Hmm. You know, I would like to… I think I could probably do a worthwhile single entry on that. Tell you what; I’ll see if I can come up with something to fit somewhere in between the end of my playthrough journal and the start of my reviews of the Kalos Pokémon. No promises, though.
Category: Not yet categorised
Obviously the more pokemon sells, the more generations/games they will make. What are your thoughts on an appropriate FINAL amount of the creatures? 1000? 2000? It’ll be interesting to see how pokemon will end when it does.
Well, I don’t think they’ll stop making new Pokémon unless and until they run out of money, which at the moment is looking unlikely to happen in the next few years. They do seem to be slowing down, with only 80-odd Pokemon in the Kalos generation (although, against that, Unova was the largest yet, and the only one to exceed Kanto in number of species). I suppose, that being the case, it’s conceivable that they will declare an end to the whole thing two or three generations hence at #1000, which would be a neat place to stop, but something tells me they won’t – new Pokémon are their way of giving the franchise new life every couple of years.
I’m actually really interested to see where Pokémon will be twenty, thirty or forty years from now. It’s only in the last century that it’s become possible for works of fiction to achieve anything like the degree of global cultural penetration that Pokémon has, so there is absolutely no historical precedent for how something like this will develop in the long term. I sincerely regret that I will never see how it’s remembered in a hundred years or so!
EDIT: Winterdhole suggests: “Maybe instead of creating new pokemon, they’d find ways to upgrade old ones? … or well instead of “upgrading”, perhaps find new evolutions to put forward? Or new ways of playing?”
Well, sure, but I think they do that anyway, don’t they? I mean… Mega Evolution. Pokémon Amie and Super Training. I don’t think they view that as a zero-sum thing.
Do you think you’ll review Genesect and the Legend Awakened in the near future and address the controversy of Mewtwo (i.e. it’s a different Mewtwo, meaning there’s now more than one despite common sense, every incarnation of the franchise prior and established continuity spelling out that that should be all but impossible, or at least very unlikely)?
Eh… probably not. I haven’t seen it, and I have so many other things I’m supposed to do in the near future (wrap up my playthrough journal of X, review Origins, write entries on Diantha and probably Iris, discuss the Fairy type, review all the 6th generation Pokémon, not to mention my work in the ‘real’ world…) that I just don’t think I can fit it in. Sorry. 😦
What do you think about the cub one, marowak, kangaskhan theory?
Well, it nicely explains how Cubone and Marowak are able to exist as a species. If all Cubone wear their mothers’ skulls, then we’re looking at a maximum of one child per coupling, which is not sustainable; even if we relax that limitation to allow them to wear their fathers’ skulls, it’s difficult to see how they can maintain their population. They must come from somewhere, and the orphan Kangaskhan argument makes as much sense as anything. It makes a great deal of sense that, for a species which is all about motherhood, losing one’s mother would be an extremely traumatic event, so I kind of like the idea that they have this specific cultural response to it: orphans become outcasts and devote themselves to battle and self-reliance, in contrast to the herd- and family-focused lifestyle of Kangaskhan.
You still need to reconcile their gender ratios, of course – all Kangaskhan are female, while 50% of all Cubone are male. I think it might be stretching it just a bit to suggest that all Kangaskhan who have male children die. Of course, there are species in the real world capable of changing sex in response to unusual stress, so it’s conceivable that about 50% of infant female Kangaskhan react in a similar way to becoming orphans (this may be easier to accept if you buy into my insanity about what Pokémon gender actually means).
Marowak, I think, are the ones who really get it. They understand grief and loss on a level that goes far beyond what most humans ever experience, and they kinda buy into it, in a way; they think that you can only ever become truly strong by overcoming the pain of loss, and that the most important thing to fight for is the memory of your ancestors. As a result, although they can and do have children of their own, they also sometimes adopt orphaned Kangaskhan and raise them to share the same beliefs. This, of course, makes the Lavender Town sequence with the orphaned Cubone and the mother Marowak that much worse, because it’s possible that the Marowak was a ‘mother’ by virtue of adopting a bunch of Cubone whose birth mothers had died too.
