Last time on Black and White 2, Jim and I had just managed a stunning defeat of Roxie, only to learn that we have apparently attracted the attention of some movers and shakers in the Unova film industry.  A talent scout approaches us as we leave the Virbank Gym, and explains that Pokéstar Studios needs kids like us.  Bemused, we follow him to the northern quarter of Virbank City, where the opulent palaces of Poké-Hollywood sprawl across vast tracts of land like great golden toads squatting on their lilypads, peering goggle-eyed at the hapless water insects swimming beneath them.  There, we are introduced to the eccentric golden-haired master of this place – Stu Deeoh.

Get it?  Stu Deeoh?  Because he owns a studio?  It’s a pun!  Oh, Game Freak, you kill me.

 

Stu conducts us to the great Pokéstar theatre to show us what he and his minions do in their palace of golden dreams.  Their most recent release, in fact, happens to be the debut appearance of Roxie’s father, the erstwhile captain of the Virbank-Castelia ferry service: an action-packed blockbuster entitled Brycen-Man.  The title character, to our immense shock, is played by none other than Brycen, the Icirrus City Gym Leader, returning to the silver screen after a long absence.  His luridly-costumed supervillain is opposed by Pop Roxie’s character, the similarly embroidered Riolu Man, in an epic battle set in an amusement park full of innocent bystanders.  Jim and I happily accept the complimentary tickets offered by Stu Deeoh, grab some popcorn, and settle in to watch the movie.

Afterwards, as we leave the theatre, Pop Roxie approaches us and nervously asks what we thought of his debut appearance.  I enthusiastically launch into a glowing encomium of Brycen-Man, proclaiming the film a work of comedic genius, with particularly high praise for Pop Roxie’s hilarious portrayal of the film’s antagonist, Riolu Man, a bumbling, stuttering goof whose ill-advised attempts to thwart the brilliant and unbelievably handsome title character provide riotous laughs from beginning to end.  Pop Roxie appears to be squirming and looking at his feet, no doubt from his modesty, so I tone it down a little and move into a discussion of the film’s clever inversion of the standard hero/villain paradigm that has us cheering for the title character even as he gleefully cuts a swathe of destruction through the innocent patrons of the amusement park.

At this point, Jim murmurs in my ear that we were supposed to be rooting for Riolu Man.

I pause in mid-sentence, my mouth hanging open.  By the time I manage to close it, Pop Roxie has slunk away through the shadows, forlornly muttering something about not quitting his day job.

Well.  Whoops.

 

Stu Deeoh soon tracks us down to ask how we would feel about joining the crew for his next cinematic masterpiece.  Jim declares that he has better things to do and suggests we return to the Virbank Complex for some level grinding, but I am intrigued by Stu’s offer.  If Brycen-Man is anything to go by, there’s clearly room in Pokéstar Studios for some exciting new talent – and who better than I?  Anyone can see, just to look at me, that I was born to be in the movies – perhaps in a sci-fi epic featuring a great interstellar empire and a reclusive order of mystical knights.  With visions of my future career all but materialising in front of me, I follow Stu Dio to his studeeoh to begin work on our first great project: a remake of Brycen-Man.  Apparently the movie was just such an appalling flop at the box office that Brycen is demanding we burn the film, eradicate all evidence of it, shoot the director, and start from scratch.  I protest that remaking a work of cinematic genius like Brycen-Man would be nothing short of sacrilege, but change my tune soon enough when I see the rewritten script, in which I have been cast as the spunky young heroine, Riolu Girl.  I stride onto the soundstage, take possession of the rental Pokémon who has been cast as my partner, and begin filming opposite Brycen.  Within a few short days, we have repurposed all of the original props and sets for Brycen-Man into a new blockbuster that brings both renown and profits to Pokéstar in spades… and so begins my movie career.

Everything I touch turns to gold.  Every director I work with proclaims my acting flawless, my interpretation of their characters genius, my delivery of key lines nothing short of divine.  I star in such acclaimed masterpieces as the Timegate Traveller trilogy, Mystery Doors of the Magical Land, and Red Fog of Terror, performing immaculately choreographed Pokémon battles alongside actors like Brycen and the mesmerising Kanto psychic, Sabrina, as well as some of the most highly trained Pokémon in showbusiness and a crew of the finest performance capture actors and CG artists in the industry.  My renown grows, and soon I am surrounded by fans, day and night, attempting to curry my favour with extravagant gifts.  I develop a crippling Rare Candy habit, and eat mainly poffins imported from Sinnoh at tremendous cost.  I take up Tai Chi to keep myself in shape, but quickly decide that it is too much work and hire someone else to take up Tai Chi for me.  One day, in one of my more lucid moods, I track down Stu Deeoh and ask him when I can expect to get paid for my work.

“Oh, dah-ling, we do not pay you!  That is so, ‘ow do you say, last season!  You are workink for us for ze sheer joy of your aaaht, are you not?”

 

In fact, it turns out I actually owe Pokéstar a tremendous sum of money for the expensive food, clothing and massage treatments I’ve been purchasing through the company account on a daily basis.  This sum is known exactly to only a few of Stu Deeoh’s most trusted financial advisors, but is rumoured to exceed the GDP of Botswana.  Naturally, I do the honourable thing and book a ticket on the first ferry to Castelia City, instructing my Growlithe, Barristan, to set the company records office on fire as we leave.

Pokéstar Studios is an… interesting addition to the game.  As my experiences prove, it is exceptionally silly, but I have come to feel that it actually serves a legitimate and quite interesting purpose.  In concept it is reminiscent of Pokémon Contests and Musicals, in that your goal is to leverage your Pokémon’s ‘star power,’ as it were, but in practice it is strikingly different, since its central mechanic is essentially that of a choreographed Pokémon battle.  You are given a rental Pokémon and asked to fight one or more Pokémon belonging to another actor – but your aim is not simply to win, but to win in a particular fashion that suits the needs of the script.  Since you have a copy of the script, this is not especially challenging for an experienced player, even if the stage directions are often a little cryptic.  For a new player, however… well, obviously I don’t have the perspective required to evaluate it on those terms, but I think these scripted battles are actually a fantastic way to introduce new players to a wide variety of obscure moves and their effects.  The option to use your own Pokémon in place of rental Pokémon to shoot a film also puts a neat ‘puzzle-solving’ twist on the traditional Pokémon battle – the script has certain needs, and you have to prepare a Pokémon capable of fulfilling them.  Actually, I think the whole thing might have been more effective if it didn’t give the option of using a rental Pokémon after the initial screening of Brycen-Man and forced players to evaluate the requirements of the script for themselves, starting from very basic Pokémon and moves that can be obtained in and around Virbank City – but perhaps that would be too overwhelming for an inexperienced player?  In any case, frivolous though it may be, seen in the right light Pokéstar Studios is a great little diversion that puts a fascinating new spin on the central mechanic of the Pokémon games.  It also takes the unprecedented step of having your Pokémon battle against things that aren’t Pokémon.  Since most of Pokéstar’s movies use ridiculous amounts of computer animation, during filming these props are always seen as square slabs of green metal with icons on the front, though you can see the machines and monsters they represent when you watch the completed films.  They act as Pokémon in all respects, but have whatever stats, moves, abilities and elemental properties are demanded by the script.  This strikes me as a fascinating little ‘proof of concept,’ showing that the games can very effectively stage battles between Pokémon and objects to serve the needs of a plot.  I anticipate seeing more of this – in a less theatrical context – in future games.

Next time, I’ll be making a break for the ferry terminal… just as soon as I can find Jim.