My Pokémans, let me… never mind
July 25, 2007
I wonder if it's wise to be testing yourself against two highly communicable diseases at the same time. No? Well, drat. I'm just the curious type; I gotta know if I'm about to have a World of Warcraft relapse or if I'm susceptible to the Pokérus virus. The tests are currently underway, so here's the preliminary report.
WoW is still fun. I've been gone a long time but things have gotten better. My biggest surprise is the new "lucky charms" icons usable in dungeons. The party leader can place temporary skulls, moons, red discs, and so on above the head of a monster to indicate what should be done to it. No more "sheep the guy on the right, fear the one of the left, attack center" - you can actually mark them and trust your party members to do what's right.
If you're foolish enough to play with the volatile Savannah that optimism won't last long. Sample dialogue from a recent Scarlet Monestary run:
Savannah: "What's with this guy? He keeps bopping me on the head."
Night Elf: "You're generating too much aggro! Lay off him and let me get his attention. What the heck were you doing to these guys anyway?"
Savannah: "Chain casting Arcane Missles and Blizzard, why?"
Night Elf: *swallows cyanide pill*
We made it through that one... no thanks to my incessant Frostbolting. I'm enjoying the rhythm of grinding again: going out to Desolace or Stranglethorn, ripping the native fauna a new one, then tearing the skins off their flesh and daintily skipping back to the Auction House. Prices for materials on Draka are supposed to be insane, but I'm not really there to make a profit. I don't feel like running the numbers and exploiting the system; the time the auction mod spends quackulating prices could be spent gathering more heavy leather. And listening to the skeletons complain as I rake my knife over their dry, brittle bones.
Skeleton: "Please, lady, we don't even have skin!"
Savannah: "Quit whining and hand over that heavy hide."
This also marks the very first time I've bought a Pokémon game. I vaguely remember getting a GBA Pokémon title from GameFly but I'm pretty sure I sent it back almost immediately. I did not feel a need to "catch them all," nor did I feel any kinship towards the stupid electric mouse I was saddled with. But Gabe's scarily accurate portraits of the Pokéobsessed and charming stories melted my icy heart with their hot island song. Like an obscenity researcher trying not to enjoy his trip to the porn shop too much, I went to Best Buy and decided to become a fashionably challenged boy Pokémon trainer. Perhaps you'll enjoy an outsider's take on Pokémania.
What really struck me as odd about Pokémon Diamond is the language in the game. Not the actual Pokémon names (is Azelf the cat-jumped-on-the-keyboard Pokémon?), but the way adults talk to your character. Imagine a world where parents allow children to roam the countryside by themselves, fending off frequent wild animal attacks by capturing the beasts with magical enslavement balls and training said enslaved animals to fight at their side. Not just allow this to happen, but overwhelmingly approve of it. You mother sends you out into the world with three thousand dollars and tells you how jealous she is of your new adventure. She says she's just kidding about the jealousy part, and then invites you to come back home whenever you like to (yes) show her your Pokémans.
I was stunned. That lady sending me on my "grand adventure" (you hear that a dozen times in the first ten minutes) was surely Bizarro Terri. Nintendo, for its part, is very careful to temper this grand adventure and not lead kids astray. Pokémon are your friends, you understand. You work together with them to solve problems (typically involving battling with other trainers' Pokémon). When you capture a Pokémon, the game doesn't say "you made Bidoof your bitch." Pokémon don't die or get KO'd: they "faint." Everyone has the kid gloves on but I didn't feel weirded out for very long. Role playing in Pokémon is like Final Fantasy with bumpers; you can still hit just one pin, but you'll do fine if you just flail around.
Which is good, because I'm flailing a lot. Turns out Pokémon is designed as a rock-paper-scissors game. Or something. Do you see that hideously complex chart to your right? That's not a failed version of Connect 40, it's the battle guide for determining how much damage one Pokémon will do to another. There are seventeen different types of Pokémon, and each one can use different types of attacks. My water bird Prinplup ("Tweeter") has a water attack called Bubble and a metal attack whose name I cannot remember. When faced with a rock type Pokémon, I bring out Tweeter and have him (or her, another detail I can't be bothered to memorize) use Bubble. It's an insta-kill to the rock types, but the dragon and grass types just shrug off that attack.
I thought Square Enix knew how to make their games ridiculously complex. Oh ho, was I naïve. That chart is naught to be found in the game. Nor is any information on when your Pokémon evolve, or why, or what into. You either hit every Pokémon type with every attack in your arsenal and try and remember who did damage to what, or you run out and buy the damn strategy guide.
Thank goodness Wal-Mart is always open.
