Are you a fan of the sci fi genre? Heinlein, Haldeman, Adams, Bear etc.? Or do you prefer fantasy, i.e. Tolkien?

Well, I always know where my towel is, though none of the other names on that list have ever been big ones for me.  To be honest, I haven’t had much time for reading fiction lately.  I have so much work-related reading to do (which is interesting, don’t get me wrong, but tiring), much of it in Latin or French, that picking up another book at the end of the day just makes me feel “oh, god, why?” which is a shame, because there are a lot of books out there I want to read (in particular I’ve always meant to read more Terry Pratchett, because the two or three of his that I have read were great).  I did find time a couple of weeks ago, however, for The Princess Bride, which is a very different experience in book form to the subsequent movie adaptation, and which I wholeheartedly recommend.  I have a kind of cold, standoffish relationship with Tolkien because I read The Hobbit as a child, loved it, and then attempted to read The Fellowship of the Ring, which I think was just too old for me at the time, because I got about a hundred pages in, realised that nothing had actually happened yet, put it down, and never returned to it (this was all before the movies, of course).

EDIT: Oh, and I also count myself among the legions of people desperately hoping that George D-Bag Martin doesn’t die before he finishes murdering every character in A Song of Ice and Fire.

Fletchling, Fletchinder and Talonflame

Official art of Fletchling by Ken Sugimori.

I didn’t do the Unova Pokédex in order, and I’m not going to do Kalos in order either (more for variety than anything else).  I’m planning to start with Central Kalos, then the Coastal Pokémon, and then the Mountain areas, but beyond that, I’m just going to play it by ear – starting today with the second Kalosian Pokémon to join my main party, Fletchling.  For obvious reasons, Fletchling didn’t exactly move me to excitement when I first met him: “oh, here we go again; another Normal/Flying fast physical songbird-to-raptor progression with wind powers and no other remarkable traits to eat the local obligatory caterpillar.”  One of the things I was particularly interested in decrying with my Unova reviews – something I’m still very easily annoyed by – is ‘template’ Pokémon, Pokémon who start not with an actual idea but with a principle that every game ‘should’ have a sequel to Pidgey, or Caterpie, or Pikachu.  It’s lazy, it’s boring, and most of all, it doesn’t actually provide any benefit.  There is nothing about these templates that makes the game better, except maybe that they provide an easy introduction to the concept that some Pokémon are just bad.  Part of the reason I’ve always been so irascible about these things is that, although all generations have them, Unova was particularly obnoxious about it, needing stand-ins for things like Geodude and Machop in addition to the usual suspects, which made the absence of any older Pokémon feel like nothing so much as an irritating charade.  Kalos is something else.  Kalos has the templates, but it tries much harder than previous generations to play with them.  On principle, we ‘needed’ a Normal/Flying songbird Pokémon for the early game – so Kalos decided to make one that was as badass as possible.

It’s a simple idea, really.  Take the standard songbird-to-raptor pattern, and set it on fire.  What could possibly go wrong?

 Fletchinder.

The question here is, how far does a different type go?  Fletchling, Fletchinder and Talonflame still share a lot of traits with Pidgeot et al. – does the fact that they also have fire powers make that okay?  And what does that say about how we look at elements in Pokémon?  Most Pokémon have supernatural powers of one sort or another, and as I’ve recently discussed, it is to an extent the powers that make the Pokémon, but if the essence of Pokémon design is just giving elemental traits to an animal, the Normal-types who mostly lack such traits are damned from the start.  Part of designing these things is matching up the powers to the creature in a clever way.  Birds with wind powers are very straightforward as Pokémon go, since wind and flight ‘go together’ intuitively, while birds with fire powers are a little more interesting, and Talonflame doesn’t just take the obvious phoenix angle, which Moltres and Ho-oh have already done to death anyway.  On the other hand, what makes attaching fire-related abilities to a falcon particularly insightful?  The most interesting Fire Pokémon aren’t just “this animal, but on fire;” they’re ones that play with the idea of fire, either by combining it with another element (like Magcargo, whose body of lava hardens into a stone shell, or Chandelure, whose ghostly lights lead wanderers into another world), or by focusing on an unusual aspect of fire (like Torkoal, who mines and burns coal for energy).  If I like Fletchling and his evolutions, then I’m going to have to dig a little deeper than “new type” – I need to find the flourishes.  Let’s have a look at them.

