Pokémon Go Review
I downloaded Pokémon Go late at night. A hot, sticky night New York summer night. I sweat a lot and as I downloaded the app I could feel perspiration pooling on the yellowing pillow under my back. I was excited. A new Pokémon was on its way.
1997
As a kid I spent most of my summer vacations running back and forth to Mike’s house. Mike was an only child. He always had the newest video games, the best stuff. He also had extreme ADD. He would scuttle and shiver and wander off from class. Teachers hated him. Kids made fun of him. His parents built him a fortress of electronic entertainment. He also had a chaotic, unstoppable imagination. We were good friends.
Mike told me over the phone that he had received a VHS tape in the mail with his Nintendo Power subscription. This tape was for a cartoon based off of a game coming to the US next year. I wanted frantically to watch it. Videogames were our world, our language, our god. The tape was our prophet.
The tape opened with a dry explanation of Pokémon conducted by a cartoon professor. Pokémon are monsters, you catch them. “OK” I thought. Then the pilot began. Ash Ketchum was a normal boy until Professor Oak, a local kook, gives him a Pokémon. This Pokémon hates him, until he protects it from some violent birds, then it saves him by firing electricity into the sky. In the final scene of the pilot Ash thanks the little monster. The monster squeals back at him. They are both crying. They will be best friends for life. Its name is Pikachu.
2016
After several failed attempts Pokémon Go finishes downloading. I pop open the app and it immediately crashes. Eventually I make it through. First I get to create a character. I get to select a hat, shirt, and pants. All of the options look the same. I choose the yellow ones. I hate the way my character looks so I name him “ClintHoward.”
I am greeted by Professor Willow. He is dressed in meticulously layered athletic wear, like he’s wearing every piece of a Nike collection simultaneously. He tells me the basics of the game, then I am dumped into the game world. Pokémon go is an augmented reality game. That means that the game world is a map that corresponds to a map of the real world. In order to go somewhere in the game you must go somewhere in real life.
The game map is devoid of detail save for a 3d pillar off in the distance. I was in no way prepared to put on pants and go outside. But before I could exit the game three small Pokémon show up on the map. They are Bulbasaur, Squirtle, and Charmander. The original starting Pokémon from the very first Pokémon game. I caught a bulbasaur. It felt good.
1997
I couldn’t stop thinking about that VHS pilot. I loved cartoons as a kid but didn’t care much for the fighting and machismo in many of the shows that dominated Saturday mornings. Little boys in 1997 didn’t have a lot of options for emotionally complex media. I’d spent the last year watching Sailor Moon in secret, terrified that my brothers would find out and make fun of me.
So when I saw Ash and Pikachu crying in that last scene it set my heart on fire. Here was a show for boys that let us cry, let us have friendship, let us love cute animals. It felt like a show for me personally. I rushed to Mike’s house every day to watch it again. I re-enacted it for fellow Boy Scouts on camping trips. I stayed up at night drawing distorted graphite Pikachus on scraps of paper. I still can’t figure out how its feet are supposed to work.
One day I got to Mike’s house to see him holding another VHS. He had received a second copy of the pilot in the mail. There would be a Star Fox tournament to decide which friend could keep it. I lost to Jason but threw a crying tantrum. They let me keep the tape, out of pity. I watched it home daily, all summer.
2016
I woke up the next morning and fired up Pokémon Go. It was a beautiful day outside. Late night rain had drained the moisture out of the air leaving it dry, sunny, and cool. As I walked down the street I could see little Clint Howard doing the same. I looked at the little running man on the screen. I felt bad for him. His world is a series of boxes and paths. Mine is rich and full of detail. But then a Pokémon appeared.
It was a Pidgey — a small, cute bird. I remembered drawing pictures of it in fifth grade. I tapped on the bird. The application crashed. I opened it back up and tried again. Success. I could see the Pidgey overlaid onto live video of the sidewalk in front of me. The illusion would have been convincing if there weren’t commuters crossing in front and breaking the illusion. Using my thumb I hurled a couple of Poke Balls at the bird. One makes contact. Pidgey is sucked inside.
The ball should shake and rattle as the Pidgey attempts to break free. Then either the light on the ball disappears, and the Pokémon is yours, or the Pokémon escapes. I know this from past Pokémon games. But nothing happens. No shaking, no blinking, no breaking free. The in-game camera zooms in closer and closer on the ball. I feel trapped. The game has crashed.
1998
It was a Christmas eve tradition for my brothers and I to sit in the church pews drawing goofy pictures all over the service pamphlets. Mary got devil horns, jesus got buck teeth and a third eye. My mom overlooked it because it kept us quiet and honestly she didn’t take the whole thing too seriously anyway. But instead of defacing holy idols I kept drawing the same image over and over: myself, smiling, holding a game boy.
Pokémon had been out for a few months at this point and was, I’m sure, a bona-fide success. At first the TV show had aired only in early morning weekday TV slots. I would wake up at 6:30 every morning before school to watch it. It was my show, my secret transmission. After the game was released it graduated to a Saturday morning slot. Prime time. The prophecy was coming true.
I spent Christmas eve shaking with excitement. I did not sleep. I watched the clock waiting for 5:30, the earliest my parents told me I was allowed to wake up and open my presents. As soon as the clock hit I shot out of my bedroom and woke my brothers up. I tore feverishly through my presents.
My blue Gameboy Pocket’s power switch turned on with a satisfying click. I remember the smell of the plastic. Pokémon blue had sad black and white graphics and a plinky midi soundtrack. But all of my friends were there. This world I’d spent a year investing the whole of myself in was real, and it was in my pocket. I was asked to choose a starting Pokémon to begin my adventure. I chose Bulbasaur. It felt good.
2016
That Saturday I had taken the day off to work on a comic I hope to someday finish. Drawing a comic is grueling, hard work. It takes the entirety of my concentration and exhausts me completely. I decide to take a break, walk around town, and, why not, catch some Pokémon.
The game takes me into a part of my neighborhood I have not been before. I marvel at businesses, people, and parks I’ve never seen before. Occasionally the game will alert me to the presence of a Pokémon. I bring the game up and try to catch it. The game is wearing on me. Catching Pokémon crashes the game as often as it succeeds and the game will occasionally boot me out for no reason at all. As I catch my 10th digital Rat I start to wonder what I’m getting out of this game. It is not fun.
I get to Athens square in Astoria. It is a small park filled with Greek statues and a small stage. The kind of place you’d expect to see in a videogame. In Pokemon Go it is represented by a green rectangle. In the game there is a Gym nearby. Gyms are places where you can battle other people’s Pokemon.
I enter the Gym with a giant bat. It is my strongest Pokémon. My first opponent is a three headed bird. Battles between Pokémon consist mostly of tapping the screen like a madman and hoping you win. My bat (a Golbat named Big Clint) cuts through the bird, eviscerating its health bar. But the bird does not die. It stays on screen with a sliver of health left, invincible. It kills my Pokémon one by one. I stare in awe of how broken the game is.
Bulbasaur is the last one to go, then the game crashes. I don’t feel anything. The Pokémon I loved as a child had nothing to do with this broken game, these 3d monsters on a screen. I turn the game off and walk a little longer.
4/10
