Gameplay Journal Ugh, It's Not a Phase, Mom! (Pokemon Black Nuzlocke - Emo Edition)

Chapter 7: Dunes and Pyres

Why me? For all the strength in the world, I am but nothing. My Pokémon are crumpled at my feet, and this Psychic stands above me with a haughty attitude. How dare he smile about that fight while I suffer in agony? Are you laughing at me, punk? I’ll beat you where you stand!

Fuel your rage, my boy. Feed on it. And unleash it in grotesque destruction!

A deep breath later, I have recovered—much to Cthulhu’s dismay. Now, I must bury the dead and move on. This almost seems routine to me; lose a friend, bury him, move on. I try to stay stoic while I cry on the inside.

Here lie Zubalezu, Al, and Pinch

Their lives were fleeting, as all life is.​

Huh. That epitaph seemed a lot colder. Perhaps I’ve grown numb to death’s veritable sting.

But what is this? A light at the end of the tunnel? Am I drawn to it like a moth to flame, or is this to be my salvation?

“Hi, how are ya?”

I stare at the woman, a backpacker with a cheerful demeanor. This wench is far too flighty for my taste, and I move to pass her. “No, wait!” she calls out to me. “You look down on your luck. The ruins not quite as exciting as you though?”

Oh, if only you knew, backpack wench. “Uh… yeah. You might say that.”

“Well, here. You can have one of my fossils,” she said, offering me two stones. One with a feather, the other with a turtle shell. “I can’t carry both of them back.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “You know, you can turn one of these into a Pokémon at Nacrene city!”

I was silent for a moment. “I will gladly accept your generous offering,” I finally said, tears in my eyes for hope of finally having another comrade at my side.

So, taking steps in strides, with a fossil in my hands, I walked back across the barren desert, through the crowded streets of Castelia, across Skyarrow Bridge, through the now peaceful pinwheel forest, and all the way back to Nacrene in order to defossilize my brand new Pokémon: Archen.

Rather unimpressive, I have to say, so I name him Duv. Not because he particularly looks like a dove, but rather because of the derpy grin he has on his beak.

And as I’m passing along, I come to a sudden realization: The daycare is nearby, and I left Lunna in there a long time ago.

And so there was ever lengthier backtracking through places old and older until I finally found the oldest place—that silly daycare; I wonder how long those old crows have been running it. And I recover my Lunna (though it was a fair price to pay), now stronger than…

I smack my face and sigh. She knows zen headbutt? But she’s a special attacker! And she forgot confusion!

Well, this can be remedied. Eventually. In the future. When does she learn psychic? You’ve got some waiting to do. Dammit…

My hope for the future is dwindling as I look upon the two new additions: Lunna, whose only attack is a physical move, and Duv, who shows potential despite his obvious weaknesses.

And so begins the long trek back to Nimbasa. When I was younger, my mother used to tell me stories about this legendary trainer—named after a color, I think. Sanguine? Crimson?—he would climb onto a tall mountain in a region far away where it always snowed at the peak, and he would meditate there with his Pokémon, waiting for a trainer to challenge him.

How the hell did he do it? Walking up and down the countryside is hard enough, let alone climbing mountainsides. I pause in the middle of Skyarrow Bridge and take a look into the distance. How beautiful the sky looks from here, and how refreshing the water. Take me, oh great sea.

Yeah, yeah, get a move on, Romeo.

Ugh, fine. I’m going. And don’t call me Romeo. I hated Shakespeare growing up. Except the part where they died; that was amusing.

Strolling through the desert of Route 4 again, I sit down and decide to grind again, though carefully. This area is now a painful reminder of how my carelessness led to the deaths of my friends. Never again.

Maybe I should have gotten goggles. All this grit in my eyes is annoying me.

I while the tireless hours away with my Pokémon, grinding away at their skills. With Acrobatics, I find that Duv is actually quite a competent fighter. Beavus is still the tank of my team. And Lunna… You’ll make a good meat shield when the time comes.

