Dec 17, 2012

Nuzlocke Challenge

Sometime during my junior year of high school there was a momentous shift in my psyche. There's a moment like that for everyone - the realization of freedom when you hold your first driver's license, or the feeling of pride and responsibility at your first job. But my moment of epiphanic maturity was more unique - it was when I realized that I wanted to hang out with girls more than I wanted to play videogames. 

During freshman year of high school, kids quickly and justifiably came to call me "gameboy", as the machine was my only real friend. Even throughout middle school, my mother and I battled over the game system in a sort of nuclear arms race. I'd pretend like I was doing "homework", and she'd ground me and craftily hide the gameboy in increasingly obscure places. I in turn spared no effort in scouring the house and stealing it back - repeat ad nausem.
This was the weapon with which I saved worlds. And escaped from mine.
Sad? Perhaps. But honestly that impulse hasn't changed; it's just disguised and buried underneath layers of experience that tend to provide a fuller experience of life - like music, nature, or relationships. But the nerd inside hardly dormant - it only bides its time, awaits moments of weakness, and jumps out in random conversations. It's part of who I am, and - in case you can't tell - I relish that. While there have been drawbacks, videogames were a stepping-stone to much of the good in my life today. But that's a different story entirely, and is just a lame transition to the fact that I want to talk about Pokemon.
Solid relationship advice.

For anyone that's been living in a cave these past fifteen years: Pokemon is a videogame that blends the addictiveness of collecting with the motivation of competition. You catch, raise, and fight animals against each other. If you win, great, if not your critter "faints" and can be revived as soon as the battle ends. Kid stuff.


But then the game gets ridiculously deep, with crazy complicated formulas and strategies - people easily spend just as much time on it as some do with World of Warcraft or Call of Duty. But that's the "hardcore" demographic; few people  over age twelve will want to spend all their time analyzing pokemon-related statistics. Most just want to play the game a bit, maybe brag about their monsters to a few friends, and move on. There's little social and no emotional reason to do anything else.

 Enter the Nuzlocke Challenge. You have to watch this. 

 You play through the game with several self-imposed rules: you can only catch the first pokemon you find on each route, you must nickname them, and if they faint in battle - they're dead. No using them again, no exceptions. You get so attached to the little guys - whether you name them "Bob" or "Brotodile" - and something deep inside actually hurts when you see that health bar go to zero. 

Just watch this and tell me you don't get a tad emotional. 

This even extended through college. Our senior year, some friends and I made it a social thing and played through several Nuzlockes together. We named creatures after each other (for the insult potential), girls we knew ("dude, you need to level up your girlfriend"), or manly noises ("HRAAVLDAGN" was a favorite). There was something strangely bonding about it all (like the secret jealousy when a friend caught a something rare, or your hidden glee when their starter died). It was probably the most social fun I've had gaming with friends. 

 The Nuzlocke Challenge actually became a huge thing online - for example, on this site people write comics about their challenges (one of which was linked to in the videos you watched). Last summer I actually got into writing a few of my own with MS Paint, and they were a blast to think up and draw.


One last thing - if you know the game at all, you have to watch this Vietnamese translation of Pokemon Crystal. It's probably one of the more hilarious videos on youtube.




Screenshot update, 1/16/13: