Out Of My League

[Sid87]

“He got let go from the Poke Mart a few weeks ago,” Daphne answered regretfully.

That's really nicely done, subtle character-building. I already have an image of Roy in my head (Especially with the name Roy already leading me to think of a character from The Office, which works even better).

Thoughts up to this point since I finally found a reason to just stop reading: At first, I wasn't sure how well-developed Milly and Daphne's relationship was becoming from this scene until I thought about it: they love and cherish each other and are very close, but Daphne PERHAPS doesn't entirely respect Milly's job (OR is slightly jealous of it...I can't quite tell yet; there seems to be some extremely low level of resentment or...something negative I can't quite put a finger on). Milly feels like the younger sister in that she seems somewhat cowed by Daphne (Daphne lets her real self through when she speaks; Milly seems to force laughs or come at her ideas a bit sideways). So yes...I may be WAY OFF in any of my thoughts, but this section is doing a better job of establishing their relationship than I thought at first. It's all very subtle and insidious.

Not sure what to think of the Misdreavus scene on the phone and the subsequent discussion about Misdreavus and Snubull. I actually hadn't originally pictured Milly as someone who even OWNED a pokemon, so there's one interpretation of mine that was way off.

These would be the kids whose parents insist that their children at the very least develop a few math skills and basic reading comprehension, but don’t value education enough to make them go anywhere beyond that.

Something threw me here about the commas. There should be commas around "at the very least". They aren't mandatory commas, but they really make that read a little better in my opinion. And there avtually shouldn't be a comma before "but" since there is no subsequent subject. It's just a compound predicate which doesn't require a comma.

Other notes from along the way: I'm assuming Roy is going to be the dopey comic-relief of this group, but I also don't FULLY trust Milly as a narrator, so it's possible he's a better/more reliable character than she is letting herself believe.

"McMiltank's" was a bigger groaner than most of Milly's unused headlines from the prologue. But in a fun way.

I like the Juniper-Hvam study reference. Lovely realistic world-building.

Grade-school graduation as a standard is not as silly as it sounds. Oh, sure, most well-paying jobs are still situated at the higher end of the education spectrum. But among low-paying jobs, more consideration is given to applicants that at the very least completed grade school, and even more to those who made it all the way through junior high without bugging out to catch ‘em all.

I guess kind of like you with "alright" (but I still hate it! ), I'm not a big stickler for "You shouldn't start sentences with a conjunction!" There are some instances where I think it sounds perfectly fine and more dramatic to do so. I'm not sure if this is one of those, though. My brain really wants "...end of the education spectrum, but among low-paying..." to flow into one line. Conversely, I could TOTALLY see there being a full stop after "completed grade school" and starting the next sentence with the following "And" because I already get a sense of a longer pause there. Maybe just the way my brain read the paragraph, though.

To be perfectly honest, I don’t know what she sees in him. …Alright, that’s a lie. I at least know part of what she sees in him—such as the lightning-fast metabolism, the noticeably-in-use gym membership, the silky hair not entirely ruined by the gobs of hair gel he puts into it, and the prominent hazel eyes. But despite Daphne’s eye for… aesthetics, I know deep down that she’s not shallow enough to date Roy solely because of that. I’m just not sure what, if anything, of value lies beyond.

This is why I like Milly as a narrator. She really is unreliable and kind of a jerk. She tries to rationalize Daphne as somehow more than shallow, but it's SHE who can't see anything of note from Roy other than his physique and physical appearance. Jealousy? I get a feeling of it.

“I didn’t kill anything!” I retorted. I’d like to say that my anger wasn’t guilt-based, but that would be telling a lie—and telling a lie would make me feel guiltier (and therefore angrier). “It just got a little…”—I searched around for the right word—“wilted. Mom made me give him to a shelter and that was that.”

All the pokemon talk to this point has been quite entertaining. The thought that Bellsprout need to be watered is interesting and creative (you'd think that as long as you let them out of their ball regularly, they'd have enough sense to get their own water, but perhaps they are not spectacularly intelligent pokemon). The whole gender discussion of Misdreavus was very astute (I, like Roy, am always amazed to discover that they can be male). The Snubull is already pretty adorable. I've had fun reading about them. I am still curious, to this point, how "capable" pokemon are in this iteration. Are they communicative? Do they poke-speak? Are they self-aware (The Snubull doesn't seem to be, but Misdreavus certainly does, so perhaps there are levels of intelligence and thought processes based on species)?


-GreyHoundoom was every bit as fun/lame as McMiltank's. I love that stuff.

Overall, this was pretty fun. Like I said, right now, I'm getting the biggest kick out of Milly's vain, judgmental narration. I look forward to see her proven wrong early and often.

I'm sure I'd have more to say if it wasn't 730am and I started this an hour ago. I think I'm going to go back to bed. But I look forward to the next installment, of course!

[Skiyomi]

First off, Sid87, I just want to give a big thanks to you for commenting on this. I know you've been nightmarishly busy lately, so it means a lot

That's really nicely done, subtle character-building. I already have an image of Roy in my head (Especially with the name Roy already leading me to think of a character from The Office, which works even better).

Thanks! And ha! I've only ever actually seen, like, two episodes of The Office, so I didn't have that reference in mind.

Thoughts up to this point since I finally found a reason to just stop reading: At first, I wasn't sure how well-developed Milly and Daphne's relationship was becoming from this scene until I thought about it: they love and cherish each other and are very close, but Daphne PERHAPS doesn't entirely respect Milly's job (OR is slightly jealous of it...I can't quite tell yet; there seems to be some extremely low level of resentment or...something negative I can't quite put a finger on). Milly feels like the younger sister in that she seems somewhat cowed by Daphne (Daphne lets her real self through when she speaks; Milly seems to force laughs or come at her ideas a bit sideways). So yes...I may be WAY OFF in any of my thoughts, but this section is doing a better job of establishing their relationship than I thought at first. It's all very subtle and insidious.

I definitely think you're on to something about their relationship. I'd call it more weariness of Daphne's part than actual resentment. She's more straightforward and less neurotically driven than Milly is, and as a result, has spent a portion of her lifetime basically talking Milly down from metaphorical ledges. I think that might be what's coming through here.

Not sure what to think of the Misdreavus scene on the phone and the subsequent discussion about Misdreavus and Snubull. I actually hadn't originally pictured Milly as someone who even OWNED a pokemon, so there's one interpretation of mine that was way off.

I could see why you'd think that because she honestly doesn't strike as someone who would be good with Pokemon because... well, she isn't. I think part of the thing here is that I always consider ghost types to be a little different in terms of their intelligence, behavior and moral compass than other Pokemon, so it's not quite the same as her having another type.

Something threw me here about the commas. There should be commas around "at the very least". They aren't mandatory commas, but they really make that read a little better in my opinion. And there avtually shouldn't be a comma before "but" since there is no subsequent subject. It's just a compound predicate which doesn't require a comma.

