Welcome to my review of Cats, the board game that turned my living room into a furball-filled battleground of sneaky tactics and occasional chaos. If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to outwit your friends using paws instead of brains, you’re in the right place. I’ve herded up my usual crew (yes, we still talk after this experience) and given Cats a proper run around the tabletop, with plenty of snacks and questionable cat impressions. Spoiler: fur did NOT fly, but a few tempers did. Let’s see if this game lands on its feet, or if luck knocks it right off the table!
How It Plays
Setting Up
Spread out the board and shuffle the cat cards. Each player grabs their cat tokens (no real cats, sorry Mittens). Place the fish tokens and yarn in easy reach. Decide who goes first by seeing who last chased a laser pointer. Seriously, it’s in the rulebook. If it’s a tie, just argue about it like real cat owners.
Gameplay
On your turn, you play a cat card and move your token. You grab fish and yarn for points, but watch out for the grumpy tabby—he’ll steal your stuff if you land on his space. You can block other players, swap spots, or mess up their plans with action cards. Expect a lot of hissing and playful betrayal. Keep one eye on your fish pile and the other on your “friends.”
Winning the Game
Once all the fish are gone, everyone counts up their loot. The player with the most fish and yarn together wins. The loser must feed their cat treats (or just say ‘next time’). There’s only one top cat, so play smart, swipe goodies, and never trust a smiling Siamese.
Want to know more? Read our extensive strategy guide for Cats.
Game Mechanics and Player Interaction in Cats: Herding, Scheming, and Hissing
Buckle up, folks—few board games capture chaos and comedy quite like Cats. Honestly, the way this game turns players into sneaky, ambitious felines is almost too real. One minute you’re napping on a sunbeam, the next you’re fighting your best friend for a cardboard box. The main mechanic here is simple but effective: collect the best toys and snacks while avoiding the dreaded vacuum cleaner and, of course, your fellow cats’ evil schemes.
Turns run quick and dirty. You pick special action cards—think ‘pounce,’ ‘steal,’ or my personal favourite, ‘look adorable and confuse everyone’—and try to outwit your opponents. But don’t let the cute theme fool you. Underneath all that fluff sits a mean, competitive streak. I watched my buddy Dave—normally harmless—turn into a plotting mastermind, swiping my tuna stash right before I could grab the win. It’s not a free-for-all, though. The core engine lets you block moves or team up for a turn. But alliances in Cats, much like real cats, last about as long as a cardboard box survives in my living room.
Interaction is king here. There’s no hiding in a corner and hoarding points. If you play quiet, you’ll get your tail handed to you. Every round brings snarls, yowls, and more than a little laughter. The one snag? If someone gets stuck with a run of bad luck, they can struggle to catch up. That means the claw isn’t always fair (cat pun one hundred percent intended).
Speaking of cat claws—next up, we pounce right into how Cats looks and feels on the table, so get your eyes ready!
Purrfectly Crafted? Examining Artwork and Component Quality in Cats
Okay, let’s talk about the real reason your non-gamer friend agreed to play Cats: the artwork. The first thing I noticed when I opened the box was how stinkin’ adorable these cats are. Each one looks like it just knocked over your favorite mug and is now judging you for leaving it on the table. From fluffy tabbies to grumpy Siamese, the illustrations ooze with personality. My friend Beth refused to play any cat unless it looked like her childhood pet, Whiskers. Spoiler: she lost, but claims it was worth it.
Picture this: you’re carefully moving your little wooden cat piece across the board, eyes narrowed in fierce concentration, only to realize the cat meeples have tiny tails. Tiny. Tails. I kid you not! It’s details like these that make you want to high-five the game’s designer and ask if their desk is covered in cat fur.
The cards are sturdy enough to survive a coffee spill—don’t ask how I know that. The tiles fit together nicely and the color scheme makes everything easy to see, even for those of us who sometimes forget to wear our glasses. That being said, the insert in the box is a bit of a mess. My cats, both real and cardboard, scatter components everywhere. Prepare for some creative storage solutions unless you like jumbled chaos (hey, maybe that’s thematic!).
Overall, Cats doesn’t just look good on your shelf—it feels good in your hands. But can it keep me coming back for more strategic pouncing? Let’s leap into Replayability and strategy depth next and see if Cats lands on its feet!
Replayability and Strategy Depth in Cats
Alright, let’s talk replayability and strategy depth in Cats. If you’re a board game addict like me, you probably know this is the real test. Will Cats become your weekly obsession, or will it end up next to that dusty copy of Monopoly where hopes go to die?
The good news: Cats really kicks in the replayability department. Every game tosses you a new set of goals and powers, so there’s never a sense of ‘same old, same old.’ I once played with my friend Tom, who’s convinced he was a cat in a past life. He learned the hard way that ignoring the sneaky combo cards can turn your clever strategy into a pile of hairballs. No two rounds play out the same. The tension ramps up as players fight over the best catnip, and there’s always that one clever cat (usually not me) who spots a clever move no one else saw coming.
But there’s more! Cats actually lets you plot and scheme. Do you go for quick wins, or save for a big play later? The strategic options feel pretty wide open, and you have to keep a close eye on your friends (who I now trust less than I trust my own cat with my goldfish). Still, the game doesn’t bog you down with too many rules or so much thinking your brain feels like it’s been through a cat-flap one too many times.
Next up, we’ll see if Cats is all about skill or if luck runs the show—stay tuned for the (literal) cat and mouse game between luck and skill!
Luck vs Skill: Does Cats Reward Clever Play, or Just Nine Lives?
Let’s talk about what really matters to me when I play Cats—is the winner a master strategist, or did they just channel their inner basement feline and nap their way to victory by pure luck?
Here’s what I noticed after a few too many late-night rounds, with snacks, friends, and a real cat who kept stealing meeples. Cats claims to balance skill and chance, but the scales aren’t always even. Sure, you can plan ahead. You can try to read your friends’ minds, like a psychic tabby. But then the luck of the draw pounces, meaning your purr-fect plan can unravel in a second. The cards you get make a huge difference—sometimes you feel like a nimble Siamese, other times more like a housecat stuck in a cardboard box.
Skill does matter. The smartest player often does well, using clever moves to corner victory. But there’s always that one friend who wins because they drew the best catnip card—no strategy, just dumb luck. If you like a game where careful planning pays off, Cats is only half-satisfying. If you love a bit of chaos, you’ll have a good time.
I wish the game leaned more toward rewarding smart play instead of lucky paws. Would I recommend it? For cat fans and those who giggle at a bit of randomness—absolutely. For my hard-core strategist friends? Maybe just play with the real cat instead.
Conclusion
Well, that wraps up my review of Cats. This game is the sort of thing you bring out when you want to laugh, mess with your friends, and not worry about complicated rules or cutthroat strategy. The art is as cute as a basket of real kittens, and the pieces hold up through many game nights (even if the box insert is a disaster after the first play). Sure, luck runs the show more than skill, so if you’re the type who wants to outthink everyone at the table, you might want to look elsewhere. But if you just want some sneaky, catty fun, Cats is a pawsitive choice. Just don’t blame me when your luck runs out and your friends start hissing! Thanks for reading—see you next time!
