I’ve been playing a lot of Pokémon lately. Between Pokémon Scarlet, finally diving into Pokémon Trading Card Game for the Game Boy, and getting a little too into Pokémon Trading Card Game Pocket. I’ve been thinking a lot about the series and how far it has come since 1996. And what better time than Pokémon Day to elaborate on something I’ve been feeling about the franchise for a little while now, and that is—Pokémon has lost all its mystery.
There was a specific line of dialogue that really bothered me in Pokémon Legends Arceus. Early in that game, after the player has been sent back in time to the origins of Pokémon catching, they are given a Pokéball effectively made of sticks and stones and are told that “all Pokémon have the innate ability to shrink themselves down to minuscule size” which allows them to fit in the ball.
Similarly, in Pokémon Sword/Shield there’s an odd sign tucked away in Route 10—right towards the end of the game, mind you—that informs the player that the Dynamax Ability, wherein Pokémon can transform into giant versions of themselves, is not, in fact, the Pokémon becoming large, but instead using Dynamax energy to warp the space around them so they only appear large. It was this moment in particular that really stuck with me because I couldn’t understand why Pokémon was going out of its way to demystify itself.
I think part of the problem is just how much Pokémon has grown over the years. Pokémon Red and Blue were essentially held together with duct tape and a dream, and while I can’t speak to the intention of the developers of the original game, it certainly feels like the limitations of the Game Boy made it so players had to fill in a lot of the gaps with their imagination. But it was also the fact that Pokémon Red and Blue took place in some approximation of the real world—since the Kanto Region is a real place in Japan, and there’s even a diary entry in the Pokémon Mansion that mentions a research expedition in South America.
It created this sense that Pokémon existed as something new within the confines of our own world. Like something that, despite being around since the Prehistoric Era, was a brand new species of animals that were just emerging and the study and knowledge of these creatures was brand new. It made the original games feel like a safari and there was a deep sense of mystery and excitement to the whole thing.
But now we’ve gotten to what Stephanie Sterling dubbed the “PokéPlot problem,” where a game’s world becomes so obsessed with its central conceit that none of the characters who inhabit it have lives or interests outside of it. It’s gotten to the point where Pokémon Scarlet and Violet all but confirmed that people EAT Pokémon. That’s right, you can put meat from the Pokémon Klawf on a sandwich and eat it—oh, sorry, a “concentrate derived from shed Klawf shells.” Although, I shudder to think which Pokémon they’re getting those burger patties and prosciutto from.
But this lack of mystery is present even in the design of some of the more recent Pokémon games. While the idea that Pokémon hid in tall grass was a clever in-universe way of justifying random encounters, it also worked on a narrative level to preserve the mystery of Pokémon. These creatures were new and were trying to avoid being captured, so it made sense that they would hide.
But things have just gotten a little too far out of hand now. The Pokémon Company set a standard that every new Pokémon game meant a new region and at least 100 new Pokémon. We’re at a point now where there are way too many Pokémon and no way to craft a world around all of them that makes sense—at least not in the sense of a traditional Pokémon game.
And that isn’t to say the fans don’t bear some burden of responsibility here, too. If you remember the ridiculous “Dexit” controversy around Pokémon Sword and Shield, gamers were livid that The Pokémon Company would dare to create a game in which all 1000+ Pokémon weren’t in it—complete with proper balancing and bespoke attack animations. There’s just no way to create something that will meet the expectations that gamers have created around the Pokémon series.
“It created this sense that Pokémon existed as something new within the confines of our own world.”
And the insistence on an open-world Pokémon game meant that now Pokémon needed to constantly be around in plain sight. Aimlessly wandering around, not really interacting with each other and not particularly bothered by the player either. They don’t feel like creatures that are endemic to this world, as they apparently always have been; they feel like props. Just video game objects to be collected and maximized for online competitions.
But there have been so many recent indie creature capture games that have managed to replicate the spirit of those early Pokémon games, namely by finding ways to reinvent the way we approach these kinds of games. Cassette Beasts had a unique gameplay style where players become the monsters and record them onto tapes in order to gain new moves which can be used outside of combat.
“Pokémon has gone too far and grown too large, that’s why, in my opinion, the only way for Pokémon to move forward is to go backward…”
By contrast, Beastieball not only introduces a simple yet deeply nuanced “battle” system where Beasties play a game of volleyball, but it also creates a world that almost riffs on the PokéPlot Problem—where Beasties and the game of Beastieball is so common, most people are kind of bored of it and would rather pursue other interests. These games excel because they take the groundwork Pokémon laid,\ and build something unique and fresh on top of it.
But like I said, Pokémon has gone too far and grown too large, that’s why, in my opinion, the only way for Pokémon to move forward is to go backward, back to where it all began. Wipe the slate clean and start over with a brand new 150 Pokémon—leave the existing 1000+ in the bank for Trading Cards and other kinds of games and maybe keep Pikachu and Eevee since they’re the series mascots. But for a new installment in the “mainline” franchise, you KEEP. IT. SIMPLE. You don’t need fancy gimmicks like Mega Evolutions or gluing chandeliers to Pokémon’s heads, just good old-fashioned battles, maybe with some specially animated attacks for a bit of pizazz.
Not only that, Pokémon needs to recreate that feeling of excitement and discovery that only the first two generations really captured properly. How do you do that? Simple, make the game an HD 2D RPG in the same style as Octopath Traveler. Something that evokes the heart and straightforwardness of the originals but still looks and feels like a modern-day game. Battles could have proper backgrounds but should recreate the behind-the-back perspective of the originals—with some simple animations for attacks that incentivize the player to use their imagination a little but don’t look particularly out of place—heck, no one complained about Octopath Traveler’s basic-ass attack animations.
Lastly, and maybe this is only something I want, I think the player’s role needs to shift from an average trainer to that of a Pokémon Professor—or perhaps a Professor’s Aide completing their thesis. This way you can work in an angle where Pokémon actually need to be discovered and studied, and not just obliterated out in the wild. There could be ways to create little Pokémon Snap-esque minigames where you see Pokémon in their habitats actually behaving like wild creatures, which would not only be a fun little side thing but provide a stark contrast from the plainness of the main game and make the whole thing feel much more alive.
Pokémon will always be something near and dear to my heart and to the hearts of many gamers who either grew up with it or are even just starting to get into it. Like it or not, it’s probably going to be around forever, and there are only so many times you can reinvent the wheel. I think it’s about time the Pokémon series reexamined its original wheel.