No, that’s exactly what I was getting at, and I totally agree that we don’t see Pokemon producing longer words – I was just thrown off when you said they don’t have “enough phonemes” to express everything (and also by the fact that it’s impossible to talk about the number of phonemes a Pokemon has outside the context of a specific language). Unfortunately I’m having trouble remembering names of languages with three consonants, but I can tell you that if they only have three, they have /p t k/ :P
I have spoken to my friends who actually know things about linguistics, unlike me, and they seem to think that there actually is an argument for using ‘phoneme’ in the way I did, on the grounds that all languages have different boundaries for what is and is not a separate phoneme, and in Squirtle’s spoken ‘language,’ if it can be called that, ‘squir’ and ‘tle’ are the smallest possible sounds available (/s/, for instance, doesn’t count as a phoneme for Squirtle because he can’t actually use it except in a specific combination of sounds). But apparently I am on shaky ground there, so I will shut up now.
These kind people seem to think the record low for number of consonants is six, for an obscure Papuan language called Rotokas, and my linguistics major friend is highly sceptical of anything lower (also worth noting is that they have five vowel sounds, which is a lot more than most Pokémon have to work with).
The Bare Essentials
The secret level of Lysandre Labs doesn’t live up to Malva’s hype. After she lets me in (hinting, as she leaves, that this fulfils her end of some kind of shadowy bargain Looker made with her), I find that it is laid out in exactly the same way as the main floor of the complex, though with most of the rooms blocked off and disused, and is guarded only by a couple of scientists and the members of the Lumiose Gang, who were apparently hired as security on Emma’s recommendation. Their leader, Nix, is stationed outside a storeroom waiting impatiently for his shift to end, and suggests that we rummage through the place together to see what it is that’s so important for him to protect. Truly, Nix, you are a model of professionalism; I, an unauthorised intruder in your workplace, will gladly help you loot the storeroom you were hired to guard. The stolen Pokéballs are here, along with Xerosic’s notes on the “Expansion Suit,” which has four major functions. Two are comparatively innocuous: it grants its wearer superhuman strength and the ability to change his or her physical appearance at will (using technology based on the natural abilities of Ditto and Kecleon). It also contains a remote transmitter that allows the suit to be controlled from the comfort of the lab while the wearer is kept unconscious, which explains Emma’s behaviour while acting as Essentia, but makes me wonder why Xerosic didn’t just… y’know, build a robot. What does the unconscious ‘pilot’ contribute here? Perhaps the control is intended as a failsafe in the event that an operative goes rogue on a mission, which, given the kind of people that Xerosic tends to associate with, is a distinct possibility.
Then there’s the fourth function. “A hacking cable on the neck piece allows the wearer to upload a computer virus to Pokéballs and override their systems. This provides access to control the Pokémon. The virus also magnifies the Pokémon’s power.” Wait, wha- how…? What? Hacking the Pokéball makes the Pokémon more powerful? How is that even supposed to work? I… guess if it’s implied that the Pokémon are stored as data then you could just program the virus to edit the data, but what makes a Pokémon ‘powerful’ is a multifaceted and highly subjective thing. Notice that I find this so bizarre that I am entirely passing over the implication that control of the Pokéball grants control of the Pokémon, no questions asked, which would normally occasion multiple paragraphs of inane claptrap on my part. We’re talking about altering dozens of physiological parameters (physical strength of various different muscles, reaction times, perception, durability of skin and bone, mental processing speed, countless bizarre things specific to different species like a Fire-type’s core temperature or a Psychic-type’s telekinetic strength), many of them linked to brain chemistry, in ways that could be crippling or even fatal if pushed too far – and he’s written a computer program that will automate this process, applying it to any individual of any species on the fly? If it actually works, which I suddenly doubt, then this is either Nobel Prize-worthy stuff or some kind of magic. And if you can do all that, reliably and safely, why stop there? Couldn’t the same technology be used to give Pokémon moves and abilities they wouldn’t normally be able to obtain, or even change their species? Yes, I answer on Xerosic’s behalf; yes, I think it probably could.
Yoink.
According to his notes, Xerosic initially envisioned having Emma test the suit while conscious, but hit an unexpected snag. Emma is not a trainer in the normal sense of the word and owns no Pokémon – apparently he somehow forgot to mention in his job ad that this was a requirement. As a stop-gap measure, Xerosic took on the role of Emma’s instructor, and let her use his own Pokémon while testing the Expansion Suit, but found that his normally disciplined, ruthless Crobat and Malamar became playful and easily distracted while in her care. In order to get anything done at all, he had to use the suit’s remote link capability to put Emma to sleep and control Essentia himself. While the tone of his notes is normally clinical and his intentions are plainly malevolent, Xerosic does seem to be genuinely concerned for Emma’s safety in these trials, even suspending further experimentation after the incident with Looker in the alleyway because he was no longer certain she would be unharmed (although Emma herself reported only that she had had a nightmare). She’s turning him soft.
