Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in her infinite and often misplaced wisdom, has procured what appears to be a flimsy plastic grid intended to hold an array of chintzy blue and white cubes. The whole contraption is lorded over by a pathetic-looking penguin figurine named "Phillip," and the supposed "game" involves using tiny plastic hammers to knock the cubes out without causing Phillip to plummet. The humans seem to think the objective is to *prevent* the fall. This is, of course, a fundamental misunderstanding of physics, gravity, and the primary purpose of any small object: to be knocked onto the floor. While the organized "gameplay" would be a colossal waste of my energy, the resulting cascade of skittering plastic blocks and the triumphant capture of Phillip himself presents a brief, yet potentially rewarding, opportunity for chaos.
Key Features
- FUN KIDS GAME: This Don’t Break the Ice game is an exciting preschool game that has players tapping out ice blocks one by one, as they imagine helping Phillip the Penguin make a new igloo
- INDOOR GAME FOR AGES 3+: The object of this game for kids is to keep Phillip the Penguin on top of the ice, but as the game goes on, the ice blocks start falling. One wrong block and he'll go ker-plop.
- FAMILY GAMES FOR KIDS: Get everyone together for family game night with the Don't Break the Ice game. Players will be on the edge of their seats just waiting for the moment that the penguin falls through
- CHILDRENS GAMES MAKE GREAT GIFTS: If you're looking for family gifts or gifts for kids, board games are a great choice
- HAVE FUN WITH CLASSIC GAMES: From classic tabletop board games to up-and-active toddler games, to party games, Hasbro Gaming is a one-stop-shop for filling your games closet
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The light from the floor lamp cut a hard line across the shag carpet, a lonely island in a sea of beige. The air was thick with the smell of microwaved leftovers and the low hum of the refrigerator—a typical Tuesday night. Then she brought it in. The Dame—my human—called it a "game." I called it a crime scene waiting to happen. "Don't Break the Ice," the box said. A threat? An invitation? In my line of work, they're often the same thing. They laid it out: a grid of cheap plastic, a frozen lake of lies, and perched right in the middle, the mark. Phillip. A two-bit penguin with a painted-on smile and a look in his plastic eyes that said he knew his time was up. The Dame and her accomplice, the Small Human, started the shakedown, taking turns tapping at the blocks with little plastic mallets. It was clumsy work, all brute force and no finesse. They were amateurs, tourists in a world of consequence I knew all too well. I watched from the arm of the sofa, my tail twitching like a metronome counting down to the inevitable. They yelped and giggled, oblivious to the tension I could feel in the very structure of the cheap frame. They were playing a game; I was waiting for the truth to fall. When they abandoned the scene for juice boxes and whatever drivel was on the glowing rectangle, I made my move. I leaped down, landing with a soft thud that didn't stir a mote of dust. I didn't need their crude hammers. I am a precision instrument. I circled the grid, my whiskers twitching, gathering data. I extended a single, perfect claw and gave a white block a delicate *tink*. It slid out, clean as a whistle, disturbing nothing. Another tap, a blue one. I wasn't just breaking the ice; I was dismantling an illusion, piece by piece. I found it, then. The keystone. The one block whose allegiances were questionable, whose structural integrity was compromised. It was supporting Phillip's smug little perch. I didn't swat or bat. I gave it a firm, deliberate push with the pad of my paw. There was a moment of perfect silence, a held breath in the universe of cheap plastic. Then, the cascade. A clattering of falling blocks, a symphony of collapse. And Phillip? He went down. A satisfying *ker-plop* as he hit the carpet. The case was closed. The game itself is a cheap grift, but the fall guy makes an excellent trophy. I batted him under the couch, where I’d be keeping him on ice. My kind of ice.
