So here I am. I'm a little kid. I have beaten all of Johto's gyms. I defeated Team Rocket. I won the Pokemon League. I realized, much to my delight, that that is only half the game, and stepped into Kanto. I conquered its gyms too. I was steeped in nostalgia at all the familiar faces and places.
I am told that winning the Kanto gym badges entitles me to enter Mount Silver, a legendary peak that only elite trainers have access to, and that I can find new Pokemon in, and I eagerly make my way there. I slowly scale the mountain, all the way to the summit. And there, I find a lone young boy standing in silence, his back turned to me.
It is very important that the true enormity of this moment sink in: a) this game had already pulled the rug from under me when I was allowed to go to Kanto. I didn't expect any more surprises; b) I was a kid, and the sudden realization of who stood before me, and what was about to happen literally blew my mind. And then I pressed A.
Red never speaks a word. He's silent, because he is the silent protagonist. But the music starts playing. The music starts playing, and...
This is a battle for the ages. There has been nothing like this. On the peak of Mount Silver, the two greatest trainers in the world battle. Nothing that I had done in my entire journey so far had prepared me for this. Red's Pokemon are literally over a dozen levels higher than any other trainer's; they're far higher powered than my own. His team constitution is, in game, brutal (I get that competitively, it's not great, but a), again, I was a kid and didn't know or give a shit about that, and b) in terms of the SP campaign(s), it's still far beyond any other trainer's).
I had zero indication I was going to fight a trainer at all. I was not prepared. It is a vicious battle, and when, at last, on the peak of Mt. Silver, I emerge as the greatest trainer in the world, Red just... disappears. And I stand there, alone. Having achieved my goal at last.
There has never since been a moment in video games that hit me as hard. A lot has to do with the fact that I was a kid, far more impressionable and immersed in the world of the games I was playing, of course. But the whole sequence is so masterfully done. It's an exercise in minimalism and restraint, in letting the player be told a story without speaking a word. It's magnificent, and the peak of Pokemon. That moment will never be beaten.
I am told that winning the Kanto gym badges entitles me to enter Mount Silver, a legendary peak that only elite trainers have access to, and that I can find new Pokemon in, and I eagerly make my way there. I slowly scale the mountain, all the way to the summit. And there, I find a lone young boy standing in silence, his back turned to me.
It is very important that the true enormity of this moment sink in: a) this game had already pulled the rug from under me when I was allowed to go to Kanto. I didn't expect any more surprises; b) I was a kid, and the sudden realization of who stood before me, and what was about to happen literally blew my mind. And then I pressed A.
Red never speaks a word. He's silent, because he is the silent protagonist. But the music starts playing. The music starts playing, and...
This is a battle for the ages. There has been nothing like this. On the peak of Mount Silver, the two greatest trainers in the world battle. Nothing that I had done in my entire journey so far had prepared me for this. Red's Pokemon are literally over a dozen levels higher than any other trainer's; they're far higher powered than my own. His team constitution is, in game, brutal (I get that competitively, it's not great, but a), again, I was a kid and didn't know or give a shit about that, and b) in terms of the SP campaign(s), it's still far beyond any other trainer's).
I had zero indication I was going to fight a trainer at all. I was not prepared. It is a vicious battle, and when, at last, on the peak of Mt. Silver, I emerge as the greatest trainer in the world, Red just... disappears. And I stand there, alone. Having achieved my goal at last.
There has never since been a moment in video games that hit me as hard. A lot has to do with the fact that I was a kid, far more impressionable and immersed in the world of the games I was playing, of course. But the whole sequence is so masterfully done. It's an exercise in minimalism and restraint, in letting the player be told a story without speaking a word. It's magnificent, and the peak of Pokemon. That moment will never be beaten.
