Miz en Scène
Everybody's connected
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- The Wired
- Seen Apr 19, 2024
It has been a while. I originally wrote this for PC's Pokecreepypasta contest, which I did not win, sadly enough.
I was good, yes. I was the very best, no doubt about that. Any trainer who dared cross paths with me was dealt with in the time it took me to utter my first command. They knew me by various names across the region. Some spoken with fear among trainer circles and some with reverence among fans. Even you must know me, fossil that I am. That was how great I was. I was the premier, no, archetype example of the Pokémon Master. Trainers, they were ants to be stepped on. Gym battles, merely stepping-stones. Simply put, I was the best.
Well… at least, that's what I liked to think I was. No, no, just let me finish. Please excuse my pompous behaviour; I don't get to brag too often, and I won't be too long. Where was I? You must forgive the memory; it comes with the age you see.
Ah yes, I remember now. I was talking about how marvellous I was, was it? I'm going to assume that that gesture you just made means yes. Like every other Pokémon trainer in the world, I once aspired to reach the Pokémon League. The only difference in between me and the rest of those wannabes was that I was the best. Have I said that? Sorry. I'll continue, and I'll try not to deviate too much. Time is precious, no? Ahem, to reach the Pokémon League, battle the elite four, and subsequently defeat the reigning champion was a dream shared by many trainers, young and old. Your name in lights, the glory that came with it, and the conferred title of Champion was as much as a draw as anything else. I must admit, this was my primary objective for beating the League, a selfish, egotistical reason. Don't get me wrong, however, this was everyone's objective. I suppose the money was good, but you could easily get as much with a desk job.
Of course, reaching the League, requiring months of journeying and gym- battling in the process, was no easy task. Beating the elite four, even harder. And the champion? Well, count for yourself how many champions there've been in the past hundred years since the league was established.
To get to the top, there was one sure fire way to victory. That is to say Pokémon training. Yes, good old Pokémon training. Did you think I was going to tell you an easy way to get there? It's all hard work my boy. Hard work, blood, and guts. Blood especially, if I might add. Even I myself, a sprightly young trainer back in the day, trained excessively to be the very best. Sure my methods were a tad, how shall we say, unorthodox, but I got there in the end didn't I? Sacrifice was essential and I had dedicated myself completely to fulfilling that goal, aspiring to distinguish myself from the countless, faceless trainers who sought the prize I rightly deserved. Dedication, of course, is not a word to be treated lightly. Dedication is the will to stick to whatever you're goal is through any obstacles that may dampen your resolve. Any obstacles that you may face. Of course, obstacles come in many forms. A strong opponent, a stubborn Pokémon, and even death. Does that surprise you? I would imagine that children of your age are as of yet unaccustomed to the concept. I don't blame you. It is a great burden to bear at such a tender age. I would not wish it on anyone if it were not justified.
And yet, it was that obstacle which I was to face. Fate has a funny way of playing with you. If she were sentient, I would say that fate had a twisted, sadistic kind of humour. Yes, I do believe in fate and destiny. It was fate that certain events were to befall me, and it was destiny that I was to be the greatest. These events were the hardest I have ever had to face. Death is an event. I still remember vividly to this day the first loss of my campaign towards victory. It was my starter. And no, it wasn't one of those rare starters you kids get nowadays from those research labs. We got our Pokémon the old fashion way. We went out and caught them ourselves, trained and reared them by hand, bonded with them instead of trading them away.
My starter was a simple Ralts. Yes, she was my Ralts, my first ever Pokémon. My first ever, true friend. Through thick and thin, she stood by me. Her comforting cherry-red gaze staring calmly into mine, comforting me as we passed many a lonely night together in a tent, huddled together for warmth. Her pure, white body glowing blue as one by one we toppled our many foes. Her loyalty never wavering. By the time she left me, she wasn't a Ralts anymore of course. She was a fully-grown, beautiful Gardevoir.