Agreed on both counts. I'll go back and fix that after I finish this reply.

Other notes from along the way: I'm assuming Roy is going to be the dopey comic-relief of this group, but I also don't FULLY trust Milly as a narrator, so it's possible he's a better/more reliable character than she is letting herself believe.

You're right to distrust Milly as a narrator. I'm a little hesitant to answer that assessment of Roy--I would consider him more an opposing viewpoint, perhaps closer to a rival or even a quasi-antagonist than anything. But the fact that Milly is narrating will certain skew him toward that role if she can pull it off... and... well... his own behavior too can be at fault.

I like the Juniper-Hvam study reference. Lovely realistic world-building.

Thanks! It's a weirdly meta study-name, though, because Khristine Hvam is Professor Juniper's English voice.

I guess kind of like you with "alright" (but I still hate it! ), I'm not a big stickler for "You shouldn't start sentences with a conjunction!" There are some instances where I think it sounds perfectly fine and more dramatic to do so. I'm not sure if this is one of those, though. My brain really wants "...end of the education spectrum, but among low-paying..." to flow into one line. Conversely, I could TOTALLY see there being a full stop after "completed grade school" and starting the next sentence with the following "And" because I already get a sense of a longer pause there. Maybe just the way my brain read the paragraph, though.

I'm glad you're not one of those people that's a stickler for that... because honestly I think it's one of the most schoolmarmy complaints a person can make that pretty much ignores a lot of great literature (inculding the Bible).

I'm going to have to think over your suggestion here, because I've gone over both my version and your version about three times in my head and, while I dislike neither version, mine feels more natural to me. But that's probably because it was composed to my voice and to my pauses. I might have to do some sentence massaging there in some other way, though, because I see your point (largely about the first period you mention. I don't want to turn the last comma into a period... but if I change one and not the other, it becomes a pretty unweildy sentence). I'll give this one some thought.

This is why I like Milly as a narrator. She really is unreliable and kind of a jerk. She tries to rationalize Daphne as somehow more than shallow, but it's SHE who can't see anything of note from Roy other than his physique and physical appearance. Jealousy? I get a feeling of it.

Overall, this was pretty fun. Like I said, right now, I'm getting the biggest kick out of Milly's vain, judgmental narration. I look forward to see her proven wrong early and often.

Ha! You've got her dead to rights. She is self-obsessed, quick to judge and rather... appetite-driven at times. To her credit, though, I think she has a degree of self-awareness about her faults... not always, but often.

All the pokemon talk to this point has been quite entertaining. The thought that Bellsprout need to be watered is interesting and creative (you'd think that as long as you let them out of their ball regularly, they'd have enough sense to get their own water, but perhaps they are not spectacularly intelligent pokemon). The whole gender discussion of Misdreavus was very astute (I, like Roy, am always amazed to discover that they can be male). The Snubull is already pretty adorable. I've had fun reading about them. I am still curious, to this point, how "capable" pokemon are in this iteration. Are they communicative? Do they poke-speak? Are they self-aware (The Snubull doesn't seem to be, but Misdreavus certainly does, so perhaps there are levels of intelligence and thought processes based on species)?

The intelligence level is probably going to vary quite broadly based on species. I usually consider ghost Pokemon pretty intelligent, and even to some degree capable of direct communication (if only with someone psychically gifted) and able to use more influence even when they can't communicate directly. Snubbull would have basically the intelligence of a dog, perhaps a little higher--but smart in ways dogs can be smart, i.e. in getting things they want.

Milly was originally going to have a Gastly, because that line contains some of my favorite Pokemon and I wanted her to have a Ghost Pokemon that she got in the course of her last book. But I'm already writing a story where someone has that line, so I wanted to do something a little different. I already feel like I've gotten a lot of mileage out of changing my plan to Misdreavus.

-GreyHoundoom was every bit as fun/lame as McMiltank's. I love that stuff.

XD I'd imagine more's on the way!

Once again, thank you so much for the comments! I wish I could say the next installment will be up and running soon, but there are a lot of Halloween-based writing projects I'd like to take up, so those will probably be keeping me occupied this month. Though, who knows? Maybe I'll encounter a rapid increase in productivity. A girl can hope!

[Skiyomi]

Chapter 2. Small Town.

I have a theory about places like New Bark Town. You know, the kind of closed-off, out of the way and above all tiny communities that would be rendered completely insignificant to the rest of the world if it weren’t for the fact that someone absurdly famous was born there. Such places often become infused with a sense of wonder and mysticism. They can become a source of… anything, really—morality, common sense, and even, strangely enough, reality. I remember shortly after Lyra Soulis took down the Elite Four to become Johto and Kanto’s new champion, there were a bunch of articles about her and about New Bark. In its rush to praise the then-tween champion, the Violet Examiner expressed its gratitude that someone from “the real Johto” had beaten the league. I hope it was as big a surprise to Lance as it was to me that Blackthorn City is part of the fictional Johto.

Small towns get a lot of credit for shaping these brilliant men and women—for teaching them values and self-reliance and hard work and a love of the simple life. Big cities, on the other hand, are, as we all known, bubbling cauldrons of indolent sin and decadence that can only instill in their residence a leech-like craving for the blood-toil of others. That’s the narrative. And when writers at my own beloved Goldenrod Gazette described New Barkian champion Lyra Soulis as being from “the heart and soul of Johto” (I get it, Mike. Hilarious. Puns are my department.) they weren’t just stroking New Bark’s small town ego. They were playing into that narrative.

The ironic thing, and something I’m sure you’ve figured out just from the newspaper names I’ve tossed around, is that some city folk preach this as gospel with as much fervor as people who actually live in small towns. I’m not entirely sure why. Perhaps they see places like New Bark town as manageable, safe and quiet after the noise and slog of places like Goldenrod. I often hear people claim that someday they’re going to leave the city and retire in a place like that, but I know they’ll be back. They won’t be able to sleep without the sweet lullaby of car alarms.

As I stared into the scant main street that constituted downtown New Bark, with such thrilling attractions as the corner store and a dentist office, I knew exactly why young people who leave such towns are so determined to be successful. It’s so they never have to come back to places like this again.

I had been bored on the bus, but it was the kind of boredom I could deal with. I’d mentally planned out my interview with Professor Elm, played every single car trip game I could remember with Daphne, and complained every half an hour about the fact that reading in moving vehicles gave me a headache. But getting out of the bus was something else. It was as though New Bark Town itself had wrapped me in a cloak of dullness. It was quiet… except for…

It was the windmills! The goddamn windmills! They were all over the place on raised white platforms coated in chipped paint. They filtered the waning light of the day, casting long shadows as they turned and turned. They were probably ear-splitting up at propeller-decapitation distance, but from where I was standing all you could hear was a low thwooph-thwooph-faaa. The sound was endless. Monotonous. Maddening. I glared up at the offensively rural things, tapped my sneakers together and muttered, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.” It didn’t work. I was still in New Bark Town.

