A photo of Pete the cat

Pete's Toy Box: Party Game

CMYK Wavelength: The Party Game Show in a Box

By: CMYK

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has brought home another cardboard box, this one a lurid shade of yellow that frankly clashes with my elegant gray fur. Inside is not a delightful new crinkle ball or feather wand, but a plastic contraption with a large dial. Apparently, this is a "game" where the bipedal staff members shout nonsense at each other ("Wizard or... not a wizard?") and try to guess a location on a spectrum. It seems like an incredibly inefficient method of communication, a problem I solved long ago with a simple, well-placed stare. While the cacophony they create is a complete waste of my napping time, the box itself has potential as a temporary fortress, and the small, movable parts on the central device might—*might*—be worthy of a cursory bat, should I feel generous.

Key Features

  • Hot or cold. Soft or hard. Wizard or…not a wizard? Work together to decide where your clue falls on the spectrum in this telepathic party game.
  • POLYGON: “One of the best party games we’ve ever played.”
  • NYT WIRECUTTER: Featured in “The best board games”
  • Works in groups from 2-12+ people. Great for large parties, offsites, family gatherings, and anywhere you need instant fun.
  • 5 seconds to set up, 1 minute to learn, 30 minutes to play

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The thing arrived on a Tuesday, a day usually reserved for long, uninterrupted sunbeam sessions. My human, whom I permit to cohabitate in my apartment, unboxed the offering with an unseemly amount of glee. It was a stark, black plastic device with a single, massive eye divided into fields of red and blue. She placed it on the coffee table—my table—and soon, more humans arrived, gathering around it like moths to a particularly foolish flame. They began their ritual, a bizarre liturgy of opposites. "Tastes good... tastes bad," one would intone. Then the clue: "A single piece of dry kibble left in the bowl overnight." The ensuing debate was pathetic. I, an expert on the subject, knew the answer immediately: an affront to all that is good and just, firmly in the "tastes bad" territory. For the next hour, I observed from my perch on the back of the sofa, a silent, furry god judging their clumsy attempts at communion. They spun the great wheel, their hands greasy from the snack bowls I had not been offered a share of. They’d argue, then one would flick a small lever on the side of the idol, causing a shutter to snap down with a sharp *clack*. This sound, I noted, was the only interesting part of the entire affair. It cut through their dull chatter with a pleasing, mechanical finality. A sound of judgment. Eventually, the herd thinned, leaving the plastic oracle alone on the table. The silence was a welcome relief. I hopped down, my paws making no sound on the hardwood floor, and approached the intruder. It smelled of plastic and human hands. I gave it a suspicious sniff, then a tentative nudge with my head. It wobbled, but did not fall. My gaze fell upon the lever, the source of the satisfying *clack*. It was small, a perfect size for a precision instrument, such as my paw. With the careful deliberation of a master hunter, I extended a single claw and hooked it behind the lever. I pulled. *Click-clack!* The shutter snapped down. A jolt of triumph shot through me. I did it again. *Click-clack!* And again. *CLICK-CLACK!* This was not a tool for telepathy; it was a percussive instrument of immense quality. Their foolish game was a transparent excuse to possess this magnificent clicking mechanism. While they may believe they are connecting on some higher "wavelength," I have discovered its true purpose. It is a device for making a sharp, authoritative noise, over and over, until a human comes to investigate. And perhaps brings a treat. It is, I have decided, an acceptable addition to my domain.

Ransom Notes - The Ridiculous Word Magnet Party Game, 3+ Players

By: Ransom Notes

Pete's Expert Summary

So, the Human has acquired a box of tiny, text-covered squares which they apparently arrange on metal slabs to form what they consider "hilarious" sentences. They call it 'Ransom Notes,' a concept I understand intimately, as my affection is regularly held hostage for a price of no less than premium, flake-style tuna. While the sheer number of tiny, bat-able pieces is mildly intriguing, and the metal cards might slide nicely across the hardwood, the primary function seems to be generating loud, disruptive human noises. It's a blatant misuse of opposable thumbs that could otherwise be dedicated to chin scratches or can opening. A potential nuisance, with a low probability of being a worthy distraction from my scheduled seventeen-hour nap.

