episode one - the bed beginning

FireRed hasn’t got a day/night cycle. It never gets dark, and nobody ever sleeps; which explains why there’s only one bed in this house I share with my mother, but not why there’s even a bed in the first place. Nobody else seems to have one. My rival’s house, which looks identical to mine from the outside, has neither a second floor nor a bed. I’d always assumed I was the underdog hero to a snooty rich kid mooching off his grandpa, but today I find myself in possession of a bigger house and a foreign luxury object. Someone must’ve plucked a couple of Pidgeys to stuff those pillows, and it’s completely ornamental.

In any case, the game doesn’t start with me in bed, but in front of the TV. Whether I’d just been asleep is fairly ambiguous, but a plaque on top of the stairs certainly delivers a rude awakening. HOME SWEET HOME, it utterly fails to say, opting instead to stare directly into the heart of the Matrix.

Deep down, we’re all asking for HELP.

Downstairs, my mother is unapologetic about her choice of existential art installations for bedroom furniture. She’s also playing Stand By Me on loop, which suggests she is hoping my journey will end with a child’s corpse.

It doesn’t mention the leeches-on-testicles scene because it’s a spoiler for Viridian Forest.

She also mentions that Professor Oak is looking for me! He’s nowhere to be found, despite a city-wide search, choosing only to come out of hiding when I put myself in danger. He stages a rescue and offers me a free pet, presumably because he can’t afford a white van, and Candy is Rare in this world.

We head back to his lab, where my rival has displayed admirable restraint in not simply grabbing the Pokedexes and Pokeballs he’s been left alone with. Unlike the thieving rival from Gold and Silver, but then he was a ginger, so.

Oak offers me first choice, which is always a trap that nets his grandson a type advantage. Whether or not the two of them are in league, my rival gives a convincing show of irritating complaint. I choose to say nothing, but Oak is harsh in his rebuke.

Families, am I right. I am right.

If my rival is shocked by the strength of his grandfather’s language, he doesn’t show it. And if he really is hurt and hiding it, at least he doesn’t know the truth: that earlier, Oak had asked me to remind him of his own grandson’s name. But I guess that’s Oaks for you - sacred to Zeus, the god of dick moves. I’m merely a mute witness to this family drama. Well, nearly mute.

If you’re gonna doubt me, old man, then remember it yourself.

The starting Pokemon choice becomes laughably simple once you realise Squirtles and Bulbasaurs are just different kinds of mutant turtles. I suppose making pale imitations with a few Fighting-type TMs and a Renaissance Old Master’s name is tempting, but I don’t want to give Michael Bay any ideas.

Charmanders are dragons! (And a romantic imperative: charm Anders! Lucky Anders.) So that’s what I’m going with. Anyone who’s played Skyrim, however, knows that dragons can get a bit uppity, and have a predilection for burning down tutorial starting towns. For the sake of my mother and her Sartrean concept art, I decide to give my awesome dragon the name and personality of a slightly depressed civil servant.

There’s an itch in his life he can’t Scratch, and that’s job satisfaction.

Bitch adopts the Squirtle, which he names “Squirtle”, which is racist. Choosing not to say anything, I head for the exit, before I’m suddenly stopped by a shove to the back. What-?

Oh, I see.

Bitch wants to fight.