 The hoopoe, the bird Fletchinder reminds me of (it helps that I named my Fletchling, Tereus, after a mythical Greek king who gets turned into a hoopoe).

Fletchling, obviously enough, is a robin, while Talonflame has made the transition to peregrine falcon, while keeping the distinctive red colouring of his juvenile form that also evokes his fire powers.  There doesn’t seem to be any consensus on exactly what Fletchinder is, but he reminds me very much of the hoopoe, a medium-sized bird common throughout most of Eurasia who shares the red colouring of his head, as well as the striking black-and-white striped pattern of Fletchinder’s tail.  The hoopoe is also a larger and more powerful bird than a robin, but not a major predator like a falcon, so he’d be a sensible intermediate.  All three stages incorporate arrows into the design as well, in the form of the distinctive shape and stripes of their tails, like the fletching of an arrow – perhaps making their beaks serve metaphorically as the arrowheads.  The swept-back posture of Talonflame’s wings in the official art might even be meant to recall the shape of a bow, with an ‘arrow’ nocked and ready to fire, formed by the line from his beak to his tail… but maybe that’s getting a little far-fetched.  The famed 310 kilometer per hour dive of the peregrine falcon (which Talonflame insistently one-ups, at 310 miles per hour) is reminiscent of a falling arrow too, particularly in its effects on the health of whatever stands at its destination.  As generic bird Pokémon go, this is already quite a good one, without even mentioning the fact that it’s on fire.  What’s more, Fletchinder and Talonflame’s fire powers do relate in some ways to the rest of their design, adding a little depth to them.  Fletchinder supposedly flies faster the hotter his fire burns, for instance (linking the Fire and Flying elements, the way I talked about with Chesnaught), which makes a good tie-in to the presence of Flame Charge on his level-up set.  The assumption of fire abilities as the Pokémon ages could also be linked to his taking on a more predatory ecological niche as he becomes more powerful, and indeed Fletchinder hunts by starting fires to drive his prey out of hiding.  Flaming arrows, of course, were also a staple of a wide variety of ancient and Mediaeval armies, so giving fire to a Pokémon whose name and appearance are intended to evoke arrows makes good sense.  I actually would have liked to see a greater focus on the arrow motif, which is neglected in the English and French translations of Talonflame’s name, because that’s one of the cleverest things in terms of tying the whole design together.  In balance, though, I think it works.  Talonflame is far from a masterful Pokémon, but I can certainly appreciate the effort to do something unexpected with a highly standardised form, in a manner which integrates the new and different features with the common traits of the traditional early-game Flying-type.

 Talonflame.

