Hello, and welcome to Chapter II of The Pokémon Letters which is definitely a thing that myself and my digital compatriot Owen Grieve are doing. Each week, we are playing a bit of Pokémon Red/Blue and then writing little wussy love letters to each other like a couple of girls. This was all Owen’s idea.
Enjoy this exciting foray into the phenomenon of wasting my rapidly-dwindling lifespan on a children’s computer game.
Current number of hours I will never get back: Almost fucking 12.
This week: Cerulean City!
Having checked, I now realise almost four months have passed since you received my last letter. I could put this down to real-life pressures, which are extant; or I could simply own up to the truth and admit that I have found unpalatable the prospect of trudging around 8-bit wilderness getting randomly mauled by a spreadsheet. Perhaps the two are linked, I don’t know.
You made a good decision in forcing my hand though, since if there’s one thing I hate more than computer games which are for children, it’s looking like the lazy dickhead I actually am. Additionally, in order to prove to you that I did re-read your letter rather than just plunge ahead to reach the part where I can swear about things, I’ve prepared some rejoinders to a number of questions and inquiries in the text, both implied and direct.
I saw no Pikachu. I’d assumed since he’s the famous one he’d show up later with some sort of fanfare, so I never thought to look for him. I dimly recall four months ago I backtracked around in the forest looking for one after learning I’d missed him. I figured I could make one or two pointed and hilarious observations about giving myself such a stupid task. But that was shortly before I nearly ended it all, so I’ve pretty much just abandoned that goal and moved on, and you know what Owen? I’ve felt much calmer for it.
Haha. Not really.
I did check out the museum and when I left it I was a bit nonplussed. There was a space shuttle if I remember correctly. Is this to imply that Pokémon may have an extraterrestrial origin? I would appreciate and definitely care about your thoughts on the matter.
I can’t speak to the lifelessness or otherwise of the townsfolk because I avoided contact with them wherever possible just to try and save a bit of time. Everything is so long-winded, Owen. Everything. Nor can I comment on the music or sound effects because I muted them a long time ago, and I’m not going to turn them back on again.
Finally, Brock did actually remind me of a Demon Pigeon reader, but only by the time I was finished with him (ie, he was irrelevant, non-existent, ephemeral, etc, delete according to taste).
Anyway, where were we? Ah yes, on the road to Mt Moon.
Wow, everyone sure does like fighting continually.
No, but I will if you want me to.
Wait, hang on. Maybe there is a point to all this violence after all.
Re-forged in the crucible of battle, WINTERBORN fills out and sprouts some wicked sick claws, as well as a headnipple. Now we’ll really show some wildlife who’s fucking boss, eh kids?
Irrespective of what buttons I press, Owen, I can’t get ♂COBRA♂ to hurl himself into these briny depths, there to find the absolute silence he so desperately craves. Could you give me a clue?
So this is what I’ve been putting off for a third of a year. Hard to imagine why. In hindsight, directing young ♂COBRA♂ around this drab grey cavern is the gaming experience of my life. Nothing much of note happened, besides running into a bunch of different creatures and lacking the poké balls to catch them. This is where I learned that it takes five keystrokes and a several second wait simply to avoid a battle. Additionally, I never needed the escape ropes you advised me to purchase, so I expect a reimbursement in the post.
Down a ladder, and I run into this guy. He calls himself a Pokémon gangster.
Unfortunately for him, I’m a legitimate Pokémon businessmon. There are actually a few of these fellas scattered about, and I defeated them all with alacrity because I fucking rule. Although I thought Team Rocket looked like this:
Woah, holy shit. I’ve been throwing USELESSBOB around a fair bit, on the basis that eventually he will evolve and gain some abilities besides ‘harden’. So I’m understandably excited to see what he will turn into.
Well, I wouldn’t fuck with it. Let’s see what cool abilities he has!
He doesn’t look like he wants to fight. He looks like he wants to swallow my poké balls. I’m okay with that. That’s two poké balls jokes now in a single update, Owen, by the way. I thought I would be a lot further into this series before I had to resort to that inexhaustible mirth supply.
Holy shit, I can’t keep track of these little buggers. What exciting new form will this young Weedle take on?
In fairness to SEBASTIAN, he’s brought his string shot and poison thingy abilities with him, so he’s not as dreadful as USELESSBOB. But he’s still getting benched, the fucking misleading charlatan. I’m not faffing about with another one of these.
On second thought, Owen, I think this is a more accurate depiction of a Demon Pigeon reader.
And just like that, I pop out into daylight. I thought I was utterly lost, but I guess not.
Anyway, let’s wrap this up. Turns out I am still getting shit upon from a great height because young Misty, queen among the local trainers, has a Pokémon policy. That policy is all water, all the time. This means WINTERBORN, the main powerhouse of my force, gets doused like a pissed-on cigarette end. The rest of them are just hopeless. After numerous attempts to either switch my team with some of the other jerks I’ve caught, or at least level them up so they can survive a bit longer, we run into our old friend AVIRGIN.
This time, I noticed that he’d already wrecked Misty’s shit before I even arrived. Naturally he is full of himself and spoiling for a re-rematch. We stroll through him like he wasn’t even there, which makes it seem doubly improbable that he should be running around pipping us to every single post we find. I stumble across an Oddish while on my way back from meeting some prick called Bill, who does a hilarious movie reference that I’m not airing here. Having already gone against my instincts and consulted the nerd grid you linked me to last time, I realise that the Oddish will do okay against Misty’s wet bandits.
Yeah, so I hear.
So we are finally underway again, Owen. I hope you’re having as much fun as me (ie fuck all, you malicious bastard).
Love and kisses!
PS: Your namesake also evolved into a Netto-Pigeon or something, but I cut those screens to save space, and also to annoy you.