- That was the year I received my personal introduction to video games. Tetris or Sonic the Hedgehog at a friend’s house was a casual, wildly interrupted, and sometimes forced affair. Nothing intimate, nor memorable. Those sporadic bursts of gameplay provided the map to my own attachment to video games, but not the gateway itself. It wasn’t until a lime-green console entered my hands, that I found my sense of adventure inside a plastic, red cartridge, and was introduced to a boy named Ash.
Come to think of it, Ash Ketchum and I were pretty similar. We both resided in a quiet, modest town that was settled on the edge of, at that time, an unknown expanse. Our mothers were prominent figures in our youth, who blindly supported our wildest dreams. We were two years apart in age, wore baseball caps, and had a tendency to stay up late and oversleep. I quickly gained another, crucial likeness with Ash; we both developed an almost unhealthy obsession with Pokemon. Through those connections, we practically became best friends.
Pokemon Red (and Blue, course) was Nintendo’s first localized entry in the franchise. It unleashed pocket monsters into a new format from the trading card game, taking the world by storm. I clearly remember purchasing my first starter deck of cards, and trading them with other students under the desk at school or on street corners, like an illegal side hustle. Without my knowledge, Pokemon had already unlocked a greater sense of wonder and adventure within, that had begun to break down walls, push social boundaries, and silence the risk assessments my mother had taught me.
I never had close friends as a kid, more like mandatory school acquaintances to pass the sociable test. At that age, you were flexible with your interests. You adapted to like what that kid you’re hanging out with likes, but when I went home, I was glad to not pretend anymore. Pokemon was the first passion I remember having, and it was something everyone else became invested in too. I may have felt like I was part of something, but their passion wasn’t there, and as another trend rises, the previous dies. Tamagotchi, those slimy alien babies in an egg shaped capsule, Yo-Yo’s, fruit-scented pens. All trends, not passions.
Pokemon remained my source of escapism for a long time, and still does, even as that escapism advanced slightly to encompass Digimon and Yu-Gi-Oh. Despite those fandoms showcasing a main character with loyal companions, I remained a single player. The fact that I had no allies never stopped me from exploring my back garden. It was an expedition that quickly expanded, like Ash’s journey, towards a city.
Glasgow - a city located in west central Scotland - was overwhelming as a tiny, almost 8-bit human. I only ventured into the city (with parental supervision) if there was something to be obtained, similar to Ash in his search for gym badges. Apart from these fleeting, metropolis endeavors, I remained in the wild lands - the Viridian Forests and off-road routes that provided a more peaceful adventure. The river around the corner from my family home, or the overgrown fields at the back of my Nan, Aunt and Uncle’s house held my curiosity.
Speaking of my Aunt, she would frequently flick the switch of my Game Boy to embark on her own Pokemon adventure, hours before I would arise during sleepovers. Not only was it confirmation of the game being good, but it created a cherished memory of us peering through Nintendo’s strategy guide on Saturdays. My family were always incredibly supportive of my obsessions, and allowed me to be who I was naturally evolving into. Pokemon holds that bond I have with my childhood, one that I nurture like the last embers of a fire. My desire for adventure and exploration evolved with me, as I still have an urge - every Saturday - to progress to the next city that awaits.
I also took life lessons away from Pokemon Red that still aid me in navigating through a very different world to Ash’s, rife with villains much worse than Team Rocket. It taught me to level up before embarking on greater challenges, to know your strengths and weaknesses, and to not be afraid of treading on unfamiliar ground. The RPG allowed me to find pleasure in taking the time to soak up the journey, and to learn as much as possible. If your dream is to become the best Pokemon trainer in the world, then go out there and become it.
Now, as a 29-year-old, I’m certainly no esports champion when it comes to gaming. Titles with difficult gameplay, or anything too blink-and-you’ll-miss-it fast (I’m looking at you Sonic) does not belong in my gaming Poke Ball. As technology advances, we expect these virtual adventures to evolve visually with sensory overload. Gameplay could be within arms reach of reality, but I would still find the same, if not more, emotion within a 2D adventure on a Pokedex-sized screen with no backlight.
In retrospect, the morals and experience gained from my memories with Pokemon Red made me evolve into someone who hates rushing, prefers the journey to the destination, believes that telepathy exists between animals and humans, and gets excited when riding a bike. Ash could have never evolved the way his Pokemon did from the comfort and safety of his bedroom in Pallet Town, and neither could I.
So go and explore Route 1. You never know what could be waiting in the tall grass.