Another common thread with Pokémon from the Pidgeot mould is that they are not normally very powerful.  Staraptor excepted, none of Talonflame’s predecessors have ever been important Pokémon for the competitive scene, though Swellow is a persistent dark horse.  The difficult thing about Talonflame, of course, is the double-weakness to Rock associated with his otherwise strong Fire/Flying type combination, because Stealth Rock is showing every sign of continuing to be a thing.  Like all Pokémon with this trait, Talonflame needs diligent Rapid Spin support to keep him from dying painfully, and also needs something pretty special to make him worth that support.  Good news: he’s got an amazing hidden ability.  I don’t want to knock Flame Body, because the combination of Flame Body and Fly makes Talonflame one of the best solo Pokémon to keep with you while hatching groups of eggs, like Volcarona on Black and White (Flame Body causes eggs in your party to gestate at twice their normal rate), but Gale Wings is where it’s at.  This ability gives all of Talonflame’s Flying-type attacks priority, which means, combined with his already excellent speed, that almost nothing will ever be able to outrun his devastating Brave Bird attack – he can beat higher base speed, he can beat Choice Scarves, he can beat Agility, and he doesn’t even care if you paralyse him (but he can’t beat Extremespeed, so watch out for that).  In flavour terms it’s an odd ability because Talonflame doesn’t really have wind powers (‘Gale Wings’ sounds like something Pidgeot should get), but it also happens to make him one of the game’s best revenge killers – Pokémon whose job is to take advantage of the free switch you get after losing a Pokémon to come in and destroy a powerful aggressor – as well as just a frightening thing to face in general.  Flare Blitz provides a secondary attack just as powerful which turns out to combine quite well with Brave Bird; stay away from Rock-types, Heatran, Lanturn, certain legendary Pokémon you shouldn’t be tangling with anyway, and toasters, and you’re golden (you can always take Steel Wing for the Rock-types, but the low power combined with Talonflame’s merely average attack score may disappoint).  Finally, I would be remiss if I did not mention that Talonflame still enjoys the one really spectacular feature shared by most bird Pokémon: U-Turn, which has been called ‘the best move in the game’ for allowing a player to postpone a switch until after seeing whether the opponent will switch that turn, and even doing damage into the bargain.

 Pidgeot actually gained +10 base speed in X and Y.  Pretty sure it hasn't helped.  I'm holding out for Mega Pidgeot, though.

So, what’s the bad news?  Talonflame’s other stats are mediocre all around; his attacks lack punch by the standards of offensive Pokémon, and he’s not tough either.  However, these failings are not as significant for Talonflame as they are for most of his ancestors.  The ease with which Talonflame can outrun his foes using Gale Wings, for instance, means that he doesn’t actually need the maximum possible training investment in his speed, and can afford to spend more time shoring up his defences than most offensive Pokémon (focusing on HP will make Flare Blitz and Brave Bird recoil sting less too).  Furthermore, it’s worth bearing in mind that Roost enjoys Gale Wings priority too!  This bird can be much tougher than his mediocre defensive stats suggest.  He also has options to boost his own attack power – Bulk Up and Swords Dance – which Pokémon like Unfezant, Pidgeot and even Staraptor lacked.  Talonflame really has to work for his power, though; a Choice Band makes Roost infeasible, and Life Orb recoil takes too heavy a toll when combined with Brave Bird and Flare Blitz, so things like a Sharp Beak, Expert Belt or Muscle Band will often have to do, supplemented by Swords Dance and the naturally high power of Talonflame’s main attacks.  Remember that his attack stat is only average, and make sure you look for opportunities for him to switch in and scare something away for a free set-up turn.  Other options… well, Taunt could be neat, to make Talonflame into a total nightmare for defensive and set-up Pokémon, especially with Roost to back him up in a more drawn-out fight, and Will’o’Wisp is weird on such an aggressive attacker but between the attack penalty from a burn and a potential Bulk Up boost Talonflame would actually be pretty hard for a physical attacker to take down.  Talonflame’s special attack is actually not far off his attack, but sadly his special movepool sucks – it’s pretty much just Fire attacks plus Solarbeam and, critically, no special Flying attacks to spam with Gale Wings.  In short, don’t go there.  Finally, and bizarrely, Talonflame is said to prefer devastating kicks when striking finishing blows against its prey – bizarrely because Talonflame has no kicking attacks.  A line like that seems tailored specifically to justify the inclusion of Blaze Kick on Talonflame’s level-up list, but the move fails to make an appearance, an odd lack of nuance for an otherwise quite carefully put-together Pokémon. 

