What do you think about the capitalizing Pokemon names debate in relation to fanfiction or writing in general? Some people say names such as Ponyta would be considered common nouns, like the word horse, to inhabitants of the Pokemon world and thus should not be capitalized. Others say Ponyta would be a species name and therefore it is correct to leave it capital. I noticed you usually capitalize the names in your BW Playthrough journal; is there any particular reason, or is it just habit?

There’s a debate on that?

…huh.

To be honest, I never knew it was in question.  All the big fansites that I know of always capitalise them, as do the games themselves, the official website, and promotional materials.  Frankly, I’m not sure I can think of any actual evidence that, in-universe, the names of Pokémon species are not capitalised.  I suppose the easiest way to account for this is by saying that it’s simply a point of convention specific to the cultures of the Pokémon universe.  They capitalise Pokémon names because they do.  Rules of capitalisation are not universal by any stretch of the imagination – German, for instance, capitalises all nouns, while French doesn’t capitalise days of the week, months of the year, or nationalities (however, it does – I have just checked pokemon.com/fr – capitalise the names of Pokémon), and Japanese (like most languages that don’t use the Latin alphabet) has no equivalent to capitalisation at all, as far as I know.

(Also, purely as a point of incidental interest, by convention species names should not be capitalised; genus names should be – so humans, for instance, are Homo sapiens, capital H, minuscule s, chimpanzees are Pan troglodytes, capital P, minuscule t, and so on.  Attempting to apply this distinction to Pokémon is probably a waste of time, though, since according to strict biological definitions most Pokémon are actually subspecies or breeds of only thirteen species)

White 2 Playthrough Journal, epilogue: A place in this world

I sit in a picturesque little restaurant overlooking Undella Bay, surrounded by the smell of the salt breeze, the sound of chattering holidaymakers, and the warmth of the sun.  I tap my pencil against the table, musing over a passage of the letter I am drafting on the back of a menu.

“…and furthermore,” it reads, “I cannot imagine what possessed you to hide something as basic as a difficulty setting behind something as ——- as the key system, nor who you imagined would use an ‘easy mode’ unlocked only by completing the game; this all but undoes the admittedly excellent work you have done in presenting these options in the first place, especially for players of Black 2, and serves no readily discernible purpose.  And another thing…”

Uncooperative?  Needlessly complicated?  Demented?  I chew the end of my pencil and gesture to a waiter for another glass of water.  I’ve been here for nearly an hour and have ordered only a small tasting plate, which I have long since finished.  I suspect the staff are growing tired of my presence.  Hopefully I won’t have to keep them waiting much longer.

Byzantine!  That’s the word I wanted.  I continue to scribble away on my menu.

“Sorry I’m late.  I was held up by some old friends; apparently their trust in me is not what it once was.”  I look up from my menu to see Zinzolin, dressed in his faded old silk robes, standing by my table.  I stand up to be polite, and shake his hand before inviting him to join me.  “How are you?” he asks as he sits down.  “And your brother?  Where is he?”

“Jim?  I’m surprised you haven’t been keeping tabs on him.  After we tied everything up at the Giant Chasm, he just kept going.  Fought at the Pokémon League and everything.  His battle with the dragon girl was spectacular.  Everything’s still all hush-hush now, but,” I lean across the table and whisper conspiratorially, “they’re making him the new Champion.  And I have his ear.”  I sit back, smugly.  “We’re already planning some major reforms in policy, regulations, and power structure.  Not as dramatic as your plans, I admit, and it might take a while to win over the rest of the League, but we made a lot of friends on our travels.  Clay will back us on just about anything, if we allow a few choice concessions to the Driftveil Tournament, and I think beating the snot out of your guys has won Cheren over to our side permanently.”  I hesitate.  “Er… avoid mentioning this meeting to him, would you?”

“Naturally.”

“Good, good.  Where was I?  Oh, yes.  Iris is something of an unknown quantity.  She respects Jim, certainly, but… she was a very conservative Champion.  Very much preferred to run things on a personal level; no sweeping reforms.  So was Alder, come to that, but Jim’s working on him.”

“Oh?  How so?”

“Alder’s kind of a recluse these days.  Spends most of his time at home in Floccesy Town.  These days, his voice in the Pokémon League is his grandson, Benga.”  Zinzolin suppresses a slight groan.

“…you mean now there are two of him?”

