Ever since I emerged from the caves of Mt. Moon I was focused on getting to Cerulean City as fast as possible. As tired as I was after that subterranean ordeal, I refused to let my pace slacken. Fortunately, I didn’t run into any time-consuming battles along the way, and the city was a pretty straight shot from the cavern exit. But to be perfectly honest, now that I’m finally here…I kind of just want to take a nap somewhere.
Somewhere without Zubats.
How long have I been wandering in these nightmarish caverns? It’s impossible to say. This place is built like a labyrinth, and its twisting passages seem to distort my perception of space and time. It feels like I’ve been walking for miles, but these tunnels look so similar to me that I could end up back where I started and I’d never be able to tell. Sometimes I feel like it would be pointless to go on.
Before I went to challenge the Pewter Gym, I thought it would be prudent to go heal up my Pokemon. The forest wasn’t nearly as bad as I had feared, but those Bug Catchers had gotten a few decent hits in. And by that I mean that Mr. Suds still had some String Shot stuck to his shell, and I think Chuckles may have scuffed his paw after punching all those Kakunas in the face. Truly, this world is dark and full of peril.
Call me crazy, but I was under the impression that evolution is, in general, a beneficial process. Organisms such as Pokemon evolve in order to be better suited to their environment and increase their chances of survival by making it easier to find food, avoid predators, etc. So, say you’ve got a Caterpie. They’re pretty small, and they don’t have any arms, but their coloration helps them blend in with leaves and foliage, so that’s a plus. Also, their little stubby foot-nubs can cling to most surfaces, and they can shoot sticky string to entangle their enemies, which is also pretty helpful. Not the toughest or scariest Pokemon in the world, but it’s something I can work with. But wait! Just then, Old Man Evolution decides to come along and reward all my hard work and training by taking away its legs. Gee, thanks a lot Old Man Evolution, thanks for removing my Caterpie’s only means of locomotion. I really appreciate it. I’m so glad we fought all those Rattatas now.
P.S. You’re a DOUCHE
I know I shouldn’t be complaining, but after the ordeal involved in capturing Chuckles, the Caterpie was almost a dissapointment. I honestly felt bad for the little guy, with his big, shiny eyes staring up at me. But, I knew that serious trainers needed a lot of variety on their team. And after getting walloped in the ol’ ultra balls by a fighting type, I thought that a bug sounded about my speed. Plus, I could barely walk to the Pokémart without tripping over at least four of the damn things.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m grateful for the Pokémon Centers. The people who work there are polite, competent, and efficient — you never have to wait for more than a few minutes — and, of course, it’s all completely free. It’s a miracle of public health care, really. To top it all off, the staff are unfailingly cheerful. But I can’t quite shake the feeling that sometimes they’re just a little bit too cheerful. The nurses are always so perky and chirpy, and yet they see some pretty nasty stuff every day. How do they do it? Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I had recently been through a pretty stressful experience, after all. But as I sat on the plush waiting room chair, reading an issue of PokéLife that was published before I had the ability to form coherent sentences, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had entrusted Mr. Suds to the care of a facility staffed entirely by identical robots.
I had seen the occasional pay-per-view Pokémon battle on TV, and now I had even been in a participant — sort of — in one that still had Oak’s lab assistants scrubbing chlorophyll off of the filing cabinets. I had already started to reconcile this experience with my own beliefs. I took no joy in the brutal pummeling that Mr. Suds had dished out, however, it also wasn’t as bad as I had feared. But know this, gentle reader: I had not seen the true face of PokéViolence until that bloody slog through the alley of death known only as Route One.
(Author’s Note: This is sort of a…Let’s Play, writeup…thing? For Pokémon Leaf Green. I’ll be playing through the game using Nuzlocke rules, which are:
1. If a Pokémon faints, it must be released as soon as possible (basically fainting = death)
2. You may only catch the first Pokémon you encounter in a given area. If it faints/escapes, too bad.
I’ll be playing through the game with these restrictions, then posting the screenshots and writeup here. So, enjoy! (Maybe?))
My name is Winston. I’m ten years old, and Pocket Monsters have made my life a living hell. I’m writing this down partly to take my mind off of the fact that I currently have a bloodthirsty animal inside the tiny ball attached to my belt, and partly so that on the off chance that someone finds my mutilated corpse in a ditch next to Route 22 (where I was finally pecked to death by Spearows), at least one person would know who to hold responsible for my untimely demise.
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