Talonflame’s effective movepool isn’t really very wide – basically everything he can do is variations on the theme of Gale Wings abuse – so finding something for your team that can take at least two of those Brave Birds and hit back is the key here.  He’s not a subtle Pokémon, which makes sense for a bird of prey based on a flaming arrow, but he knows what he does, and he does it well.  Talonflame makes me optimistic for the future.  I feel like Game Freak is trying to say “we’re sorry for all the $#!t birds.  We’ll make better ones in future, and we’ll even make them more than just birds!  See?”  Now, if only poor Pidgeot got Gale Wings, maybe he could feel slightly less miserable about himself…

Since you recently discussed the new Fairy type and briefly talked about the defining factors of other Pokémon types in doing so, I’ve been wondering about your opinions on a couple of types. I have my own of course, but your thoughts are always so interesting. First, what do you make of the Flying type, specifically the fact that it exists almost solely as half of a dual typing (with the exception of one legendary)? And second, what do you think are the defining attributes of the Normal type?

Flying is weird, because it seems like it can consist of either being a bird or having the ability to fly – not necessarily both (see: Dodrio, Scyther).  In addition to the fact that there’s only one straight Flying-type (and even that in generation five), it might also be important that Flying is almost never the first of two types; there’s no functional distinction at all, but which element gets put first often seems to say something about which one is considered more important to the design (e.g. Water/Rock – Relicanth and Corsola – vs. Rock/Water – Kabutops and Omastar).  Noibat and Noivern, only just introduced with X and Y, are the only Pokémon to put Flying first.  What’s more, wind powers – which we now associate with Flying-types, and which are Tornadus’ main feature – originally seem to have been connected with Normal, not Flying, because Gust was a Normal-type attack in Red and Blue, while Whirlwind and Razor Wind, the other wind attacks that existed in the original game, still are Normal.  I think what all this adds up to is that Flying wasn’t originally considered a type, as such – it acts more like a trait or ability that certain Pokémon possess, which makes sense when you think about it, because that’s what flight is (Dodrio is explained by the fact that, as we know from Missingno., the type was originally called “Bird,” not “Flying”).  Tornadus shows that Game Freak’s conception of what the type means has changed significantly since Pokémon began, but some things about this game resist change.  Charizard, then, isn’t so much “a Fire/Flying-type” as “a Fire-type who can fly,” while Pidgeot – and this is important when we move into the next half of your question – isn’t “a Normal/Flying-type,” but “a Normal-type who can fly.”

Now, Normal-types.  They rely primarily on attacks of pure bodily strength, but without the complex motions and training that allow Fighting-types to overpower them hand-to-hand.  As such, they also find it difficult to harm the rigid, reinforced hides of Rock- and Steel-types, and cannot inflict any harm at all on the insubstantial Ghost-types.  However, being more aware than most Pokémon of the limitations of physical reality also makes them distant from the world of ghosts and spirits, rendering them invulnerable to harm from that direction.  So, what do I think are the defining attributes of the Normal-type?

None.  It doesn’t have any.

Normal is the “everything else” type, where we find Pokémon who have powers that either relate to none of the other elements (like Pigeotto’s wind powers, Jigglypuff’s song, or Chansey’s healing abilities), or that encompass all of them (like Ditto’s transformation skill).  This becomes difficult when we confront dual-typed Normal Pokémon… but other than Normal/Flying-types, whom we’ve discussed already, how many of those are there in the first three generations?  I count only Girafarig, who is something of a special case because his design focuses on his bifurcated nature; his front half has the more cerebral temperament associated with Psychic-types, while his back half is animalistic and has no special powers.  It’s not until Bibarel in generation four, then Sawsbuck and Meloetta in five, that this really starts to change, and only now, with the introduction of Diggersby, Heliolisk and Pyroar, and the retyping of Jigglypuff, that non-Flying Normal dual-types have become a significant element of Pokémon’s diversity.  What this says about those Pokémon, I think, is that their elemental powers are comparatively less developed than in the case of other Ground-, Electric-, Fire- or Fairy-types, and that they rely as much or more on their non-elemental abilities (sound-related powers are still unaligned, for instance – hence Jigglypuff, Meloetta and Pyroar, who has a sound-based signature move, Noble Roar).  It was difficult to give Normal-types abilities related to types other than Flying for a long time because the thing that made them Normal-types was their lack of any such abilities.  It’s only fairly recently that they’ve been able to reconcile this with their desire to use a greater variety of Normal dual-types.