Nix is disappointed that there are only Pokéballs and documents in the storeroom, since he promised Looker he would never take another person’s Pokéball again (the implication, I can only assume, is that if there were anything else there he would gladly swipe it). To his delight, however, a bell sounds to signal the end of his shift, and he leaves immediately. “Be sure to shut the place when you go!” he says cheerily to the unauthorised child in the top secret room he was assigned to guard. Something tells me the Lumiose Gang just aren’t cut out for honest work. As he leaves, Xerosic enters the room and walks right past me, muttering to himself about the failure of his remote control and whether he could strengthen his grip on Essentia without hurting Emma. Suddenly realising who I am, he decides that defeating me will prove that his project has been a success and calls Essentia. This is the kick-off for a whole string of battles with the robot ninja, using all of the Pokémon she has brought against me so far in sequence. Essentia is supposedly ramping up the potency of her Pokéball jack’s virus with every defeat, but exactly what effect this is having, if any, is unclear. Three battles in, Looker and Mimi arrive and attempt to wake up Emma, but Xerosic crows that he, not Emma, is the one controlling Essentia, and turns his remote up to eleven. Essentia keeps fighting, this time with Xerosic’s own Malamar and Crobat, but becomes incoherent and appears to be in terrible pain. Looker continues to evoke The Power Of Friendship, to no avail – Essentia is paralysed by her internal struggle. Xerosic stares, wordless, as she clutches her head and screams. Eventually he gives a hint of a sigh and says “remote control… power down. Deactivate.”
And just like that, everything is okay. Emma wakes up with a loud yawn and takes control of the suit, apparently no worse for wear and slightly disappointed to learn that Xerosic is ending their trials and won’t be requiring her services any longer. That, apparently, is that, and Emma, Mimi and I are dismissed to go and get something to eat while Looker talks things over with Xerosic. In a cutscene in Looker’s office, Xerosic obligingly confirms that Essentia, under his control, was behind both the vandalism of the art museum and the recent Pokéball thefts. He praises Emma’s talent, dedication and vision, claiming that his research could never have succeeded without her, but firmly denies that she bears any responsibility for her actions while unconscious in the Expansion Suit or even that she has any memory of them. Looker formally instructs Xerosic to accompany him to the police station once he has everything in order… and then invites him to dinner, because he is Emma’s friend.
Ohhhhh no. NO no no. Looker, I let you adopt the homeless gang leader, and I let you invite her psychotic friends over for play-dates, but you are not going to Disney your way out of this one. This man is legitimately evil and insane, and his obvious affection for Emma does not excuse his wanton exploitation of her for criminal ends – which, need I remind you, is far from the worst thing on his record! And this is coming from ME!
What do you mean “I’m not even in this scene”? I’m the narrator of this play-through, thank you very much!
Oh, whatever!
A couple of days later, when Looker is supposed to be ending his fake hospital visit, Emma and I receive a letter from him, in which he confesses to Emma his Interpol allegiance and his real reason for being in Kalos: to apprehend Xerosic. With his mission accomplished, it’s time for him to return to… wherever the hell he comes from. To me, he leaves his precious code name, “Looker,” and to Emma and Mimi, he leaves the office, so that they will always have a place to live.
You’re… leaving me your… code name?
Oh, HELL no; I am NOT going to rule Kalos with an iron fist burdened with THAT piece of $#!t. Emma, Mimi and I split up to find him and prevent this atrocity. Following a tip from Nix, I visit the art museum, where the damaged painting has been restored. Whoo. Meanwhile, Xerosic contacts Emma to summon us all to Lysandre Café. When we arrive, Looker is questioning him to make absolutely sure all of the Pokéballs stolen by Essentia have been returned. Their train is about to leave, and he is anxious to make sure there are no more loose ends. Well, sorry, Looker, you missed one – and she’s here to confront you about it. Emma demands to know why he has to leave, and then suggests that she and Mimi go with him to continue as his assistants. That… wait, that might actually work; he has already started training her, right? But no – Looker is so anxious to get rid of Emma that he decides to promote her to head of the Looker Bureau on the spot just to have an excuse to leave her behind. Emma, to her credit, sees through his bull$#!t immediately and turns to me for support. “Emma, please,” Looker cuts in, “I must ask you to respect the necessity of my decision. Chris understands perfectly why I must go. It is the way of partners. He is my partner. We understand each other.” Why, that little-!
