Pete's Expert Summary
So, my human has procured another large, flat box filled with tiny, losable pieces. They call it the "Monopoly Deluxe Anniversary Edition," which I understand to be a ritualistic simulation of acquiring property and debt. The humans will sit around this colorful map for what I can only assume is an eternity, moving little golden idols of themselves—including a new, rather shiny train—and exchanging flimsy paper rectangles. The primary appeal for me, of course, are the small, wooden houses which seem perfectly sized for batting under the sofa. While the golden tokens are an upgrade from the usual dull pewter, the whole affair seems to be an elaborate, time-consuming argument-generator that will inevitably delay my dinner. It is a distraction of the highest order, and I am not impressed.
Key Features
- A new Anniversary token, the special MONOPOLY train, long recognized as a symbol of MONOPOLY
- Ten MONOPOLY tokens, issued in a beautiful gold-tone finish, allowing up to ten people to join in the fun!
- The charming wooden houses and hotels of MONOPOLY, just like the original version.
- A new and specially designed Banker's tray and Flip-Throguh Title Deed card holder that helps make banking and property deed selection faster and more efficient.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
I watched from my velvet throne—a cushion on the armchair—as the humans unfurled the great paper prophecy. It was not a game board to my eyes, but a scrying map of their own strange world. They huddled over it, their faces illuminated by the overhead light, like acolytes preparing for a complex and troubling rite. Each chose a golden totem to represent their spirit in this paper realm: the Human Who Feeds Me chose the Top Hat, a symbol of her aspirations; her loud companion chose the new golden Train, an omen of journeys I would not be invited on. The ritual began with the rattling of sacred bones—two small, spotted cubes—and a slow, clockwise procession around the perimeter of the prophecy. I watched, my tail a slow metronome of judgment, as they landed on colored squares and exchanged their paper talismans. I was the silent oracle, interpreting the true meaning of their actions. When the Top Hat landed on "St. Charles Place," it was a clear sign she should be stroking me. When the Train paid the "Luxury Tax," it was cosmic punishment for buying the cheap kibble last week. The flimsy "Chance" cards were edicts from a capricious god they foolishly obeyed without question. Then, the ritual took a dark turn. The Train totem landed upon the dreaded space, the one marked "Go to Jail." The human was not merely inconvenienced; his spirit-avatar was physically seized and cast into the corner cage. A shiver went down my spine, ruffling my tuxedo fur. This was no game of fun and finance. This was a powerful curse, a binding spell played out on a paper dimension. The little wooden houses they erected were not charming homes, but anchors of green wood, shackling their souls to these cursed plots of land. I narrowed my eyes. These foolish humans, laughing and shouting about mortgages and monopolies, had no idea what forces they were trifling with. They were imprisoning each other, bankrupting their friends, and meddling with fates better left undisturbed, all for a stack of colorful paper. I decided then and there that this box was a vessel of bad energy. It was not merely unworthy of my time; it was a danger to the very stability of my household. At my first opportunity, I would perform a cleansing. A swift, silent push would send those rattling bones of fate skittering into the dark void beneath the credenza, saving my humans from their own terrible folly.
