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.
Was there a question in there?
The problem is that not all Pokémon actually have the traits of animals. Are Grass Pokémon plants? If so, then either Grass-types are not Pokémon (clearly they are), “Pokémon” is a classification that includes all plants as well as all animals (clearly not), or “Pokémon” is a paraphyletic designation that has no actual meaning in an organism’s evolutionary history.
Y’know… that could probably be an entire series of entries on its own. I’ve only played Mystery Dungeon: Blue Rescue Team, but I enjoyed it. I thought it was a good game. It has its flaws, but I think there are probably a few things the main series could stand to take from it in terms of both gameplay and storytelling. As for your last question… can the answer be “yes” to both? Obviously the setting is wildly incompatible with the main games, the anime and most of the other spin-offs in a number of fairly blatant ways, and I don’t think there’s really any point in debating that, but I think that the actions and personalities of the Pokémon characters in the Mystery Dungeon series can probably be taken as exemplary of the way the designers of those games saw the various species in question, any specific abilities demonstrated by Pokémon in those games are as likely as not to be ‘canonical,’ and the roles played by the various legendary Pokémon make at least as much sense as their equivalents in the franchise’s other incarnations. Perhaps the events of this series could be interpreted as a legend or fable told within the context of the world we know from the main series or the anime? *shrug* I suppose ‘non-canon’ is a legitimate label to apply, but it really seems rather too dismissive a term for my taste.
…damnit; I was hoping no-one would ask that.
Okay. So. What the hell is a type, anyway? This is… tricky. Let’s look at a couple of Flying-types to illustrate some of the problems here. Dodrio is a Flying Pokémon because he has birdlike physiology, even though he can’t actually fly, while Drifblim is a Flying Pokémon because he can fly, despite having nothing in common with Dodrio, physiologically speaking. They share the properties we associate with the Flying type, though – weaknesses to cold and electrical damage, for example. What this suggests is that types are actually just a set of categories created and defined by humans, and used to describe the sets of strengths and vulnerabilities Pokémon possess in battle. That is, Dodrio and Drifblim are both considered Flying-types because they have those common strengths and vulnerabilities – even though they have them for completely different reasons. What’s a little awkward about this is that the system is so perfect. With few exceptions – namely, those Pokémon with abilities like Levitate and Thick Fat that alter their defensive capabilities with respect to specific elements – the strengths and weaknesses of all the Pokémon that are known to exist fit perfectly into the type system. It is possible, for instance, to make complicated predictive statements like “any Pokémon that resists both Lava Plume and Dragon Rush will cease to resit one or both of them after exposed to either Gastro Acid or Worry Seed.” With our privileged out-of-universe knowledge, we can predict with quite a high degree of confidence that a statement like this will always be true, even though there may be many Pokémon in the universe that we don’t know about yet. What this suggests is that type is (or describes) real properties which can be objectively measured, and which are common to all Pokémon of a given type.
So which is it?
I think we can probably agree that a shared type does not necessarily imply shared ancestry – that is, there is no ‘common ancestor’ of all Dark Pokémon, for instance; Absol and Mandibuzz are more closely related to other Pokémon in the Field and Flying egg groups, respectively, than they are to each other. Eevee, I think, has to be the clincher to this, since she demonstrates conclusively that there can be a Fire Pokémon (Flareon) who is much more closely related to a Water Pokémon (Vaporeon) than to any other Fire-type. It follows, therefore, that any traits which members of a single type have in common are the result of convergent evolution (like bats, birds and butterflies, they have physiological traits or abilities that are outwardly similar and serve common purposes, but actually function differently at their most basic level). This is less true for some types than for others – for instance, Bug, Dragon, Flying and Grass all map quite closely onto corresponding egg groups, so one imagines that for many of them, their shared traits actually do indicate shared ancestry, but these types are exceptions (as is proven by the outliers within those types, like Flygon, who is a Dragon Pokémon, but is a member of the Bug egg group and not the Dragon egg group). This seems to provide more support to the idea that ‘type’ is actually a human idea used purely to describe the way a Pokémon fights.
I am rather inclined, at this point, to suggest that type is a human construct that doesn’t necessarily have any impact on the way Pokémon live their lives in the wild but is a useful way of simplifying the complex web of interactions between various powers and abilities that make one Pokémon more effective against another but less effective against a third. That still leaves us with the question of why Dodrio and Drifblim share so many apparent tactical strengths and vulnerabilities when they seem to have nothing in common, and for that I have only the unconvincing answer of “coincidence.” In the case of the more supernatural elements, like Psychic and Ghost, you could easily argue that two Pokémon from the same type have independently evolved to draw power from a common source, and that the nature of these sources inherently renders attacks and protections drawing upon one of them more or less effective against those that draw upon another. This works as a general explanation to the extent that all Pokémon are in some sense magical (I think you would be hard-pressed to find one that has no access to any supernatural powers at all) however it seems awfully like simply giving up on the question, and it is besides much less convincing for the more mundane types, especially Normal, which is defined mainly by its lack of any unifying characteristics. At present, though, I’m afraid I’m unable to give any fuller answer.