I find it hard to forget the look on her face as she passed on, much as I have tried. The nurse told me that fatigue had pushed her over the edge. Fatigue caused by the rough training regiment I had created. In retrospect, no Pokémon should have had to endure such strict exercises as the ones I had prepared. But how was I to know at the time? I was a fresh trainer, and she had never complained. Yes, I know Pokémon can't talk, but ours was a bond like no other. I could practically tell when she was hungry, when she was tired, and when she felt down. That's why I found it odd when one day, during our practice session following a particularly violent battle, she just up and collapsed in the middle of the field. She never told me she was hurting. She never told me she was tired. She just pushed herself to the edge. I guess she also shared my dedication. I know because right before she passed on, she looked me in the eye with the same reddish gaze. It wasn't anger, nor was it fear for her slave driver. No, it was a burning desire to go on. Death was not something she found could dampen her resolve. She had sacrificed herself towards my cause!
I wept afterwards. Yes, I wept like I had never wept before. Not even when word reached me of the death of my father did I weep as much. She was a friend, almost a platonic lover! I cursed fate, destiny, god, whatever it was that had taken her away from me. Why was it that I was to suffer? I had done nothing wrong. I had only done what I thought was right. Could you blame me? I was young. She was mine and she was taken away from me! Mine! My friend! My lover! My Gardevoir! My beautiful, special, beloved!
But that's all in the past. Guilt has a way of following you around for your whole life. I don't deny that it was I that had caused her death, but I have moved on –there is no point dwelling in the past when the unknown future stretches out menacingly ahead of you.
I pushed forward, regardless of my loss. Time passed, I captured more Pokémon, and I continued to train to be the best. I saw countless Pokémon, and slowly, I began to realise something. Something that put my whole journey into greater perspective. Through my constant fraternization with our Pokémon brethren, I found that, essentially, I was able to befriend them quite easily. Any Pokémon that I caught, immediately warmed up to me as though I were a long lost friend. Quite like my Gardevoir, they were all loyal to me; never once did any of them find the need to desert me. For me, I think they would have gone to the ends of the earth and back in order to prove their loyalty. I could easily read their emotions and they instinctively knew what I wanted of them. I referred to it as my special bond. There, you see! That's definitive proof I was the best. What other trainer could claim to have shared the connection I shared with my Pokémon? What trainer? Tell me!
This 'special bond', however, was a double-edged sword. Similar to my Gardevoir, it was this same special connection that drove some of my Pokémon to their deaths in the same way that my Gardevoir had died. Fatigue! Overwork! But still, all of them, loyal to the very end, despite the harsh training I wished them to undergo. Their persistence would have brought tears to my eyes if it were not for the fact that I had hardened myself to their charms. You see, I had learned a valuable lesson when Gardevoir died. That was to maintain an emotional distance.
They loved me, I could tell. I tried not to love them back. I failed miserably. I locked away my love deep within my heart and swore to never get too attached. That failed too. The tears that fell as, one by one, my original team expired, rocked me to my very core. I could not keep losing my dear friends this way. There had to be a way. I increased the levels of intensity of my training regimen. I was cold. I was callous. I was ruthless. I wanted them to hate me. I wanted them to be my tools towards the domination of the league and nothing more. Friends? I could do without them if it meant saving the lives of those I held dear to me.
But still, despite my cruelty, they drew closer, wanting to find the inner me. I think they sensed how, deep down, my intense love for them was present. Mutual, as was theirs. I could never get them to stop. They rushed forward into the thick of battle in droves, eager to prove themselves worthy of my affection. Was it a gift or curse that I had? I could not tell. To be loved is a delightful thing, but if it meant that they would gladly die en masse just to satisfy my desire of becoming champion… that was something else. It was sad.