Key Features

  • RANSOM NOTES: The game of hilariously terrible sentences! Players use word magnets to respond to outlandish prompts like “Tell someone you’ve clogged their toilet at a party” with just their limited pool of words
  • WHAT’S INCLUDED: 840 high quality word magnets, 6 metal submission cards, 250 prompt cards, and instructions. With 250 absurd prompt cards and a new pool of words every time, this party game has infinite hilarious combinations and feels fresh every time you play
  • EASY TO PLAY: Learn to play in under one minute, and even the shyest players will be creating laugh-out-loud word magnet responses right away. Just take a few handfuls of word magnets, flip over a prompt card, and start playing — no long instructions to explain!
  • 3-6+ PLAYERS: While the game is made for 3-6 players, it’s equally hilarious when larger groups team up together. 30-90 min play time. Is it appropriate for everyone? Not really. While a majority of prompt cards are certainly suitable for all audiences, there are quite a few that are definitely not. BUT, if you do want to make it family friendly, pulling about 15-30% of the cards should make the game totally PG and playable for all!
  • THE PERFECT GIFT: For birthdays, Christmas, Father's Day, or an anytime present for creative people. Bring it to Thanksgiving or your family / friend’s game night.
  • Now with higher quality word magnets that break apart easily and quickly
  • For more Game Night activities, check out our other hilarious and fun games like Puns of Anarchy, Open Relationships, and Charty Party!

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The cacophony began shortly after sunset. The Human and her designated associates were hunched over the coffee table, emitting sharp, barking laughs that rattled the very air in my usually serene domain. I observed from my perch on the back of the sofa, a silent, gray-furred judge presiding over this foolishness. They were fiddling with little black and white rectangles, arranging them on metal trays and then presenting them to each other with an absurd amount of ceremony. The noise was offensive, the activity pointless. My disdain, however, was tinged with a flicker of professional interest. One of the humans, the loud one with the scratchy sweater, left his tray unattended to retrieve another beverage. It sat there, a canvas of opportunity. I saw the words scattered around it: ‘weird,’ ‘smelly,’ ‘little,’ ‘monster,’ ‘ate,’ ‘all,’ ‘the,’ ‘garbage.’ The prompt card they were giggling over had something to do with a roommate. A simple, pedestrian scenario. I, however, saw the potential for a far more compelling narrative. With the silence and grace befitting my station, I descended from the sofa. A gentle nudge of my nose sent the word ‘garbage’ skittering under the radiator. A deft flick of a single, perfectly manicured claw replaced it with a far more suitable noun. I rearranged their clumsy sentence, pushing the tiny magnetic blocks into a new, more truthful order. It was delicate work, requiring the precision of a hunter isolating a single mouse in a field of grass. I was creating not a joke, but a headline. A public service announcement. The human returned, picked up his metal card, and squinted. A slow grin spread across his face, entirely different from the earlier braying. He held it up for the others. "Hey, look what Pete did!" he announced. The huddle of humans leaned in, and a new sound filled the room—a murmur of appreciative chuckles. My masterpiece read: ‘weird smelly monster ate all the little cat.’ It was a masterpiece of minimalist horror, a stark warning of the dangers of an empty food bowl. They thought it was a charming accident, a cute antic. They were wrong. It was a threat. But a moment later, the Human, interpreting my art with a rare flash of insight, disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a small saucer of salmon pâté. The game, I concluded, was a crude instrument for inferior minds. But in the right paws, it could be a powerful tool of negotiation. It was, I decided, worthy of my supervision.

BLANK SLATE, The Game Where Great Minds Think Alike, Fun Family-Friendly Board Game, Word Association Party Game, Easy to Learn, Fun to Play Family Game Night, 3-8 Players, Ages 8+

By: USAOPOLY

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.