“You have no idea.”  I’d met Benga.  ‘Chip off the old block’ is an understatement.  “Benga’s old school, like his grandfather.  He’s all about endurance.  You’d like him,” I suggest, cheekily.  Zinzolin snorts.  “He’s taken over one of the skyscrapers in Black City and set it up as the ultimate test of a Pokémon trainer’s ability to persevere in the face of hardship.  Dozens, maybe hundreds, of elite trainers, battling from dawn ‘til dusk.  That’s where Jim is now.  Win over Benga as a friend, and maybe do him a couple of favours popularising this new battle club of his, and we’ll be halfway to gaining his support for our reforms.”

“My, my.  Busy indeed,” Zinzolin comments, bemused.  “And what have you been doing?  Not at your brother’s side, clearly.”  I sigh.

“I’ve… been wandering a bit.  Exploring Unova.  Fought some legendary Pokémon here and there.  Got my ass handed to me a few times.  I was hoping for allies, to be honest, but that hasn’t panned out so far, even though Unova’s practically hosting a legendary Pokémon convention these days.  The lake guardians are here, all the way from Sinnoh, but I think they might be more interested in watching events unfold.  They certainly didn’t take kindly to my intrusion.  A Latias and a Latios showed up outside Striaton City; lord only knows what they’re up to, the inscrutable bastards.  There’s even a Regirock waking up beneath Twist Mountain.  I think there’s a whole triad down there, but I haven’t been able to translate all of the inscriptions or open all of the tombs yet.”  I shrug.  “It seems like everywhere I turn, there are more powers with their eyes on Unova, and I have no idea what any of them intend.”  Zinzolin waits patiently.  “I don’t like not knowing,” I add petulantly.  “I ran into the rest of Team Plasma, too.”

“Oh, yes?”  Zinzolin seems to be holding back a chuckle.  I ignore his levity.

“Most of them are still with Colress on the frigate.  Last I checked, they’re docked outside of Nuvema Town, optimising the solar panels so the ship can fly again without its power core.  Colress plans to continue his research, of course, but the rest of them have no idea what they’re going to do.  I advised them to contact Rood and try to reunite Team Plasma.  Together, and without Ghetsis’ influence, they might actually be able to achieve some good for once.”  Zinzolin continues to look sceptical.  “You know, you could join them again, if you wanted.  They could use some guidance.”  Zinzolin gives a dismissive snort.

“They are weak.  They remain loyal to the scientist for the same reason that they remained loyal to Lord Ghetsis: because they can conceive of nothing else.  They feel they have no place in this world, and fear the struggles they would face if they attempted to carve one out, so they cling to the only place they have ever been accepted.  Colress rules through fear, whether he knows it or not.”  He looks me in the eye, a hint of ice in his gaze.  “You would be wise not to think of that one as an ally.  This quest of yours to reform Unova… he and his technology may support you for a time, but his devotion to his grand experiments makes him… unpredictable.  As Lord Ghetsis discovered, to his cost.”

“Ghetsis didn’t understand Colress.  I do.  I can work with him.  As I can work with you.”  Zinzolin gives a hint of a shrug, silently letting the matter drop.  I shake my head and press on.  “Speaking of Ghetsis… I didn’t invite you here just to swap stories; there are some things I still don’t understand.  Things I need to get straight in my head.  I was hoping you could help me sort some of it out.”

“Well, I can’t promise I’ll be able to help you.  If you want to talk, though, you’ve earned that.  Ask your questions.”  I lean forward over the table.

“Why did Ghetsis do it?”  Zinzolin raises an eyebrow.  “I mean… all of it.  Why conquer Unova?  Why manipulate N, and you and the other sages?  Why try to control Reshiram, Zekrom and Kyurem?  Why separate humans from Pokémon?  Why any of it?”

“Because it was in his nature.”  I say nothing and stare at him, giving a little ‘go on’ wave with my hand.  “Lord Ghetsis was a rare thing, and exquisite in his own way,” Zinzolin continues; “a brilliant mind given over absolutely to one singular purpose.  Through life, we change our world, but the world changes us as well.  For most of us, the ideal world seems impossible, so we agree to compromise, and let the truth of what is dull our dreams of what might be.  Some, though… some cannot bear to compromise.  It is easier for them to change reality than to accept it.  History may remember them as ‘heroes’ or ‘villains;’ in the end there is no difference.  This is what Lord Ghetsis was.  He believed he was born to rule.  This is nothing unusual; however, most men would quickly be subdued by the impossibility of that vision.  His vision could not be denied.”

