Pokemon, The Social Destroyer.
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September 20th, 2012 (1:10 PM).
Ok guys I'm not sure how to introduce this post. So I'll just say... Pokemon kills social lives.
Now its not an epidemic, its a confined disease apparently restricted to those who do not enjoy friends. Note most pokemon players are happy socializable intelligent individuals.
This post is only in relation to the fact of one horrible day at toys r' us I remembered when at the manaphy egg event. The image I saw nearly scared me from pokemon forever.. in hopes of never becoming one.
What did I see is what you must be asking yourself... well imagine the following sequence of events..
You drive to best buy, excited for the manaphy.. if only to fill your pokedex.. or maybe you like manaphy, whatever your reason, your going with your DS. You get out lock your car (if you live where I do lol) and proceed to the entrance.
Your linking up now to mystery link... slower than usual.. guessing the heightened traffic when you here a raspy, disgusting voice.. "You here to get manaphy too?." So I turned, hoping, praying it would be a sick man that at least could restore faith that normal people besides myself played the game. To my dismay, I have never been more wrong about anything in my life.
Standing before me, at 5'10 I'm guessing, at least 300 pound man. His hair greasy and matted, sticking almost endlessly to his unshaved side burns. The acne attacking his pores seemed as if and endless lake of lava bubbling and exploding in his unbathed skin. His teeth looked as if he had just bought a fresh bag of gravel, and enjoyed the taste so much he would chew the pieces into diamonds.
Nevertheless, the worst part of it all, was when I noticed his hands. His dirty unwashed hands, with yellow bitten fingernails holding a Nintendo DS Lite. Behind his hands I noticed over his mrest, moobs, or however you want to phrase "man chest of fat," the man dubbed a Halo t-shirt. Dirty sweatpants, smelling as if their name should be literal, covered the base of his dusty white new balance sneakers.
The whole ride home. I contemplated thrusting my DS lite threw the window. Leaving that fear of what I could become behind. But I didn't. I decided a name for the person I saw before me. Aptly named I believe, a Victimon. A victim of the addiction of pokemon. In this advanced state I must assume it is irreversible, and at this point he most likely resembles Cartman, shrilly screaming to his mother that his kitty is trying to eat his potpie.
So how do we avoid this insufferable fate? Simple. We play the game. But we don't avoid life for it. While the game is fun and addictive (I myself put in an hour or two every couple days) we mustn't turn into the image the public automatically views us in.
Don't become a Victimon. Live life. That is my story. --KingofCarnage
Joined Oct 2007
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