How would you say will you go to prom with me in Greek?

Well, off the top of my head I can’t think of anything that would really be equivalent to a ‘prom’ in the ancient Greek world (or even the concept of dating, for that matter), but I guess you could just call it, like, the Dionysia or something; that’s probably as close as you can get.  In which case, something like:

ἆρα βούλει μετ᾽ἐμοῦ πρός την Διονύσιαν ἰέναι;
ara boulei met’emou pros ten Dionysian ienai?

(N.B. if you’re writing this out, standard Greek orthography uses a semicolon for a question mark.)

Chestnuts

I meant to put images of true chestnuts (left) and horse chestnuts (right) into my last post about Chespin and his evolutions to illustrate the point I was making about their sources of inspiration, but it slipped my mind.  I’ve edited this into the original post as well, but I wanted people to see it, so here: these are what I was talking about.  Incidentally, horse chestnuts are poisonous – they won’t kill you, but they’re definitely not for eating (never let it be said that I don’t do my part to educate the global community).

Chespin, Quilladin and Chesnaught

All right; let’s get this catastrophic $#!t-show on the road.  Grass-type starter time!

Official art of Chespin by Ken Sugimori.

 

Since I have shown no signs at all of becoming even slightly less infatuated with the Grass type in the three years since I started this blog, selecting Chespin as my starter was something of a foregone conclusion.  The little tyke eventually found himself overshadowed in my affections by the return of my one true love, Bulbasaur, but he nonetheless remained a faithful companion throughout my playthrough of X version and has always been ready to pull his weight.  Where else to begin but with my first Kalosian Pokémon?

I begin with the Kalos Pokédex’s inaugural silly quote.  “Such a thick shell of wood covers [Chespin’s] head and back,” it faithfully explains, “that even a direct hit from a truck wouldn’t faze it.”  It is unlikely anyone will ever attempt to test this claim, Chespin being as adorable as he is, so we shall probably have to take the Pokédex’s word for it, but his sturdy spiked ‘helmet’ should at least afford solid protection from threats his own size.  I am a little readier to believe it of the human-sized Chesnaught, his final evolutionary stage – a bulky creature of uncertain mammalian extraction with a spiked tortoiseshell-like structure (presumably wood again) covering his back and shoulders, and spiny ‘gauntlets’ protecting the outsides of his forearms.  This guy’s shoulder-barges would surely be lethal.  So, Chespin nails ‘cute’ and Chesnaught nails ‘tough’ (particularly with the ‘come at me’ pose he adopts in both the official art and his battle stance), but as is often the case with Pokémon who have to make this transition, Quilladin is caught in a strange middle ground between the two; he seems to go for a little of both, mixed with a side of ‘impish.’  His long, pointed nose, the tuft of hair on his forehead, and his round sparkling eyes, together with his nigh-spherical body shape, all give me the disconcerting impression that Crash Bandicoot has seriously let himself go, and is disguising himself as a cactus to hide his shame and start building a new identity.  In some ways he doesn’t seem to fit smoothly as an intermediate between Chespin and Chesnaught; he’s more rotund than either of them, with short, stocky arms and legs, and the transition from Chespin’s helmet to Quilladin’s all-over body armour seems to go backwards again with Chesnaught, who seems to be more reliant on his tortoiseshell plate and armoured forearms.  None of that messes with the things I really like about these designs, though.

 Quilladin.