“That’s what he showed to Kyurem, isn’t it?”  The words form a question, but my own voice is already answering it.  Ghetsis had given me and Jim a brief, partial explanation at the Giant Chasm.  “That’s how he mastered it.  Its soul was empty, and he filled it with his own ambition.  But if Ghetsis could do that to Kyurem, if his ambition was that powerful, why did he ever need N?  Why didn’t he try to control Reshiram himself two years ago?  She and Zekrom are just as amoral as Kyurem, aren’t they?  They didn’t care about the sides they took; only the heroes’ devotion to their causes mattered to them.”

“Zekrom and Reshiram are like Kyurem, it is true,” Zinzolin replies, speaking slowly as he thinks through his answer.  “They respect willpower, the drive to bring about change, and are shaped by it into an instrument of the wielder’s choosing.  Zekrom and Reshiram, though… partnership is in their souls.  They could never separate humans and Pokémon, because they, more than any of us, need partners to feel whole.  That is why Lord N’s resolve was twisted by Reshiram just as it shaped her, and he abandoned us.  Lord Ghetsis… his will would not be shaped.  He could not use them.  It was only later that he discovered Kyurem, and realised how unnecessary it had all been.”  I frown, remembering my own battle with Ghetsis’ monster.

“But Kyurem was nothing,” I object.  “My Samurott crushed it.  Ghetsis would have been better off sticking with the frigate.”  Zinzolin smiles slyly.

“You never battled Kyurem,” he tells me.  I open my mouth to demand that he stop speaking in riddles, before I realise what he’s saying.

“I battled that… thing; that fusion of Kyurem and Reshiram.  But wasn’t it stronger than Kyurem on its own would have been?  Wasn’t that the whole point?”  Zinzolin sighs.

“I believe Lord Ghetsis may have… miscalculated.  Kyurem’s power was incredible.  I know it firsthand, as do you.  The attack on Opelucid City is proof of this.  I also know that, only minutes after becoming one with Reshiram, it was defeated ignominiously by a mere child-”

“Hey!”

“-partnered with a perfectly mundane Pokémon.  I can see only one explanation.”  I beat down my injured pride and understand what Zinzolin seems to be getting at.

“You think the fusion weakened Kyurem.”

“Oh, I am certain its body was vastly improved, in every way a common trainer would consider important.  But we did not anticipate the weakening of its spirit.   In that fusion, Lord Ghetsis’ ambition was tainted by the weakness and sentimentality of Reshiram’s affection for Lord N, and by a need for partnership, for equality, that Lord Ghetsis could never satisfy.  It changed Kyurem’s basic nature, from an embodiment of his pure, undiluted will, into a…” he pauses.

“…a living being with hopes and dreams?”

“Exactly,” Zinzolin says with undisguised disdain.  I turn this information over in my mind.

“So if you’re right, someone who understood Reshiram and earned her partnership… a person like that could join Kyurem and Reshiram properly?”

“Perhaps.  Kyurem would become a vessel for the truth forged by the hero.  But Reshiram’s hero is Lord N, and where he walks…” Zinzolin turns up his palms in a gesture of ignorance.  I recall my recent visit to the haunting, silent ruins of N’s castle, beneath Victory Road, and the offer made to me there by N and Reshiram.  I keep my expression neutral, though, and say nothing.  Zinzolin might be a friend, of sorts, but ‘trust’ would be a very strong word to describe our relationship.  I take the opportunity to change the subject.

“I don’t think you ever told me what you thought about N’s part in all this.  Who is he, to you?”  Zinzolin seems hesitant to say anything at all.

“In public… in public Lord Ghetsis spoke of him as the saviour, the only one who could lead Pokémon out of the night.  Behind closed doors… there, the facade was thinner, but still, none of us could tell what he really thought.”

“At the chasm, he called N… a freak, I think he said; a freak without a human heart.”

“He may have been right.  Lord N’s body and mind were human; of his soul, I have doubts.”  Part of me wants to contest this, but I let it slide.

“Could he really talk to Pokémon?”

