Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in a fit of what can only be described as architectural delusion, has acquired a tower of giant wooden blocks from a brand called "Giantville." The supposed "game" involves the slow, tedious removal of these pine-scented planks until the inevitable, and only truly satisfying, moment of catastrophic collapse. The structure can apparently grow to over four feet, creating a rather imposing, if temporary, new piece of furniture in my living room. The thunderous crash is, I admit, a symphony worthy of my attention, and the individual blocks make for excellent hallway obstacles or chin-scratching posts. However, the tedious setup and the humans' agonizingly careful movements are a complete waste of what could be prime napping or sunbeam-chasing time.
Key Features
- 2021 STEAM Accredited: Not only is this toy fun for everyone, but it also promotes logical thinking, active movement and creativity! So, get the whole family involved! The Jumbo Wooden Blocks Game provides hours of entertainment for everyone of all ages. Children and adults will love the thrill and excitement! Block measures 6.4" L x 2.1" W x 1.2 ".
- HIGH-QUALITY & DURABLE: Each block piece is made from 100% pine wood that provides long-lasting durability. The premium quality wood withstands wear and tear and won’t receive damage after each tumble of the tower.
- CARRYING CASE: A super convenient carrying case makes it easy to transport and store all the pieces of the puzzle. Each block piece fits perfectly stacked in the zippered bag and it features two handles that make it easy to hold.
- OUTDOOR & INDOOR USE: Take the fun from the house to the lawn. This classic game is perfect for outdoor and indoor events like birthdays, BBQs, tailgating, frat parties, picnics, camping, baby showers and so much more!
- PLAY IT YOUR WAY: 20 blocks are numbered so that you can create your own rules or bonus rules like reverse direction, skip player or go again. Customize the game and make it appropriate for kids or adults.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The thing arrived in a great black sacking, a void that smelled of canvas and distant trees. From it, my humans pulled bone-like lengths of pale pine wood, stacking them with the hushed reverence of cultists building a totem to an inferior god. They called it a "game." I called it an affront. This wooden ziggurat grew in the center of my domain, casting a long shadow over the very spot where the afternoon sunbeam lands. It was a silent, wooden tyrant, and its existence was a direct challenge to my rule. I watched their ritual from my observation post atop the sofa. They would slide a block out with agonizing slowness, their breath held, their hands trembling. Then they'd place it on top, adding to the tower’s insolent height. They’d yelp with glee at their pathetic successes. I observed the strange runes—numbers, I believe they're called—etched onto some of the pieces. Were they wards? Incantations? I circled the base, my gray tail a metronome of rising irritation. The scent of pine was sharp, a crude perfume for a crude monument. The moment came when my primary human was distracted by the glowing rectangle in her hand. The other had gone to retrieve more of the strange, bubbly water they drink. The tower stood alone, unguarded, a silent monolith of misplaced ambition. This was not a time for a simple paw-pat. This was a time for a statement. I backed up to the edge of the oriental rug, my muscles coiling like springs. I was no longer a house cat; I was a force of nature, a furry, gray missile of righteous indignation. With a guttural yowl that came from the very soul of my ancestors, I launched myself. My mid-air collision with the tower was perfection. The impact was solid, satisfying. For a split second, the structure held, defying me. Then, with a glorious groan, it surrendered. The resulting cascade of woody thunder, the delightful clatter of chaos as fifty-six pine blocks rained down upon the floor, was the most beautiful music I had heard all week. The humans shrieked, but it was a distant, irrelevant noise. I landed gracefully amidst the beautiful carnage, the vanquisher of Giantville. The game itself is moronic, but its capacity for spectacular, deafening failure? Utterly sublime. I nudged a single numbered block with my nose, claimed it as my trophy, and sauntered away to find that sunbeam, my kingdom restored.