“So,” Daphne said, enviably and mysteriously fresh as a daisy as she stepped out of the bus, “what do we do now?’

“Well,” I began, deciding not to suggest murder-suicide pacts even as I stared into the swirling blades above, “I’ve got to get to my interview with Professor Elm. I guess you guys could just hang out at the Pokemon Center while I’m gone.”

“There is no Pokemon Center in New Bark,” Roy corrected me, huffing only slightly as he hauled our luggage from the top of the bus. “Everyone knows that.”

I grimaced. This was one of the few areas I figured Roy would know what he was talking about. “That doesn’t make sense,” I whined, hoping to argue away the facts. “So many kids come down here to get their starters. What do they do without a center?”

“There’s a healing machine at Professor Elm’s lab,” Roy explained.

“Well, that’s great and all, but it doesn’t exactly help all those newbie trainers looking for a place to stay,” I countered sourly. In my defense I think everything between my knees and my shoulders had gone numb from my tenure on the bus seat. And in all honesty my lodging concerns were less for the newbie trainers and more for the stupid twenty-something writer who had hoped to forego sleeping in the woods for at least one more night.

Roy shrugged. “People don’t go on Pokemon journeys to not go camping,” he pointed out.

“Fine,” I snapped. “Then hang out in the Poke Mart.”

Roy raised his eyebrows at me. “Do you think a town without a Pokemon Center really has a Poke Mart?”

It’s possible I deserved that.

“Then go to the corner store and buy some fruit snacks or something,” I suggested, getting a little frustrated. I couldn’t stop staring at twin windmills that stood in the distance. From my vantage point they looked like two swirling eyes bent on hypnotizing me into a senseless, sleepy trance.

“We already have all the food we can fit into our bags,” Daphne pointed out, struggling to lift her overstocked backpack.

“Then just… I don’t know, check out the windmills or something!” I said, waving a dramatic hand in the direction of the spinning blades.

“What are we supposed to do with windmills?” Roy asked flatly, as though disappointed that I hadn’t laid out a tourist schedule for him and Daph for the periods in which I would be busy doing book-related things.

I said nothing for a moment, trying not to think of razor sharp edges and Roy’s neck and the things he could do with windmills. Finally I suggested with a dark little chuckle, “If you brought a sword than you could tilt at them.”

“…Why would I tilt at windmills?” Roy repeated, in a tone that suggested that he was certain I was losing my mind and was readying himself to tackle me should I make any sudden or violent moves.

“Never mind,” I said, feeling the sense of depression that falls when someone doesn’t understand my jokes. An idea occurred to me and I brightened slightly.

“Our illustrious champion Lyra’s family home has got to be around here somewhere,” I said, turning to Daphne. “Maybe you could check it out? Get a picture or something?”

Daphne found this much more agreeable than picking a fight with seemingly innocent windmills and Roy couldn’t find a reason to disagree, so I let them scoot off carrying all of the gear beyond the carry-on bag I’d brought on the bus.

I didn’t even bother to get out the assortment of maps I’d gathered in preparation for the task ahead. New Bark was small, and Elm’s lab had to be the biggest building around. I didn’t imagine it would be hard to find.

Perhaps it was the talk of fighting windmills that made humming the main theme from the musical version of Donphan Quixote irresistible. I stuck my chin out in the direction I thought I’d find the lab, finding renewed determination in the song.

“My destiny calls and I go,” I sang quietly to myself as I struck out in the direction of a large (by New Bark standards) building with an impressive array of antennae on the roof.

*****

My first look at the interior of the Elm Laboratory reminded me of home more than I’d expected. Oh, of course, my home is not strewn with smoking vials of chemicals, or surgical kits or pens of napping Pokemon. But my office space is lousy with loose books, old snack wrappers, notebooks of scratchy handwriting and every bit of wall space is layered in post-it notes. In those aspects, Elm Lab was similar. I’ve frequently tried to justify my messy surroundings at home by saying it’s appropriate to a literary-minded person such as myself. I’d always thought of science-types as being neater, more organized. But as Professor Elm himself stepped forward to greet me, his pockets jammed with notes to the point that some spilled out onto the floor as he walked, I knew I was in for a different type of science guy.

“Oh, Miss Gleason,” he said with a smile as he stepped over a pile of books on move inheritance. He snapped off the gloves he’d been wearing before offering his hand for me to shake, so as to not smear me with Girafarig embryos or whatever it was he’d been working with. “I’ve been expecting you. Sorry for the mess,” he added sheepishly. “I’d say I’m in the middle of something, but I always am.”

As I drew back from the handshake I got a good look at him for the first time in person. Of course, I’d seen him on TV, but of course everyone looks weird on TV. At least, that’s what I told myself the last time I appeared on the Morning in Johto show—because my forehead cannot possibly look that big in real life.

In any case, my first instinct is to say that Professor Elm was young… which isn’t quite accurate. He’s certainly young if your idea of what a Professor should be looks like Professor Oak, but other than that… not really. I get the feeling that, despite that, he gets called “kid” at professorial conferences. If he wants to avoid that kind of commentary, he should probably shave off the bare beginnings of a goatee. But then again, that might be there to counteract the only slightly premature receding hairline. Or perhaps Professor Elm simply keeps himself too busy to bother shaving.

“I won’t stay too long,” I assured him. “I know it’s close to dinner, so I’ll keep my questions to the point.” Admittedly this wasn’t entirely for his benefit. The squished sandwich I’d had on the bus lo those many hours ago hadn’t hit the spot for long.

He adjusted his glasses so the light from the ceiling flashed off of them for a second. “Oh, it’s no trouble. I’m sure you can imagine. what with getting wrapped up in one project or another. that I’m used to having meals at irregular times.”

“…But is your family used to it?” I asked uncertainly.

He gave a little laugh. “Well, they don’t complain too much anymore,” he answered.

…Which didn’t necessarily mean they were okay with it. I couldn’t help but notice that Professor Elm’s aqua dress shirt bore no marks of being ironed, so perhaps Mrs. Elm has her own quiet revenge for the lack of order in their lives.

“Well, anyway,” Professor Elm said, clapping his hands together, “should we get started? I hope you don’t mind conducting our interview here in the lab.”

“It’s alright with me,” I answered as he hefted some stacks of paper off of two folding chairs. “So… working on anything interesting lately?” I asked as I sat down in the newly cleared chair across from him

It had been more of a polite question then anything. I don’t know exactly what I expected him to say in response. Maybe something like, “Oh, you know—science stuff!” and then he’d move on to the questions I’d really come there to ask. But no, he brightened at the question, and I realized with a dull sense of dread that he was going to give me a real answer—and not a brief one at that.