“Oh, yes.  That much is beyond doubt.  Some of us… the Seven Sages, that is… some of us believed he was a harbinger of the next stage of human evolution, others that he was a throwback to the days of myth, when humans and Pokémon lived as one.  One of us thought he must have been sent by some great legendary Pokémon as our messiah.  The rank and file called him ‘child of the Pokémon’ – they adored him, of course.  I do not know what he was, though I would be very much surprised if any of those things turned out to be true.”

“He said something, when we were at the Giant Chasm.  Something that’s been bugging me.”  Understatement of the century.  I recite N’s parting words: “By being with Pokémon, humans can continue toward new horizons. By being with humans, Pokémon can exhibit their true power. That’s what Reshiram taught me: the truth for Pokémon and me. And someday both truth and ideals will come together… Then Pokémon and humans will be freed from the oppression of Pokéballs.”  Zinzolin’s brow furrows at that.

“Lord N said that?  Those exact words?”

“I don’t think I could forget them if I tried.”

“Perhaps he hasn’t changed as much as we thought, then.  We all believed that Lord N had given up trying to rewrite the relationship between Pokémon and humans, but perhaps he still has ‘Pokémon Liberation’ of a different sort in mind.  I wonder where Rood would be today, if we had known that two years ago?”  Zinzolin chuckles.

“What he said, though… the ‘oppression of Pokéballs.’  For N to say that, still, after everything he’s seen and done… do Pokémon really suffer when we capture them?”

“Of course they do.  Do not delude yourself by imagining otherwise; it is beneath you.”  I blink, surprised by the backhanded compliment.  “Pokémon joined with human trainers are torn from their homes and communities, and called to devote their lives to fighting and growing stronger.  How many humans in today’s world can say the same?”

“So is that why you joined Team Plasma in the first place?  To… free Pokémon from oppression?”  I mean… sure, I can respect that, but it’s not what I was expecting from Zinzolin.

“Did you understand nothing of what Lord N said?” he asks, clicking his tongue in rebuke.  “I joined Team Plasma to free humanity from oppression.  Battle, struggle and suffering are the path to growth.  By relying on Pokémon for everything, our society has brought itself to stagnation and weakness.  We have cut ourselves off from evolution.”  Yeah, okay, that sounds more like it.

“But we achieve so much working together!” I exclaim.

“We?” Zinzolin asks, his gaze flickering downward, to where my fingers are instinctively tapping on my Pokéballs.  “Or they?”  I blink.

“I… will give this some thought.”  I fall silent.  Zinzolin studies my facial expression for a while.  A waiter comes by and refills our water jug.

“If that is enough philosophy for one day,” Zinzolin suggests, “perhaps I can catch your interest with another proposal.  You do not seem to have been in any great hurry these past few weeks.  I take it your brother can do without you a while longer?”  I cock my head.

“Go on.”

“There is a ruin, not far from Undella Town.  Beneath this very bay, in fact,” he says, gesturing with one arm.  “A product of that same civilisation that built the Desert Resort, the Dragonspiral Tower, and so much more.  That same civilisation that fell when Reshiram and Zekrom last clashed.  You fancy yourself an archaeologist, do you not?”  I open my mouth to speak, but Zinzolin cuts me off.  “Now, now, I know what you will say – you cannot commit to so great a project.  But perhaps this will convince you.”  He seems confident of this. “Contrary to what you may believe, my faith in Lord Ghetsis was never entirely blind.  I made something of a point of tracking his movements – difficult, of course, but far from impossible.  He visited this site with some regularity throughout our… career.  Even during his time in exile, I believe he continued to do so, though it is hard to be certain, since he normally moved from place to place with the aid of the Shadow Triad.  More importantly…” he withdraws a hefty binder from within his voluminous purple robes, “my lord’s papers, which are now in my possession, contained extensive notes on his attempts to translate the inscriptions below.”  He places the binder between us on the table.  “Please, discuss this with me further.  No need to commit to anything just yet.”

I glance out at the sea.  The sun is setting over the waves, but I have nowhere to be.

“Shall we order?  I’m starving.”

White 2 Playthrough Journal, episode 24: Absolute zero

Jim and I warp into a spacious office at the prow of the Team Plasma frigate, sparsely but tastefully furnished, and lined with monitors displaying live security feeds from around the ship.  The office’s sole occupant, a tall green-haired man in long, dark grey robes, has his back to us, his eyes fixed on one of the monitors.  Colress is visible going about his business on the security feed.  As if conscious of his observers, he glances up at the security camera and waves cheerily before returning to his consoles.  Ghetsis – for it is he – quietly curses Colress for his obsessive devotion to the principles of science, before turning around to greet us.