So I head on to Nimbasa, and I am immediately accosted by more city lifestyle. Coming from a small town, I’m not very used to this sort of thing. I mean, there are men walking around in formal business attire right next to other men who might as well be wearing trash bags.

And the goths… Is that how emos dress in the city? I gag. Have some dignity about you. Everyone knows that the whole point of being emo is to keep your feelings inside, not on your sleeves and in your dyed hair.

But in the midst of all this is at least one familiar face. Waiting outside the flamboyant Musical Theatre—and I do mean flamboyant; whose idea was it to have all those neon colors?—is my good friend Bianca. I can almost see the sparkle in her eyes when she spots me. Oh god; here it comes.

“Syao!” she shouts, rushing over to tackle me in an excruciatingly tight hug. “You’ve gotta come in with me. I’ve been waiting all day to go into this theatre.”

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” I answer.

“Of course I did! You’re my absolute best friend!” she said, ecstatic. “I wanted Cheren to come with me, but he just left! The nerve of that jerk. But you’ll come in with me, right?”

That’s not even fair. “Uh, sure, Bianca. Let’s go in.”

“Yippee!”

And so, reluctantly, I followed her in—though the motion resembled more dragging than following. We were greeted by a rather gay man in a brown tuxedo, and I don’t mean he was happy, though that could have also been said about him.

“Welcome!” he exclaimed. You could almost hear the ‘heart’ at the end of his welcome. “Would you like to participate in a guest’s pageant? We’ll even lend you items to style up your Pokémon!”

“Oh yes, please!” Bianca spoke for the both of us. I, on the other hand, felt a sense of dread creep over me so insidiously that it was like a shiver rolling down my spine. They swept me away and even took my pokéballs from me.

My dear, sweet Beavus. What have they done to you? I will not describe here the profound horror that took place there for fear of harming the unadulterated ear, but to surmise, I say this: there were tutus involved.

But she was excited and happy. I guess that’s all that truly mattered, no matter how much it pained me.

“So, I was on route 4,” she’s telling me as we walk out, “And this creepy guy comes up to me and—”

And what? I was waiting for the punchline to that joke of a story, but Bianca cut off and just stared ahead. In front of her stood a tall, gruff man with a potbelly and a square chin who I recognized immediately.

“D-daddy?” Bianca squealed, her face flushed in guilt and embarrassment. “I… what are you doing all the way out here?”

“What does it look like?” answered the man, crossing his arms, condemnation in his gaze. “I’ve come to take you back home.”

“But dad, I—”

“You’ve already gone as far as Nimbasa,” he said, trying to reason with her. “Haven’t you gone far enough?”

“Absolutely not!” she shouted, and I stood in amazement. I’d never seen Bianca shout at her dad before. “I love adventuring! Journeying with Syao and Cheren and the others… This means so much to me!” Something about her words had weight to them, and it meant something dear to me, though I didn’t show it.

“I’ve heard enough of this,” he huffed. “Others may do things this way, but we have a way of doing things in our family.”

“Oh yeah?” cried Bianca in anguish. “Well then, why don’t you do things your way, and I’ll do thing my way!”

“Forgive me for interrupting, but she is right.”

We turned to the side to find a woman coming over the canal bridge. She had electric yellow hair and headphone wires that drooped all the way down, and this gorgeous—I mean garish—yellow dress. “Who do you think you are?” shouted Bianca’s dad. “This is a family matter.”

“I’m Elesa. Nimbasa’s own gym leader,” she said with a poise that demanded respect. She then turned her immediately to Bianca, ignoring the protests of her father. “Listen, and listen well. There are many people in this world. Often times, there will be people whose ideals differ from yours. And sometimes, this difference of opinion will get you hurt.

“But even though that may happen, you must keep striving to learn about those differences. By doing this, you’ll come to know that being different is okay. There is nothing to worry about. You’ll always have your Pokémon, if no one else. In this way, you will always have someone to depend on.”

