Pete's Expert Summary
My bipedal staff has brought home another rectangular box, this one bearing the deeply problematic "Exploding Kittens" brand name—an affront I will not soon forget. From my analysis of the packaging and the excited, high-pitched noises my human is making, this appears to be a social ritual disguised as a game. It involves stiff paper rectangles with cartoons on them, designed to make humans create a "comic" about "therapy." The entire premise seems designed to generate the kind of loud, sudden cackling that is profoundly disruptive to a quality nap. While the box itself might offer a passable perch for a few minutes, the contents are utterly useless to me. The only potential upside is the art, which has the familiar, slightly manic energy of that "Oatmeal" human my own staff stares at on her glowing rectangle. Still, it is, at its core, a noise-generating distraction from my scritches.
Key Features
- How to Play: WHO KNEW THERAPY COULD BE SO FUNNY? In this adult card game you’ll create a comic about therapy with a Question, Answer, and a Treatment. Whoever puts down the funniest Treatment card wins a point. The first to 3 points wins. It's a fun and hysterical addition to your party card games collection.
- What's Included: ENDLESS LAUGHS & REPLAYABILITY. With 80 Question Cards, 158 Answer Cards, and 200 Treatment Cards, this game is different every time you play. This makes it a popular choice among adult card games and card games for adults, offering endless replayability for every game night.
- Who's It For? THE PERFECT ADULT PARTY GAME for 3-8 players aged 17+. Can you get through a round without ugly laughing? This is a must-have for adult games for game night and a fantastic addition to your collection of party card games.
- Where to Play: WANT TO BREAK THE ICE AT PARTIES? This is a card game for adults that’s great for pregaming, large gatherings, road trips, vacations, or for giving as a gift to anyone who appreciates a funny card game (or who needs therapy!). Perfect for all adult party games and games for adults.
- Our Story: UNIQUE ART FROM A VIRAL WEBCOMIC. Each card is written and illustrated by The Oatmeal, the brain behind the internet’s favorite comics and a cofounder of Exploding Kittens which became the most backed Kickstarter campaign of all time.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The evening began with the usual ceremony. The box was presented, its lid removed with a sigh of cardboard relief, and its papery entrails splayed across the dining table. I observed from my throne—the plushest armchair—with an air of detached disdain. Another human ritual, another evening where my gravitational pull on their attention would be inexplicably weakened. They began to play, reading from the cards in loud, performative voices. I was preparing to pointedly turn my back on the whole affair when a particular phrase snagged my ear. "Horrible Therapist." My ears, two perfect gray triangles, swiveled forward. My human read a "Question" card aloud, something about a deep-seated fear of pigeons. Her friends chuckled. Then came the "Answers," and finally, the "Treatments." One friend suggested a "Treatment" of "wearing a suit made of bread." They all howled. I sat bolt upright. My human was in crisis, and this was her intervention? A tribunal of jesters offering absurd, unhelpful advice drawn from a deck of cards? This was not just horrible therapy; it was a psychological malpractice of the highest order. I could not, in good conscience, allow this to continue. I am a creature of profound empathy and routine; her mental instability could directly impact the punctuality of my dinner service. With the silent grace of a wisp of smoke, I leaped onto the table, landing with a soft *thump* directly in the center of their game. The cards fluttered. The laughter died. I fixed my human with a stern, green-eyed gaze. I then proceeded to demonstrate *proper* therapeutic technique. I slowly pushed the "wear a suit made of bread" card off the edge of the table with my nose, then began to purr, a deep, resonant rumble that vibrated through the wood. This is the correct treatment for all ailments: the application of superior feline presence. They called me a "silly kitty" and a "game wrecker," their words dripping with ignorance. My human scooped me into her arms, burying her face in my soft tuxedo front. "Oh, Pete, you're so much better than a horrible therapist," she cooed. Of course I am. I allowed her to hold me, providing the calming weight and vibrational therapy she so clearly craved. The game itself is a pathetic excuse for entertainment, a box of bad advice. But as a diagnostic tool that revealed my human's desperate need for my professional services, I must admit, it proved moderately effective. She is now receiving the quality care she deserves.