Whatever else may be said about Ghetsis, you have to admit that his is a look which few men could pull off.  Whether Ghetsis himself manages to pull it off is perhaps open for debate, but his confidence is still admirable.  His wardrobe has undergone a marked shift from his time as active leader of Team Plasma.  Gone are the voluminous bright blue-and-gold robes with their curious battlement-patterned collar.  His new robes are far more sombre, though they retain the eye motif of his older clothing, and his green hair and red glass monocle are unchanged.  He seems older, somehow, and thinner, almost gaunt, and now walks with a cane – though I note, warily, that its handle seems modelled after the hilt of a sword.  Ghetsis once fooled all of Unova into believing he was a kindly old philosopher who just wanted to help Pokémon – feigning frailty to conceal a deadly weapon would hardly tax his powers of deception.  He doesn’t appear to have any plans to murder us today, though.  In fact, he has in mind something far worse – a private performance of one of his villainous monologues.  Ghetsis explains to us Kyurem’s true nature – it is a being of emptiness, which, by extension, makes it also a being of limitless potential, much as I had theorised long ago. It can act as a vessel for… well, pretty much anything, it would seem – including Ghetsis’ all-consuming ambition.  I politely raise a hand to ask a question about the underlying metaphysics of Ghetsis’ plans for world domination (I am particularly interested to ask how he knows that Kyurem will not simply drain his vital essence, leave him a withered husk, and then go on to conquer Unova itself) but he refuses to be interrupted, until a member of the Shadow Triad arrives to inform him that Kyurem has been moved off the ship.  Ghetsis leaves, proclaiming his triumph and ordering the Shadow Triad to deal with us, at which point Hugh arrives via the warp panel.

Entirely unfazed by the gravity of the situation he has just missed, Hugh demands to know where his sister’s Purrloin is.  Only mildly taken aback by this question, the ninja releases a Liepard, explaining that, although this is probably the Pokémon Hugh means, it will only obey his commands now, for “such is the fate of Pokémon that are trapped in Pokéballs.”  Hugh cries out that this must be someone else’s Pokémon.  Good grief, Hugh, this is not a moment to go into denial; Rood told us that the Shadow Triad probably had your sister’s Pokémon, and it’s not like they’d be carrying around a spare Liepard, just in case they wanted to mess with the vengeful brother of a trainer they stole a Purrloin from.  That’s… kind of a low percentage contingency there.  While Hugh stares, dumbstruck, the ninja muses that, if Ghetsis had been victorious two years ago and ‘Pokémon liberation’ had become a reality, even if only for the sake of Ghetsis’ ambition, Liepard might have returned to its original trainer in its own time.  Before I have time to dwell on what he seems to be saying, the rest of the Shadow Triad arrives.  Hugh is so preoccupied by Liepard’s apparent hostility towards him that he’s unable to do anything useful, so Jim and I battle the three ninjas ourselves.  Once dealt with, they vanish, as usual, but leave Liepard behind as a parting gift (possibly a deliberate stratagem on their part, since it keeps Hugh transfixed and unable to contribute anything whatsoever).  I admit to spacing out for a moment myself, watching them.  The Shadow Triad certainly seem to believe that Pokéballs really do enslave and control Pokémon – but is that just Ghetsis’ rhetoric talking?  They weren’t deceived by him the way the others were; they seem to have known all along that world domination was his intention, but could their minds still have been clouded by his rather adversarial view of the relationship between humans and Pokémon?  Jim interrupts my reverie with a snap of his fingers.  We still have a war to win.

Leaving the ship, we follow Ghetsis to the glacial cave at the very back of the giant chasm.  The place is eerily silent – no Kyurem in sight.  Ghetsis is standing, alone, in the back of the cavern.  This crater, he explains, the place where Kyurem fell from the sky, is where its power is strongest, strong enough to freeze the entire region.  He bangs his cane on the cave floor and calls Kyurem’s name, prompting the legendary Pokémon to appear from nowhere in a gust of blinding white wind, then orders Kyurem to Glaciate me and Jim.  Wait, what?  Has someone changed the rules of Pokémon battles on us?  Are we now allowed to attack other trainers directly?  When did this happen!?  I stammer out an indignant challenge, declaring that Ghetsis is violating section A23, clauses 1 through 6, of the Unova League Manual of Training Etiquette, which very clearly lists all of the Pokémon attacks it is permissible to order upon an unwilling human target.  Jim tries to summon his Magmar, Falk (perhaps a somewhat more practical course of action under the circumstances, admittedly), but our bodies are already unresponsive from the cold.  I make a mental note to strike first if I ever find myself in a similar situation in my next life, preferably using something big and scary with horns.