“Oh, it’s a fascinating area of research,” he enthused, taking the seat opposite me. “I’m working in conjunction with the Pewter Museum of Science on a subject that crosses over both my field of expertise and theirs.” He paused. “You’re familiar with mechanics of breeding, right?”

“Not as frequently as I’d like to be,” I answered. It was a sad, weak little joke, but he didn’t even seem to recognize it as one.

“Well then, you at least know that all breedable Pokemon that have been categorized thus far all reproduce in more or less the same way,” he went forward. “Oh, there are individual rituals based on species and not all species can breed with all other species. But what I’m getting at is that all the Pokemon whose breeding patterns we’ve studied reproduce through egg-laying.”

“Now, humans on the other hand, as I’m sure you’re aware, give birth to live young,” he added. “What’s always struck us as rather odd, among scientists who specialize in Pokemon breeding, is that there is such uniformity to Pokemon reproduction, even among those who bare more biological similarities to human beings in some ways than to other Pokemon species.”

“Take Miltank for example,” he continued, waving a hand expressively in the air. “It’s a classic example of a mammalian Pokemon. It’s warm-blooded, has a four-chambered heart, has hair and, of course, the smoking gun here is the eponymous mammary glands.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, catching a toe on some scattered notes on the floor as I did. It struck me as strange that this conversation had turned into a more scientific and verbose version of the time I’d gone on a tour of Moo Moo Farm and overheard a thirteen-year-old boy snicker to his friend something along the lines of “Miltank has titties.”

“Now, I know we all enjoy Moo Moo Milk,” Professor Elm added with a small smile as he casually wrote off the Moo Moo Milk-intolerant segment of the population. “But the actual intent of the milk is to nurse the Pokemon’s young, just as humans nurse their offspring. Such an ability is largely obsolete in an oviparous creature whose young derive their nutrients from the yolk. Miltank’s ability to lactate has largely become a means to acquire a beverage instead of a vital strategy for passing on sustenance and immunity to its offspring.”

I felt we were straying somewhat from the point, so I opened my mouth to recalibrate the conversation. He spoke again, though, before I could get a word out.

“Now, why, you ask, would Miltank possess this feature more associated with live birth than egg-laying?” Elm continued, though, for the record, I did not ask. “Well, that’s where the researchers and paleontologists at the Pewter Museum come in. We’ve theorized that perhaps at one point in history there was a split among Pokemon between those who gave birth to live young and those who would lay eggs, but that over time natural selection favored egg-laying and the more mammalian Pokemon that we have today are examples of creatures whose ancestors were placental mammals, but who adapted to become egg-laying ones.”

“Fascinating,” I said in a brittle voice—and in a way it was—it just wasn’t terrifically relevant to the mental list of questions I wanted to ask. “But I wondered—”

“Oh, we’ve yet to make our case completely,” Elm said, as though this answered the question I’d yet to ask. “But the fossil record does show a tremendous lack of fossilized eggs among the ancestors of mammalian Pokemon, and that certainly suggests we’re on the right track. If it does turn out a shift happened, then I have to wonder what prompted the shift. My current theory is that the uniformity of the breeding system allows for more cross-breeding between species of Pokemon, which in turn gives them all a better chance of reproductive success.” He beamed at me, his face slightly shiny with the sweat of a discovery yet to be made. “After all, to have the kind of breeding compatibility that can allow such disparate creatures as a Skitty and a Wailord to breed is something quite spectacular.”

“Yeah…” I said, finally getting to cut in as he took a breath. “My real question about that is how they found out those two could breed in the first place. I mean… who tried to get them to do it and how drunk were they?”

He looked slightly taken aback by this. “It’s all just in the spirit of inquiry, I can assure you,” he said, futzing with his white jacket in an attempt to shake out the wrinkles.

Ah, the good old spirit of inquiry. It makes for a great excuse in my field as well as his because it makes the asking of questions a right …as in “the public has a right to know.” When you boil the phrase down it basically becomes “I want to know because I am nosy” but nosiness sometimes gets a bad rep. Humans are curious creatures by nature.

…And it is that curiosity that sometimes pushes us to the point of putting two drastically different sized animals in a cage to try to make them breed. Hmmm.

In that moment I couldn’t say what exactly had led to Pokemon changing their breeding patterns to egg-laying (if Elm’s theory is correct), but I knew that even if humans hadn’t started it, they’d reinforced it. You can be a trainer without having at least a second-hand brush with the world of breeding, and many of the best trainers get downright obsessed with it. It’s all to pick the best potential parents to create the best potential offspring. Species can be bred with other species to pass down moves that a Pokemon might normally not be able to learn. Immunity, strength, speed, talent and temperament… the keys to these lie in genetics. Natural selection has been replaced with very unnatural selection.

Of course, all this breeding a better Pokemon business has consequences. Pokemon are asked to breed more frequently than they would in the wild in pursuit of that perfect combination. Eggs are abandoned or destroyed if they do not fit the standard the trainer or breeder is pursuing. There are some that see this as a necessary process; something that’s merely being done on a larger scale than nature could manage on its own—and that it has yielded incredible results. The Pokemon of today are not like the Pokemon of yesteryear.

But there are still others who balk at the process. Goldenrod Mayor Andrea Rawlings has referred to the activities of the highly lucrative breeding centers that take residence in the city as “nothing short of Poke-Eugenics.” I get her point, but I rather think she’s defanging her own argument with that term. Eugenics is far too serious and frightening a word to stick a “Poke” in front of.

I shook my head. The politics of breeding and eugenics. And to think, I’d just wanted to have a pleasant little chat about starters.

Starters. I blinked and saw my way in.

“So… under your theory,” I began, “would any of the Johto starters have had ancestors that gave birth to live young?”

He looked somewhat crestfallen, as though I’d blundered into some very inconvenient examples. “Uh… well, no,” he admitted. “Totodile, Chikorita and Cyndaquil all have traceable ancestors that we have egg-fossils of. As a matter of fact,” he added, brow furrowing slightly, as though hitting upon a troubling fact, “Cyndaquil sort of puts a wrench in the whole thing. It’s one of the precious few Pokemon with mammalian traits that we’ve found eggs for from its ancient counterparts. There are those who say that this discredits the entire theory, but I and my colleagues believe that Cyndaquil’s monotreme ancestors are the exception and not the rule.”

“I see,” I said, making a big show of fidgeting in my chair and looking around the lab. “You wouldn’t happen to have any starters here, would you? I’d love to get a look at them.”

He brightened after this brush with inconvenient facts and I knew the subject had been successfully changed. “Back here,” he said, standing up and gesturing toward a white-painted wire pen on the floor of the lab next to a desk with a computer monitor.

I scurried over to take a peek. I have to tell you, dear readers, that after the dense science talk about Pokemon breeding in antiquity and after my not so lovely thoughts about selective breeding, I needed a pick-me-up. The no-holds-barred injection of pure, unadulterated cuteness from that pen did the trick.

