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).

What kind of relationship would prefer to have with your pokemon? Do you prefer to be very close and affectionate? Professional working level only? Distant? For example some pokemon may have that need to call the higher up a master. For example Lucario might. Or canine pokemon might even call the trainer “alpha”. Just my own musings.

I suppose the simple answer would be that I’d aim at least initially for a degree of professionalism – trainers always have expectations of their Pokémon, so it’s only reasonable that the Pokémon should be able to expect certain courtesies, services and assistance in return – with the caveat that any professional relationship is smoother if it’s also friendly.  I think my answer to this question has a lot that would interest you.

Now, as for what Pokémon “call” their trainers – bearing in mind that we don’t actually understand how they communicate, since they just don’t have enough phonemes for all the concepts they obviously understand, that’s tricky.  For a variety of reasons, I don’t believe Pokémon understand or have any use for the concept of personal names, so actually I think all Pokémon likely refer to their trainers as something like “human,” “master,” or “friend” (and yes, I know about the episode with the subtitles, and I know Pikachu has a specific sound for Ash – translation is a bit more complicated than that, even when going between two human languages).  You do raise an interesting point, though – different species will have different needs in this relationship and will react differently to trainers – even the anime tends to put this down to variations in individual personality, as do the fans, but differences in the psychology of entire species must be important too.  Lucario, I think, are supposed to be solitary by nature – a highly social Pokémon like Mightyena, famed for teamwork, will almost certainly need a great deal more micromanagement in training and more interaction with other Pokémon to maintain a balanced emotional state, while a Lucario might be happy being left to meditate for hours on end.  To take an extreme example, Kangaskhan, a Pokémon evolved for a very high degree of investment in her young, might come to view a (comparatively) small and frail human as a family member in need of maternal protection, and consequently be uncomfortable letting her trainer out of her sight for an extended period.  And then there are Pokémon that are just plain inscrutable, like Starmie or Sigilyph – even a very skilled trainer might have trouble figuring out what kind of relationship makes them happy.

Robot Ninja Bandit Zombie Pirate Shapeshifter

Our next mission has arrived!  Kind of!  Well, no-one has actually hired us, or for that matter even inquired about hiring us, but there’s been a break-in and some vandalism at the Lumiose Art Museum, and Looker has decided to investigate.  Considering how massively strapped for cash he apparently is, Looker is mighty keen on spontaneous pro bono work.  Anyway, he sends me to the museum, conveniently just around the corner, to force our services on the unsuspecting staff.  I find the vandalised painting on the third floor, covered by a broad squiggle of sky-blue spray paint.

…well, it looks like a perfectly fine piece of modern art to me.  Maybe that’s just my disdain for the blandness of Kalosian art, though.  I say as much to the director, and find to my surprise that he agrees with me.  Something about a statement of rebellion against authority.  He even muses that the defacement has drawn publicity for the museum, but is concerned that trying to restore the painting could even make things worse (he’s absolutely right, by the way).  Though mystified at how the tagger got inside, he makes no indication of wishing to hire an investigator.  Oh, well.  I’m sure Looker will find some bat-s#!t reason to take the case on anyway.

…but no.  By the time I get back to the office, Looker’s attention has been caught by a completely different crime: a string of Pokéball thefts in Lumiose City’s alleyways, the thief normally striking in the moment of inattentiveness after a battle ends.  They are thought to be the work of a single individual, but apparently there are no consistent reports of what this person looks like, or even whether it’s a man or a woman.  Um… wait, what exactly is making us think it’s a single individual, then?  Oh, whatever.  Looker, as always, has a cunning plan: he suggests that, since I have plenty of enticing Pokémon, I can act as bait for our mysterious bandit.  Yes.  As the famous destroyer of Team Flare and the most powerful trainer in the Kalos region, I am an ideal choice to be the bait for these criminals who prey on the weak and helpless.  Looker, immune as always to my perennial sarcasm, is delighted at my assent to the plan, which we set into motion at once.  Entering the nearest alley, I am quickly challenged to a battle by an elegant middle-aged woman with a Jellicent and a Volcarona – clearly a skilled trainer, but nothing exceptional… until the end of a battle when, with a flash of blinding light, she turns into a lithe, inscrutable figure completely concealed by some kind of black jumpsuit and an orange perspex visor, speaking with a harsh, synthetic sounding voice, almost like a robot.