The inspiration for these designs is the spiny outer shell of the chestnut.  Nuts, berries and fruit have been underexploited by Grass Pokémon designs in the past, and chestnuts are distinctive and appropriate for a physical tank Pokémon.  There may even be a cultural allusion in play, to the horse chestnuts or ‘conkers’ beloved of British schoolchildren in the 19th and early 20th centuries – in traditional schoolyard games, the hard nuts are hung from strings and smashed together until the weaker one cracks and must be discarded, with veteran conkers that survive multiple such battles being especially prized (Roald Dahl gives a characteristically whimsical account of the game and its strategies in the book My Year).  Only the nuts themselves are used in the game, without the tougher but softer skins, but the nature of the game is so appropriate to Chespin’s physical bruiser battling style, as well as the habit Quilladin have of tackling each other in order to build their strength, that I can’t help but suspect a reference.  Chespin’s ‘helmet’ also resembles the tough, warty outer skin of the horse chestnut more closely than that of a true chestnut, with its dense thicket of bristly, almost needle-like spines.  What I particularly like about the way Chespin and his evolutions use chestnuts is that it ties together the Grass and Fighting elements.  They aren’t ‘chestnut Pokémon’ although that could very easily have been a workable starting point, since there are basically two ways to do a Grass Pokémon: ‘plant creature’ and ‘animal with plant characteristics,’ all Grass starters being the latter.  The Grass-type aspect of the design comes through in Chespin’s ‘helmet,’ Quilladin’s ‘armour,’ Chesnaught’s tortoiseshell plate, and their thorn shield signature move, which are also the things that convey their similarity to a human warrior or knight – in other words, the things that make them Grass-types are also the things that make Chesnaught a Fighting-type.  The combination of the two elements isn’t superficial; they work together.  It’s not always easy to make that happen, but I’m always fond of Pokémon who manage to pull it off.

True chestnuts on the left; horse chestnuts on the right.  Chespin and his evolutions, to me, are more of the latter.

Chesnaught handles in a similar manner to Torterra in battle, being a slow physical tank.  Probably his biggest problem is that he has rather a lot of weaknesses for a slow, defensive Pokémon, including a dangerous double-weakness to Flying attacks, but he does resist the powerful and popular Earthquake/Stone Edge combination, so it’s not all bad.  His biggest strength is the high power of his staple attacks, combined with a small but useful support movepool to keep opponents guessing.  His strongest Grass attack is Wood Hammer, which retains its 120 power rating in a generation where many of the strongest attacks in the game are being toned down; the recoil hurts, though, and doesn’t mesh well with the standard Grass-type ability Overgrow (because once you’re injured enough for the Grass-type damage boost to kick in, one or two more Wood Hammers have a good chance of dropping you), so Seed Bomb is also an option depending on what exactly you want to do with him.  Most Fighting-types have a wide selection of Fighting-type moves, but Chesnaught really only has two worth speaking of: Hammer Arm, which sacrifices speed for power (not that Chesnaught cares much about speed anyway) and Power-Up Punch, one of X and Y’s new moves, which boosts attack with every use (potentially a worthwhile choice for a more defensive Chesnaught who can afford to hang around for a couple of turns).  Grass with Fighting is not a particularly strong combination offensively – well, okay, let’s be fair, Grass with just about anything is not a particularly strong combination offensively, but Grass with Rock is one of the less bad ones, and Chesnaught can do that too, with Stone Edge.  Stone Edge is also important to make it a little bit harder for Flying Pokémon to walk all over him.  On the support side, there are basically two moves you can build sets around: Leech Seed, the eternal Grass-type favourite which also works well with Chesnaught’s signature move, discussed below, and Spikes, which is just universally useful.  Bulk Up and Swords Dance are both viable ways of increasing Chesnaught’s offensive presence, since he’s tough enough to take a neutral attack while setting up and scary enough to force some Pokémon to retreat.  Don’t count on a sweep, though; Chesnaught is just too slow.