Why didn't I consider quitting? Surely, that would have been a logical escape to my predicament? There is, however, a simple reason. The spirit of my Gardevoir wanted me to push forward! I could feel her by my side on those lonely nights after a burial, encouraging me to never give up, strengthening my resolve. I had to achieve victory for the sake of those that had fallen! I could not let the memory of those noble ones who had died in my name be shamed by my cowardice! Never!
In the end, however, I suppose that it was this very attitude that led me to the seventy-four deaths that tarnished my trainer years. Seventy-four deaths, my boy. All of them on my conscience. All of them wanted me to win. They wanted me to be the best! The best that there ever was! The best in the world!
I eventually proved it to them. I became the league champion. All my Pokémon continued to shower me with love and I continued my training. It was not enough to just be the best. I had to stay the best. What would the spirits of the seventy-four fallen say if I had been beaten by some new trainer who just happened to be better than me? I would be shamed. Their memory would be shamed. I could never let that happen!
Yes, even after becoming champion, the deaths still began to pile up. I could not stop training. My Pokémon could not stop pushing themselves for my sake. It was a vicious cycle. If only the world was static and trainers would not grow stronger with each passing generation. Then I would not have to train. You may think that it is out of disrespect that I do not include those fallen after my victory into the seventy-four noble ones. That is not so. I have lost count. The years have not been kind to me. I found that I was beginning to lose my edge. I was getting weaker and the trainers, stronger. I have said this. But no, I would not step down. A hundred or more have possibly fallen to my ambition. I felt every one of those deaths as a personal blow to my psyche and an encouragement to never lose. To no one would I fall!
Do you see that there in the corner, boy? Of course you don't. The bond between my Gardevoir and me is still strong even after all these years. I can still feel my Gardevoir's presence. No, that isn't entirely correct. It's not just her. I can feel all of them with me right now. The hundred or so who have fallen are with me right now. Not in flesh, but in spirit. They are right behind me encouraging me to stay the champion. They whisper words of encouragement to me even now.
So you see, that is why I have to do this. The ropes are a courtesy, my boy. Would you rather my other Pokémon pin you down? The gag, so you do not scream. I have told you my story, and that was kind of me. Now you won't feel so bad about going the way of my beloved Gardevoir. I promise, it will be painless, mostly. I have sharpened the knife to a point especially in case this ever happened. I told you, my boy, I cannot, will not lose.
If only you hadn't won.
The Best
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Well… at least, that's what I liked to think I was. No, no, just let me finish. Please excuse my pompous behaviour; I don't get to brag too often, and I won't be too long. Where was I? You must forgive the memory; it comes with the age you see.
Ah yes, I remember now. I was talking about how marvellous I was, was it? I'm going to assume that that gesture you just made means yes. Like every other Pokémon trainer in the world, I once aspired to reach the Pokémon League. The only difference in between me and the rest of those wannabes was that I was the best. Have I said that? Sorry. I'll continue, and I'll try not to deviate too much. Time is precious, no? Ahem, to reach the Pokémon League, battle the elite four, and subsequently defeat the reigning champion was a dream shared by many trainers, young and old. Your name in lights, the glory that came with it, and the conferred title of Champion was as much as a draw as anything else. I must admit, this was my primary objective for beating the League, a selfish, egotistical reason. Don't get me wrong, however, this was everyone's objective. I suppose the money was good, but you could easily get as much with a desk job.
Of course, reaching the League, requiring months of journeying and gym- battling in the process, was no easy task. Beating the elite four, even harder. And the champion? Well, count for yourself how many champions there've been in the past hundred years since the league was established.