I immediately took out my Silph-Phone and snapped a picture of the little things—so much younger and smaller than the starters I usually see kids leading through Goldenrod. Totodile and Cyndaquil were napping in the corner, with Totodile curled around Cyndaquil leeching the fire-type’s warmth to heat its cold, reptilian blood. Chikorita trotted up to the edge of the pen as soon as I got there, as though it had learned to expect treats from approaching humans. I quickly sent the photograph to Daphne, texting an “awww!” message consisting of more w’s than someone with my literary training really should include. I’m not ashamed of the extra w’s. I am, however, slightly ashamed of the multiple exclamation points.

“Cute, aren’t they?” Elm asked, walking over to the cage with his hands in his pockets. “I’m expecting some kids from eastern Cherrygrove to be bused down this weekend. So I won’t get to enjoy this trio’s company in my lab for much longer.”

“Kids?” I repeated, having satisfied myself enough with virtual cooing so as to not need to coo out loud. “How many?” I asked.

“Two as of now,” Elm answered, leaning against the sturdy pen. “But a third might sign on before the week is over.”

“Huh,” I said to myself. “How do they decide who gets to pick first? Is it based on when you sign up?”

“That’s what it defaults to,” Professor Elm answered, pulling an only slightly linty treat from his pocket and fitting it through the wire cage to the waiting mouth of Chikorita, who chowed down on it greedily. “But only if the new trainers can’t work out the order among themselves.”

For some reason I’d never thought of the choice of three being changed to a choice of two or even no choice at all depending on how many trainers showed up. In movies and television shows about trainers it always seems to be about that epic choice between the three.

“It’d suck to wind up not getting your first choice just because someone else signed up before you,” I said, half to myself.

“Well, some trainers aren’t quite sure what they want and are happy to let others narrow it down for them,” Professor Elm pointed out.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I answered, as a thought suddenly occurred to me. “Plus I bet if they go second that they can just pick the Pokemon that their friend’s is weak against.”

“…That actually happens more often than you’d think,” Professor Elm admitted, scratching at his cheek somewhat nervously.

“Kind of a dick move,” I couldn’t help but observe.

“Well… there are some who’d describe it more as good strategy,” Elm said, voice heightening slightly.

“I suppose so,” I admitted, feeling a sudden instinct for controversy rise within me. “So,” I asked him slyly, “strategically speaking… which one’s the best?”

“The best?” Elm repeated, slightly taken aback by the directness of the question.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Even Professor Oak defers to you on the subject of Pokemon abilities and you’ve been passing out Johto starters to trainers for more than a decade. In your expert opinion, which Pokemon is the best pick?”

Chikorita seemed to be paying quite a lot of attention to Elm at this point. Even Totodile cracked an eye open and Cyndaquil lifted its head to hear the answer.

Elm waved a hand of surrender at me. “Oh, I can’t make that decision,” he said. “They’re all wonderful Pokemon and each could do very well under the care of the right trainer. I don’t think there’s one right choice. It’s all about which Pokemon is best for which trainer.” As an afterthought, he added, “…and which trainer is best for which Pokemon.”

“I see,” I asked, slightly disappointed that I couldn’t goad him into taking a hard line, but not at all surprised by that fact. “You know… come to think of it, wouldn’t it be easier to find the right Pokemon for the right trainer and vice versa if you offered more types as starters?”

He gripped the top bar of the cage and sighed. “It’s been a suggestion for years, actually. In fact, there’s a group of Connoisseurs up in Unova that’s quite emphatic about it. And there’s certainly some merit to the idea that not everyone’s ideal Pokemon is one of these three.” He took off his glasses and cleaned them against his white jacket. “But you’ve got to appreciate the simplicity of the system we have here—the kind of simplicity that works well. The three-starter system allows us to provide a balanced and rather self-contained choice. There’s a network at work here. Fire is weak against water, water against grass and grass against fire. Even young trainers who haven’t learned the more complicated terms of type match-ups can understand how these three work together, and, from that springboard, they can go forward to learning about the other types.”

“Not to mention that we already have a sophisticated breeding system for supplying these three Pokemon. Expanding the system would require a lot of thought and work. The thinking is that if a trainer does not wish to have any of these starters, that they could catch a Pokemon of their own, or buy one,” Elm explained.

He leveled a calculating look at me. “I take it your first Pokemon wasn’t a starter, Miss Gleason?”

“Me?” I asked, tearing my gaze away from the creatures in the cage. “No… uh… actually mine was a Bellsprout,” I confessed.

“Ah, so you’re a grass-type fan, then?” Professor Elm asked pleasantly.

“Chika!” the Chikorita in the cage called cheerily.

“Uh… not really,” I said, wincing. “I don’t have the Bellsprout anymore.”

At this comment, the Chikorita in the cage lost all of its budding affection for me and went to skulk in the back of its cage by the water bowl.

*****

The local corner store at the very least had a microwave and a frozen food section, so an unevenly cooked assortment of hot pockets made up our last meal before we hit Route 29. There were no tables or chairs around, so we simply sat on the sidewalk outside the store, bathed in fluorescent light and listening to the mostly muffled sound of the cashier’s radio on the other side of the shop door.

As Daphne reached over to wipe a bit of stray marinara sauce from Roy’s cheek, I looked for about the sixth time at the photograph Daphne had furnished me with.

It seemed like such a normal house. Blue pointed roof, polished wooden door, red mailbox, trash at the end of the driveway… there was no halo of greatness about it that said it was the house of a champion. Of course, perhaps that was because it was really the former house of a champion. Yes, Lyra maintains her address there, but the fact is that she’s been living in Saffron for the better part of a year now. Who can blame her for not spending too much time around here? Anyway, I understand it that she’s currently dating Fintan Gallagher, lead singer of the Saffron-based, fire-type themed boy-band The Charming Manders . I tell you this not because I enjoy celebrity gossip or even because I think it will still be true by the time this book is published—I don’t—but because I’d like to consider this a little time capsule of information.

Celebrity teen romances, I tell ya.

Small towns do not always have small people. There are people like our champion Lyra who have immense talent in a game that we seem to have decided as a society is of the utmost importance and value. And there are people like Professor Elm who can wonder deep and occasionally incomprehensible things about the essence of life itself—thoughts which probably result in something lasting and life-changing enough to justify skipping a few dinners. Lyra left. Elm stayed.

When Daphne had handed me the photograph of Lyra’s disappointingly ordinary childhood home, she told me that she and Roy were not the only ones visiting the site. Several through-hikers from Blackthorn City were crowded around the house. They’d passed Daphne their camera to take a group picture in front of the place, after clearly sensing there was an expert in their midst. They’d been wandering about uncertainly, she said. It was like they wanted to play tourist at the house of the champion, but there was nothing to tour.

