Funny as that would be, it's more of an anime thing. Pokémon in the games have voices closer to real animal cries, or at least sounding like they plausibly could be animal cries. You can actually find a list of most of them here!
Funny as that would be, it's more of an anime thing. Pokémon in the games have voices closer to real animal cries, or at least sounding like they plausibly could be animal cries. You can actually find a list of most of them here!
Funny as that would be, it's more of an anime thing. Pokémon in the games have voices closer to real animal cries, or at least sounding like they plausibly could be animal cries. You can actually find a list of most of them here!
I have spent several days thinking about this question in the context of this Quest, and the more I do, the more I keep coming back to the conclusion that no answer I can come up with myself will ever beat "Natural Harmonia Gropius."
I have spent several days thinking about this question in the context of this Quest, and the more I do, the more I keep coming back to the conclusion that no answer I can come up with myself will ever beat "Natural Harmonia Gropius."
I have spent several days thinking about this question in the context of this Quest, and the more I do, the more I keep coming back to the conclusion that no answer I can come up with myself will ever beat "Natural Harmonia Gropius."
I have spent several days thinking about this question in the context of this Quest, and the more I do, the more I keep coming back to the conclusion that no answer I can come up with myself will ever beat "Natural Harmonia Gropius."
I have spent several days thinking about this question in the context of this Quest, and the more I do, the more I keep coming back to the conclusion that no answer I can come up with myself will ever beat "Natural Harmonia Gropius."
*A problem I'd actually solved in the previous update by just having the Type-voices do a little humorous comment on the failed check, I don't know how I blanked on that writing this one.
The Pokéball is in your hand. Its weight should be familiar, but it's wrong. The presence within is strange, novel. Frightening. There is terrible power in the palm of your hand.
Ten pairs of eyes stare at you from under gray hoods. Waiting. Gauging you. Can you rise to their expectations?
Should you?
The wind rolls across the mountaintop. Clouds choke out the sunlight, and lightning flashes in the distance. It is a time of peril. It is a time of judgment.
The man in front of you is panting heavily. No wonder. You've been chasing after him for the better part of an hour before you cornered him here, in this abandoned quarry. Even now, he's shielding himself behind Pokémon - his Excadrill and his Krokorok are both standing between you, arms spread out and back hunched in threat displays, both growling with naked hostility.
You can't fault them for it. They don't know better. You are here to save them, after all.
"Aspirant!" shouts the voice of an older man, an authoritative voice, full of the wisdom of age. The Sage's cloak billows in the wind; from the rocky outcropping from which he overlooks the quarry, he seems to command all attention. But it is you to whom he is calling. "Step forward! The time has come for you to show your mettle!"
All around the quarry, barring every path but the air (and you have no doubt the Sage has a surprise in store should your mark unexpectedly take to the skies), the other Team members watch you wordlessly.
You step forward. The Pokéball is heavy in your grasp.
"Trainer Leroy," you say grimly, trying to inject in your words the confidence you do not feel. "For the past two years, you have used your Ground-type Pokémon to conduct reckless excavations within Twist Mountain in search of the precious ore in which your company trades. In so doing, you have disturbed the environment of multiple Pokémon native to the region, throwing it into chaos. By your actions, you have demonstrated how humans bring ruin to the world of Pokémon, and cannot be trusted with their custody. Relinquish your Pokémon now, and that will be the end of it."
It is so easy to chain the words together. They help steel your spine. They paper over your doubts. Trust in the words you were given, trust in the King's words, trust in the Work.
The trainer's face contorts in anger; Excadrill and Krokorok snarl and snap their teeth, advancing a step towards you.
"Yeah?" the trainer shouts in defiance. "How about you kiss my ass instead? Who are you, fucking Gym Leaders or something? I don't owe you anything! And I don't owe these wild Pokémon shit either! I take care of my own! Isn't that what matters? You know what we make from this mining operation? All the luxuries I can afford to lavish them with? You think they want me to let them go? Exxon! Krook! Tell her what you think!"
Both Pokémon open their maws and Roar, a mighty, bone-rattling sound that makes the pebbles on the quarry's ground tremble, a sound that reverberates into your bones, raises every hair on your back, that pulls some primal switch deep inside your brain that tells you to flee, to abandon everything and run for your life now.
But beyond that fear, they strike a stranger chord.
You thought your first mark would be a monster. An abuser of some kind. Someone who mistreats their Pokémon, drives them to exhaustion, ignores their feelings. But this is transparently not Leroy's case. His Pokémon are well-trained, well-fed, well-cared for, and loyal… And all of it at the cost of every other Pokémon in Twist Mountain. He could have chosen different words. Tried to mollify you with excuses. Instead he's almost defiant in how he throws his crimes in your face. Proud to tell you that he doesn't care about anyone beyond 'his own.'
