Pete's Expert Summary
My human has procured yet another colorful box, this one promising to make "great minds think alike," a concept I find laughable given the source. From what I can gather by observing their strange ritual, it involves them scribbling single words on small, white, flat rectangles and then congratulating each other for having the same unimaginative thought. The entire affair seems a colossal waste of energy that could be better spent, for instance, admiring me. The only potential for amusement lies not in the "game" itself, but in its components. Those little dry-erase slates look eminently suitable for batting off the edge of the table, and the box, once emptied of its useless paper contents, will undoubtedly serve as a fortress of superior tactical and napping advantage.
Key Features
- The game where _______ minds think alike!
- Prepare yourself for Blank Slate, a game of addicting predictions! How well can you put your finger on what everyone's thinking?
- Pick a Word Cue card, write the word you think best completes the phrase, and try to match it to anther player's word without giving a single hint
- Easy to learn, quick to play, and fun for the whole family; just grab a slate, write a word, and get ready to make a match. Great for large groups or small gatherings!
- Includes: Scoreboard, 8 dry-erase slates, 250 doubled-sided word cue cards, rules
- 3-8 Players | Ages 8+ | 20-35 Min Play Time
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The humans gathered under the low-hanging lamp, their faces a mixture of anticipation and what I can only describe as forced merriment. They called it "game night," but I recognized the signs of a clandestine meeting. The evidence was laid out on the table: a stark scoreboard, a pile of coded communiques they called "cards," and eight identical white slates. I watched from my perch on the arm of the leather chair, a silent gray arbiter in the shadows, my white paws tucked neatly beneath my chest. My human drew the first card, holding it up like a secret dossier. The word on it was "NIGHT ______." A palpable tension filled the room as they each scribbled furiously on their slates, shielding their work like state secrets. I narrowed my eyes. What was this code? "NIGHTMARE"? "NIGHTCAP"? "NIGHTSHADE"? Their simple minds were a puzzle I felt compelled, yet loath, to solve. My human’s friend revealed his slate: "LIGHT." My human revealed hers: "LIGHT." They exchanged a look of triumphant conspiracy and moved a small piece on the scoreboard. It was a system of exchange, a way of passing information in plain sight. I had to get a closer look. I descended from my chair with practiced silence, my paws making no sound on the rug, and leaped onto the table with the fluid grace of a seasoned operative. I sauntered among the game pieces, ignoring their cooing interruptions. "Oh, look, Pete wants to play!" Fools. I was on a mission. I nudged a discarded slate with my nose. The surface was smooth, cool, and utterly blank. It smelled faintly of chemicals and human hands. Then I saw the box lid again: *BLANK SLATE*. The truth struck me with the force of a startling vacuum cleaner. There was no conspiracy. There was no code. The point wasn't the secret message; the point was the *absence* of one. They were celebrating their own predictability, their herd-like instinct to fill a void with the most obvious, uninspired thought possible. My initial intrigue curdled into a familiar, comfortable disdain. This wasn't a game of intelligence; it was a ritual of synchronized mediocrity. As they drew the next card, "CAT ______," I waited. "FOOD," one wrote. "NAP," wrote another. Pathetic. The only correct answer was, of course, "LORD." Seeing that none of them were capable of this simple deduction, I rendered my final verdict. With a deliberate flick of my paw, I sent one of the slates skittering across the table and onto the floor. The clatter was immensely satisfying. Their little game was worthless, but its components had some minor, percussive value. I turned my back on them and hopped into the now-empty game box, the true prize of the evening, and settled in for a nap. Let the simple minds think alike; I had a fortress to command.