…Viscountess Julia the robot maid, is that you?

Looker bursts into the alleyway to confront my assailant before she (he? it?) has a chance to make a grab for my Pokéballs.  “OBSTRUCTION DETECTED.  PROCESS JEOPARDIZED.  RELOCATE HUNTING GROUND,” the figure decides, before springing with lighting speed onto the roof of a nearby building and dashing away across the rooftops.  Okay.  The keen detecting skills I have learned from Looker are suggesting to me that I might not be dealing with a typical Pokémon rustler here.  Looker seems to think that trying our plan again in a different alleyway may get us another shot at apprehending the rogue, and despite my habitual scepticism I agree to give it a shot – this time coming up against a little girl with a Whimsicott, a Mawile, and a Granbull.  She too appears to be only another face of the robot ninja we are hunting, who is again chased off pretty quickly by Looker’s intervention.  A third alleyway yields not another of our enemy’s guises, but one of her victims – a young Black Belt who was enthralled by her beauty and had his Pokémon snatched away.  He does manage to give Looker enough information to point us towards another alley, though, sending me dashing across the city once again to put my life and Pokémon on the line in the pursuit of… *shudder*… justice.

…if this robo-chick is Emma using a personal holo-field and a voice synthesiser I am going to be so pissed.

In the fourth alley, I am challenged by a beautiful young woman, perhaps the same visage who appeared to the Black Belt.  She now seems to have all but abandoned her pretence of being an innocent member of the public, and challenges me right away with a powerful Persian.  When she loses, she again reveals her true form and attacks, and again is confronted by Looker.  This time, though, she seems to have decided that any risk involved in engaging him is worth being rid of us, and threatens to “eradicate” him.  Looker, plucky and clueless as he is, threatens her right back with his skill as a fist-fighter.  I quietly suggest to him, my hand slowly reaching for Xerneas’ Pokéball, that anyone using the verb “eradicate” is probably thinking of a slightly more sophisticated level of combat than fisticuffs.  Before we can get down to eradication, though, Mimi the Espurr rushes into the alley… and jumps enthusiastically to greet the robot ninja, smiling as she smiles for only one person…

Wha- THAT WAS A F$#%ING JOKE!  How am I supposed to make jokes when the plot is just as crazy as anything I can come up with!?

…WHAT KIND OF BAT-F#$% INSANE PART-TIME JOB DID SHE APPLY FOR!?

…then again, I gotta say; I’m not normally into chicks but the whole shapeshifting cyborg assassin thing is kinda hot.

The robot ninja denies that she has any familiarity with Mimi, or that she is Emma, calling herself “Essentia.”  She tries to “eradicate” Mimi, but Looker heroically causes the screen to fade to black so he can absorb the attack, and tries to get through to Emma, presumably reasoning that she is under some kind of compulsion (or she could be doing this entirely of her own will… I mean, she was a gang leader, and as backstabs go, I have to admit this one has me in awe).  This only causes Essentia to go haywire, give an unholy robotic screech, and retreat to the rooftops.  Well.  That certainly happened.  Looker tells me he means to check into hospital to sort his injury, but secretly reveals to Mimi in a cutscene that he is leaving on an especially dangerous mission.  A few hours later, I get a call on my holo-caster from Emma, and hurry to the office to find her.  She gives no indication of awareness that anything is the slightest bit unusual, other than concern for Looker, and dashes off to get back to her “job” before I can tell her she’s grounded.  What’s more, before I can pursue her, I am interrupted by a butler who seems to be interested in hiring us, but wants to check out my strength first… despite apparently knowing that I am the Champion.  I punish him and his Braviary for their insolence, and he reveals that he is a former member of Team Flare, like the mistress who sent him – one of the scientists, I can only assume, maybe Aliana?  She is waiting for me in the penthouse suite of the famed Hotel Richissime.  I am told to hurry, since the man’s mistress does not like to be kept waiting… so, naturally, I go for a walk, get some fresh air, buy some Lumiose Galettes for my Pokémon, and stay a while at the Café Triste for a light afternoon meal.  For members of an organisation I destroyed, these two have a frightfully poor notion of the respect I am due.  Once I feel appropriately rested, I head for the penthouse…

…and come face to face with the Elite Four’s Fire Pokémon Master, Malva.