Exploding Kittens Horrible Therapist: Extra Horrible Edition 3-8 Players - Ages 17+ - 15 Minutes to Play - Comic Building Card Game - Ideal for Party, Family Game Night - White

By: Exploding Kittens

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.

Jenga Game | The Original Wood Block Game with Genuine Hardwood Blocks | Stacking Tower Game | Ages 6+ | 1 or More Players | Party Games for Kids | Family Games

By: Hasbro Gaming

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in their infinite and often baffling wisdom, has presented a product from the Hasbro Gaming monolith. It appears to be a collection of 54 uniform, "genuine hardwood" blocks. The stated purpose is for the clumsy giants to build a tower and then, with all the grace of a falling refrigerator, poke at it until it collapses. For a feline of my refined sensibilities, the human's tedious, nerve-wracked stacking process is a complete waste of what could be valuable sunbeam time. However, I must concede a certain appeal. The eventual, inevitable crash promises a glorious cacophony and a delightful scattering of 54 perfectly bat-able, skitter-able wooden oblongs across the floor. The "stacking sleeve" is merely a box, and its value as a sitting-and-judging receptacle is self-evident.

Key Features

  • THE ORIGINAL WOOD BLOCK GAME: Dare to risk it? Pull out a block, place it on top, but don't let the tower fall! The Jenga game for kids and adults is the wooden block balancing game loved for generations
  • FAST, EXCITING, ANYTIME FUN: With a simple set up, easy-to-learn rules, and just the right amount of challenge, the Jenga game is a great game for impromptu fun with family and friends
  • GREAT KIDS PARTY GAMES: Suspense, surprises, laughs! Liven up a party by taking along this portable game. This wooden blocks stacking game is great for Family Game Night, icebreakers, and kids birthday parties
  • GENUINE HARDWOOD BLOCKS: The classic Jenga board game includes 54 precision crafted wooden blocks. The easy-to-use stacking sleeve can help players build the tower
  • GAME FOR 1 OR MORE PLAYERS: No friends around? No problem. Play solo! Practice stacking skills, building the tower, and trying not to let it come tumbling down
  • FUN KIDS GIFTS: Kids games and classic games make great holiday or birthday gifts for 6 year old girls and boys and up

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The Tall One was communing with the wood spirits again. I watched from my observation post atop the velvet armchair as she sat on the floor, hunched over her creation in the low evening light. There was no party, no other loud humans, just a silent, intense ritual. Block by block, a precarious wooden spine grew towards the ceiling. The sounds were hypnotic: the soft, sandy *shhhhink* of a block being eased from the tower's gut, the gentle, definitive *clack* as it was placed on the summit. The tower swayed with each addition, a wooden dancer holding a pose far longer than physics should allow. It was an affront to gravity, and I could not abide it. I descended from my throne with liquid silence, my paws making no sound on the hardwood floor that matched the blocks. I circled the tower, my whiskers twitching, sensing the tension in the air, in the wood, in the human herself. She was frozen, her hand hovering, considering her next move. I sniffed at the base. The blocks smelled of sawdust and faint, distant trees. They were smooth, "precision crafted" as the packaging had boasted, and I could appreciate the quality. I gave one of the foundation blocks a gentle nudge with my nose. The tower shivered, a collective gasp of wood fibers. The human let out a small, sharp hiss of her own. For a moment, we were both predators stalking the same fragile prey. She finally moved, her fingers closing around a block near the middle. She pulled. It was the wrong one. I knew it instantly; the subtle shift in the tower's center of gravity was an open book to me. As she drew it out, I saw the wobble begin at the top, a fatal tremor that cascaded downwards. This was my moment. Not to merely witness the collapse, but to conduct it. With a flick of my tuxedoed wrist, I tapped a single, crucial block at the base. The result was instantaneous and magnificent—a waterfall of wood, a percussive symphony of clattering, scattering blocks that skittered into every corner of the room. The human sighed in defeat. I, however, had just begun. I selected a single, perfect block and, with a deft hook of my paw, sent it sliding under the sofa. The game itself is a bore, but its deconstruction? A masterpiece.