“No way. Listen, Looker, leaving a lonely sixteen-year-old hobo in charge of a private detective agency because you can’t take responsibility for your recent insane decision to adopt and employ her may only make you the second-worst person in this room-”
“And which one of us would be the first, your imperial majesty?” Xerosic asks innocently.
“…okay, make that the third-worst person in this room, but-” Mimi gives a discreet little cough to draw my attention. I sigh. “The fourth-worst…” I glance at Emma, mentally weighing her recent actions as Essentia and her probable record as an inner city gang leader. “…you know what? F#$% it; do whatever you want.” I slouch grimly over to a chair, muttering “you’ll all be my slaves one day anyway.”
“Well…” Xerosic murmurs, “I suppose that answers that question.” He turns to Emma and offers her a gift – the Expansion Suit, minus its remote control function, as well as his Pokémon partners – so that she can become a masked superhero and defend Lumiose City from evil. And then, just like that, they’re off. Emma, vibrant soul that she is, shakes off her melancholy and pledges to do her best to keep her home safe as the new head of the Looker Bureau.
Wait… Xerosic said he took out the Expansion Suit’s transmitter (and, well, he easily could have been flat-out lying, but let’s assume for the sake of argument that he was sincere), but he said nothing about the Pokéball jack. That, I’ve got to assume, is still in there, with all its nebulously defined, potentially horrifying, and tremendously versatile functions. And now Emma has it. Emma who,need I remind you, is a sixteen-year-old street gang leader. Emma whose best friend is a telepathic cat who hates adult humans. Emma who in a few short weeks earned the respect, the admiration even, of one of the most dramatically evil villains in the history of the Pokémon franchise. And… come to think of it, do we have any proof, beyond Xerosic’s word, that Emma had no control over her actions as Essentia?
I see no way this could possibly go wrong.
This is a rant question. I read a question involving a video by Proto Mario and the questioner was annoyed. Does it truly matter? You got websites like cracked throwing out pokemon training is crime article or references getting hundred thousand to million to views once in a while. There are people who genuinely believe so and those who don’t may still joke on it. Does it rustle that many people? It shouldn’t stop you from enjoying the series if you disagree. What about you and your readers?
Well, I can’t speak for my readers, but you’re right that it shouldn’t and doesn’t affect my enjoyment of the series. It does impact my ability to take pride in my own work, when such a (frankly) piss-poor argument for a fairly obvious position can be so much more ‘successful,’ by that particular objective metric, than anything I’ve ever written or, in all probability, ever will. The end result is that I have to tell myself that my readers are just worth more than their viewers, because anyone who actually goes to the effort of reading my stuff on a regular basis is clearly getting a lot more out of it.
But let’s be honest – I do sound more than a little pretentious in saying things like that, don’t I?
Thanks for the response! I think what threw me off the most is that you are working with an incorrect definition of phoneme. But In response to your answer, I wanted to warn you that the number of phonemes in a language has no bearing on the concepts you’re able to express; there are languages with only 3 consonants that are capable of expressing complex ideas just like any other lang. I would also be wary of conflating a dearth of phonologically permissible syllables with a “miniscule lexicon.”
I don’t actually think I had a consistent definition of ‘phoneme’ in my head when I wrote that; I’m not a linguist, I just hang out with some. Eheh…
Anyway. Obviously you could produce a wider variety of words with a small number of sounds by just having longer words… but as far as I can tell, Pokémon don’t actually do that; they seem to be pretty concise, by and large. Or is that not what you mean?
Also – I know of languages with as few as ten consonants (Maori, the language spoken by the native people of New Zealand, where I come from, has ten – h, k, m, n, p, r, t, w, wh, and ng), and I could easily see going lower than that, but three? Really? Could you give an example?
Sorry, could you explain a bit more what you mean when you say “they just don’t have enough phonemes for all the concepts they obviously understand”?