Furious at being kept waiting, Malva demands a one-on-one battle before she will even speak to me.  I indulge her and destroy her Pyroar with Orion’s Aura Sphere, leaving her smouldering but prepared to talk.  Malva confirms that Essentia is Emma, wearing a special suit invented by none other than Xerosic, Team Flare’s chief scientist.  Malva wants me to get rid of Xerosic for tarnishing the honour of Team Flare with petty crimes – she claims that, despite our disagreements, they were always doing what they believed was right, while Xerosic is just plain evil.  In exchange for this service, she offers to lead me to the secret level in Lysandre Labs where he does his work.  As I turn to leave, she warns me, almost as an afterthought, “be prepared to face death if you go.”

…WOW.  Interesting tone for a Pokémon game, don’t you think, Malva?

Remind me to fire her (pun most maliciously intended).  Anyone who still believes in the rightness of Lysandre’s insane self-aggrandising mission will not be serving on my Elite Four, nor can anyone so recklessly insubordinate be trusted with an important role in my insane self-aggrandising mission.  Perhaps Serena could replace her; she does have a Fire-type partner, after all…

Ridiculous quote log:

“Museum staff said that security is very tight and breaking into the museum is impossible.”
…much as I try to refrain from telling random Kalosians how to do their jobs, if your security team is telling you that a break-in is impossible in the aftermath of a break-in, it’s time to find a new security team.

“She’s no Pokémon, yet she can use Transform!”
As always, Looker, your observational skills are second to none.

There’s this new fan game beta called Pokemon Evoas on deviantart. It’s like a pokemon game but they’ve made changes like learnable abilities, took out the steel, dragon, bug, and fairy types and added in metal and light, pokemon having more or less move slots, and instead of a villain team there’s this evil meloetta that controls trainer’s minds with music and has no qualms with killing. Might be worth checking out to see how these changes might affect the tone of the main games, if applied.

You know, this sounds worth looking at just to see how they work with the idea of a Pokémon villain outside of a Mystery Dungeon-type setting, especially one like Meloetta who’s normally viewed as more or less exclusively benevolent.  Other changes you mention sound interesting but not terribly exciting; I’ve gone on the record before as saying I don’t like the idea of changing the number of moveslots, and X and Y do actually introduce a way of changing a Pokémon’s ability (or at least, I think that’s what it does), the Ability Capsule (having two abilities at once, while very cool in some cases, would be frighteningly powerful for some Pokémon like Yanmega, so I am distrustful).  Not sure I understand the purpose of removing Steel as a type only to add Metal.

Who is your favourite random NPC in pokemon?

Okay, by “random NPC” I am understanding you to mean excluding Professors, rivals, Gym Leaders, villain bosses, Champions, Elite Four members, and other similar recurring character archetypes?  Um… I’ve never really given it a great deal of thought but I guess there are a few I have fond memories of…

The Super Nerd from Mount Moon.  He had his priorities straight – live in the dark, hoarding the calcified remains of extinct animals and responding with violence to anyone who tries to take them.  Or the Aroma Lady outside Mauville City in Ruby and Sapphire who can inexplicably walk up ledges.  Or the old guy with the Weedle in Viridian City who tries to teach you how to catch Pokémon but fails miserably!  Man, good times… And who could forget Youngster Joey with his top percentage Rattata?

Also, I don’t know whether he counts as “random” but I have a certain fondness for Zinzolin in Black and White 2, purely because his motivation in those games is totally at right angles to what everyone else in the plot is concerned with, but still actually kind of interesting (he wants to separate Pokémon from people just to see what will happen, in a kind of twisted social experiment).

