Lightweight Compact Size - For a comfortable grip and hours of fun
  • Audio Features - Includes front-facing speaker, volume controls, and 3.5mm headphone jack
  • Powered by Micro USB or 4 AAA Batteries - Sold separately

A Tale from Pete the Cat

I first observed the artifact resting on the arm of the sofa, a silent, colorful little tombstone. Its "Original Inspired Artwork" was a garish tribute to a forgotten war, a clash of reds and blues that offended my minimalist sensibilities. My human, a creature of simple pleasures, eventually picked it up. With a press of a button, the dark void of its screen erupted into life and sound. It was chaos. A tiny ship, hopelessly outmatched, darted back and forth at the bottom, spitting sparks at descending swarms of what looked like cosmic insects. The air filled with a tinny, repetitive melody punctuated by shrill *pew-pew-pew* sounds. My ears swiveled in irritation. Another noisy distraction. I began to groom a perfectly clean patch of white fur on my chest, feigning indifference. But I could not look away. My hunter's instincts, honed by generations of apex predators, were transfixed. Those weren't just dots of light; they were patterns. Formations. A choreographed descent of doom. The "Galaga," as the human called them, would peel off, one by one, and dive-bomb the lonely ship at the bottom. My tail began to twitch, not in annoyance, but in tactical assessment. The human’s thumb, a clumsy appendage at the best of times, was sliding a plastic nub left and right, firing wildly. They were missing obvious flanking maneuvers, wasting precious shots on the armored front-liners instead of picking off the faster, more dangerous dive-bombers. It was amateurish. Pathetic. I leapt silently onto the sofa back, positioning myself to get a better vantage point over my human's shoulder. I could see it all so clearly. A feint to the left, draw out the top-right squadron, then a rapid slide to the right to intercept the diving leader. It was as simple as cornering a mouse under the stove. I let out a sharp, instructional "Mrrrrow!" but my human merely patted my head, their eyes still glued to the screen as their ship was unceremoniously captured in a tractor beam. A sigh escaped my lips. This was not a toy. This was a critical simulation, and the planet's primary defender was a fool. The device is, therefore, worthy. Not as a source of play for me, of course—it is hard, loud, and cannot be disemboweled. But it is a vital training tool for my staff. Its screen is a window into a coming galactic threat, and its maddening sounds are the battle hymns of our future. I will permit its existence. I will sit here, on this warm shoulder, and I will supervise. I will be the silent strategist, the furry general, and through my focused stares and occasional critical meows, I will teach this clumsy biped how to properly defend my sunbeams from the alien horde. Our work has just begun.

Marvel Legends Series Gamerverse Captain America vs Venom, Retro Video Game-Inspired Collectible 6-Inch Action Figures

By: Marvel

Pete's Expert Summary

So, my human has presented me with a box containing two small, plastic effigies of costumed bipeds. Apparently, one is a "Captain America" and the other a "Venom," locked in some sort of dramatic, pre-ordained conflict based on a "Gamerverse." From a feline perspective, their purpose is bafflingly static. They are designed for "display," a concept as foreign to me as voluntary bathing. However, my discerning eye notes their articulated limbs—over 20 points, the box boasts. This elevates them from mere shelf-clutter to potential kinetic sculptures. While the retro packaging is a waste of perfectly good cardboard, the figures themselves, at a bat-able six inches and with numerous joints, possess a latent potential for testing the fundamental laws of gravity. They might just be worthy of interrupting a nap for... eventually.

Key Features

  • GAMERVERSE 2-PACK: Captain America and Venom figures are inspired by their appearance in classic Marvel video games
  • PREMIUM DESIGN AND DECO: Fans and collectors can display these premium 6 inch action figures (15 cm) with classic gaming-inspired design and deco in their collection
  • DISPLAY-WORTHY ARTICULATION: Collectible action figures feature over 20 points of articulation with fully poseable heads, arms, and legs
  • RETRO-INSPIRED WINDOW BOX: Display these Marvel Legends figures on your shelf with collectible packaging featuring classic gaming -inspired artwork
  • CAPTAIN AMERICA VS VENOM: The patriotic Super Soldier Captain America faces off against Venom and his alien symbiote powers
  • BUILD A MULTIVERSE OF MARVEL COLLECTIBLES: Also look for Gamerverse 2-packs featuring Wolverine vs Marvel's Silver Samurai and Marvel's War Machine vs Omega Red! (Each set sold separately. Subject to availability.)

