bill-swift - November 6, 2013
Previously in this series, we've seen such bowel-loosening greatness as The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time and Metal Gear Solid. Both were released in 1998, which is often regarded by nerdly Professors of Gameology (a doctorate only available at Mrs. Brown's Burger Bar and Traveling University) as the best year for gaming thus far. What else arrived during those twelve months to secure this lofty reputation?
These 151 little bastards, that's who.
Pokémon Red and Blue, in case you spent the last couple of decades squatting in a cave in the dank depths of the Amazon rainforest poking berries up your ass and are unaware, is where the Pokémon shitstorm began. Who saw this phenomenon coming? Not Nintendo themselves, you can wager your wang on that.
It began as an obscure little idea, pitched by Satoshi Tajiri in 1996. Without one Asian manchild and his bug collecting hobby, the world may never have known the glory of screeching yellow rat-thing Pikachu and his halfwitted, mutant cohorts. As it is, though, Nintendo pulled their best patronizing sure, dude, that's not a shit-tastic concept for a gameat all faces, pressed on, and the rest is history.
Or rather, it isn't. Pokémon is probably gaming's most stubborn series. The central plot of these RPGs has changed as rarely as our friend Hobo Joe's soiled boxers over the years. You begin as the new kid in town, harboring ambitions of becoming the world's greatest pokémon trainer. To do so, you must travel the region and defeat the leaders of 'gyms,' each victory earning you a badge. With a full set, you are worthy to battle the Elite 4 and the League Champion, whose de-throning is your ultimate objective.
Meanwhile, there is catching ‘em all to be done, and a huge criminal syndicate to singlehandedly defeat like the badass prepubescent pugilist you are. There always has been, and there always will be. This is the way of the ‘mon. You will be ass-deep in turn-based, elemental rock-paper-scissors combat. Deal with it.
Red and Blue harken back to a simpler time, when there weren't almost a thousand of these increasingly ass-tacular beasts to choose from. Barrel-scraping syndrome is setting in as ideas become scarse. Who wanted a sentient ice cream cone? No bastard, that's who, but it's here to stay. As is a literal pile of trash on legs, eight million different generic birds and ‘effing Bidoof.
The original Poké-duo is ripe for the remake treatment, if Internet whinings are anything to go by. It would please a generation of players with fond Nineties memories of shuffling through long grass, having a horde of asshole Zubats chewing on your gonads every two steps through a cave, and all those other happy funtimes.
But in the meantime, let's party like it's 1998 and hammer the B button (the ultimate gaming placebo) as we recall the horrors of the original Mewtwo battle:
Source of images: gamefaqs.
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