One lunatic's love-hate relationship with the Pokémon franchise, and his addled musings on its rights, wrongs, ins and outs. Come one, come all, and indulge my delusions of grandeur as I inflict my opinions on anyone within shouting distance.
Pokémon is Blacephalon, whose special skill is to blow up its own head.
you know, call me crazy, but I would have thought that would be the end of
it. Nonetheless, here we are. This is the last Ultra Beast, and I just have
to deal with it.
Stakataka, Blacephalon doesn’t appear in the original Sun and Moon, and its
homeworld doesn’t appear in the sequels.
It doesn’t even have a very big anime role, since it co-stars in an
episode with Xurkitree and doesn’t get the spotlight to itself, although the
dynamic between the two is at least somewhat interesting. Blacephalon is just… a bit of a weird non
sequitur of a Pokémon. It appears,
it blows up its own head…
god damn it; I knew it was a mistake to indulge that one
Do you think you could rank your favourite ghost-types by design?
I’d love to hear what you think of them…
about twenty-seven Ghost-type Pokémon or evolutionary lines of Pokémon, give or
take (depending on exactly who you count).
I think it’s reasonable to pick… let’s say a top five? Does that seem fair? I’m not sure there are any Ghost Pokémon that
I dislike, because Ghost is a type
that tends to attract the sort of antiquity/mythology/folklore-based Pokémon
that I find really interesting – the ones that I’m the most “meh” on are probably… I guess Rotom and Gourgeist, which are
perfectly fine. That’s… like, honestly
that’s a much better hit rate than Grass, which is ostensibly my favourite
type. But anyway, let’s pick some
What do you think happens when we die? (In real life and also in Pokemon)
Well, when I die I
usually hang out in the inner ring of the seventh circle of hell with all the
rest of the great queer icons of history for a few months while I wait for my
acolytes in the earthly world to assemble the all the artefacts, lore and
sacrifices necessary to bring about my resurrection. But even souls are subject to entropy, and in
the end those too are ground to dust by the constant wear of existence,
eventually becoming unable to resist the pull of the Endless Void. Whatever mystical safeguards we place about
ourselves to delay our fate – undeath, reincarnation, appeal to the protection
of a deity, consumption of the souls of others – sooner or later we all, from
the tiniest bacterium to the most ancient celestial leviathans, return to
Pokémon are just… weird. And frankly I
kind of have a soft spot for them. Heatmor? Someone jammed a blast furnace through an
anteater and thought it would make a cool Pokémon; I love it. Spoink?
It’s a spring-loaded pig’s head that can’t ever stop moving or its heart
will explode. Perfection. Gligar?
I… I mean, I’m gonna be honest; it’s been eighteen years and I still don’t
know what Gligar is, but clearly he’s great.
Probopass? I… well, …okay, I draw
the line at Probopass because that moustache is clearly just a crime against
all that is natural; I have limits. But
the point is that quirkiness is appealing to me. So, presented with a Pokémon who is
apparently an undead clump of seaweed wrapped around a rusty ship’s wheel and
anchor that it uses to hunt whales… well, colour me confused but intrigued.
Today’s Pokémon is something of a dark horse contender for most adorable Pokémon of generation VII. Sure, it’s so ugly that it turns the old cliché “if looks could kill” into a grim reality, but it just wants to be loved, and the well-meaning adage “be yourself” has led it to one too many tragedies. Horrifying as it is at first glance, it’s hard not to sympathise with it once you learn the trials and tribulations that plague Mimikyu: the Disguise Pokémon.
Before we begin, I want to point out, for the benefit of people who might not usually pay attention to this kind of thing, that Palossand has one of the best French names I’ve ever seen for a Pokémon: Trépassable. It’s a portmanteau of trépas, demise, and sable, sand, but it also sounds like très passable – “good enough,” which is a phrase that everyone who has ever built a sandcastle has uttered at least once.
Anyway. Haunted sandcastles!
Haunted castles make perfect sense to anyone with even a vague familiarity with 19th century gothic horror or its 20th century cinematic inheritors. Beginning with Horace Walpole’s 1764 novel The Castle of Otranto, any gothic horror worth the name has a menacing castle on a windswept crag in the middle of a dark forest in Molvania or some similarly dismal place, and said castle is regularly infested with a range of “local colour” including but not limited to bats, vampires, mad scientists, werewolves and, of course, ghosts. Ghosts and castles go hand in hand right down to contemporary fiction, with the entertaining spiritual population of Hogwarts in the Harry Potter series, and ghosts in the haunting business are commonly depicted as pursuing “unfinished business” or grudges left over from their lives. But a haunted sandcastle might be something of a new one… Continue reading “Sandygast and Palossand”→
I do not have a good record with anything capable of earning the title of “gimmick” Pokémon – Pokémon whose schtick is some unique move, ability or game mechanic that was so clever Game Freak felt they could stop there, and didn’t need to have the Pokémon be any good or the design make any sense. Today we decide whether Oricorio, the dancing honeycreeper Pokémon, fits that description. Four interchangeable and mostly cosmetic forms, a weird signature move, a weirder ability… the phrase “walks like a duck, quacks like a duck” comes to mind, but let’s take a closer look. Continue reading “Oricorio”→