It wasn’t surprising to hear that people wanted to see the place—for trainers to pay homage to the current talent-to-beat. New Bark could’ve capitalized on it. They could’ve had guided tours, historical sites, they could’ve set up an infrastructure including hotels and restaurants to encourage people to book their vacations down here. They could’ve built a friggin’ rollercoaster.

But they didn’t. Making the place interesting would’ve been sort of a betrayal of the simplicity they claimed. Charming, quaint and salt-of-the-earth… these qualities start to lose their authenticity when polished with a veneer of tourism. It becomes boxed up, pre-packed, fake.

I knew in that moment that I would’ve taken fake any day over what New Bark had to offer me. I also knew for a fact that, in the coming days as we would strike out onto the hiking roads and spend our nights in tents eating meals cooked over a wisp of flames and a pile of sticks, that I would soon long for the creature comforts and high society of even New Bark town.

[AquaMilotic]

It was a nice read, I enjoyed it. There's not that much I can say in this mini-review, but oh well:

I liked how you included Lyra as the new champion.

Professor Elm seemed in-character, anime-wise.

I also like how you mentioned the typical game standard of picking starters that are strong against your friend's starter.

“That’s what it defaults to,” Professor Elm answered, pulling an only slightly linty treat from his pocket and fitting it through the wire cage to the waiting mouth of Chikorita, who chowed down on it greedily. “But only if the new trainers can’t work out the order among themselves.”

Why are those Pokemon in a cage? That's just mistreatment! For some reason, in the anime, Poke Balls are fine, but putting them in a cage? Sorry, but why are they in a cage instead of a Poke Ball?

[Skiyomi]

Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it!

Yeah, I chose to make Lyra the champion for this one. Last time I had a choice I went with Ethan, so it seemed only fair.

Why are those Pokemon in a cage? That's just mistreatment! For some reason, in the anime, Poke Balls are fine, but putting them in a cage? Sorry, but why are they in a cage instead of a Poke Ball?

...Umm... pardon my tone, but mind explaining to me just how the hell that's mistreatment? In the real world, people have small animals that they keep as pets in cages all the time so that they can't hurt themselves unsupervised. Hell, in the real world we keep babies in pens for that very reason reason. Would you expect me to keep them running free in a lab full of dangerous implements that they could hurt themselves on? And they're not in their Poke balls because they still need to be out for some excercise and social time. I'm absolutely mystified as to why you think keeping them in the close-off suspended animation of the Poke ball is somehow kinder than putting them together in a pen that's big enough for them to play in together.

[AquaMilotic]

Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it!

Yeah, I chose to make Lyra the champion for this one. Last time I had a choice I went with Ethan, so it seemed only fair.



...Umm... pardon my tone, but mind explaining to me just how the hell that's mistreatment? In the real world, people have small animals that they keep as pets in cages all the time so that they can't hurt themselves unsupervised. Hell, in the real world we keep babies in pens for that very reason reason. Would you expect me to keep them running free in a lab full of dangerous implements that they could hurt themselves on? And they're not in their Poke balls because they still need to be out for some excercise and social time. I'm absolutely mystified as to why you think keeping them in the close-off suspended animation of the Poke ball is somewhere kinder than putting them together in a pen that's big enough for them to play in together.

You're welcome!

Okay, then it indeed seems fair.

Well, Pokemon never complain about being in a Poke Ball (except for Ash's Pikachu and Dawn's Piplup, but those are exceptions), but when I think about Pokemon in a cage, I just think about this (link)...

However, if the cage is big, I suppose it's fine, and you just said "a pen that's big enough for them to play in together", so then my comment was not right, sorry for this.

[Sid87]

Chapter 2. Small Town.

Yes, it's taken me forever to get here, but I am here now. Sorry for the delay!

I have a theory about places like New Bark Town. You know, the kind of closed-off, out of the way and above all tiny communities that would be rendered completely insignificant to the rest of the world if it weren’t for the fact that someone absurdly famous was born there. Such places often become infused with a sense of wonder and mysticism. They can become a source of… anything, really—morality, common sense, and even, strangely enough, reality. I remember shortly after Lyra Soulis took down the Elite Four to become Johto and Kanto’s new champion, there were a bunch of articles about her and about New Bark. In its rush to praise the then-tween champion, the Violet Examiner expressed its gratitude that someone from “the real Johto” had beaten the league. I hope it was as big a surprise to Lance as it was to me that Blackthorn City is part of the fictional Johto.

A lot of good stuff here, primarily the poking at real-world media (and they know who they are) that act like big cities (i.e., the places that don't vote the way that the aforementioned media want them to) aren't the "real America". Also...going with Lyra over Ethan. Women's Equality, score 1.

As I stared into the scant main street that constituted downtown New Bark, with such thrilling attractions as the corner store and a dentist office, I knew exactly why young people who leave such towns are so determined to be successful. It’s so they never have to come back to places like this again.

It's probably just me, but I think the first sentence would be more entertaining (and by that, I mean sarcastic) if it was written as "with such thrilling attractions as Corner Store and Dentist Office...". It works either way, but I think that way might just fit a bit better with the facetious tone of Milly's narration.

and complained every half an hour about the fact the reading in moving vehicles gave me a headache.

Should be "that".

It was the windmills! The goddamn windmills! They were all over the place on raised white platforms coated in chipped paint. They filtered the waning light of the day, casting long shadows as they turned and turned. They were probably ear-splitting up at propeller-decapitation distance, but from where I was standing all you could hear was a low thwooph-thwooph-faaa. The sound was endless. Monotonous. Maddening. I glared up at the offensively rural things, tapped my sneakers together and muttered, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.” It didn’t work. I was still in New Bark Town.

1) Super odd coincidence? My newest chapter of BB has a Wizard of Oz reference, too.

2) Fun fact: My wife is terrified of windmills. The county I used to work in was lousy with them, and any time she saw them, even at a distance, she told me she was irrationally afraid a blade would snap off and come kill her. Milly sounds like she is, too (am I the only one who DOESN'T automatically think of decapitation/impalement when I see them?).

I said nothing for a moment, trying not to think of razor sharp edges and Roy’s neck and the things he could do with windmills. Finally I suggested with a dark little chuckle, “If you brought a sword than you could tilt at them.”

I have seen the blades up close, Milly; I promise they aren't razor-sharp. And while I get the Don Qixote reference, I have never, for the life of me, understood what "tilting at windmills" meant.

Perhaps it was the talk of fighting windmills that made humming the main theme from the musical version of Donphan Quixote

GROAN.

…Which didn’t necessarily mean they were okay with it. I couldn’t help but notice that Professor Elm’s aqua dress shirt bore no marks of being ironed, so perhaps Mrs. Elm has her own quiet revenge for the lack of order in their lives.

Milly just instantly assumes ironing/laundry is a woman's job. Taking that point back from women's equality after all.