Incohearent, The Guess the Gibberish Party Game by Relatable, A Funny Card Game for Adults, Great for Bachelorette Party Games or Game Night Games, Includes 400 Cards, Instructions, and 1 Sand Timer

By: WHAT DO YOU MEME?

Pete's Expert Summary

My Human and her associates have acquired yet another noise-making apparatus, this one called "Incohearent." From my observations, it appears to be a ritualized form of gibberish. They hold up small paper rectangles and vocalize nonsense until someone else translates it into their simplistic human tongue. The entire affair is accompanied by loud exclamations and the draining of a tiny glass vessel filled with sand. While the cacophony is a direct assault on a sophisticated being's nap schedule, I will concede a few points of interest. The 400 cards represent 400 potential coasters, floor skitterers, and shreddable confetti sources. The sand timer is also a curiosity, a tiny, silent waterfall I could watch for at least a full minute. The game itself is a waste of perfectly good silence, but its component parts show promise for a cat of discerning taste and destructive capabilities.

Key Features

  • Internet Famous: Incohearent is the TikTok viral card game where players compete to sound out gibberish and guess the phrase. With over 750 million views on social media, it's bound to bring the fun.
  • Grab Your Friends: Looking for adult games for game night? Designed be played with 3-8 players aged 17+, Incohearent is ideal for anyone who loves word games, meme games, board games for adults or just fun card games.
  • How To Play: Flip the timer and hold up a card so that other players only see the gibberish side. Everyone else has to guess the phrase before time runs out. Decode the phrase first to win the point.
  • Tongue Twisting Fun: From party games to date night ideas, Incohearent brings laughter to anyone in your life. Always a hit at gatherings, it's also a great gift for teen girls or funny gift.
  • What's Inside: Contains 400 cards, a 1 minute sand timer, and gameplay instructions. Cards belong to one of three categories (Party, Spicy, and Pop Culture) and feature all new, updated content.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The first sign of trouble was the arrival of the Human's pack, their loud greetings echoing off the walls of my domain. The second was the box. It was new, which was promising, but what emerged was not a crinkle ball or a feather wand. It was a stack of cards and a small, perplexing glass object. Then, the noises began. It wasn't the usual drone of human chatter; it was a series of guttural, nonsensical sounds. "Thigh Sing Gun," one of them barked. "He's an icon?" another shrieked back. I flattened my ears, my tail giving a slow, irritated thump against the rug. Were they ill? Was this some sort of collective linguistic breakdown? I crept closer, a shadow in my gray tuxedo, to observe this bizarre spectacle. My initial hypothesis was that they were attempting to summon something. A demon, perhaps, or a larger, more satisfying meal than the dry kibble they deign to grant me. They would hold a card, make the foul sound, and the others would guess. When one finally deciphered the auditory puzzle, they would cackle and claim a "point," whatever that is. I watched, unimpressed, from under the coffee table. The tiny glass vial of sand they kept flipping was the only dignified element in the room. It measured time with a quiet grace the humans sorely lacked, each grain a silent testament to the moments of my life being wasted by their clamor. Then, an opportunity. A card was dropped. It slid halfway under the sofa, into my territory. The phrase on it was "Up heave hoe twin." The Human's friend, the one with the jangly bracelets, was trying to say it. "Uh... pea... coat... win?" she stammered. This was my moment to demonstrate superior intellect. While they were fumbling with their crude phonetics, I emerged, snagged the card with a single claw, and dragged it fully into the shadows of my under-sofa lair. I had successfully "up-heaved" it. The "ho twin" part was irrelevant. I had won. They eventually retrieved the card, of course, after much cooing and pleading, which I ignored. My verdict was clear. The "game" is a pointless exercise in human absurdity. It creates noise, disrupts peace, and relies on a system of logic so flawed it’s an insult to a thinking creature. However, the cards themselves are lightweight and perfect for batting. The sand timer is a mesmerizing object of quiet contemplation. Therefore, I will tolerate this Incohearent nonsense on one condition: a tax of at least three cards and supervised access to the timer per session. It's a steep price, but I am, after all, a benevolent ruler.