Let’s take an example. Squirtle can pronounce two syllables: “squirt” and “tle.” He can vary pitch and inflection to convey questions, exclamations, commands and so forth, but in terms of constructing indicative statements he seems to be limited to those two sounds, which means that he’s basically speaking in binary. What’s more, 90% of what he says is just alternating those two syllables – he tends to say “squirtle squirtle” over and over rather than mixing it up the way Bulbasaur or Pikachu do (which is why I’m talking about Squirtle – when I talk about Pikachu people have an annoying tendency to worm around with the different combinations of syllables he uses, and how he has a unique utterance for Ash – pikapi – as though there could possibly be some way this had escaped my attention). We know from Island of the Giant Pokémon that those two syllables are sufficient for him to express dissatisfaction, contentment, cynicism, humour, mockery, familiarity, uncertainty and disdain… and to comment on the weather. If those two syllables are really all he has to work with, the range of states of mind he manages to convey over the course of that story is linguistically impossible. Clearly there is some other component to the way he’s communicating that we aren’t capable of picking up on, but damned if I know what it is (shifts in pitch and inflection too subtle for a human ear to interpret reliably? Body language? Pheromones? Some combination?). That episode’s useful as a case study for a lot of questions because of the subtitle thing, but it’s hardly the only time we see Pokémon having conversations, and you can usually at least guess what they’re talking about (see, for instance, the scene between Bulbasaur and Pikachu in Bulbasaur’s Mysterious Garden) – they’re far from being dumb animals, and they can express their concerns to each other with, apparently, a fair degree of eloquence, in spite of possessing a minuscule lexicon.
Your latest answer especially by your last sentence. “What kind of relationship would make them happy.” What if they start to pursue your romantically or based on mating urge or such. Some may laugh but in a hypothetical pokemon world I think this would be a serious issue. I say it might be more common one might think.
The biggest issue for me here is that I just don’t believe there’s a whole lot we know for sure about Pokémon reproductive biology. You can see what I have to say about that in this article here – and while I would be the first to admit that a lot of what I say in that piece is a little bit ‘out there,’ I think it does demonstrate fairly well that this is a tricky topic at the best of times (since the time of writing, we’ve also been slapped with the random NPC in Coumarine City who says that Pokémon eggs aren’t eggs at all, which is such a bizarre out-of-context statement that there’s little you can do with it, but could easily be Game Freak saying “yeah, whatever you think you know about this stuff is wrong”). What this all boils down to is that I’m not sure whether Pokémon would be capable of desiring humans in that sense, or even whether they would necessarily have the requisite… er… bits… with which to act on it (even Humanshape species).
Having said that, let’s talk about this anyway for the sake of argument. Inter-species breeding is certainly common among Pokémon, and in the real world humans often get different animals to breed and produce hybrid offspring like mules or ligers. This kind of thing even happens without human instigation from time to time. And then you have that… regrettable incident with the chimpanzee and the frog (a union which is not going to produce offspring no matter how you slice it)… Anyway. I think the main reason we get upset when humans indulge in such activities (aside from the straightforward visceral revulsion – or, to put it in everyday terms, “eww!”) is that it’s just kind of an abusive action at its base level, because the animal probably doesn’t fully understand what’s going on and in many or most cases wouldn’t be able to do anything about it if it did – which on ethical grounds puts us in a similar position to sexual relations with children (again, eww). If the Pokémon is the instigator, which I suppose could happen, then maybe there’s a mitigating factor there, but I don’t think you can get away from the fact that a trainer/Pokémon relationship is not entirely equal; I think most people in the Pokémon world would probably agree that the trainer is in a position of power or authority here. A lot of Pokémon respect and look up to their trainers and habitually seek their approval; that’s really not a healthy starting point. I believe the most appropriate real-world analogy would be a teacher/student relationship – sure, sometimes the student comes onto the teacher, but that doesn’t make it okay! The proper response is to say no, firmly, and get the student transferred to another class (i.e. trade the Pokémon, because as well as you might work together, no good can come of that $#!t). Alternatively, since a lot of Humanshape species are Psychic-types, people might easily suspect a reversal – I think that if such a relationship were ever publicly known, allegations of untoward Hypnosis or similar psychic manipulation would fly fast and thick, possibly ending with the institutionalisation of both trainer and Pokémon.
In sum: I actually don’t believe this would be common, and honestly I’m not certain it could happen at all, but if it did there are still serious ethical issues involved and the best course for the trainer is to avoid such entanglement at all costs because, really, letting something like that happen is not good for either partner, and although it might not have quite the same stigma as bestiality in the real world, I strongly doubt it would be received well (because, again, eww).
Pokémaniacal 