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The box was placed on the desk with a reverence I usually reserve for the opening of a fresh can of tuna. My human cooed about "retro-inspired artwork" and "classic gaming," terms that mean nothing to an entity who understands the universe through scent, texture, and the immutable law of cause and effect. I watched from my throne—a velvet cushion that cost more than the human’s shoes—as the plastic prisoners were freed. There they were: one a gaudy patriot, the other a monstrous ink-blot with a tongue that violated several principles of good taste. The human arranged them in a pose of eternal struggle on the edge of the polished mahogany, a tableau of frozen, meaningless violence. Then, as they always do, the human left. For a long while, I simply observed. The late afternoon sun slanted through the window, catching the glossy finish on the inky one, Venom. He was preposterously top-heavy, his limbs akimbo, his snarling face locked in a silent scream. It was an affront to physics, a pose begging for correction. I am, if nothing else, a purveyor of balance in the universe. Such instability cannot be permitted. I leaped onto the desk, my paws making no sound, my gray and white form a silent arbiter in this little drama. I approached the patriot first, sniffing his silly little shield. Plastic. No threat. My attention turned to the true offender. That tongue. It was a long, pink, sculpted appendage that practically vibrated with unbalanced potential energy. My plan was not one of simple destruction; it was a scientific inquiry. I extended a single, perfect claw from its soft sheath and tapped the figure’s head. It wobbled, its articulated neck joint yielding with a soft click. Fascinating. A second, more deliberate tap, applied with the calculated force of a seasoned hunter, was all it took. The Venom figure tipped, its center of gravity shifting catastrophically. It fell not away from its foe, but *into* it, a beautiful cascade of plastic ineptitude. The two figures, their epic battle concluded by a force they could neither comprehend nor resist, tumbled together off the edge of the desk. They struck the hardwood floor with a clatter that was, to my ears, a form of applause. I peered over the edge, watching them lie inert in a heap. They were not heroes or villains. They were not collectibles. They were instruments, finely articulated tools for exploring the elegant simplicity of entropy. Yes, I decided, stretching luxuriously before settling down on a patch of sun. These toys would do quite nicely. They understood their true purpose.

Operation: Disney The Nightmare Before Christmas Board Game | Collectible Operation Game | Featuring Oogie Boogie & Nightmare Before Christmas Artwork, 1+ Players

By: USAOPOLY

Pete's Expert Summary

The Provider has presented a new offering from a brand called "USAOPOLY," which sounds dreadfully bureaucratic. It appears to be some sort of ritualistic dismemberment of a large, lumpy burlap creature named Oogie Boogie. The humans use crude metal pinchers to extract tiny plastic objects, and the whole affair is punctuated by a horrid buzzing noise if their clumsy paws slip. While the core activity seems a senseless waste of perfectly good napping time, I cannot deny the appeal of the "Funatomy" parts. They are brightly colored, perfectly sized for batting under the heaviest furniture, and their sheer quantity promises a long and fruitful campaign of domestic chaos. The box itself, being made of "high-quality paper materials," might also serve as an adequate temporary fortress.

Key Features

  • PACKAGE INCLUDES: Operation The Nightmare Before Christmas game - 17" x 10"
  • CLASSIC DESIGN: This classic The Nightmare Before Christmas game set features Oogie Boogie as a patient ready for Funatomy with a complete set of surgical supplies.
  • PERFECT FOR ANY OCCASIONS: This set board game is a perfect activity during Halloween parties, birthdays, and family bonding activity ideas.
  • HIGH-QUALITY MATERIALS: This set of board games is made from high-quality paper materials that are durable and can last continuous use.
  • REMINDERS: This party game set contains small parts that are choking hazards if swallowed, adult supervision is required for kids below 3 years.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