Exploding Kittens Party Pack - 2-10 Players - Ages 7+ - 15 Minutes to Play - Party-Sized High-Stakes Card Game, Ideal for Party, Family Game Night, Fun for Kids and Adults

By: Exploding Kittens LLC

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in her infinite and baffling wisdom, has brought a box into my domain that claims to contain "Exploding Kittens." While the concept is preposterous—we are far too graceful and cunning to simply explode—I am morbidly curious. It appears to be a diversion for her and her loud friends, involving small, flat pieces of cardboard with crude drawings. The primary appeal for a being of my refinement seems minimal; it generates noise, occupies the prime napping spot on the coffee table, and involves no tuna. However, the sheer number of small, bat-able objects (120, they claim) presents a certain strategic opportunity for clutter and mayhem, which could, at least, make an afternoon more interesting than watching dust motes dance in a sunbeam.

Key Features

  • HOW TO PLAY: Dive into the fun of Exploding Kittens: Party Pack Edition, a thrilling card game where players draw cards, dodge explosions, and outsmart friends using clever strategies. Ideal for family card games, kids games, and party games for adults!
  • WHAT’S INCLUDED: The Party Pack Edition features 120 cards with hilarious illustrations by The Oatmeal, plus an easy-to-follow guide for quick setup. Packaging may vary, but the fun & excitement remain in this ultimate family card game!
  • WHO’S IT FOR? Designed for 2-10 players, ages 7 and up, this card game is popular with diverse age groups! Whether you're looking for kids games, family games, or board games for adults, it’s ideal for any crowd or occasion.
  • WHERE TO PLAY? This travel game is perfect for game nights, camping, or casual gatherings. Quick to learn and loaded with laughs, it’s your go-to choice for fun games anytime, anywhere, and a must-have for both home and travel.
  • OUR STORY: Designed for game enthusiasts, this strategic card game from Exploding Kittens and The Oatmeal blends humor and strategy. It began as a Kickstarter project and continues to engage players worldwide with its unique gameplay.
  • 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 intrusion began with a sound that was both an imitation and an insult. As the Human lifted the lid of the garish red box, a tinny, synthesized "meow" echoed in the living room. I lifted my head from the velvet cushion, one ear twitching in irritation. A machine, daring to mimic the symphony of my voice? The effrontery. I watched from my perch on the armchair as a horde of her fellow bipeds descended, their loud chatter filling my sanctuary. They spilled the contents of the box onto the table—a collection of cardboard rectangles bearing cartoonish caricatures of my kind in various states of indignity. There was a cat wielding a bazooka, a cat composed of rainbows, a cat in a "tac-kini." It was a gallery of slander. My initial plan was to ignore them, to project an aura of such profound disinterest that they would feel shame for their juvenile pastime. I began a meticulous grooming of my pristine white bib, a clear signal that their world and mine were not to intersect. But then, it happened. Amid a shriek of laughter, a card fluttered from the table and landed, face up, on the rug. It was the "Nope" card. A stern-faced feline, arms crossed, unilaterally rejecting some unseen proposal. I understood. This was not a caricature; this was a symbol of my own philosophy. I slid from the chair, a silent grey shadow against the dark wood of the floor. The humans were too engrossed in their strategic folly to notice. I padded over to the "Nope" card. It smelled of cheap ink and human hands, but its message was pure. With a delicate, calculated tap of my paw, I sent it skittering under the heavy oak bookshelf. A small victory. A statement. Then, another opportunity presented itself. One of the players, in a moment of despair, slapped a card on the table and declared himself "exploded." The offending "Exploding Kitten" card, depicting a feline mid-detonation, was discarded carelessly nearby. I stalked it, my tail giving a slow, deliberate flick. This one was personal. I nudged it with my nose, then hooked it with a claw, dragging it silently into the shadows of the hallway. The game, I decided, was a monument to human absurdity. But its pieces? They were excellent trophies. My collection under the sofa had just found its new centerpiece.