Hmm. Well, simply put, it would be a massive project. The sheer scale of it would make it utterly different to everything Pokémon has done before, as well as extremely difficult, and would necessitate throwing out a lot of the established gameplay and storyline conventions. As cool as it would be, I think that such a mammoth project would be impractical for a cartridge game, and that the details would suffer as the designers attempted to cram everything in. Now, for something like an MMORPG, it might be more practical, but to my knowledge Game Freak have never expressed any interest in MMO Pokémon (besides, I just plain don’t like MMORPGs). Maybe for a strategy game it could work? But no, for a traditional Pokémon game, I just don’t see it happening, and I think the attempt would likely be ruinous.
Stats first: Well, I’ve always assumed that a ‘Jolly’ nature meant jolly by the standards of that species. A ‘Quiet’ Ludicolo, for instance, is noticeably less outrageous and excitable than the average Ludicolo, but still much louder and crazier than, say, a Jolly Yamask (basically a Yamask who occasionally manages to display a certain black sense of humour about being trapped in a perpetual living hell on the wrong side of the great beyond). You might actually be able to use this to perform a rudimentary psychological comparison of two closely related types of Pokémon – Nidoking and Nidoqueen, for instance, are physically very similar, so Nidoking’s higher offensive stats and lower defensive stats might indicate a universal predisposition towards personality traits like loneliness, rashness, hastiness, and so on (which, of course, would tie in nicely with my ‘theory’ of Pokémon gender – link for new readers).
And stones: The exact physiological mechanism is quite beyond me, I’m afraid, but I did make a suggestion in this post that attempts to explain why some Pokémon use stones to evolve. The conjecture, in brief, is that the forms triggered by the stones used to be natural evolutions of the Pokémon that have them, but have become vestigial because they’re no longer suited to changing environmental conditions – maybe achieving those forms has become too energy-intensive to be practical, or the species has come to benefit more from small size and agility than from power or intelligence. They still have all the genes that code for the evolved form itself, but they no longer possess the regulatory genes that actually trigger the evolution, which now requires some outside stimulus (again, I unfortunately have no idea what exactly this stimulus is or how the stones provide it). I imagine the split evolution patterns of Snorunt and Kirlia indicate something similar: those species used to evolve differently depending on gender (so, millions of years ago, all masculine Kirlia became Gallade and all feminine Snorunt became Froslass, without the need for a Dawn Stone) but, for whatever reason, Gallade and Froslass became unnecessary to the survival of the species, so that male Gardevoir and female Glalie gradually replaced the alternate forms. This is, incidentally, a much easier account to imagine if you accept my belief that Pokémon don’t have biologically differentiated sexes, since there’s no need to explain how on earth Gardevoir started to develop male reproductive organs – in theory, a ‘masculine’ Gardevoir could always have existed and would have been able to reproduce normally, but they would originally have been weird anomalies, whereas now they’re perfectly ordinary.
Oy vey.
I presume you’re referring to the dialogue between Pikachu and Ekans in Island of the Giant Pokémon? Personally I give quite a lot of weight to that episode because it’s the only one where we directly hear what they think. There are only a couple of other episodes I can think of that seem to address this question; the other one that I looked at in depth was the Case of the K-9 Caper.
I think the important thing to recognise about what Ekans is saying is that she’s not just saying “hey, don’t look at me." She actually does understand that she does evil things as Jessie’s partner; she is aware of good and evil as concepts. She just doesn’t care, because her master is more important. Furthermore, Pikachu takes this as a totally legitimate excuse.
What I’m getting at is that the vast majority of Pokémon aren’t simply ‘not evil’ but completely amoral, like real animals. Litwick devour souls because it’s just what they do, same as a lion will kill a human if it’s provoked, or stalk and kill a zebra. The difference is that Pokémon do understand morality; they just think it only applies to humans. The Litwick understand that their actions would be considered evil, which arguably means that they are evil, but it’s also how they survive, which arguably means it’s excusable – and I think Pikachu would probably agree, if you asked him about it while he wasn’t currently fighting for his soul.
Morality gets very confusing when you have to accommodate multiple intelligent species, all with different ways of surviving.
This question continues:
“And in that instance, both balls were equally successful. But here’s the rub, in that you can’t re-use a pokeball. So how would you know if the master ball were really as perfect as advertised, (i[.]e. it will catch any pokemon without fail) if in that instance it was just as effective as a pokeball? If you caught a rattata with a pokeball, then doesn’t that mean you might have used a master ball? My question is, how can we know the master ball is really effective?
Oh! And another question, springboarding off of the one about what the pokeball means to the world in this series.
What would a master ball mean to your theory that pokemon battle trainers to test worthiness? That despite its resolve to test the trainer, it can be captured no matter what kind of fight it puts up, if it gets the chance to do so?”
My answer is as follows:
Well, in the instance of the Rattata, you can’t tell. That’s why you wouldn’t test a Master Ball against something like a Rattata; you’d test it against something a Pokéball probably isn’t going to catch, like a Dragonair or a Rhydon. Testing a Pokéball and a Master Ball against a pair of Rattata is a little like testing a Roman Candle and a tactical nuke by strapping bits of paper to each one and seeing what happens. Either way, the paper is reduced to ashes, but you wouldn’t conclude based on this test that a Roman Candle is equivalent in firepower to a nuclear bomb.