And then Elesa left, just like that. Somehow, that message seemed inspiring. That till they ends of the earth, I would always have my Pokémon with me… So that was a gym leader, huh?

Pshaw, what a panzy. Let’s crush her with the terrifying might of our awesome army!

Dammit, Cthulhu. You’re ruining the moment. I watch Bianca hug her father as they finally come to an understanding, and for a moment, I glean what happiness I could have some day…

But perhaps that’s a fantasy. How can Pokémon be something we depend on forever?

After all, most of my friends are dead.

So, this is not my official return to LV, but I will be back at the end of the month. I just happen to be at home for a week, and I decided this needed an update. Hope you guys enjoy! In sum:

Party
Pignite (Beavus) Lvl. 30
Male - Jolly


Archen (Duv) Lvl. 30
Male - Hardy


Munna (Lunna) Lvl. 27
Female - Modest


Patrat (Gentry) Lvl. 12
Male - Hardy


Boxed
None

Graveyard
Peen, Patrat, Pour-Sama, Guru-Sama, Al, Zubalezu, Pinch

 

It takes me a while to write each segment, but seeing how everyone enjoys it really encourages me. I'm glad you like this Nuzlocke! It's been up and down, but throwing a bit of creative flare into it really seems to make it feel better. This is my last restart: if I die, the nuzlocke ends, but seeing it come so far really makes it not so bad. I've learned plenty of things for my next playthrough. And this time, I'll give my character a worthy death.

 

“You’re looking for Team Plasma, right?”

Why would you even assume that? Maybe I just wanted to fight the gym leader. Don’t be so harsh, my boy. Let’s hear the gent out. Ugh, if you say so.

And why does he call himself N? That can’t possibly be his name. “And if I am?” I replied hesitantly.

“They ran into the amusement park. Follow me.”

So there I was, following a head of mossy green hair attached to a skinny, thin faced young man, hardly older than me. He had a stride in his step that I do not, and an odd emotionless stare reached me from over his shoulder. Why is he looking at me like that?

When we reached the Ferris wheel in the amusement park, he stopped and looked around, seeming surprised. “Huh. Not here,” he mumbled. “Come on, let’s get into the Ferris wheel. We might be able to spot them from up there.”

With an odd trust, I followed him in. “Sure. I like Ferris wheels,” I mumble absentmindedly. I didn’t expect him to hear me. He did.

“As do I,” mumbled N. “The circular motion, the balance, the mechanics. Elegant science, isn’t it?”

Okay…

So there we were, sitting in the Ferris wheel, overlooking a vast, forested landscape against a small, city skyline. It was evening then, so the sunset was off there somewhere. Beautiful, but still no sign of those Plasma gangbangers.

“Of course,” N mumbles next to me, a solemn gaze on his face. He realizes that we are alone and takes his time, breathing softly. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you. I must know that I am the king of Team Plasma.”

What?

“Ghetsis asked me to work with him to help save Pokémon.” He paused, taking in the fresh air. “I wonder how many Pokémon exist in this world… How many so callously enslaved by their trainers? And how many know they are but slaves?”

I looked over to him and frown. What was he saying? Is this a prank? I don’t think he’s fooling you, boy. I wanted to doubt Cthulhu as much as I always have—hey now—but I couldn’t help but believe him. In everything I saw, the contours of his face, the falling of his lengthy, green hair, I saw truth in his words.

So, when finally we reached the end of that awkward ride and two Plasma grunts ran up to us, crying out for their lord, I was unsurprised.

But I was surprised by one thing: they called him N. Is that really his goddamn name?!

“Don’t fret,” said N as he stood between me and the grunts. I would have eliminated them if he just gave me the chance. “You two, go. I’ll cover your retreat.”

As they go, N calls for Pokémon and gives me a wary eye. They were Pokémon from the previous route: Sandile, Crustle, Darumaka, and—my heart stops—Sigilyph. “You must realize that there is logic in what I say,” he said.

“I do,” I answer, clutching at a Poké ball in my grip. “But your thugs have murdered some of my best friends. I will not let this injustice slide!”