To get to the top, there was one sure fire way to victory. That is to say Pokémon training. Yes, good old Pokémon training. Did you think I was going to tell you an easy way to get there? It's all hard work my boy. Hard work, blood, and guts. Blood especially, if I might add. Even I myself, a sprightly young trainer back in the day, trained excessively to be the very best. Sure my methods were a tad, how shall we say, unorthodox, but I got there in the end didn't I? Sacrifice was essential and I had dedicated myself completely to fulfilling that goal, aspiring to distinguish myself from the countless, faceless trainers who sought the prize I rightly deserved. Dedication, of course, is not a word to be treated lightly. Dedication is the will to stick to whatever you're goal is through any obstacles that may dampen your resolve. Any obstacles that you may face. Of course, obstacles come in many forms. A strong opponent, a stubborn Pokémon, and even death. Does that surprise you? I would imagine that children of your age are as of yet unaccustomed to the concept. I don't blame you. It is a great burden to bear at such a tender age. I would not wish it on anyone if it were not justified.
And yet, it was that obstacle which I was to face. Fate has a funny way of playing with you. If she were sentient, I would say that fate had a twisted, sadistic kind of humour. Yes, I do believe in fate and destiny. It was fate that certain events were to befall me, and it was destiny that I was to be the greatest. These events were the hardest I have ever had to face. Death is an event. I still remember vividly to this day the first loss of my campaign towards victory. It was my starter. And no, it wasn't one of those rare starters you kids get nowadays from those research labs. We got our Pokémon the old fashion way. We went out and caught them ourselves, trained and reared them by hand, bonded with them instead of trading them away.
My starter was a simple Ralts. Yes, she was my Ralts, my first ever Pokémon. My first ever, true friend. Through thick and thin, she stood by me. Her comforting cherry-red gaze staring calmly into mine, comforting me as we passed many a lonely night together in a tent, huddled together for warmth. Her pure, white body glowing blue as one by one we toppled our many foes. Her loyalty never wavering. By the time she left me, she wasn't a Ralts anymore of course. She was a fully-grown, beautiful Gardevoir.
I find it hard to forget the look on her face as she passed on, much as I have tried. The nurse told me that fatigue had pushed her over the edge. Fatigue caused by the rough training regiment I had created. In retrospect, no Pokémon should have had to endure such strict exercises as the ones I had prepared. But how was I to know at the time? I was a fresh trainer, and she had never complained. Yes, I know Pokémon can't talk, but ours was a bond like no other. I could practically tell when she was hungry, when she was tired, and when she felt down. That's why I found it odd when one day, during our practice session following a particularly violent battle, she just up and collapsed in the middle of the field. She never told me she was hurting. She never told me she was tired. She just pushed herself to the edge. I guess she also shared my dedication. I know because right before she passed on, she looked me in the eye with the same reddish gaze. It wasn't anger, nor was it fear for her slave driver. No, it was a burning desire to go on. Death was not something she found could dampen her resolve. She had sacrificed herself towards my cause!
I wept afterwards. Yes, I wept like I had never wept before. Not even when word reached me of the death of my father did I weep as much. She was a friend, almost a platonic lover! I cursed fate, destiny, god, whatever it was that had taken her away from me. Why was it that I was to suffer? I had done nothing wrong. I had only done what I thought was right. Could you blame me? I was young. She was mine and she was taken away from me! Mine! My friend! My lover! My Gardevoir! My beautiful, special, beloved!
…
But that's all in the past. Guilt has a way of following you around for your whole life. I don't deny that it was I that had caused her death, but I have moved on –there is no point dwelling in the past when the unknown future stretches out menacingly ahead of you.
I pushed forward, regardless of my loss. Time passed, I captured more Pokémon, and I continued to train to be the best. I saw countless Pokémon, and slowly, I began to realise something. Something that put my whole journey into greater perspective. Through my constant fraternization with our Pokémon brethren, I found that, essentially, I was able to befriend them quite easily. Any Pokémon that I caught, immediately warmed up to me as though I were a long lost friend. Quite like my Gardevoir, they were all loyal to me; never once did any of them find the need to desert me. For me, I think they would have gone to the ends of the earth and back in order to prove their loyalty. I could easily read their emotions and they instinctively knew what I wanted of them. I referred to it as my special bond. There, you see! That's definitive proof I was the best. What other trainer could claim to have shared the connection I shared with my Pokémon? What trainer? Tell me!