Chesnaught.

 

All three Kalos starters have been blessed with a signature move to emphasise what is unique in their styles of fighting, and Chesnaught’s is Spiky Shield.  In mechanical terms, this thing is pretty neat.  It’s strictly an improvement over Protect, the standard option available to most Pokémon for blocking an incoming attack to stall for time; the advantage to Spiky Shield is that it additionally deals a small amount of damage if it blocks a ‘contact’ attack.  It’s a shame Spiky Shield damage can’t be stacked with the similar effect of a Rocky Helmet, because that would make Chesnaught a seriously daunting proposition for most physical attackers – perhaps not to the same extent as Ferrothorn, who can stack Rocky Helmet with his Iron Barbs ability, but then again, Ferrothorn actually has to take damage to cause recoil while Chesnaught doesn’t, so maybe that would have been too much ‘something for nothing.’  Besides, Protect is hardly a bad technique, particularly for Grass Pokémon who can use it to stall for damage and healing with Leech Seed, or in double battles where a Pokémon can potentially take two attacks in one turn, and Spiky Shield is, again, unambiguously better than Protect.

Some more typical users of Pain Split: Misdreavus, Litwick and Koffing.

Finally, you have two options for healing, besides Leech Seed.  Synthesis is the one you should use if you’re serious, because the sixth generation’s nerfing of Drizzle, Sand Stream and Snow Warning makes it much more likely you’ll be able to use the technique unobstructed.  I want to talk about Pain Split, though, because Pain Split is interesting from a flavour perspective.  Most of the Pokémon who learn Pain Split are Ghost- or Psychic-types, and of those who aren’t, most are in the Amorphous egg group and lack clearly defined anatomy, like Weezing and Swalot (even when it was available more widely, via move tutor, it was most prevalent among Pokémon with overtly magical powers or indistinct anatomy).  It seems to be implied that the attack normally functions on the literal sharing of pain with the opponent, usually through supernatural means, which makes it odd that Chesnaught can learn it at all, let alone as a level-up move.  Probably the intention here is to stress the retributive nature of Chesnaught’s defences, in line with Spiky Shield; the Pokédex is adamant that these Pokémon don’t start fights, but are happy to finish them.  This could possibly be pushed even further by suggesting that, since Pain Split is regularly associated with Pokémon who have mental powers, Chesnaught’s ability to use it stems from a deeply and firmly held belief in ‘eye-for-an-eye’-style justice.

Chesnaught also has an odd signature ability, Bulletproof, the in-game manifestation of his supposed ability to withstand bomb blasts, which grants total immunity to a select list of ball-, bomb- and bullet-themed attacks.  The most important of these are probably Shadow Ball, Sludge Bomb (which is super-effective against Chesnaught and more popular now that Poison attacks are strong against Fairy-types), Focus Blast and Aura Sphere, and to a lesser extent Seed Bomb, Energy Ball and Electro Ball (which Chesnaught resists anyway) and Gyro Ball (which does more damage to faster Pokémon, something Chesnaught is most definitely not).  Most of the others are either too weak or too rare to be major sources of concern.  Probably the main draw of this ability is that it makes him an unorthodox and somewhat risky but very interesting answer to Gengar, who relies heavily on Sludge Bomb, Shadow Ball and Focus Blast.  Aura Sphere immunity also makes him a good possible response to Clawitzer and Mega Blastoise – just watch out for Ice Beam – as well as special Lucario (though Lucario is more commonly a physical attacker).