“After all, to have the kind of breeding compatibility that can allow such disparate creatures as a Skitty and a Wailord to breed is something quite spectacular.”

Oh, it's the Ghost Of Memes Past! Always fun.

The egg stuff is really interesting to see all described in depth. I'll admit to having wondered about it myself (though not in the context of Miltank producing milk, admittedly). You've put a lot of thought into this, I see.

I scurried over to take a peek. I have to tell you, dear readers, that after the dense science talk about Pokemon breeding in antiquity and after my not so lovely thoughts about selective breeding, I needed a pick-me-up. The no-holds-barred injection of pure, unadulterated cuteness from that pen did the trick.

I must admit, this is the first sense I've had in some time that this story is actually the story Milly is WRITING and not just her mental narration as it goes. It seems weird then to add in details like finding Roy physically attractive in the narration (would she really add that in a publication?).

I immediately took out my Silph-Phone and snapped a picture of the little things—so much younger and smaller than the starters I usually see kids leading through Goldenrod. Totodile and Cyndaquil were napping in the corner, with Totodile curled around Cyndaquil leeching the fire-type’s warmth to heat its cold, reptilian blood. Chikorita trotted up to the edge of the pen as soon as I got there, as though it had learned to expect treats from approaching humans. I quickly sent the photograph to Daphne, texting an “awww!” message consisting of more w’s than someone with my literary training really should include. I’m not ashamed of the extra w’s. I am, however, slightly ashamed of the multiple exclamation points.

Funny and charming.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I answered, as a thought suddenly occurred to me. “Plus I bet if they go second that they can just pick the Pokemon that their friend’s is weak against.”

“…That actually happens more often than you’d think,” Professor Elm admitted, scratching at his cheek somewhat nervously.

More fun tropes!

“Me?” I asked, tearing my gaze away from the creatures in the cage. “No… uh… actually mine was a Bellsprout,” I confessed.

“Ah, so you’re a grass-type fan, then?” Professor Elm asked pleasantly.

“Chika!” the Chikorita in the cage called cheerily.

“Uh… not really,” I said, wincing. “I don’t have the Bellsprout anymore.”

At this comment, the Chikorita in the cage lost all of its budding affection for me and went to skulk in the back of its cage by the water bowl.

Also very charming.

The Elm stuff was interesting... he always did seem like the most flustered and scatter-brained of the professors to me based on the games, and I think you did a resally good job with him. Not sure that I have any additional advice on what you could have done with him.

I could have used more Milly/Daphne/Roy than we got. I understand now all chapters can focus on them, but I feel their dynamic drives the story, and you did basically JUST get them together, so it seemed a bit early to me for them to be written out of a chapter. But oh well. I'm sure we'll get lots more of them.

Sorry again for the delay, but I did enjoy this chapter!

[Skiyomi]

Yes, it's taken me forever to get here, but I am here now. Sorry for the delay!

Oh pshaw! You're waaaaay more on top of things than I am, so there's no need to apologize. Thanks so much for taking the time to leave comments

Also...going with Lyra over Ethan. Women's Equality, score 1.

Ha! Yeah, I made Ethan the champ in Until I Defeat You, so I figured it was Lyra's turn in this fic.

Fun fact: My wife is terrified of windmills. The county I used to work in was lousy with them, and any time she saw them, even at a distance, she told me she was irrationally afraid a blade would snap off and come kill her. Milly sounds like she is, too (am I the only one who DOESN'T automatically think of decapitation/impalement when I see them?).

It actually seems to be a surprisingly not uncommon fear. Or at least, blaming windmills irrationally for ailments is. I don't think Milly's exactly afraid of them, she's just away from home and unhappy about it and lumping most of that hate onto the windmills.

And while I get the Don Qixote reference, I have never, for the life of me, understood what "tilting at windmills" meant.

I thought it meant engaging in a pointless activity and had some dialogue planned around that fact. But then I double-checked it when I was looking it up and it more specifically just means lashing out against enemies that don't exist. Which... I guess I knew, but I thought the definition was broader. Oh well.

GROAN. :P

You may groan, but you have no idea how long I spent trying to figure out how best to convey this joke. I was determined to include the reference whether people got it or not, but I still wanted it to be as clear as possible. I went through a lot of versions of things like "Manaphy of La Mancha" before I just went with Donphan Quixote.

Milly just instantly assumes ironing/laundry is a woman's job. Taking that point back from women's equality after all.

A rather odd comment from a woman who probably doesn't even fold her clothes let alone iron them :P but I assume Milly is willing to be backwards and stereotyping if she thinks she can get a quip in.

The egg stuff is really interesting to see all described in depth. I'll admit to having wondered about it myself (though not in the context of Miltank producing milk, admittedly). You've put a lot of thought into this, I see.

It was really supposed to be a side note--just a way of showing that Elm kind of goes off on these intellectual tangents. But then it just... grew. I started researching it and it just started to take over the chapter. Maybe I should've saved it for a time in the future when they visit a Day Care center or something, but I couldn't help myself because I found it quite interesting.

I must admit, this is the first sense I've had in some time that this story is actually the story Milly is WRITING and not just her mental narration as it goes. It seems weird then to add in details like finding Roy physically attractive in the narration (would she really add that in a publication?).

Her rationale for this, which I think is glanced over briefly in chapter one, is that Roy specifically would not read anything she wrote. I'd also consider her the type of person that's willing to open herself up to a certain amount of and a certain type of humiliation if it means churning out authentic and personally dramatic material.

Funny and charming.

I'm glad it came off that way! I was a little worried I'd made Milly too much of a sour-puss, to the point where readers might not believe she could gush over adorable baby Pokemon.

The Elm stuff was interesting... he always did seem like the most flustered and scatter-brained of the professors to me based on the games, and I think you did a resally good job with him. Not sure that I have any additional advice on what you could have done with him.

I felt a little bad that I didn't go back and rewatch the episodes of the anime involving him for this, but I don't think it comes off as too off. Anyway, I'm writing more based on the games than the anime.

I could have used more Milly/Daphne/Roy than we got. I understand now all chapters can focus on them, but I feel their dynamic drives the story, and you did basically JUST get them together, so it seemed a bit early to me for them to be written out of a chapter. But oh well. I'm sure we'll get lots more of them.

That's my biggest problem with this chapter as well. It does feel too early to break them up. On the other hand, their main part is during traveling bits. I wasn't sure if I wanted to set a precedent by including them in the first interview, especially since I didn't have anything for them to do in it (I could've FOUND something, I'm sure, but it would've changed teh scene). I also considered expanding the bus trip part to give them more inclusion, but I felt like I'd be padding the chapter if I did that, and I really liked the opening of coming out into New Bark Town and talking about small towns.

