So-called life: Liam O’Brien
While thinking (admittedly for about five minutes, with a Corona in hand) about my last column in Nouse, I have come to reflect upon just how big a part Pokémon played in my childhood. Ah, those crazy critters! I look back with a warmth that my fellow finalists simply cannot understand, most of them only having seen a couple of episodes of the anime and Pokémon: The First Movie. Re-watching this dramatic masterpiece, I could see how they came to such easy and erroneous conclusions. Towards the end, wanting all the violence to end, wannabe Pokémon Master Ash launches himself between energy blasts from Mew and Mewtwo, and in doing so is turned to stone. Readers, the scene reminded me of Japanese fears of nuclear war, and of the pain they had already suffered. It recalled the spirit of self-sacrifice essential to, but not often connoted by, pacifism. The statue of Ash on the floor is the casualty of the race for power; Pikachu is his mourner and griever.
Then, in perhaps the worst, most blatant deus ex machina to grace the modern screen, the surrounding pokémon cry their pokétears, somehow aimed in an arch formation onto the stone body, and Ash is revived. This scene is rivalled only by Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, when the orcs are beating the living shit out of the besieged residents of Minas Tirith and the narrative simply goes “look yonder, a bunch of unkillable green ghosts”. The viewer is then taken to the gates of Mordor: nearly all of the main characters are going to die, and the Nazgul are picking off all the ancillary players. But “what’s that on the horizon?” Oh! It’s some fuckoff giant eagles.
Tangential escapades aside, Pokémon treated me cruelly. As a child I entered a tournament organised by the good people of Nintendo. As a mega-nerd, I won a couple of rounds. What was my prize? 64 Celebi. 64 fucking Celebi, some useless piece of crap grass poké. As I watched them slowly download onto my game cartridge I suddenly understood that a small part of myself had slipped away.
I didn’t learn my lesson, and bought Pokémon SoulSilver a couple of weeks back, and was all at once reminded of the cruelty that so characterised my Pokéchildhood. A couple of hours into the game I recieved an egg containing Togepi (see picture). Hatching it is easy enough, but complications soon begin. You see, Togepi is a bit useless, but its last evolutionary stage, Togekiss, is incredibly nifty. In order to get the strongest Togekiss possible, you have to evolve the Togepi extremely early, as in at level 2. Infuriatingly, it will only evolve when it becomes sufficiently happy.
But would this most intransigent of Pokés evolve at level 2? No readers, it bastard wouldn’t. I spent two thousand pokédollars in half an hour trying to lift it from its misery: I gave it a haircut, put it in fancy dress, had its picture taken, gave it candy, lemonade and a scarf, and trained it to win a gold medal in the Pokéathlon. Just how much happiness can be bestowed upon one Togepi?
And my reward for spending all my resources on this little egg? It’s game description, which reads: “As its energy, Togepi uses the positive emotions of compassion and pleasure exuded by people and Pokémon. This Pokémon stores up feelings of happiness inside its shell, then shares them with others.”
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Just a shame that Togepi in the anime completely nerfed Misty’s character, changing her from something interesting to a doting, background “mother” figure. Its departure in Season 7 WAS NOT MISSED…