Looking for Trouble

I arrive at the formerly vacant office off Rouge Plaza and come face to face with its new occupant.  My first thought is “oh, no; not this idiot again,” followed closely by “didn’t I kill him?” and shortly after that by “oh, gods, why didn’t I kill him?”  The man in question is none other than Looker, the Interpol agent who has been hounding the steps of the Pokémon world’s villains since Platinum, partially responsible (in, I must stress, the most vague and advisory of capacities) for the arrest of Team Galactic’s chief scientist, Charon, and six of Team Plasma’s Seven Sages (I choose to believe he was responsible for failing to stop the Shadow Triad from rescuing the seventh, Ghetsis).  Now he has come to Paris to start a detective agency, and has a proposal for me: he wants me to be his partner in this affair.  I look him in the eye and give him my flattest, driest “no.”  Unfortunately, Looker has the persistence of a Professor asking for help with a Pokédex, and I am eventually forced, after several hours of conversation, to say “yes,” just to make him shut up.  My first assignment – to ‘train’ me and make sure I have what it takes to be a hard-boiled, steel-jawed, gum-shoed, cliché-slinging idiot – is to retrieve five sparkly tickets from around Lumiose City, having been told by Looker exactly where they all are.  With an exaggerated sigh, I go after one and send my Pokémon after the other four.  Looker is astonished at the speed with which I have accomplished his task, and proposes that we set out on our first mission: investigate reports of Lumiose children spending more and more time in dark alleyways, against the wishes of their parents.

“So,” I think to myself as I hunt the children down, “it has come to this.  Investigating a street gang of French preschoolers.  This is the life you chose.”  My optimism, lurking deep in a black corner of my soul, responds, “oh, come on; some of them were at least ten.  And did you see the size of that Swinub the six-year-old had?”  I tell my optimism to shut up; things are getting interesting.  The leader of the gang is not a child at all, but a Pokémon: a somewhat temperamental Espurr named Mimi, whose human mouthpiece is a girl whose name we later learn is Emma.  Looker initially assumes that Emma is Mimi’s trainer and asks her to recall her Pokémon, but Emma objects, somewhat indignantly, that she doesn’t need to be a trainer or use Pokéballs to be friends with a Pokémon (I’m sure the weight of this sentiment doesn’t need to be explained).  As it turns out, the reason the children have been spending so much time in the alleys of late is that this is where their friends Emma and Mimi live.  Emma is apparently an orphan, and Mimi has no trainer.  While sympathetic, Looker still needs to wrap up the case and earn his commission, so he comes up with a “genius plan”: have Emma and Mimi live at the Looker Bureau as his assistants.  Oh, yes!  By all means!  Invite the homeless gang leader and her telepathic cat to live in our office.  There is no way this could possibly go wrong.  Mimi is initially reticent, and Emma will not abandon her, but I am assigned to befriend Mimi, and manage to bring her around with my inimitable charm, melodious singing voice, and kickin’ dance moves.  All’s well that ends well.  Apparently.

Our next client is a Japanese tourist who arrives at the office while Emma is out.  She speaks no French (…or English… or whatever it is that we’re supposed to be speaking), but Looker honestly believes he speaks Japanese and gets the impression that she is offended because no-one has offered her tea yet.  While he’s out getting her some, Emma and Mimi arrive home.  Emma does speak fluent Japanese (…as all French hobos do) and on top of that Mimi has some kind of empathic communication power, so that I can understand, if not the precise meaning of their speech, at least their general tenor: the Japanese woman (who is very insulting about both Looker and Emma) has had her Pokémon stolen by thugs at Lumiose Station.  When Looker returns, Emma explains the situation and recommends that we refuse the job on the grounds that the woman is so unpleasant (I’m starting to like this kid), besides which, the people who are probably responsible – the Lumiose Gang – are familiar to her, and are as nasty as they come.  Looker is outraged at the very suggestion and leaves immediately.  Emma begs me to follow, since Looker doesn’t even have any Pokémon and can’t possibly go toe-to-toe with the Lumiose Gang (he’s mentioned having a Pokémon partner once, but lost it on a mission long ago – I seem to remember him having a Croagunk on Platinum).  I question Emma’s willingness to put me in danger when she was so worried about letting Looker go, but she turns on the waterworks and says Looker has confided to her that I make him feel like he has his lost partner back.  I grumble that I’m doing this for the Pokémon, not for them, and head for Lumiose Station.