So yeah... it's a problem. I'm not entirely sure how to solve it. But I can say that there should be much more Daphne and Roy (and the main character's Pokemon which I am also sorry for not including in this chapter) as the story goes on (whenever it actually DOES go on. *frowns at schedule*)

Imma go back and fix the technical mistake you pointed out. Once again, thanks so much for your feedback on this! I really appreciate it.

[Morpher01]

Okay, I promised myself that I would read more fics this year, and thus I'm here because of the Review Game.

All right, let me see what we've got here... (note: I'm too lazy to pick out one chapter despite the Review Game's suggestion, so I'll just review the whole thing. XD)


The plot is quite unique. We have Milly, a young journalist whose view of the Pokemon world is quite sarcastic (at best). She wants to write a book about the Pokemon League...from her point of view. The fact that her point of view is so cynical and vain is what makes this so enjoyable, especially because--as we're reading from a first-person perspective--we get every possible peek into Milly's unique opinions and thoughts.

Now let's move on to character. As I've stated, Milly is great as a narrator because of her cynical and opinionated personality, as well as the fact that she's basically the odd one out. She is one of the few protagonists who looks at the Pokemon world from a realistic perspective, and points out all the odd things about it (such as how trainers can strike out on their own at age 10). This sort of character type is really rare, and I enjoy seeing it used (I'm kind of a sucker for originality. XD).

Due to the nature of the narration, I don't have as much to say about Daphne and Roy, but I don't mind. Their purpose is clearly to provide contrasting personalities for Milly to bounce off of, and this is especially the case with Roy, the sole "trainer" of the group. His greater experience in training-related matters and logical line delivery present a sort of foil to Milly's inexperience and dry wit. Daphne I can't really comment on too much, other than that she sticks to the background (or is pushed there by Milly during the narration) a lot and that Roy's pet name for her reminds me of Looney Tunes.

The spelling and grammar are pretty solid for the most part. I don't usually read too deeply into that sort of thing unless mistakes are all over the place, and I'm happy to say that mistakes are rare (and probably pointed out for the most part by other reviewers). There is, however, one thing I want to comment on:

And when writers at my own beloved Goldenrod Gazette described New Barkian champion Lyra Soulis as being from “the heart and soul of Johto” (I get it, Mike. Hilarious. Puns are my department.) they weren’t just stroking New Bark’s small town ego.

Okay...I'm not entirely sure if I'm officially right about this, but I'm relatively certain that the last period inside the parenthesis (or however you spell the plural) shouldn't be there. Exclamation and question marks maybe, but...periods just look off at the end of a parenthesis statement. This could entirely be my preferences, since you have multiple sentences within parenthesis and I usually have one quick little comment. I may try and look this up later, as I'm not sure if I'm actually right, but I might as well bring it to your attention.


One last thing I want to comment on: puns. This. Story. Has. So. Many. PUNS. And not all of them are made by Milly:

So I’d decided a Grey Houndoom bus was our best option.

Perhaps it was the talk of fighting windmills that made humming the main theme from the musical version of Donphan Quixote irresistible.

the Saffron-based, fire-type themed boy-band The Charming Manders

Plus the four or five made by Milly in the prologue and "McMiltank's" (which I'm assuming is a McDonald's reference?), this story has more puns in it than any other that I have read in my entire life. Why are there so many puns? Is it your preferred style of humor, or is it just something there for the readers to react to? Either way...the groans you get from them are a sign that they are well-executed. XD


Well, I've filled my quota for the Review Game, so I'll be heading off, now. I don't consider myself very good at writing "in-depth" reviews, so hopefully this will suffice.

Good luck with your schedule and the next chapter, because this is really enjoyable to read.

[Skiyomi]

First off, thanks so much for your comments here I'll respond to your points here.

The plot is quite unique. We have Milly, a young journalist whose view of the Pokemon world is quite sarcastic (at best). She wants to write a book about the Pokemon League...from her point of view. The fact that her point of view is so cynical and vain is what makes this so enjoyable, especially because--as we're reading from a first-person perspective--we get every possible peek into Milly's unique opinions and thoughts.

Now let's move on to character. As I've stated, Milly is great as a narrator because of her cynical and opinionated personality, as well as the fact that she's basically the odd one out. She is one of the few protagonists who looks at the Pokemon world from a realistic perspective, and points out all the odd things about it (such as how trainers can strike out on their own at age 10). This sort of character type is really rare, and I enjoy seeing it used (I'm kind of a sucker for originality. XD).

I'm glad it came off as new and I'm glad you like our narrator. And that you picked up on her vanity! It's a special kind of vanity, really--she's self-depracating, but she's also self-obsessed.

Due to the nature of the narration, I don't have as much to say about Daphne and Roy, but I don't mind. Their purpose is clearly to provide contrasting personalities for Milly to bounce off of, and this is especially the case with Roy, the sole "trainer" of the group. His greater experience in training-related matters and logical line delivery present a sort of foil to Milly's inexperience and dry wit. Daphne I can't really comment on too much, other than that she sticks to the background (or is pushed there by Milly during the narration) a lot and that Roy's pet name for her reminds me of Looney Tunes.

Yeah, I regret that I haven't done as much as I wanted to with Roy and Daphne right off the bat. They're meant to be more colorful and hopefully will be if I can ever get around to updating this again X_x

Okay...I'm not entirely sure if I'm officially right about this, but I'm relatively certain that the last period inside the parenthesis (or however you spell the plural) shouldn't be there. Exclamation and question marks maybe, but...periods just look off at the end of a parenthesis statement. This could entirely be my preferences, since you have multiple sentences within parenthesis and I usually have one quick little comment. I may try and look this up later, as I'm not sure if I'm actually right, but I might as well bring it to your attention.

You know... I'm not sure about that either. I wouldn't normally use a period at the end of a clause inside parentheses, but when I'm using multiple sentences within parentheses... it feels weird to the leave the last one at the end off. But I think I probably should leave the last period off like you pointed out. I'll have to check on this too @_@

Plus the four or five made by Milly in the prologue and "McMiltank's" (which I'm assuming is a McDonald's reference?), this story has more puns in it than any other that I have read in my entire life. Why are there so many puns? Is it your preferred style of humor, or is it just something there for the readers to react to? Either way...the groans you get from them are a sign that they are well-executed. XD

XD Well... I do love wordplay, but this is probably the punniest thing I've ever written. I think there are two reasons for this. 1. This is a Pokemon world that has real-world equivalents (like Greyhound buses and McDonalds) which leaves the possibility of Poke-Puns wide open. 2. Growing up with the original Pokemon dub, so much of my nostalgia of Pokemon goes back to terrible, terrible puns, so it always seems more appropriate when I'm writing for this fandom :P

Well, I've filled my quota for the Review Game, so I'll be heading off, now. I don't consider myself very good at writing "in-depth" reviews, so hopefully this will suffice.

Good luck with your schedule and the next chapter, because this is really enjoyable to read.

Awesome, I'm glad you enjoyed it--and thanks so much for the review!