In summary, then, Chespin and his evolutions have a pleasing design that take inspiration from an unusual place, and their most unique powers support that design well and create consistent characterisation.  They also combine Grass/Fighting more fluidly than the other representatives of that pair, Breloom and Virizion (though Breloom, it should be noted, is a kick-boxing dinosaur).  If I have complaints, they are mainly with Quilladin’s odd aesthetics – he could stand to be slimmed down, with more emphasis on his spines and perhaps more elaborate ‘armour’ to anticipate Chesnaught’s grand tortoiseshell plate – and with the more general problem that Grass is just a bad type and probably always will be.  That’s a complaint for another day, though…

Next Time on Pokémaniacal: the Kalos Pokédex

Right.

What am I doing?

Oh, yeah.  That thing that I do with the Pokémon and the stuff that I say and the other thing.  Gotcha.

Why am I doing that again?

Well, mostly it’s because I’m supposed to, right?  I reviewed all the Unova Pokémon in 2011, a little while after Black and White came out; I was on Blogspot at that time, of course, but the entries are all archived on here now.  I wanted to give a critical appraisal of all the new Pokémon, to stake for myself a middle ground between “ALL TEH NEW POKEMAN SUXX0RZ” (where “new” can mean anything from the second generation onward, really) on the one hand, and “all Pokémon are perfect just the way they are and we should love them all equally,” on the other.  Frightfully silly of me, in retrospect, because no one actually thinks like this (do they?  I hope not), but then I was writing mainly for my ex-trainer friends in the beginning, not for the Pokémon Master zeitgeist, as it were.  I always finished those with either “I hereby affirm this Pokémon’s right to exist,” or “I hereby deny this Pokémon’s right to exist” followed by some amusing hyperbole about what I thought should be done to punish it for existing.  That was supposed to be over the top, of course – all those entries were; I was just having fun – but it was also frightfully silly in retrospect because it wasn’t what I meant at all, really (well… at least, not most of the time).  What I meant was that those Pokémon needed work, and if time or money were a concern in doing that work, well, maybe it would have made more sense to cut some and lavish more attention on the rest, make a smaller generation of cleverer, better thought-out designs rather than a bigger one that ended up half filler.  If that meant having pre-fifth generation Pokémon in Unova, well, would it really have been so bad to give old favourites some time in the sun?  I’m a great fan of doing more with less, you see.  That hasn’t changed.  I’m not really in a critical mood anymore, though.  Maybe that’s because I’ve just gotten soft in the intervening three years, or maybe it’s because I feel the sixth generation designs are legitimately better, on the whole (and here I have to point out, smugly, that while the fifth generation was the largest yet, the sixth has been the smallest).  I’m happier now just to take it as read that Pokémon has some remarkably stupid things in it, and focus on the good bits, but more importantly on why they’re good.  I mean… it’s not that I’m going to stop bitching about things I don’t like, because where would be the fun in that?  But this idea that I’m setting myself up as judge, jury and executioner?  I feel like the tone of this blog has gotten more serious than that since I started, and I feel like my readers, for the most part, seem to appreciate it.  There’s barely shy of four hundred of you now, do you know that?  So Tumblr says, at any rate.  I was quite happily announcing three hundred as a milestone only in December.  I must be onto something here, though I confess I’m not quite sure what that is, and it would be a dreadful shame if I quit now.

So yeah.  I think I’d better do it, don’t you?

Dear Sir, What do you think of pokemon and trainer relationship overall? Negative? Positive? Mutual? A Need? A dependence evolved from something that was originally just business?

All of the above?

It’s sort of like asking “what do you think of cities?” or “what do you think of the ocean?”  If you can give a simple answer, you probably don’t understand it very well.  I mean, what can you say, ‘overall,’ about a concept that expresses the relationships between Ash and Pikachu, between Misty and Psyduck, between AZ and Floette, between Silver and his starter (whichever one it was), between the Gardevoir and the Gengar from Mystery Dungeon, and between Giovanni and Meowth?  It’s all of those things and more, to different people and different Pokémon, in different places and at different times.  Sometimes, maybe even a lot of the time, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, but it’s also so utterly fundamental to the way the Pokémon world works that nothing else functions anymore without it.  It’s life.