“Reshiram, Fusion Flare!”

A brilliant red pulse of energy sweeps away Kyurem’s glacial chill as the white dragon Reshiram lands before us.  The long-lost hero of Unova, N, leaps from her back to confront Ghetsis.

“Took you long enough,” I mutter quietly.

N declares that he and Reshiram won’t allow the Pokémon of Unova to suffer at Ghetsis’ hands.  Reshiram, last I checked, is more powerful than Kyurem – significantly so – but Ghetsis’ confidence seems undiminished.  In fact, he claims that he wanted N and Reshiram here; it was all part of his plan.  With a flourish, he produces from his robes the devices that will supposedly bring him victory: the DNA Splicers.  These pyramidal spikes apparently slot into the strange glassy protrusions on Kyurem’s frozen wings.  I watch, unimpressed, as they float into their positions.  Now what?  N does not seem particularly overwhelmed either, and orders Reshiram to enter battle.  Kyurem responds by firing a barrage of purple lasers at her.  Wait, “DNA Splicers” actually means “Laser Cannons”?  Why did no one tell me this before?  If I’d known they did something useful I would have stolen the damn things myself!  This, Jim observes drily, is probably exactly why no-one told me this before.  Reshiram evades the lasers for a short time, but soon takes a direct hit.  The lasers appear to drain her energy somehow, reducing her to the helpless passive form of the Light Stone.

…well, $#!t.

Ghetsis commands Kyurem to absorb the Light Stone with… Absofusion?  Absofusion, that’s the name we’re going with?  Okay, whatever; get on with it.  Kyurem consumes the stone and, with much pomp and flair, transforms itself into a terrifying hybrid creature, its own body parts seamlessly mixed with Reshiram’s, that radiates power like a frozen star.  Ghetsis laughs his most villainous laugh as N looks on in horror at the abomination that was once his partner Pokémon.  I glance over at Jim as I brace myself for Glaciating death.  “Eh.  We had a good run, right?” I ask.  He shrugs and says something insulting about my mother.  I quietly remind him that, in the context of this playthrough journal, we are supposed to be brother and sister.  He shrugs again and reaffirms the sentiment.  Realising that we aren’t dead yet, we look back to Ghetsis.  He brags that his cane emits a special disruptor signal that will jam our Pokéballs, making it impossible to catch Kyurem.  Catch it?  Why would we be trying to-?  Wait.  Oh, so now he wants to battle?  Now he wants to fight fair?  Oh, whatever.  I step forward, cautiously, unclipping Jaime’s Pokéball from my belt and releasing the Samurott into the battlefield.  Surely Kyurem will be my toughest opponent yet; an ancient, legendary Pokémon with the power to freeze all of Unova, its formerly empty body overflowing with the pure essence of Truth itself, mingled with Ghetsis’ own boundless will to conquer.

Jaime marches forward, grits his teeth, takes a couple of Kyurem’s energy bursts, and smashes its face into the ground with a fierce Revenge attack.  Kyurem twitches a few times, then lies still.  With a sudden flash of blinding white light, Reshiram reappears, leaving Kyurem reduced to its original, empty form.  Everyone present stares, dumbstruck, as Kyurem makes a regretful croaking noise and slowly drags itself away to the back of the cavern.

Well.  That was anticlimactic.

Legendary Pokémon are, as a rule.  The fact is, even the most overpowered nonsense of a Pokémon can only do so much when plonked into a 6-on-1 situation and told to make the best of it, which is what battles with legendary Pokémon almost invariably involve.  Give that same Pokémon its default moveset, featuring the sheer impracticality that is Ice Burn, and you’ve got something that can, quite realistically, be taken down by a single Pokémon of your own without undue trouble (it doesn’t help that Ghetsis has, ironically, denied Kyurem the possibility of enjoying free turns while you uselessly stand there throwing Ultra Balls at it – for most legendary Pokémon, the best chance they have to hurt you).  Black and White fixed this problem rather ingeniously by making Reshiram/Zekrom an active part of the showdown with N, inviting you to face one of the dragons with the strength of a proper Pokémon team to back it up, while the other joins as your partner.  The impact of the battle on the player is strengthened, and the actual challenge of it is assimilated to the challenge of the battle with N.  Black 2 and White 2 have no such recourse, leaving us with the inescapable impression that Kyurem is simply not the world-ending threat Ghetsis thinks it is (bear in mind that this is Ghetsis’ endgame; just reaching this point was essentially the final critical step in his plan to conquer all of Unova) – an unfortunate weakness in their climax when compared with that of their predecessors.

