Pete's Expert Summary
My human presented this garish box with the misplaced enthusiasm they usually reserve for a new flavor of wet food. From what I can gather, it's a flat, foldable square upon which they conduct some sort of ritual concerning imaginary real estate. They've taken the wonderfully crinkly paper money I so enjoy shredding and replaced it with a glowing rectangle that makes irritating little *dings*. The entire affair seems designed to make humans stare at a screen instead of at me, which is a fundamental design flaw. The one, minuscule point of interest is a plastic token allegedly shaped like a cat. A "Hazel," they call her. An insultingly generic stand-in for my magnificent, tuxedo-clad self. Ultimately, it seems like a poor substitute for a well-thrown crinkle ball and an egregious misuse of what could be prime napping space.
Key Features
- BANK ON APP, PLAY ON BOARD: For the first time, ever, families can play the Monopoly board game with the help of an app for a faster game with super easy banking and other exciting fresh features
- NO CASH, NO COUNTING, ALL FUN: Each player gets a Bank card that holds their money, and the app is the Bank and Banker. Kids will love being in charge of their own card
- FREE MONOPOLY APP: Requires the Monopoly App Banking app to play. Scan the QR code in the instructions to download onto a smartphone or tablet. (Device not included. Free to download—data rates and in-app purchase may apply)
- PAY WITH A TAP: Land on a property? Scan the Title Deed. Then simply tap the device’s screen to buy, auction, or pay rent! Be the richest player when all properties are owned to win
- PLAY IN-APP MINI GAMES FOR REWARDS: Players unlock AR-enhanced mini games every time they land on Free Parking, Jail, or Railroad spaces! Win them to score advantages, break out of jail, and travel to any space
- KID-THEMED PROPERTIES: A chocolate factory! Mythical stable! Skyscraper waterslide! Explore the board to visit imaginative, kid-focused properties
- 6 REIMAGINED, COLORFUL TOKENS: This Monopoly kids board game includes 6 modernized tokens featuring familiar characters: Hazel the Cat, Car, Penguin, Scottie, Battleship, and T-Rex
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The ceremony began on a Tuesday, an otherwise perfect day for sleeping in a sunbeam. My human, with the solemnity of a high priest, unfolded the board. I watched from my perch on the armchair, tail twitching. It was a map, I realized. A map of my domain, but simplified and brightly colored for their feeble minds. A "Chocolate Factory"? A "Skyscraper Waterslide"? Preposterous names for what was clearly the kitchen and the downstairs bathroom, but I allowed the inaccuracy. They were, after all, only human. They each chose a small, plastic idol to represent them in this ritual: a car, a penguin, a dinosaur. Fools. As if those trinkets could capture their lumbering essence. Then, my human unwrapped a small, purple figurine. "Look, Pete!" she cooed, holding it up. "It's Hazel the Cat! She can be you!" I narrowed my eyes. This "Hazel" was a crude effigy, a purple pretender to my throne. To see this cheap idol placed upon the representation of my kingdom was a grave offense. They moved their pieces, tapping their glowing rectangle with a bizarre reverence. A *ching* sound would signal the transfer of invisible currency as they "bought" the Mythical Stable (the garage) or paid rent on the Candy Palace (the pantry). It was a slow, baffling reenactment of the power dynamics I had already firmly established. My moment came when the smaller human landed on a space that made his glowing rectangle project a strange, shimmering image into the air. He was utterly captivated, waving the device around as if trying to catch a digital fly. The other human was equally mesmerized. They had forgotten the game. They had forgotten their idols. They had forgotten their king. I rose, stretched languidly, and descended from my throne. My paws made no sound on the rug as I approached the board. The purple impostor, "Hazel," sat foolishly upon the "Go" square. I ignored her. I walked directly to the center of the board, to the most lavishly illustrated property—the Skyscraper Waterslide, rendered in an obnoxious shade of blue. With deliberate, indisputable grace, I placed my soft gray paw directly upon it. I then lifted my gaze to meet my human's, who had finally looked away from her screen. My expression was placid, my eyes clear. No violence was needed. The message was sent. This board, this house, and everything their silly game pretended to represent was already mine. The game was a triviality. The only rule that mattered was the one I had just so elegantly demonstrated. It was, I concluded, a mildly amusing distraction for them, but utterly unworthy of my participation. I already owned Boardwalk, Park Place, and the hand that fed me.