Of course. There was a deeper lesson there, the whole time: That even trainers who believe themselves to be 'good' to their Pokémon are bringing disruption and disaster to the world around them.
Even the righteous are guilty. It's obvious to you now. You should not have doubted.
Thank you, Ghetsis. You take your fears and doubts and crush them in the iron vice of your will. You will not show a single sign of weakness. Your resolve is absolute.
You have trained for years. 'Aspirant,' they call you, but they all know that you're no rookie pulled from the street. They know you have the skill. It is their loyalty that they're testing.
And you desperately, madly want to pass that test.
You so desperately want to be one of them.
To belong.
"Trainer Leroy," you say, voice trembling with righteous fury, "you have been found wanting."
The Pokémon sits heavy in your hand, but when you throw it, it is the easiest thing in the world.
Power is unleashed, and shakes the mountain.
***
He lied to you. They all did.
VOICE OF THE FATHER: Come now, whelp. That's letting yourself off a little easily, don't you think?
…
VOICE OF THE FATHER: I told you sweet lies about our true purpose. But I didn't invent your desire to please us, did you? Nor your eagerness to fit in… Or your willingness to hurt others. All those things, you brought with yourself.
But those twisted desires could have been made to serve a better purpose. The blade that is you could have fit a more righteous hand.
VOICE OF THE FATHER: Why is it, then, that it is in our hand which you did fit? Our purpose to which you were drawn? Of what fault in your soul does this speak?
It's not your fault. It's…
Him…
Your King…
He made you believe. He stoked the fires of your soul. He set your heart to beat to his rhythm. And he never lied to you, not once. His entire soul was committed to the Work. When you were betrayed, so was he.
So why…
Why couldn't you put the pieces back together? Just the two of you?
Why is he gone?
VOICE OF THE LEADER: [There is only silence.]
Article:
THOUGHT RESOLVED: THE BITTEREST BETRAYAL
When the Sages that led your organization revealed their true goals, you were made a fool. Your whole world crashed around you. All of a sudden you understood that only the tiniest fraction of your Team believed in your professed ideals. The Work had only ever been an excuse to claim power. That betrayal shattered you, carved a deep wound in your soul, a wound you've been obsessing over ever since.
And by obsessing over that betrayal, you've avoided ever thinking about the other betrayal, the truest betrayal, the one that hurt you the most: That after all the liars had revealed themselves, when you thought you and your King might rebuild around the tiny core of true believers and continue the Work, he left you behind.
The bitterest betrayal is that in the end, N himself ceased to believe in the Work.
EFFECTS:
Poison: +1 (All the world will betray you, Trainer with a thousand enemies.)
Poison can substitute for Psychic for sensing betrayal
Psychic: -1 (But first they must gain your trust.)
***
There's something warm on your lips. A presence, a touch, that calls you out of the dark. A breath blowing into your lungs. You emerge from the abyss, pulled towards the surface by a human hand, and your eyes flutter open to see - a face?
Then the pain hits you like a truck. Someone is pushing on your chest like they're trying to cave in your ribs, and your lungs are burning, your throat and sinuses are choked, all your limbs feel like they've been battered and twisted every which way.
You start up, a heaving convulsion wracking your chest, and it's like fire is pouring down your throat, only it's not fire, it's water; turn to the side, gasping and vomiting brine, saltwater spraying and draining into the deep crimson sand next to you.
DARK: We're… alive?
POISON: Not for want of trying.
GHOST: We have to endure. For the dream that was lost. For our sins to atone.
DRAGON: WE ARE INVINCIBLE.
You wrack your lungs and throat with a few more gasps and coughs, breathing in sweet, sweet, burning air and spitting out more water, until finally the hyperventilation gets to you and your vision goes from 'blurry' to 'blinding white with painful red stars' and you collapse on your back again.
"You're alive!" someone says cheerfully in the infinitely far away world of 'a couple feet away. "I was starting to get worried."
You rub your eyes until the numb feeling in your brain abates and your vision starts to resolve; you blink tears away and manage, though blearily, to look at the person in front of you.
She's a girl about your age, maybe on the earlier side of her twenties, with vibrant blond hair held in a long ponytail, the tip of it still wet with seawater; she has a soft face, wide gray eyes, and she's dressed oddly, in a kind of sleeveless tunic whose sides split at the waist to descend over the front and back of her knees, worn over a dark shirt, thick traveling trousers, and heavy boots; she looks like some kind of archaic character out of a medieval pastiche; there's a straw hat resting next to her on the ground. You realize now that the both of you are sitting on a beach of dark red sand, the water washing in and out not far behind; it's not raining anymore, though the clouds are only slowly scattering above. Behind the girl, the beach rises towards a vast mountain, whose brown-red flanks evoke old blood.
