I might be too old for this shit.Actually, I really shouldn't call this game "shit" unless it's "the shit," because that's exactly what it is -- the shit.
Pokemon Diamond is an excellent game, one that refines the formula, adds new features and creatures, and most of all, hearkens back to a time when all I had to worry about was how the hell I was gonna beat Giovanni with my one-monster army, Charizard. The only problem is knowing when to play it and when to shove it away in your closet so no one else knows that you are a fully-grown adult male who still enjoys raising and battling (but not parading them around in a beauty contest -- my god!) cute little animal-things who happen to have the worst puns for names. To play Pokemon is to be a kid again, but only mentally.
Whether or not they would ever admit to saying this, my friends have reminisced about how good those old Pokemon titles on the Game Boy used to be. Nevermind the TV show, which consisted of the exact same plot line over the course of what seemed like ten seasons, and nevermind anything else associated with the Pocket Monster craze, like the trading cards or even those terrible Stadium games. The only products to survive the test of time and are still playable today are the handheld main-line Pokemon games -- they stick to the same ol' formula, but it's a formula that works.
Actually, I should revise that statement: a couple years ago, I decided to forgo my vow to never play a Pokemon game again (for fear of becoming a social outcast -- but now that I think about it, it was too late anyway), and play the Ruby version to see what I'd been missing. In all honesty, I hadn't been missing much. The battle system seemed slow and clunky, and the seemingly new emphasis on taking your Pokemon to a beauty show just seemed so...stupid. I mean, c'mon! Really now? I'd much rather be beating the crap out of random Psyducks than feed berries to my team of Psyduck-killers just to level up their "Cute" category! And the new Pokemon designs seemed uninspired compared to the original roster...
Okay, whoa. I realize I'm sounding like everyone else on the Internet, so I'm gonna stop now. Like, right now.
Whew.
Anyway, the Ruby version didn't do much for me, so I guess I should say that that game is the only handheld title in the series that, uh, kinda sucks. To each his own, I guess.
With that bad taste in my mouth, I was hesitant to pick up Diamond when it hit stores. The great aspect about the DS, though, is that nearly every piece of software released for the system, aside from, you know, the Imaginz Babies or Puppies or Crocodiles or What Shit Would You Like to Pretend to Raise Now? series, is generally really, really good. That in mind, I bought Diamond under the pretense that I was, uh, really purchasing it for my cousin's brother's nephew and not-at-all for me, and...loved every minute of the game, from start to finish. Part of that love was knowing I didn't give a shit about beauty contests, and the game was okay with me for not giving a shit.
There's a certain moment in the game that gets me all riled up and exciting whenever I think about it; that moment would have to be when you first encounter Dialga, the time-devouring quadrupedal monster-thing (as shown on the box above), at the summit of Mt. Name Doesn't Really Matter 'Cause I Can't Remember It Right Now. See, I'd like to think my mind works cinematically, wherein most of my memories of past events don't happen in a first-person view, but instead are set in a movie-like, third-person scene, all included with pans and close-ups. And whenever I imagine climbing that mountain in a raging blizzard only to finally meet a frightening beast at the top -- and then engage in a fierce battle, concluding in an epic "please-oh-please-catch-it" Poke-ball toss -- it gets my mind reeling with cinematic possibilities. Honestly, the scene is one of the most memorable set-pieces in any game I've played in the last several years.
Yes, I am a nerd. Perhaps not as big as Quentin Tarantino, but a nerd nevertheless.
I might have mentioned it before in past blog posts, but I recall that one of the game developers mentioned that the best part of Pokemon is the first moment you receive your bike. You've been walking most of the game (at an extremely slow pace, mind you), and the feeling you get once you begin pedaling across city-scapes and landscapes, it just...conjures up memories of your childhood. To some extent, the statement is true. As a kid, you really want nothing more than to grow up, to enjoy certain liberties and responsibilities not granted to you when you're young. You can't drink, you can't drive a car, you can't, uh, legally buy porn -- really, the adult lifestyle seems like a unimaginable dream filled with endless possibilities. Pokemon, even if it's actually fictional, gives you just a taste of adulthood: you're out on your own, slowly growing and maturing, becoming "the very best, like no one ever was". It represents independence. It represents freedom.
Okay, sure, that's a little hyperbolic, but playing through Diamond washed all the cynicism from my system, and for a split second, I felt I could go anywhere and do anything. Of course, that's true to real life, too, but it's just a matter of balls.
In reality, my sense courage and fearlessness happens to be castrated.
In Pokemon, I was the very best, like no one ever was.
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