As I explain all of this, N and Jim nodding thoughtfully at all the right moments, Ghetsis himself is rapidly losing his cool.  As I pause for breath, preparing to launch into a discussion of the place of legendary Pokémon in the background of the game world, he gives a strangled screech and bangs his cane on the ground.  Geez; with all the monologues he gives, you’d think he’d have the common decency to sit quietly through someone else’s.  Alas, Ghetsis would rather throw a tantrum.  It’s not over, he declares; he’ll just have to recapture Kyurem and try again – after he’s dealt with us.  I point out, as gently as I can, that if Kyurem didn’t work the first time, there’s no reason to think it’d work the second, which just prompts Ghetsis to scream and release his opening Pokémon, a Cofagrigus.  I offer to let Jim handle this one, but he gracefully declines and allows me to have the honour.

Ghetsis… well, I’m not going to lie; he’s really let himself go.  Most of the changes to his team since the last time we saw him are of fairly little consequence.  Gone are Bouffalant and Bisharp, with Drapion and Toxicroak appearing in their places, but this is really just a physical attacker for a physical attacker and a physical tank for a physical tank.  Cofagrigus, Seismitoad and Eelektross seem to be more or less unchanged.  The great loss is his Hydreigon.  It’s still on his team, sure, but a shadow of its former self: Ghetsis’ Hydreigon was once an unholy terror that abused its monstrous special attack stat to the fullest possible extent with a spread of terrifying energy-based moves, but now it’s been saddled with some weird-ass physical attacker moveset and forced to rely on the 75% accurate Dragon Rush as its primary move.  I feel like Ghetsis, of all people, shouldn’t need to be told that this is at best a very metagamey way to use a Hydreigon.  He becomes more irrational with each of his Pokémon that falls, eventually dissolving into a self-aggrandising tantrum when his Hydreigon collapses.  N attempts to calm Ghetsis down, addressing him (with obvious pain in his eyes) as ‘father,’ but Ghetsis just rants about how N is a freak, and not even a real person.  As he slips further into incoherence, one of the Shadow Triad appears to retrieve Ghetsis.  That was the last we ever saw of him.

All in all… as I said, the whole sequence has rather a feel of anticlimax about it.  I have to admit, though, that there is something a little sad about Ghetsis’ eventual end.  Most Pokémon villains get to go out with some dignity – Giovanni gracefully acknowledges your superiority and retires, Maxie and Archie come to understand how they went wrong and even get a nice little redemption scene on Mt. Pyre, and Cyrus vows revenge as he disappears into the distortion world.  Ghetsis… Ghetsis collapses into self-destructive rage, to the point where his most loyal servants feel they need to restrain him for his own good.  The shock to his psyche is clearly massive, and we’re left wondering whether he’ll ever fully recover.  I don’t think I’d go so far as to call it ‘poignant’ or ‘tragic,’ but I can’t deny feeling a little sympathy for him.  Overall, I think that the climax of the original Black and White was better done in a number of ways, but it’s very fitting that a game whose strength was the ambiguous nature of its antagonists should take the one truly irredeemable figure among them and give him such a pitiable fate.

Well.  Time to move on with life, I guess.

Here is how you make pizza muffins

So, update on the last entry – our team’s other script concept recovered and developed enough in time to be chosen over mine (the fools!) and the film is well on track to being finished by the 7pm Sunday deadline.  We cannot actually make any video available, since the competition rules state that any team whose film is released in any form before the official screening (some time in the next two weeks) will be disqualified.  I’ll give you a link when our director uploads the finished product later, though.

However, some of you have expressed an interest in my pizza muffin recipe, which is not restricted from public use at all, and which I will share with you now.  I have never actually tasted these, since one of my dietary peculiarities is that I don’t like cheese (not lactose intolerant or anything, I’m just not fond of the stuff) but I’ve had positive comments from everyone who’s ever tried them, so I must be doing something right.