I observed the proceedings from my velvet throne atop the bookcase, my tail twitching in mild irritation. The Providers, my two-legged staff, were hunched over the colorful board, their faces screwed up in concentration. A ghastly buzzing sound, like a bee trapped in a jar, would periodically shatter the tranquility of the evening. They were performing some sort of crude surgery on the grimacing sack-creature, fumbling with silver tweezers. Amateurs. I, Pete, a creature of supreme grace and precision, could extract a mouse from a wall cavity with a surgeon's finesse. This was an insult to the art of delicate extraction. When they finally abandoned their noisy ritual for sustenance in the food-room, my moment arrived. I descended from my perch in a silent, fluid motion, my paws making no sound on the hardwood floor. I approached the patient. This "Oogie Boogie" fellow looked distressed. It was my duty, as the most capable being in the household, to relieve his suffering. I peered closely at his innards, identifying a particularly troublesome-looking ailment labeled "Bat in the Hat." A simple procedure, surely. Dismissing the clumsy metal tools of the humans, I unsheathed a single, perfect, razor-sharp claw. This was a scalpel of unparalleled quality. I leaned in, took careful aim, and prepared to deftly hook the tiny plastic bat. My paw, a marvel of evolutionary engineering, was poised for the delicate flick. But the aperture was deceptively shallow. As I inserted my claw, the tip of my paw pad, with its exquisitely soft fur, brushed against the metallic edge of the cavity. *BZZZZZZT!* An electronic shriek erupted from the board, and a ghastly red light flashed in the creature's nose. I recoiled, not from fear, but from sheer indignation. What trickery was this? A booby trap! This was not a test of skill; it was a crude, undignified carnival game designed to humiliate its operator. I glared at the board, then at the silent, mocking plastic bat. I gave a dismissive flick of my tail, turned my back on the entire sordid affair, and stalked over to the empty box. At least *it* understood its purpose. This game was a failure, but its container made a perfectly acceptable bed.

PlayMonster Five Crowns Collectible Tin – Card Game for Kids and Adults, Family Game Night, The Game isn’t Over Until the Kings Go Wild!, 5 Suited Rummy Style Card Game, 1-7 Players, Ages 8+

By: PlayMonster

Pete's Expert Summary

So, the human has acquired another box of colorful, flat rectangles from a company audaciously named "PlayMonster"—as if there were any other in this household. It appears to be a game designed to keep their simple minds occupied, involving suits and wild cards and other such nonsense. For me, the appeal is not in the "gameplay," a concept I find tedious, but in the collateral benefits. The "collectible tin" might offer a cool, metallic surface for a nap, or a satisfying clatter when pushed from a height. The gathering of multiple humans for "Family Game Night" promises a buffet of available laps and a high probability of dropped snack morsels. The cards themselves are merely future under-the-sofa debris, but the distraction they provide is the real prize.

Key Features

  • SPECIAL EDITION — Comes in a collectible tin and with a custom Five Crowns score card!
  • FAMILY GAME NIGHT FUN — Suitable for 1 to 7 players ages 8 & up so the whole family can play!
  • EASY TO LEARN — Gameplay is simple enough for quick learning and tons of fun for beginners and pros alike!
  • FIVE SUITS — This rummy-style game has five suits, with an additional star suit.
  • ROTATING WILD CARD — Each round, a different card is the wild card!

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The evening began with a metallic *shing* as my human slid the lid off the tin. I observed from my post atop the bookcase, my tail giving a single, dismissive flick. Inside were two decks of those flimsy paper squares humans find so fascinating. They shuffled them with a satisfying, fluttering roar—a sound that momentarily piqued my interest before I remembered its mundane source. The game, "Five Crowns," commenced. I watched them, a cabal of conspirators leaning over the coffee table, murmuring about "books" and "runs" and which card was "wild." It was all dreadfully boring. My true objective, however, was not the game but the arena. The Prime Lap—the one belonging to the human who gives the best behind-the-ear scritches—was currently unavailable, occupied by a splay of cards held in a tense fan. A direct assault would be undignified. I needed a catalyst, an event that would shift the delicate balance of their attention. I needed to become the true wild card of the evening. My eyes fell upon the "custom Five Crowns score card." It sat precariously on the edge of the table, a single sheet of paper that seemed to hold all their focus between rounds. It was the linchpin of their little ritual. Waiting for a moment of peak concentration, just as someone declared they were "going out," I executed a flawless, silent leap from the bookcase to the back of the sofa. From there, it was a simple matter of extending a single, immaculate white paw and delivering a soft, almost accidental-looking tap to the corner of the scorecard. It fluttered to the floor like a wounded bird. The game halted. "Oh, Pete!" they cried, a chorus of mild exasperation. In that beautiful, fleeting moment of chaos, as two humans bent to retrieve the precious document, the Prime Lap was left unguarded. I didn't hesitate. A graceful arc through the air and I landed with a soft *thump*, curling into a perfect, purring circle before the cards were even back in hand. They could have their kings and queens; I had captured the throne. The game, I decided, was an excellent tool for engineering superior napping opportunities. It is worthy.