She's looking at you.
PSYCHIC: NORMAL
CHECK: SUCCESS
PSYCHIC: Her face is kind, and patient. She does not mind however long it takes for you to get your bearings. When she watches you, it is with unfathomable empathy. She has chosen you to save today.
DARK: No, I think she's just glad you didn't drown on her.
"I…" you start to say. "Oh, my throat hurts."
WATER: That's because of the salt! The seas of this world have on average a salinity of 35 grams per liter, which is above the replacement rate, meaning you extrude more water eliminating the salt than you absorb from drinking it! This means it's actually possible to die of thirst drinking seawater!
…awesome.
"Take your time," the girl says, nodding. "You've had it pretty rough."
A guttural sound of agreement draws your attention to your right and you nearly jump out of your skin when greeted by the sight of a huge Golem, tiny clawed arms waving out of its spherical shell.
"Gravvy helped give you CPR!" the girl says, raising her hand for a high five that the Pokémon happily responds to. "My arms aren't very strong…"
So that's why you felt like your ribs were about to cave in from the strength of these pushes. Well, you suppose that's how resuscitation is supposed to work in the first place… You look left and start again; lower to the ground is a truly bizarre Pokémon, probably a Water-type, with a spiraling shell and a bunch of blue tentacles waving a greeting at you from around a strange beak.
ROCK: DIFFICULT CHECK: PASSED
ROCK: This looks like a Fossil Pokémon. A type of Pokémon that were brought back from the ancient past using special machinery, characterized by their archaic appearance and strange biology. This might be an Omanyte, or an Omastar, you're not sure which one.
GHOST: In the same way Drakloak is a ghost of an age past lingering in the distance present, this Pokémon died long ago and was thrust into a strange modern day in a vessel of stone and flesh. I wonder which is the most alienating.
POISON: What an awful thing to do. To rouse an ancient being from its slumber, and cast it adrift in a world where it is alone and maladapted. To die, or become a force of chaos and disruption. Who would do this to a Pokémon? And why?
"I…" You shake your head, trying to stay focused. "You saved me?"
"Well, I can't take full credit," the girl says with a little giggle. "It's really thanks to your amazing team!"
"My team…" Your hand reaches for your belt instinctively. "My team!"
But they are there. Three Pokéball, warm to the touch. Quiet, but full. You relax.
"When that storm started raging," the girl says, "I headed out to see if there was anything I could do to help. By the time I arrived, the ship was pulling away and the storm was abating, but then I saw you in the current… Your Croagunk and that Dragon-type, sorry, I don't know his name, they were pulling you towards the shore, keeping you afloat. But they were obviously tired. Neither were Water-types. So I swooped in and had Omny take over for them and carry you to the shore."
The nautiloid Pokémon happily waves its tentacles in the air, clearly proud of its contribution. The girl chuckles and rubs its shell, which it obviously enjoys.
"Your Pokémon wanted to make sure you were fine," she adds, "but they were so exhausted they were about to faint, so I took the liberty of returning them to their Pokéballs so they could rest… I hope I didn't overstep."
PSYCHIC: She gives you a warm, hopeful expression. It radiates a strange kind of energy, soothing to look upon.
DARK: Does she have psychic powers? Are you sensing them?
PSYCHIC: No. It is simply the face of a saint.
DARK: [Crestfallen] Oh. Oh, no, we've lost her.
PSYCHIC: You are bound forever now. Bound by that kiss you shared-
WATER: That wasn't a kiss! That was CPR!
FIGHTING: There was a Golem breaking our ribs and we puked half our stomach's worth of seawater!
DARK: Even if it was, we've kissed other people before, you airheaded pseudoromantic!
STEEL: We will not be forming fleeting attachments based on such flimsy reasoning! You're not the one making those calls!
PSYCHIC: [Firmly] This kiss will forever-
DARK: I'm gonna get her!
DRAGON: [An inchoate roar of fury, followed by a chaos of sound which manifests as a brief, splitting headache.]
POISON: This is why we should stop dealing with 'people.' The next time you feel 'attraction', I suggest turning to alcohol instead.
THOUGHT ACQUIRED: EXTREMELY NORMAL ABOUT PEOPLE
You wince, your mind briefly filling with a sensation like the sound of static on a radio, pain flashing through and soon gone.
"Are you alright?" the girl asks. "Does your head hurt?"