Ingredients:
2 cups grated cheese (I use a commercial blend of mozzarella, cheddar and Parmesan marketed as being specially made for pizza)
2 cups plain white flour
3 tsp baking powder
1 tbs sugar
1 spring onion/leek, finely chopped
50g salami, finely chopped
½ tsp dried oregano
1 tbs tomato paste
3 tbs water
1 cup milk
1 egg

Method:
Mix cheese, flour, baking powder and sugar with a wooden spoon.
Add salami, spring onion and oregano and stir lightly.
In a separate bowl, mix tomato paste and water until smooth.
Beat in milk and egg.
Fold together the two mixtures.
Spoon into a greased muffin pan.
Bake for 12 minutes at 220 degrees C.

I often make it as a sort of loaf instead, in which case I line a loaf tin with baking paper and cook at 180 degrees C until the top is golden brown (I guess about 25-30 minutes, but use a skewer to make sure the inside is cooked before you take it out).  Also, I imagine you could vary the ‘toppings’ considerably if you had a mind to, though I’ve never tried it.

Makin’ Movies

I am currently being drowned in a flood of undergraduate Greek history essays, which is why I’m not rambling about Pokémon at the moment.  Can I not take time out of marking my clueless students’ misshapen diatribes against history, you may ask?  Is not my Pokémon blog more important than this?

Well, sort of.  The trouble is that I’m already taking time out of marking essays so I can make pizza muffins at five o’clock in the morning.

This is because I am participating in a short film competition.

You understand now that I am not merely affecting insanity when I write about Pokémon on the internet.  This is actually what my life is like.

Perhaps I should explain some of the context involved here.

Every year, myself and a group of friends, under the command of one of my high school friends who’s trying to make a name for himself as a director, participate in a skin-flayingly painful event euphemistically known as 48 Hours Furious Filmmaking.  The premise is really quite simple: make a short film of 7 minutes or less, within 48 hours (beginning at 7pm last night).  To ensure that everything really does happen within 48 hours, all teams in the country must use certain elements (a character, a prop, a line of dialogue, and a camera technique) revealed at the beginning of the competition, and each team is individually assigned one of ten film genres.  This year, every film must feature an insomniac named Vic Mayor (the names are always appropriate for either a male or a female character – in this case, Vic could be short for either Victor or Victoria), a card (a playing card, a credit card, a birthday card, whatevs), the line “did you hear that?” and… some camera technique I’ve forgotten because I don’t know a thing about camera techniques anyway.  My team has been assigned the “action adventure” genre.

None of this explains why I am making pizza muffins at five o’clock in the morning.

Although I normally do contribute something to the scriptwriting process, I have for some years now had a rather different role on our team.  Every team needs food to survive, and I happen to be a damn fine baker.  My pies and Cornish pasties have long been famous in our group, and every year on the Saturday of the competition I work hard all morning to bring our film crew a good solid lunch, then get back to the kitchen to start work on dinner.  Now, ordinarily I would have prepared my pie fillings in advance of the competition, to keep my workload manageable, but this year I have not been able to do this, due to the aforementioned torrent of undergraduate essays.  Thus, I stayed up all Friday night preparing them instead.  I also, as is my custom, submitted an idea for a script.  In nine years of competition I have never actually managed to write a script that has caught our director’s fancy.  This year (again, as is customary) my idea was good, but another was chosen to be taken to the development and writing stage.  I returned to my kitchen to get on with my real job.

However, at quarter to eleven, I received a rather panicked text message from the director, indicating that perhaps it might be useful to have a backup script.

By two o’clock, it had become clear that my backup script was, in fact, likely to be the primary script.  I dutifully continued working.

By four o’clock, my work was complete.  At this point, though, I reasoned that trying to sleep would just make me feel more tired and cranky when I had to get up again in a few short hours.  So I decided it would be a better idea just to keep cooking, hence the pizza muffins.  I believe my mind has become host to Dark Forces from Parts Unknown, which are now the source of all my power.  To be perfectly honest, it’s really quite exhilarating.  I now intend to enslave these Dark Forces and retain them for further use at a later date.  For now, though, I suspect they will abandon me if I go to sleep, so I will continue to produce delicious baked goods for my team.

Anyway, I have to go.  My first batch of muffins is ready.