“No, no, it’s totally okay, hang out in my territory as long as you like! I’m just gonna stay behind these walls and thick glass windows here, don’t mind me…”
It’s safe to say kitty isn’t going outside any time soon.
Since we’ve been debating the merits of indoor vs outdoor cats here on Pain In The Bud, perhaps we’ve stumbled on the easiest way to turn outdoor roamers into indoor cuddlers — just invite a bear to take a sniff around your front lawn and make sure your feline friend has a front row seat.
This cat’s expression says it all the first time he sees a bear:
“Oh my God, look at his face!” kitty’s human whispers before comforting the little guy with some strokes on his furry head to let him know all is well and he isn’t in danger.
I’m pretty sure Buddy wouldn’t last as long as this cat. He’d totally kick the bear’s ass and assert dominion over his territory run and hide under the bed, then meow to me in an hour or two to see if it’s safe to come out.
We continue our journey in Stray, the new game centered around a feline protagonist.
There’s been so much buzz about Stray, so many news stories, memes and people talking about it, that I’m probably not alone in feeling like I’m watching a TV series an episode at a time while most people binged it in a day or two.
But that’s not how I play, and it’s not how most game developers want players to experience their stories. Modern games, especially games like Stray with their bespoke environments and unique encounters, are built to immerse players in their worlds. The entire point of video games is the interactivity, the choices and agency of the players. They’re designed so when you choose to wander off the beaten path or take a few moments to linger over something visually impressive, the experience is rewarding.
Maybe you’ll find a rare item, a compelling vista, a secret passage or a funny sign. The point is, there’s incentive to look deeper. It gives games a feeling of possibility and the thrill of the undiscovered.
Standing on a keyboard, just like the good old days!
These stories are not meant to be passive experiences, nor are they meant to be devoured. I won’t be speed running through this mysterious alternate future version of Hong Kong. The journey is the entire point.
Picking up where we left off, the Good Boy (that’s what I’m calling him, for now at least) must learn to navigate this new and potentially dangerous urban environment, and he must do so with a feline’s skill set.
There are no opposable thumbs here. If our hero needs to move an object, he’s got to carry it in his mouth like a mom cat does with her kittens. If he needs to move a barrel, he’s got to get inside and run like a hamster in a wheel to propel it forward. If he needs to stop a fan’s blades from spinning so he can get through a window, he’s got to drop or swipe something into the blades to jam them up.
Appropriately, one of the main mechanisms for making new routes is knocking things over. Knock over a piece of plywood and Good Boy has a bridge. Knock over a can or a box at just the right angle to flip a switch and so on.
Protagonist cat can navigate the city in different ways and at different heights. Moving above street level means he’s less vulnerable and gives him a nice ambush angle should he encounter anyone who needs a good startling.
Good Boy meanders through a seemingly abandoned Kowloon City, padding through quiet streets and taking shortcuts through empty flats. There’s power, the city is illuminated by incandescent lights, neon and the glow of TV sets indoors, so someone must be around.
Our feline hero soon learns new tenants have moved in, and they’re not friendly. I’m not sure what they’re called, and the game doesn’t name them, but Kowloon is now home to swarming, artificial tribble-like creatures that attack Good Boy on sight and can take him down if he doesn’t run and shake off any enemies who manage to latch onto him. (Side note: I do not like dying in this game. What did Good Boy ever do to deserve being attacked?)
The first encounter with these enemies turns into a twisting chase through dimly-lit alleys, crumbling staircases and tight streets. Good Boy manages to evade the evil robot tribbles and finds sanctuary in a secure flat.
Once he attends to his needs, which include some carpet scratching and rehydrating, he’s contacted by a machine who uses TVs, computer monitors and other electronics in the apartment to communicate with the tabby.
The machine directs the cat through a few simple tasks necessary to free him, then meets Good Boy in the flesh.
The bot, a palm-size drone named B-12, is damaged and his memory is corrupted. He’s as lost and confused as Good Boy is, and he proposes a partnership. Good Boy, who sees the value in a drone who can open locks, translate signs and communicate with others, agrees. B-12 outfits his new feline friend with a harness that allows him to dock on the kitty’s back, then he saddles up and the new teammates venture forth.
For the first time, the protagonist is able to glean real information about his environment and has a sense of direction. He also gets to travel by makeshift ziplines, hopping into buckets hanging from the city’s ubiquitous wires.
Next episode: Our duo fights back! Same cat time, same cat channel.
Buddy reminded us that cats can in fact dance, and they’ve got serious moves.
After I committed the unspeakable crime of posting a story about amazing birds here on Pain In the Bud, Buddy himself took time out of his busy napping and eating schedule to educate me on feline abilities.
Cats can in fact dance, the little guy told me. As evidence, he presented the glorious Youtube rendition of Ievan Polkka, featuring blind Turkish singer Bilal Göregen passionately performing a Finnish folk song while a cat vibes to it in the foreground.
The cat comes in at around the 55 second mark, but you’ll want to watch the whole magnificent video. Thanks, Buddy, for correcting me, and I humbly apologize for ever doubting the many talents of your people.
OwlKitty is back and this time she’s sliding into Leonardo DiCaprio’s DMs.
The last time I saw Titanic was in a movie theater 25 years ago when the film was just released, its theme song was befouling airwaves and its director, James Cameron, was playing at deep sea explorer in the Mariana Trench. (Cameron would return for an expedition more than a decade later, matching the depth of a science team who made the dive decades earlier, but doing it solo. His interest had been sparked by the work he did on Titanic.)
I remember feeling restless as the movie dragged out, then incredulous as women and girls all around me sniffled, dabbed at their eyes with tissues and even sobbed! Teenage Big Buddy could not comprehend it.
But this version of Titanic? It’s more my speed, coming in at an economical 1:07 running time and featuringOwlKitty in place of Kate Winslet:
As you can see, Winslet isn’t entirely gone from this cut. She just plays second fiddle to OwlKitty, Leonardo DiCaprio’s first love.
Who’s the Queen of the World now?
Want more OwlKitty? Check out her star turn in Jurassic Park, where she replaced the T-Rex and rampaged around the doomed island looking got catnip and treats.
One lucky cat in Ohio has an aquarium designed just for him.
Cats love watching fish almost as much as they love eating them, but felines and their aquatic counterparts are infamously difficult to keep as pets in the same house.
People who own standard aquariums inevitably learn they tend to double as unintentional treat cabinets for determined kitties who find ways to get at nature’s snacks inside. Some opt for supposedly more secure aquarium covers and resort to the usual tricks — double-sided tape, scent deterrents, foil — to keep their furry friends from climbing up to help themselves to treats.
Others take the easy route, pulling up hours-long Youtube videos of fish tanks for their cats’ amusement.
But one cat has the ultimate set-up, cat TV at its finest: A custom-built aquarium that provides him with a 360-degree view of the action from within the tank.
The cat’s name is Jasper, and his human, Melissa Krieger, bought the cat-approved tank from a Cincinatti shop that designs and builds custom aquariums.
There’s a cat-size shelf directly beneath the tank, and an observation blister built into the bottom of the tank itself, big enough for Jasper to poke his head up and get the closest view possible short of diving into the tank. Melissa even put a cat bed on the shelf so her furry overlord can watch the fish in comfort.
Pain In The Bud 
