Pokémon has undoubtedly become one of the largest existing franchises in entertainment, with a legacy spanning nine generations of video games over more than two decades in addition to many popular film, animation, and analog game installments. Moreover, though each release often brings new Pokémon, new environments, and a revamped art style, the core ambience of lighthearted adventure that the first games, Red and Blue, pioneered persists to this day.
“Your very own Pokémon legend is about to unfold! A world of dreams and adventures with Pokémon awaits! Let’s go!”
As the progenitors of this massively iconic media brand, Pokémon Red and Blue (also known by their original release names in Japan, Pocket Monsters: Red and Pocket Monsters: Green) paved the way for future titles. Having originally been developed for the Game Boy, the games represent Pokémon’s concepts and themesin their purest, most basic form and are testament to the innovation and creativity—with respect to narrative and mechanics—that hooked audiences despite the comparatively limited technological and graphical capabilities of the time.
One such innovation, in my opinion, is the games’ implementation of tangible progress. By providing the player with multiple interconnected goals (which include becoming the foremost Pokémon trainer in the in-game world and collecting all Pokémon to complete the Pokédex) the games provide several outlets with which players of various dispositions can interface. The simple, accessible narrative melds seamlessly with the mechanics of capturing, training, and battling, allowing the player to also assume the role of the protagonist incrementally as they progress through the game; the protagonist is silent, likely to facilitate this process and allow the character to become a truer reflection of the player in the fictional world.
Additionally, the linearity of the world map cements the idea of progress; though the layout itself has intersections, and players can return to previously visited areas, deliberately placed roadblocks encourage the player to experience the navigable world in its entirety and undergo a spatial, kinetic progress alongside the growth in their Pokémon’s and their own attributes. On the map, the eight Pokémon gyms (which are a recurring element almost every Pokémon game) act as checkpoints that let players test and gauge their skill level in their own time and prelude the final challenge of the Elite Four and the current Champion. In between these hurdles, the player is accumulating in-game experience, capturing, training, and battling; though the premise is simple, and the base mechanics are repeated from the first battle of the game to the last, the variety in their sub-mechanics (such as Pokémon species, type, moveset, critical hits, and status effects) keeps the game fresh and each battle distinct from the next. The assortment of shapes and designs of the Routes which connect the cities complements this effect; each one represents something close to an obstacle course, with wild Pokémon and NPC trainers (with thematically appropriate sprites and names) challenging the player to battle. Moreover, the battle interface displays a more detailed sprite for both the player character and their Pokémon, granting the player more visual familiarity with their character and counteracting the potential monotony and detachment of the top-down movement interface, which is much more abstract and less detailed.
But keeping this implementation of mechanics in mind, what is the thematic allure of Pokémon’s foundational narrative concept—having monsters in your pocket that you can capture and command into battle?
One of the reasons, in my opinion, is the connection between player and character. For example, in the case of many roleplaying games, this connection is inherently obstructed by the disparity between player and protagonist. Roguelike games come to mind, where the protagonist seems all-powerful in how quickly and efficiently they overcome obstacles and opponents; as they inevitably get stronger and stronger well beyond what’s humanly possible in the natural progression of the game, the empathic link between player and protagonist is affected (though likely not nullified completely). Pokémon’s premise overcomes this possibility with the way its fantastical world is envisioned. The existence of Pokémon adds much imaginative dimension, but human characters are still human, with human physical capabilities and limits for the most part. Coupled with the essential simplicity of the concept, this deferral of the supernatural does contribute to the “immersion” of the games.
Another aspect is the “meta” element to the game, which goes beyond the in-game world. Though I played Pokémon Red on an emulator, the original allowed multiplayer gameplay using the Game Link Cable, which facilitated battling and trading beyond the confines of the main narrative (I was able to experience the draw of this feature when I played Pokémon Diamond all those years ago). The game is elevated by this social dimension, which both makes game replay-ability viable and brings the virtual and physical worlds closer together. With the portability of the Game Boy console, one can literally have Pokémon in their pocket, ready to battle and trade with other players in real life, in real time.
Both the multiplayer and single-player sides of Pokémon embody the benefits of safe competition. Loss is never permanent, with the Pokémon “fainting” instead of dying, and the player character can never get hurt or killed themselves. Although there may be some ethical concerns regarding the concept, the games portray the bond between a normal trainer and their Pokémon as friendly and close rather than one constituted of mindless obedience or malignant compulsion. Battles can be lost, but the game cannot be, and the consequences aren’t lasting in any case; the typically brief trip back from the nearest Pokémon Center and the loss of currency (which is unessential) are just severe enough to provide incentive for competition while not seeming like punishment.
In summary, I attribute the success of Pokémon Red and Blue (and subsequently, the rest of the video game franchise) to factors that arose from overcoming the limitations of the technology, namely the coordination between the simplicity of the games’ overarching premise and mechanics and the attention to details, from progression, to map and interface design, to multiplayer implications. In my opinion, this game is a buy.