This 'special bond', however, was a double-edged sword. Similar to my Gardevoir, it was this same special connection that drove some of my Pokémon to their deaths in the same way that my Gardevoir had died. Fatigue! Overwork! But still, all of them, loyal to the very end, despite the harsh training I wished them to undergo. Their persistence would have brought tears to my eyes if it were not for the fact that I had hardened myself to their charms. You see, I had learned a valuable lesson when Gardevoir died. That was to maintain an emotional distance.
They loved me, I could tell. I tried not to love them back. I failed miserably. I locked away my love deep within my heart and swore to never get too attached. That failed too. The tears that fell as, one by one, my original team expired, rocked me to my very core. I could not keep losing my dear friends this way. There had to be a way. I increased the levels of intensity of my training regimen. I was cold. I was callous. I was ruthless. I wanted them to hate me. I wanted them to be my tools towards the domination of the league and nothing more. Friends? I could do without them if it meant saving the lives of those I held dear to me.
But still, despite my cruelty, they drew closer, wanting to find the inner me. I think they sensed how, deep down, my intense love for them was present. Mutual, as was theirs. I could never get them to stop. They rushed forward into the thick of battle in droves, eager to prove themselves worthy of my affection. Was it a gift or curse that I had? I could not tell. To be loved is a delightful thing, but if it meant that they would gladly die en masse just to satisfy my desire of becoming champion… that was something else. It was sad.
Why didn't I consider quitting? Surely, that would have been a logical escape to my predicament? There is, however, a simple reason. The spirit of my Gardevoir wanted me to push forward! I could feel her by my side on those lonely nights after a burial, encouraging me to never give up, strengthening my resolve. I had to achieve victory for the sake of those that had fallen! I could not let the memory of those noble ones who had died in my name be shamed by my cowardice! Never!
In the end, however, I suppose that it was this very attitude that led me to the seventy-four deaths that tarnished my trainer years. Seventy-four deaths, my boy. All of them on my conscience. All of them wanted me to win. They wanted me to be the best! The best that there ever was! The best in the world!
I eventually proved it to them. I became the league champion. All my Pokémon continued to shower me with love and I continued my training. It was not enough to just be the best. I had to stay the best. What would the spirits of the seventy-four fallen say if I had been beaten by some new trainer who just happened to be better than me? I would be shamed. Their memory would be shamed. I could never let that happen!
Yes, even after becoming champion, the deaths still began to pile up. I could not stop training. My Pokémon could not stop pushing themselves for my sake. It was a vicious cycle. If only the world was static and trainers would not grow stronger with each passing generation. Then I would not have to train. You may think that it is out of disrespect that I do not include those fallen after my victory into the seventy-four noble ones. That is not so. I have lost count. The years have not been kind to me. I found that I was beginning to lose my edge. I was getting weaker and the trainers, stronger. I have said this. But no, I would not step down. A hundred or more have possibly fallen to my ambition. I felt every one of those deaths as a personal blow to my psyche and an encouragement to never lose. To no one would I fall!
Do you see that there in the corner, boy? Of course you don't. The bond between my Gardevoir and me is still strong even after all these years. I can still feel my Gardevoir's presence. No, that isn't entirely correct. It's not just her. I can feel all of them with me right now. The hundred or so who have fallen are with me right now. Not in flesh, but in spirit. They are right behind me encouraging me to stay the champion. They whisper words of encouragement to me even now.
So you see, that is why I have to do this. The ropes are a courtesy, my boy. Would you rather my other Pokémon pin you down? The gag, so you do not scream. I have told you my story, and that was kind of me. Now you won't feel so bad about going the way of my beloved Gardevoir. I promise, it will be painless, mostly. I have sharpened the knife to a point especially in case this ever happened. I told you, my boy, I cannot, will not lose.
If only you hadn't won.