Monopoly Harry Potter Edition Board Game | A Magical Adventure at Hogwarts | Ages 8 and Up | 2 to 6 Players | Family Games | Gifts for Kids and Adults

By: Hasbro Gaming

Pete's Expert Summary

So, my human has acquired another one of those flat, colorful sleeping mats they call a "board game." This one, from a company named Hasbro, appears to be a baffling human ritual involving a magic school, paper money, and a distinct lack of tuna. The primary appeal, from a superior feline viewpoint, lies not in the "gameplay" but in the potential for chaos. There are several small, golden objects perfect for batting into oblivion, particularly something called a "Thestral," and a small owl figurine that practically begs to be knocked off the table. The box itself promises a premium napping location, but the hours my human will spend ignoring me to move these trinkets around a board is a significant, and frankly insulting, drawback.

Key Features

  • INSPIRED BY HARRY POTTER: Welcome to Hogwarts! Play as a student in the Monopoly HARRY POTTER Edition game. It combines classic Monopoly gameplay with artwork, locations, and themes from the WIZARDING WORLD
  • ICONIC GOLDEN TOKENS: Travel around the board with one of 6 enchanting transportation-themed golden tokens: Hippogriff, The Knight Bus, Hogwarts Express, HAGRID’s Motorbike, Thestral, and Firebolt
  • CHOOSE A HOUSE: GRYFFINDOR, HUFFLEPUFF, RAVENCLAW, or SLYTHERIN? Each player gets sorted into a house by choosing a House Card, and they’ll collect points for their house throughout game
  • HOGWARTS-THEMED GAMEBOARD: Explore classrooms, common rooms, and other favorite locations in and around Hogwarts castle! The more a player explores, the more house points they’ll receive from other players
  • OWL POST CARDS AND HOLDER: Owl Post cards replace Chance and Community Chest cards. Players draw cards from a snowy owl figurine. But watch out for Howlers, which may jinx a player’s game
  • GIFT FOR HARRY POTTER FANS: Beautiful packaging and thoughtful details create a spellbinding unboxing experience. This kids board game is a wonderful holiday or birthday gift for HARRY POTTER fans, ages 8 and up
  • FAMILY GAME NIGHT: Looking for fun family board games for kids and adults? This edition of the Monopoly game is a great indoor game for Family Game Night and gatherings with friends. For 2 to 6 players

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The Great Unveiling began with the tearing of plastic, a sound that usually heralds some new, inferior brand of kibble. This time, however, it was a box. A rather handsome one, I'll admit. My human, let's call her The Provider, laid out a large, foldable map of some drafty-looking castle. She and her guest began arranging shiny gold totems around the perimeter. I observed from my perch on the armchair, tail twitching in mild contempt. They chattered about "houses" and "points," a currency far less valuable than a well-timed head-boop. A tiny, golden motorcycle gleamed under the lamplight. A lesser cat might have pounced. I, however, was playing a longer game. The most offensive part was the owl. A small, white, plastic owl, frozen mid-hoot, tasked with holding a stack of cards. An effigy. A mockery of a perfectly good sky-rodent. The Provider would reach over, pluck a card from its grasp, and her face would either light up or fall. It was a pathetic display of subjecting one's fate to a piece of molded plastic. I watched as she drew a card and groaned, muttering something about a "Howler." The air grew thick with her disappointment, a far more interesting scent than the game itself. This was my moment. The game had stalled, paralyzed by the whims of the plastic owl. I rose, stretched languidly, and executed a perfect, silent leap from the chair to the center of their little world. I landed with the soft *thump* of practiced grace directly upon the space marked "Hogwarts Castle." I was not a player; I was a new rule. I was the dragon guarding the treasure, the monster in the dungeon, the final, unbeatable boss. I tucked my paws beneath my pristine white chest, fixed them both with a level gaze, and began to purr, a low rumble that vibrated through the cardboard and up into their tiny golden pieces. Their game was over. The Provider sighed, but her guest laughed. "I guess Pete is the new Headmaster," he said. I didn't care. I had claimed the most valuable property on the board without spending a single paper Galleon. My verdict was clear: the game itself is a tedious human affair, but its board serves as an excellent throne. The tiny golden Knight Bus was nudged from its space by my tail, sent skittering across the floor. An acceptable tribute. It would make for a fine hunt later, after my nap.