And so, N and I, two fellow emos, threw down our gauntlets.

Duv was my entrant into the battle. After a bit of training from later routes, he had proved to be a reliable, brutal, inelegant comrade, and applying the move Rock Tomb had only made him all the stronger. I recognized almost instantly that N’s Pokémon were untrained, natural, plucked straight from the desert. He seemed to be talking to them. Something about that seemed almost… respectable.

I sneered as Duv took to the skies. “You won’t stall me for very long if you come at me with just those Pokémon,” I bantered. “My Pokémon are trained for annihilating scum like you.”

“Yes, your Pokémon,” N replied. There was a brief snigger on his lips as Sandile took to the field. Some people began to gather around, jeering and watching. Did they think this was a show? This was serious! “Force them to become stronger, make them your slave soldiers to fight your battles for you.”

“I don’t see you doing anything different!” I yelled in response. As Sandile barred itself for a fight, I knew now was the time to strike. “Acrobatics, Duv!”

With grace, Duv dove down and, in mocking grace, hammered the Sandile. Immediately, the Sandile flopped over, unconscious. Holy—did you see that? Nailed him!

Yeah, I know, I thought back, undeterred. What, you thought I did all that training for nothing?

Seemed to me you were having fun slaughtering all those Cottonee.

I ignored him and instead watched N’s gaze grow dark as he sent out the Crustle. “Acrobatics!” Perhaps he wanted me to defeat him. I’m not sure what kind of point that would have proved, but I don’t care either way.

Then came the Darumaka. I watched a small laugh come from his mouth. Did he know something? Was he saving that Sigilyph for last just to taunt me? Something about that boiled my rage even higher. “Rock Tomb!” The Darumaka fainted before my eyes, crushed with weighty stones.

“Not a talkative one, are you?” asked N, Sigilyph floating forward ominously. “You’ve been red in the face ever since this battle began. Or perhaps it was when I told you the truth. Have you something to say?”

Duv and Archen faced off, staring at each other as we stood opposed. “A lot, really,” I grumbled. “But you wouldn’t understand. You’re too far gone to understand what I’m feeling.”

N seemed to form a question in his lips, but never wanted to say it. I felt suddenly embarrassed—my anger had gotten ahead of me. Whether that chlorine-dyed vagabond wanted to laugh or abscond, he simply tilted his hat down and pointed forward. “Sigilyph, use Psybeam.”

Oh no you don’t. “Rock Tomb, Duv!”

Luckily, Duv outsped the Sigilyph, glass cannon as he was. The Sigilyph was crushed. N has lost.

I recalled Duv to his ball, satisfied with having won. N stood back, his eyes wide, not really surprised, not really sad, just wide, like he was gazing deep within me. Then he turned around and vanished into the crowd.

You’re not going to give him chase after all that bravado you put up?

I was just silent, unthinking. The bench seemed comfortable enough to serve me, so I sat down and tried not to think about how I had let N escape, about how his words rang in my heart, about how even despite all this, I still felt some semblance existed between he and I.

I’m perfectly fine with brooding in silence. I was born for it, almost. I fumbled with the dice in my pocket as the sun set, just watching the light go down as I filed away my feelings somewhere dark and dusty so that I wouldn’t have to feel them again for a very long time. You know, you play the dreary, dark part well, Cthulhu mentioned. You should write a memoir. Call it “Do Sorrowful Men Dream of Non-Euclidean Sheep?”

You do Asimov a disservice when you say that.

No, really, it will be perfect. You cover the sorrow bit, and I’ll cover the Non-Euclidean Sheep.

I leaned my head back and looked at the orange-tinted clouds. Seemed perfect for gazing. Just shut up.

So I spent the next few hours in silence, gazing at the clouds and thinking and building and finally dreaming.

A small update just to show where I'm headed. I'm a bit further real time, but I haven't written the companion text, so no statistics for this installment. However, none of my party members worth mentioning are dead, so... It's a good day.