The Original TAPPLE, The Fast-Paced Family Board Game, Choose a Category & Race Against the Timer to be the Last Player, Learning Word Game for Ages 8 & Up, 2-8 Players, 15-20 Minute Play Time

By: USAOPOLY

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has presented me with a garish plastic wheel from a company called USAOPOLY, a name that suggests far too much pep for my liking. This device, known as TAPPLE, appears to be a catalyst for a loud, timed shouting ritual. The humans gather, select a category from one of the flimsy cards, and then frantically yell words while slapping down letter tabs before a timer shrieks at them. From my perspective, the entire enterprise is a colossal waste of energy that could be better spent on chin scratches or strategically warming a sunbeam. While the rapid, frantic tapping of the letter tabs holds a certain percussive allure, the overall cacophony and the inevitable, jarring beep of the timer threaten the serene atmosphere required for my seventeen hours of daily sleep. It's a potential nap-disrupter of the highest order.

Key Features

  • The Original and Authentic Version of the Sensational Party Game
  • Get ready for the award-winning fast-paced word game that gives family game night a rush of excitement as players compete to beat the timer!
  • HOW TO PLAY - Choose a card with a category, press the timer, and shout out words related to the category that start with a certain letter. Once the related word is announced, press the corresponding letter tab.
  • Take it on the go and great to play anywhere - the portable Tapple wheel stores all of the category cards for easy carry and storage.
  • Includes 1 Tapple wheel with built-in timer, 36 cards (144 categories), rules

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The humans called it "Game Night," but I recognized it for what it was: a ritualized disruption. They placed the circular plastic altar on the low table in the center of the room, its colorful letters gleaming under the lamp light. My human fumbled with the thin deck of cards, sliding them into the device's base with an unearned sense of accomplishment. I watched from my throne atop the sofa's armrest, my tail giving a single, dismissive flick. The air, once still and perfect for napping, now crackled with a distinctly juvenile anticipation. The ceremony began. A category was chosen—"Types of Fish," a subject on which I am, of course, a world-renowned expert. My human pressed the large red button in the center, and a terrible, ominous ticking filled the room, a metronome counting down to madness. Then came the shouting. "SALMON!" one bellowed, followed by a sharp *clack* as the 'S' tab was depressed. "ANCHOVY!" another cried, striking the 'A'. It was a chaotic, unsophisticated performance. They were merely making noise, a frantic symphony of ignorance. They didn't even mention the sublime deliciousness of a good branzino. Amateurs. Once their pathetic game concluded and they departed for the kitchen to procure celebratory snacks, the device was left unguarded. This was my moment. I descended from my perch with silent grace and leaped onto the table. The TAPPLE wheel was larger up close, a field of clickable temptations. My approach was methodical. I extended a single, perfect paw and gently pressed the 'P' tab. It responded with a firm, resonant *click*—a surprisingly satisfying mechanical report. I tried the 'T'. *Clack.* Excellent tactile feedback. This was not merely a toy; it was a well-engineered instrument of percussion. Then, my paw brushed against the central red button. The ticking began anew. At first, I was startled, but then I understood. It was rhythm. A beat. The humans had used it as a crude pressure device, but I saw its true purpose. I began to compose. *Click-clack* went 'C' and 'A'. A pause, timed perfectly with the ticking. Then a flourish on 'T'. *Click-clack-click.* I was no longer a mere house cat; I was a maestro, and this TAPPLE wheel was my strange, plastic marimba. They saw a word game. I, however, had discovered a rather brilliant, if slightly gaudy, tabletop synthesizer. It was noisy, yes, but it was a noise I could now control. Worthy? Indeed, but only when played by a true artist.

