Pete's Expert Summary
My human seems to have acquired another one of their bafflingly static pastimes. This "SEQUENCE" contraption from a company called Jax is, by all appearances, a glorified sitting-still-and-staring machine. They unfold a large, patterned mat—admittedly a prime surface for an impromptu nap—and then spend ages arranging little colored discs on it. The true value, which they seem to have missed entirely, lies not in the "strategy" but in the components. One hundred and thirty-five perfectly round, skitter-friendly chips in three alluring colors and two whole decks of cards just begging to be batted under the nearest piece of furniture. While the humans waste their time trying to make lines, I see a treasure trove of individual, high-quality chase toys. A promising, if misunderstood, delivery.
Key Features
- Play a card from your hand, and place a chip on a corresponding space on the game board - when you have five in a row, it’s a SEQUENCE
- Each player or team tries to score the required number of five-card SEQUENCES before their opponents
- Easy enough for children, challenging for adults!
- Exciting gameplay develops STEM skills like strategy
- Includes 1 Folding Game Board (19.75" x 15.25"), 2 Decks of SEQUENCE Playing Cards (2.25" x 3.5"), 135 Playing Chips (50 Green, 50 Blue, 35 Red), and Complete Instructions
- For 2-12 players, ages 7 and up
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The evening began with an unwelcome disturbance. My human and her chosen companion for the night forsook their usual ritual of screen-staring to unfurl a strange, papery landscape on the coffee table. It was a grid of repeating faces, a truly unsettling design choice. From my observation post on the velvet armchair, I watched with deep suspicion as they produced a small hoard of plastic discs—gleaming blue, green, and a particularly vibrant red. They spoke in low, serious tones, placing the discs on the faces with a deliberation I usually reserve for selecting the most sun-drenched spot on the rug. I decided a closer inspection was required. A silent leap, a four-point landing as soft as falling ash, and I was upon the field of play. My white-gloved paws looked striking against the dark board. The humans froze, their hands hovering over their collections of flat, rectangular portraits. "Pete," one of them whispered, a warning note in their voice. I ignored it. My focus was singular. A red chip, placed precariously near the edge, shone like a drop of solidified wine under the lamp light. It wasn't a game piece. My superior intellect understood its true nature immediately: it was a key. What it unlocked, I wasn't sure. Perhaps a portal to the dimension where all the lost jingle balls reside. Perhaps it was a condensed nugget of pure, unadulterated chaos. I extended a single, careful claw and flicked. The key spun, a scarlet blur, before skittering off the board and across the hardwood floor with the most magnificent *clack-clack-skitter-skitter* sound. The humans gasped. I took this as my cue. Leaping from the table, I pounced, batting the disc under the heavy curtains. It was a successful extraction. I returned to my armchair, the red key safely hidden, and began a meticulous grooming of my pristine tuxedo front. The humans, after a moment of what I interpreted as awestruck silence, sighed and retrieved a new red disc from their bag. Fools. They had an endless supply of keys, yet they insisted on this pointless ceremony of lines and squares. Let them have their tedious game. I had discovered its true purpose. One by one, I would liberate every single one of those little treasures until the world was once again safe for proper, dignified napping. This SEQUENCE was, in its own way, a masterpiece of interactive art, but only for an audience intelligent enough to appreciate it.