Exploding Kittens Original Edition in a Collectible TIN - Hilarious Card Game for Family - Party Game for Ages 7 and Up - 56 Cards - 2-5 Players - 15 Minutes of Play

By: Exploding Kittens LLC

Pete's Expert Summary

My human seems to believe this shiny metal rectangle holds some sort of entertainment. From my analysis, it's a collection of stiff, papery squares featuring crude illustrations of my kind, often in rather undignified, explosive situations. The entire premise—that a kitten could "explode"—is, frankly, insulting. We are purveyors of silent judgment and sudden, chaotic sprints, not cheap pyrotechnics. The humans, however, seem poised to spend a significant amount of time staring at these cards instead of my magnificent gray-and-white tuxedo coat. While the game itself appears to be a complete waste of their attention, the tin it comes in has potential. It possesses a satisfying gleam and looks just about the right size for a strategic nap, provided I can convince them to empty out the useless, colorful clutter within.

Key Features

  • Blow up boring with this game: Exploding Kittens is made for 2-5 players aged 7 and up. It’s a kid-friendly card game with humor cheeky enough to keep teens and adults laughing while they play.
  • 50 Million + Copies Sold: In this viral card game, players draw cards until someone gets an Exploding Kitten which causes total annihilation…unless you have a card save you. Use cards to avoid exploding or to sabotage your opponents. The last one standing wins!
  • Easy To Learn And Quick To Play: Each of the 56 cards has hilarious artwork by The Oatmeal and super simple instructions printed on them. You’ll be a pro in less than 10 minutes
  • Voted Best Travel Game By National Geographic: It’s the perfect travel card game - stow it in a carryon, take it on a road trip, play it at a restaurant, bring it camping, or whip it out at any gathering you sense could use a few more goats, kittens, laser beams, and explosions!
  • The Most Backed Kickstarter Campaign of All Time: Over 200,000 supporters helped launch this game. Exploding Kittens is a global bestseller and the inspiration for a hit Netflix show.
  • Important Note: The English version of this game is only compatible with other English-language versions of Exploding Kittens and Expansion Packs.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The evening began with a betrayal. The Can Opener, my primary human, gathered several others around the low table in the living room. They produced the shiny tin, and my hopes for a new, sunbeam-warmed bed were dashed when they revealed its contents. Cards. Not a single treat, not one feather. They began a strange ritual, dealing out the flimsy portraits of my brethren. I observed from my throne atop the bookcase, my tail twitching in mild irritation. They spoke a nonsensical language of "tummy rubs," "catnip sandwiches," and "nope," all while laying down cards with a gravity usually reserved for the opening of a fresh can of salmon. Their focus was absolute, an intensity I typically only command myself. A lanky human groaned as The Can Opener played a card depicting two cats slapping each other. Pathetic. Then came the whispers, a tension coiling in the room. They spoke of the "Exploding Kitten." I narrowed my eyes. An absurdity. I am the pinnacle of feline evolution; we do not simply "explode." We might inspire an explosion of adoration or perhaps an explosive sneeze from an allergic guest, but the act itself is beneath us. It became clear this was the object of their fear, this one particular card that could end their little game. As the pile of cards dwindled, the air grew thick with a palpable dread that was, I admit, slightly amusing. The lanky one reached out a trembling hand, his eyes wide. He was about to draw. It was his last chance. The Can Opener was watching, a smug look on her face. This would not do. Order must be maintained, and the natural order is that *I* am the center of all drama. With a silent leap, I landed weightlessly in the center of the table. I ignored their gasps and stared directly at the deck. With the deliberate grace of a seasoned predator, I extended a single, perfect white paw and placed it firmly on top of the cards. I then slowly, deliberately, began to purr, a low rumble that vibrated through the table. The game stopped. Every eye was on me. The lanky human retracted his hand, defeated not by a card, but by my sheer, undeniable presence. The Can Opener laughed and scooped me into her arms, burying her face in my soft fur and calling me her "little game-wrecker." I had absorbed their foolish tension and converted it into adoration for myself. The game is a ridiculous human construct, a flimsy imitation of the complex power dynamics I navigate daily. But as a tool to remind them of their true master? In that, it has proven surprisingly effective. The tin, I've decided, will make an excellent trophy stand.

