Pokémaster of my Domain

The Pokemon franchise and I have a bit of a love-hate relationship; I love Pokémon, and kind of hate myself as a result.

I mean, being Pokémon-obsessed (or Pokésessed, in Pokélingo) was all well and good when I was 12 (and even then I was on the fringe of being too old). But the franchise has been around for a good 12 years, which means I'm twice as old now as I was when I first sought out to “catch 'em all”. What kind of man-child 23-and-a-half-year-old would still get excited over yellow rats who generate electricity and giraffes with an extra head growing out of their ass?

I'll tell you what kind of man-child.

Someone who still lives with his parents, for starters. Someone who went to university, but spent most of that time playing World of Warcraft (and when that got too expensive switched to the much cheaper alternative of Neopets). Someone who knows in his heart that the Star Wars prequels were terrible, but couldn't bring himself to hate them because Jango Fett was so cool. Someone who loved the first Toy Story, but thought the second one was too heavy. Someone who makes minimum wage in retail, and whose only aspiration in life is to either write super-hero comics, or be a roller coaster tester.

In short, someone like me.

Now, to be fair, even though I was a little Pokémon addict (or Pokéaddict) as a kid, I had for quite some time put the franchise behind me. I played Pokémon Pearl back in aught seven, but stopped when university got too demanding, and hadn't looked back since. Or rather, I rarely looked back, and when I did it would be with the wistful gaze I imagine recovering alcoholics give when they walk past an LCBO. But the point was, I had it under control.

Sure, a few times while playing with my nephews, they'd want to show me their collection of Pokémon cards, but I'd always been good about it. I'd wave the cards away and say “no thanks, I've quit.” So all in all, things were going okay.

Until the release of Pokémons Heartgold and Soulsilver last month.

Now, when I was a kid, Pokémon Silver was one of my favourite games of all time. So when I heard that it along with Pokémon Gold were being re-released, I... well, to tell the truth I didn't care that much. I mean, I already played those games ten years ago. Why would I have to...

to...

Wait, this time, your Pokémon follows you around on foot?

And just like Waylon Smithers when he found out that the old Malibu Stacy doll came packaged with a new hat, I began to froth at the mouth. I had to have this game. But at the same time, I was a bit reserved. I already own five incarnations of this basic game (Pokémons Blue, Yellow, Silver, Ruby, and Pearl), one of which is this exact game. What does it say of me that I would shell out another 40 dollars for the same experience I've had for the last 12 years? And I never even finished those games, never even came close to the game's imperative: catching them all. This Soulsilver would give me a few dozen hours of fun, but then find itself in a pile with its five counterparts, as well as all the other things in my life I could never see through to the end. I hemmed and hawed about buying the game for almost a month.

And then my girlfriend Rebecca bought me Pokémon Soulsilver yesterday.

I'm not sure if it was the time I took her to Toys 'R Us to just stare at the game, or how I'd cry out “Pikachu... come back...” in my sleep, but somehow she caught on that I had been eyeing it.

Obviously, when I had received the completely unexpected gift, I was filled with joy, but there was another underlying emotion there as well: fear. Fear that I would fall back into my old ways, and fall hard. Fear that I would become the Pokémon junkie (or Pokéjunkie) that I had hated. Fear that, for all my seeming maturity in the years since last playing the game (a girlfriend, a job, a university degree), I'd turn out to be the same little boy who cried when he got his ass kicked by the Elite Four.

But then I thought to myself, nay. I have changed, and grown as a person. Sure, I may still enjoy bright pixelated games with talking cats and painting dogs, but that doesn't mean I'm not a Man who can handle Responsibilities. And I knew just how to prove it.

This time, I'd catch all 493 Pokémon.

This time, I'd catch 'em all.

Now, this is no easy feat. In fact, it's pretty much impossible at this point. To do so, I'd need eight different versions of Pokémon (FireRed, LeafGreen, Ruby, Sapphire, Pearl, Diamond, HeartGold, and SoulSilver), not to mention one of the Pokémon Ranger games, and even then I'd need to track down rare promotional Pokémon given away at special events. I'd also need to clock in hundreds of hours.

But I'll be damned if I'm not up to the challenge.

So that's basically what I've set up this blog for: to document my struggle – no, my journey – to become the Pokémaster.

NOTE: I originally considered taking time off work in this endeavor, but then abandoned that idea when I realized that missing work to play Pokémon kind of defeats the purpose.