Lucky Egg Official Grab The Mic – Family Karaoke Board Game, 8+ Year Olds, 2-10 Players - Games for Bad Singers with 250 Lyrics (125 Cards) for Hilarious Game Nights & Birthday Party, Kids Gift

By: Lucky Egg

Pete's Expert Summary

My human seems to have acquired yet another box of organized noise from a brand called "Lucky Egg." From what I can gather through my superior powers of observation, this is a "game" where the Tall Ones are encouraged to make their already questionable singing voices even worse. They flip a card, yell a word, and then fight over a piece of brightly colored foam masquerading as a microphone to howl a song lyric. The whole affair seems designed to disrupt the peace and quiet of my domain. While the cacophony is a clear downside, that foam object is the only component of potential interest. If it's as light and throwable as it appears, it might just be a worthy opponent for a brief, one-sided skirmish before I retire to a sunbeam.

Key Features

  • THE KARAOKE GAME FOR PEOPLE WHO CAN’T SING: Grab The Mic is the ultimate karaoke-style party games for those who love music but might not have the singing skills!
  • FAST-PACED FUN - Flip a card, think quickly, and race to grab the foam microphone to sing a lyric containing the revealed word. This family games for kids and adults is a fast-paced game that keeps everyone on their toes!
  • HILARIOUS MOMENTS - Watch as your friends try to recall lyrics under pressure, resulting in hilarious renditions of popular songs. Our board games for adults are guaranteed to have everyone laughing and singing along!
  • BONUS CHALLENGES & MUTE MODE – Want to raise the stakes? Use the Mute Token to silence players after mistakes, or flip the board for extra rules like ‘Solo Artists Only’ or ‘Full Volume.’ Our card games are perfect for players 8+ and keeps every round fresh, funny, and fiercely competitive.
  • WHAT'S INSIDE - With 125 word cards, a foam microphone, game board, player tokens, and easy-to-follow instructions, everything you need for a memorable game night is included. Get your friends and family together for hours of musical entertainment with Grab The Mic!

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The evening began with an assault on the senses. The humans, my staff, unboxed the garish contraption and spread its contents across the low table in the living room. The sounds that followed were a crime against acoustics. They called it "Grab The Mic," and it involved them screeching out-of-tune snippets of songs in a frantic race to clutch a pathetic, soft microphone. I watched from my perch atop the credenza, my tail twitching in silent, rhythmic judgment. The foam microphone, a garish blue, was the epicenter of this auditory hurricane. It was tossed, grabbed, and waved about with a foolish glee that I found deeply offensive. It was an object of profound silliness, and I decided it needed to be rescued from this humiliation. My opportunity arose when the largest of the humans, in a fit of laughter after a particularly dreadful rendition of some forgotten tune, set the foam microphone down on the rug. It lay there, abandoned and undignified. This would not stand. I descended from my post with the fluid grace they so clearly lacked, my paws making no sound on the hardwood floor. I was a gray shadow, a whisper of intent. They were too engrossed in their point-tallying ritual to notice my approach. The microphone was an easy target, a defenseless tribute waiting to be claimed. With a final, silent bound, I was upon it. My teeth sank into the foam—it had a strange, springy resistance, not at all like the satisfying crunch of a high-quality kibble. I snatched it from the floor and bolted for the dark sanctuary beneath the wingback chair. A shout of surprise erupted behind me. "Hey! Pete's got the mic! Does he want to play?" one of them chirped. The fools. This was no game; this was a liberation. They could not comprehend the mercy I had just shown this poor, abused object. Under the chair, I examined my prize. It was impossibly light, skittering away with the slightest nudge of my nose. I gave it a solid thwack with my paw, sending it tumbling into the dust bunnies. It was a mediocre adversary at best, offering no real fight. Still, the act of rescuing it had been a thrill. The game itself is an auditory atrocity, a complete waste of breathable air. But its central component, now safely sequestered in my lair, serves as a passably amusing bauble. I have deemed it worthy, not for what it is, but for the noble purpose I have given it. They can have their noise; I have claimed the spoils.