"Yeah," you say, "yeah, I just… It'll pass."
You look at her again, expecting further intrusive thoughts, but nothing comes. You're no longer sure what her expression means anymore. Is it… neutral? She doesn't seem angry, you'd be able to tell that one, you think. You wait another second before realizing she might be waiting for you to say something.
"...thanks," you try. "For saving my life."
"Like I said," her mouth quirks up, "your Pokémon are the ones to thank. If they hadn't been working so hard to keep you afloat, I might have…" Her voice trails off.
"Don't use that word," you say instinctively before you can think better of it; you immediately bite your tongue realizing what you just said. The girl is looking at you again.
"What word?"
Now you feel stupid, but there's not really any option other than explaining. "'Your' Pokémon. They don't… Belong to me. We're just together."
As you speak, you roll your hand across Croagunk's Pokéball. Letters and numbers flash slightly across the surface. She's asleep, which is another way to say 'KO'. Drakloak too. It's good that they're resting, but they need more than rest, they need attention. Bisharp isn't asleep, but you're not sure how much of what happened to you in the past hour or so he even perceived.
"As you wish," the girl says. "What would you like me to say then? Your… team? I can't just say 'these' Pokémon."
"...I'm not sure," you say after a long moment of awkward silence. "I'll get back to you on that. Where… are we?"
The girl chuckles, then stands up, the sides of her long tunic flapping in the wind. She waves to encompass the beach and the mountain beyond, their deep ruddy texture like an alien landscape, so little in the way of life or vegetation obvious at first. From the top of the mountain, you now realize, faint smoke streams towards the sky.
"Welcome to Cinnabar Island," the girl says. "Kanto's very own monument to the power and caprice of nature."
"Cinnabar…" you whisper, and suddenly your mind flashes back to moments before Kingdra's attack on the cruise ship. "But the brochure said… I thought Cinnabar Island was a settled island, with a gym…"
The girl's eyebrows shoot up. "Your brochure must have been really outdated. The eruption was a few years ago now. Wiped out most of the settlements on the island. There's still a PokéCenter, but…" She gives a glance at your belt. "Yeah, we should probably get your Pokémon there."
'Gravvy' and 'Omny' make rocky noises of approval. Croagunk won't like it, you think to yourself. You'll have to find a different approach for her, but it'll be at least good for Drakloak. You look at her two Pokémon and wonder - this girl doesn't immediately strike you as a Rock-type trainer. Maybe appearances are deceiving?
Then your attention is drawn to her hand. Which she's holding out in your direction, and staring at you.
"I'm Yellow, by the way," she says. "Nice to meet you."
POISON: LEGENDARY
CHECK: FAILED
POISON: Do not extend your trust to her just because she saved your life. She has an agenda; everyone does. Remain vigilant.
After a moment, you realize that perhaps she's expecting you to take her hand. Realizing that you've been leaving her hanging on, you try to make up for it and bring up your hand too fast, nearly smacking her palm away, before managing an awkward shake.
"I, hm," you say. She's still looking at you. Her mouth quirks up again.
"And you are…?"
Oh.
Right.
Fuck.
DARK: You cannot, under any circumstances, tell her your actual name.
Why?
GHOST: That name is a life you left behind. It bears all that has failed you. It bears with it unfathomable sorrow and abysses of betrayal. Every time you hear it, it is like a needle digging into your skin.
DARK: Also you're probably in a criminal database somewhere.
Is that something you should be worried about?
DARK: DIFFICULT
CHECK: FAILED
DARK: Definitely. Interpol is probably all over your shit as we speak. You think they'd really release you without constant surveillance? What if that Weedle guy on the boat was a spy? What is the kid with the Furret was? What if he wasn't a kid at all?
STEEL: Let's not get carried away here.
DARK: As far as the world is concerned, you died a hero, falling off that ship. That's your fresh start. Use it. Burn the old you to the ground.
DRAGON: I always thought our name kinda sucked. We should have been called something loftier, something that would strike awe and fear in the hearts of all who meet us.
But what name should that be?
DARK: Something inconspicuous. You don't want to stand out, but you're not familiar with Kanto's naming practices. Mirror her own name, pick a color.
DRAGON: Something cool. Like, it has to be something where someone hears it and thinks, 'damn, that chick must be the real deal.'
POISON: Something personal. The name you were betrayed by. Reclaim it, make it your own. You're the one who truly deserves it.
Choose a name.
[ ] "Black. My name is Black. Pleased to meet you."
[ ] "My name is… Lance?" [You can be cooler than that. Make it more.] "Lancer. My name's Lancer."
[ ] "My name is Harmonia Natural Gropius. …'H,' for short."