I arrive to find Looker doing his darndest to talk the Lumiose Gang down before they realise he has no Pokémon (not so much akin to bringing a knife to a gunfight, as to bringing a bit of an old bone to the Battle of the Somme).  Luckily for him, the three gangsters are not exactly Champion material (despite their fearsome names: Eris, for the Greek goddess of strife and discord, Sedna, for the dark and vengeful Inuit goddess of the deep ocean, and Nix, for the Greek primordial goddess of night, Nyx – that last one is a dude, incidentally).  As I finish destroying them, Emma turns up and demands that the fighting stop – and they listen, because Emma is the boss of the Lumiose Gang.  I remain astonished by Looker’s taste in friends.  For what it’s worth, she never wanted to be the boss; they just kind of decided she should be after she wiped the floor with them in a battle.  What – with Mimi?  For an Espurr, she’s pretty damn clever and powerful, but really?  What’s more, it turns out they only stole the tourist’s Pokémon to get Looker’s attention, because they wanted their gang leader back.  Much as she tries to deny any interest, Emma has some pretty serious underworld clout!  Again, I question her decision-making processes and wonder, under my breath, why she didn’t just talk to the gang herself rather than put Looker in danger, but I’m beginning to think this chick might actually be worth having around – how often do you meet a teenaged French hobo who speaks fluent Japanese, commands the respect of a ruthless street gang, and is apparently some kind of Pokémon training prodigy to rival… well, me?  Looker, again showcasing his truly unique people skills, invites the Lumiose Gang to visit Emma any time they like, provided they swear to reform and commit no more wickedness, which they obligingly do.

Back at the office, Emma is becoming concerned that she and Mimi have been living with Looker, with free rent and board, for some weeks now and doing very little work.  I assure her that this is no problem, as Looker himself has been living there for much longer and has yet to do any work at all.  Looker too encourages her not to worry, since he has plenty of money saved up – a lie, and an utterly transparent one at that – and her studies are more important at her age anyway.  Learning how to be a detective is work, in his book.  Emma is unconvinced.  Without telling Looker, she begins searching for part-time work in Lumiose City.  I nearly suggest that she simply borrow an Amulet Coin and start challenging Gyms with Mimi, since the prize money will surely be much greater than whatever she could scrounge from battles in the alleys (presumably her previous source of income), but the thought occurs that she will probably be more useful if kept out of the public eye and allowed to maintain her underworld contacts in Lumiose City.  You never know when you might need a way in with the gangs…

Ridiculous quote log:

…all of it.  Just… all of it.

Have you ever considered getting more involved in the Pokemon Internet community, or are you happy in your little secluded corner of the Internet? I’m not entirely sure how you’d go about it, mind you, but I’m sure there’d be podcasts and such that you could go on.

Eh… that sounds like it’d be a lot of effort.  I mean, if I spent a lot of time on forums anyway, that’d be one thing, but if I were doing it purely for the sake of being more involved, it’d be more of a chore than anything else… if you see what I mean? As for any sort of collaborative stuff… well, there are a few people I’d consider doing something with, but for the most part I kinda like being able to work to my own schedule (or lack thereof…) too much.

Do you think they should have made grass good against fairy? Fairies tend to nourish forests and such since nature is their home, and grass tends to be good against things that it gets nourishment from, such as water and the earth. At the least, I think it would have made sense to give grass a resistance against fairy.

You know me too well.  I’m on board with anything that means Grass gets more advantages.  However… I think statements like “fairies tend to nourish forests” and “nature is their home” are kind of dependent on a very particular notion of what a “fairy” is, not unlike the idea that dragons should have leathery wings and breath fire.  Also, couldn’t this just as easily be spun in the opposite direction, giving Fairy Pokémon an advantage over Grass-types because they have power over plants?

I’ll probably do a whole entry on the Fairy type once my playthrough is done, so there will be more to be said here.