Funko Pop Games: Pokemon - Charizard 3.75 Inches - Collectable Vinyl Figure - Gift Idea - Official Merchandise - Toys for Kids & Adults - Video Games Fans - Model Figure for Collectors and Display

By: Funko

Pete's Expert Summary

My Human, in their infinite and often baffling wisdom, has acquired what appears to be a small, plastic gargoyle. This 'Funko Pop' of a creature they call 'Charizard' is, by its own description, meant for 'display,' which is human-speak for 'sitting perfectly still and ignoring me.' While its lack of movement, scent, or any discernible play-trigger is a profound disappointment, its compact size and purported durability present a certain... potential. It seems perfectly engineered to be swatted from a high shelf, offering a moment of satisfying clatter without the unfortunate consequences of breaking something the Human truly values. It's not a toy; it's a physics experiment waiting to happen.

Key Features

  • IDEAL COLLECTIBLE SIZE - At approximately 3.75 inches (9.5 cm) tall, this vinyl mini figurine complements other collectable merchandise and fits perfectly in your display case or on your desk
  • PREMIUM VINYL MATERIAL - Made from durable vinyl, this collectible is built to last and withstand daily wear, ensuring long-lasting enjoyment for fans and collectors alike
  • GIFT IDEA FOR POKEMON FANS - Ideal for holidays, birthdays, or special occasions and as a present this figurine is a must-have addition to any Pokemon merchandise collection
  • EXPAND YOUR COLLECTION - Add this unique Charizard vinyl display piece to your growing assortment of Funko Pop figures, and seek out other rare and exclusive collectible items for a complete set
  • LEADING POP CULTURE BRAND - Trust in the expertise of Funko, the premier creator of pop culture merchandise that includes vinyl figures, action toys, plush, apparel, board games, and more

A Tale from Pete the Cat

It arrived without fanfare, a silent trespasser. The Human placed it on the highest shelf of the great bookcase, a perch I have long considered my personal watchtower for surveying the living room domain. From the floor, it was but a speck of orange against the dark wood. An affront. I made my ascent, a fluid, silent leap from the armchair to the mid-level shelf, and then the final, graceful hoist to the top. There it stood, a stout, flame-tailed creature with vacant black eyes, guarding a row of books that hadn't been touched in years. It did not flinch. It did not acknowledge my presence. The sheer impudence was staggering. I began the ritual of intimidation. A slow, deliberate circle, my tail held low and twitching at the tip. I leaned in, my whiskers brushing its smooth, vinyl cheek. Nothing. Not a tremor. It smelled of plastic and the Human's hands, a sterile, uninteresting scent. I gave its oversized head a tentative nudge with my own. It was unyielding, cold, and utterly impassive. This was a new kind of foe, not one of fur or feather that would flee or fight back, but one of stoic, infuriating stillness. It was a challenge to my very essence, a silent mockery of my authority. For a long moment, we remained locked in this silent war of attrition. But I am a creature of action, not of stagnant observation. Its purpose, I deduced, was not to be a rival, but to be a lesson in gravity. Its unblinking stare was not a challenge, but an invitation. With a flick of my paw, precise and practiced, I connected with its stupidly large head. It offered a satisfying, solid *thwack* before tumbling from the precipice. It did not fly, this so-called dragon, but fell with a dull clatter on the rug below. The Human called my name in that tone of mild exasperation, but the shelf was mine once more. I watched from my reclaimed throne as the Human retrieved the orange idol and placed it back, a few inches from its original spot. A truce, perhaps? No. A reset. My final verdict is this: as a companion, this 'Charizard' is a failure. But as a repeatable, low-stakes act of defiance? As a way to remind the staff who truly owns the high ground? For that, it is perfectly, wonderfully adequate. The game has just begun.