Pete's Expert Summary
My human has procured another large, flat box, this one promising a simulation of a tedious human activity they call "commerce." It appears to be a simplified version of one of their longer, more argument-prone rituals, but they've foolishly replaced the delightfully crinkly paper money with a plastic brick that beeps and swallows cards. The primary appeal, from my vantage point, lies not in the incomprehensible goal of amassing wealth, but in the small, plastic tokens. A tiny penguin and a little dog, specifically, have the perfect weight and shape for being batted into the dark abyss beneath the credenza. The beeping unit is a mild curiosity, but ultimately, the game itself is a distraction from the far more important business of stroking my magnificent fur.
Key Features
- Monopoly Junior Electronic Banking Game - A modern banking experience for kids, with the distinctive design of the Monopoly gameboard and characters. For ages 5+. For 2 - 4 players.
- Easy and Fun - Monopoly money is replaced by an electronic banking unit and Monopoly game bank cards. Players can use the cards to buy property, pay rent, and collect money when they pass Go.
- How To Play - Zoom around the board buying property, picking up Chance cards, and earning money. Players use the banking unit to keep track of their cash. They can buy property, pay rent, and collect money when they pass Go with their Monopoly game bank cards.
- How It Ends - When one player goes bankrupt, the game ends, and the player with the most cash wins! Includes easy-to-play electronic banking unit.
- What's Included - Gameboard, banking unit, 4 bank cards, 4 Junior tokens, 20 Chance cards, 48 sold signs, 4 "Who's Your Token?" Character cards, 1 die, and game guide. 2 x 1.5V AAA alkaline batteries required (not included).
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The ritual began on a Tuesday. The humans, with a reverence I usually reserve for a freshly opened can of tuna, unfurled the colorful board upon the dining table. It was an altar, clearly, dedicated to some new, plastic god. They placed the centerpiece, a white electronic block, in the middle with a series of clicks and beeps that set my ears twitching. This was their shrine, the oracle to which they would appeal. Then came the choosing of the idols. My human, with her predictable lack of taste, chose a small, plastic dog. Another chose a garish toy car. But my eyes, twin pools of deep green, locked onto the Little Penguin. A creature of dignity, trapped in this garish spectacle. They began the ceremony, rolling a spotted cube and moving their chosen idols around the perimeter of the altar. With each landing, they would perform the holiest of rites: tapping a small plastic card against the shrine. *BEEP-BOOP!* The shrine would sing, and a human would cheer. *BADOOP!* The shrine would chirp a different tune, and a human would groan. It was a bizarre cargo cult. They honestly believed this beeping brick held power over their little plastic lives, dictating who owned the "Ice Cream Parlour" or the "Toy Store." Fools. The only true landlord in this domain is the one with the claws and the condescending stare. I watched their pathetic worship for ten minutes, my tail-tip twitching with a mix of pity and contempt. This could not stand. A direct intervention was required to remind them of the true divine presence in their home. With a leap that was both silent and profoundly graceful, I landed in the center of the board, my soft gray paws bracketing their precious shrine. The humans gasped. I ignored them, lowering my head and sniffing the beeping oracle. It smelled of batteries and desperation. Then, with the calculated precision of a seasoned predator, I nudged the Little Penguin with my nose. It slid smoothly across the glossy surface of the "Pet Store" and tumbled over the edge of the board, landing silently on the rug below. I followed it with my gaze, then looked back at the stunned faces of the humans, giving them a slow, deliberate blink. The game was over. Their false idol was powerless, and their true god had claimed his tribute. The toy, I decided, was worthy. Not for its intended purpose, but as an excellent vehicle for theological correction and the acquisition of small, penguin-shaped pawns.