I’m not sure that actually resolved your question, but you might be better off consulting a statistician for a more thorough answer.
Anyway, your other question. Assuming I’m right about what battling and capturing a wild Pokémon actually means, a Master Ball is a terrible, terrible thing to use. It basically destroys the idea of a partnership between a trainer and a Pokémon and relegates the Pokémon to the position of a passive subordinate. This really isn’t entirely above board, and it lends an interesting perspective to the ways Master Balls turn up in some of the games: in Red and Blue, the Master Ball is the object of Team Rocket’s whole Silph Co. campaign; in Gold and Silver, Professor Elm remarks that they’re only given to trusted researchers; in Ruby and Sapphire, it’s in Archie/Maxie’s office in the Team Aqua/Magma lair; in Diamond and Pearl it’s given to you by Cyrus, of all people, and if that doesn’t send up red flags then I don’t know what does! Oh, yeah, and in Black and White, Professor Juniper is like “hey, look what I got you! Isn’t it shiny?” so whatevs.
What you haven’t asked me, and the point where my model currently falls down, is how other kinds of Pokéball like Ultra Balls, Lure Balls, Dusk Balls and so on fit into the scheme of things. At present, I simply don’t know. Clearly they influence the Pokémon somehow, but how they do it – and what the implications for the series’ internal morality might be – is beyond me. For now.
That’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it? Some Pokémon, presumably, are as hungry for glory as their human masters and relish the opportunity to show off their powers in front of a cheering crowd… but not all of them will be like that. My ideas about trainers and Pokémon suggest that many (perhaps most) Pokémon are in it to gain broader experience and a range of skills that they would never develop in the wild, ultimately with the goal of returning to a wild community as powerful leaders. Tournament-style battles are a very artificial set-up, though, with limited relevance to developing that wider knowledge base, and are mostly about prestige and entertainment. I think for a lot of Pokémon this is just ‘their end of the deal’ so to speak – they certainly don’t dislike the attention, and any who have good relationships with their trainers will probably benefit from the prize in some way, so why not? Unless they’re particularly committed to the whole trainer-and-Pokemon lifestyle, it’s probably just business as usual for most of them.
Hmm. Go go gadget Google.
Oh, RIGHT; I remember this!
Yes; okay. So, for everyone who hasn’t seen this – ‘Generation Zero’ is an idea for a prequel to the existing Pokémon games, in which the player takes on the role of a young Professor Oak or Agatha, writing the first Pokédex, inventing new Pokéballs from apricorns, using the DS touch screen to sketch Pokémon you catch for the Pokédex… and with an infant Articuno, Zapdos or Moltres as the starter.
Anyway, as to that question… Personally I have rather different views on legendary Pokémon to most people; in particular I actually don’t think they should be obtainable by players at all (with some exceptions). If you wanted to make a whole storyline out of it, on the other hand, that could become quite fun. I would rather like to see a game in which your relationship with your starter Pokémon takes centre stage, building on the way Yellow handled Pikachu with the more advanced storytelling that the games have been developing since then – raising a legendary Pokémon would be an interesting way to do that. Naturally, you would have villains – possibly multiple factions of villains – trying to claim your partner for themselves. The law-abiding citizens and police of your region might be on your case too – it’s dangerous for anyone to have that kind of power, let alone a kid! Meanwhile your Pokémon is getting stronger and stronger – as a legendary Pokémon it might need to assume an important place in the order of nature, but it has to learn to control its powers first. You could do some interesting things with the game mechanics too, having your interaction with your partner affect the way it learns and gains new powers. Reshiram and Zekrom might be particularly good choices for a game like this, because the most important theme of their story is partnership with a human ‘hero’ (and, of course, if you have one of them, the immediate question arises… who has the other?).
So yeah, if you actually built the story around it, rather than ham-fistedly pasting a legendary Pokémon into a standard Pokémon plot, I think it would be fascinating!
Strange, isn’t it? I suspect what keeps the whole system from falling apart is that “Pokémon Trainer,” aside from being a sport, is also a perfectly legitimate occupation. Pokémon are integral to many aspects of their society and you can find Pokémon workers in almost any major sector; without their powers, several industries would have to be reinvented from the ground up. Given this kind of reliance on Pokémon, I think perhaps the benefits of having a large class of readily available specialists in dealing with Pokémon might outweigh the need for universal high-school education. I doubt all or even most kids become full-time trainers; in fact I suspect that most Pokémon trainers come from families with a history of working closely with Pokémon (Ash’s father was a powerful trainer, Gary’s grandfather is a researcher, Misty’s sisters are all trainers, Brock’s parents are both trainers, May and Max are the children of a Gym Leader, and so on and so forth). Hundreds of years ago, these people would have been a wealthy aristocracy who were responsible for creating this Pokémon-centric society in the first place, made up of the people who had enough land and money to support large numbers of Pokémon who were trained solely for combat. Today anyone can enter this class, though people with the family traditions are more likely to do so.
Pokémaniacal 