Alright. So, I just caught a second Zigzagoon, it is called Fargoth (despite the female gender) and I must grind. With that in mind, I'm going to go and pick on "pokemon trainers" to level my underpowered team up.

This looks like an easy score. Now, all I have to do is pummel her pogeymans until I am the winner.

OH DEAR GOD WHAT
An untimely critical hit has changed the course of battle, and slain Sly Cooper, who would have otherwise survived.
He was avenged by Erhardt, and has been laid to rest in the pokemon box dedicated to honoring the dead, the "boneyard".
Well, got to keep moving. Other trainers' pokemon won't beat themselves to death, you know.

Huh, what's this? I see a man standing next to the PC.

Ah, a hobby. Like, pinning butterflies, collecting plastic models of kawaii anime girls, and accruing images of Gardevoir in sexually compromising positions... not that I do any of that, of course.

I don't see why not. When in doubt, whip it out.

'nuff said.

In my haste, I forgot to mention where I am. I appear to be in Petalburg. This town is a strange one - for one thing, there's that guy who collects profiles. And then there's this guy staring at his reflection in a lake thing.
After a discussion about the qualities and depth which may or may not be present in his face, he posed me a question:

Hm. Such a conundrum of philosophy demands introspection.

I see... a ponce staring at his reflection in a pond-thing. I'll be honest, self-introspection and depth of character are tenets completely foreign to me.

So; moving on...

or not. This very special person believes me to be lost, and repeatedly points out that the big fudgeing building with GYM written on it is, in fact, the GYM.
To appease the retard, I enter.

It's my DAD, NORMAN. To answer his question, I have indeed finished. But due to the fact that I can smell ridiculous adventure and not-going-to-be-home-for-a-while-ness coming a mile away, I question the point of unpacking and settling in.

I believe this is an avenue of escape, which presents itself... right up until my father thinks it is a good idea to assign me the job of watching this sick-looking kid while he catches a pokemon.

I hope he only gets a Poochyena, or even a wurmple.

Motherfu- He got a Ralts! Those evolve into Gardevoir... I'm quite envious.
Well, I'm sure such a rube wouldn't be able to sucessfully catch it.

I dislike the taste that is my own words.
...
I'll be right back.

One rather angry fap later, I return to DAD, and he mentions how well I seem to get along with my pocket-slaves. He says I should travel to Rustboro City.

After that, I should hunt down the rest of the eight gym leaders.

I will be questing to become the most powerful hipster in all Hoenn. Fabulous.

Let's not waste time, I shall depart town immediately... after I'm rid of this man with shades.

He says he's looking for talented trainers.
Well, I'm quite pleased that he thinks I-

I wish I could set my pokemon onto this pretentious motherfudgeer, right here and now. Snap his fudgeing shades.

Alright, no more fudgeing about, time to recruit some more team-members. Route 104, prepare for Sigmund to rock your world.

This route's conquest: A Wingull.



Ramirez will make a good addition to the team as a general dogsbody.

I learn that Hoenn trainers are, for the most part, incredibly anal about their training. If you interrupt their "stare at a wall/tree/other trainer" technique, they will demand a battle.

She wasn't kidding. I wanted to ask this guy the time, and he pulls a magical pokemon on me. Is this the end of Sigmund the not-quite-hipster-yet?

As it turns out, I was afraid for nothing, and the useless fish is slowly watered to death by my seagull.

No, it does not.

Marching onward; ever onward, I arrive at Petalburg Woods.

A new area means new conquest. Come on, lotad!

Am I doomed to get unfavourable pokemon throughout my quest?

Displaying my suavity and videogaming knowledge, I name the female Poochyena "Metroid", because I know that metroid is a girl, not a robot, and so the name is suitable for the gender.


Sadly, Metroid's stats seem to be viciously lacking in the attack/defense areas, so care must be taken to ensure she does not become prey to lowly wurmples and zigzagoon.

Now, here's a strange sight; an executive, in a forest.

No, I have not, strangely. Is this something which should be investigated in depth?

Oh, my! A mugging! A shakedown! Where are the imperial guard when you need them? There is criminal scum afoot!

Whoa, now hold on. He's using me as a human shield!

TEAM AQUA? Never heard of them, they must be a local Hoenn gang. Probably got nothing on Team Rocket, those buggers were pretty dastardly.

It took longer to deploy the pokemon than it did to win. For the sake of entertainment, I hope this thug is not an example of the gang's strength.


That's it, run from Ramirez!

Oh, it was nothing. A modest five-digit cash reward will do nicely.

As it turns out, gratitude is as foreign to the exec as self introspection to myself, and he pays me back with a Great Ball. Perhaps it will find use.

I beg to differ. It is well known that adawwable pokemon are the popular-makers, attracting wenches, and in turn, attracting those who desire wenches to you.

A Pokeball? Perhaps it contains a pokemon of worth?

That is a funny pokemon, never heard of ETHER.


Back on Route 104, so no further enslaving possible. Which means that not much of note occurs, until...

Rustboro City! I have safely arrived!

Next on my to-do list, "fudge Roxanne's spoon up". Although, if my current adventure's anything to go by, terrorists will probably crash the party or some spoon like that.