Okay, having pantsed the Oreburgh gym leader, I am off to explore that one part of Oreburgh Cave I couldn’t get to earlier!
Wow. Dork just rear-end me. Heheh. Dick joke.
Aaaand Dork takes off again. Truly, an ADHD-weasel on meth.
Oh hell, I have to sit through that animation every time I used Rock Smash in the Overworld? Ugh.
The f***?! PsyDuck busted out of my Pokeball! Onix I could undrstand, but friggin’ PsyDucK? Obviously I am not abusing these litle bitches enough before trying to capture them.
Psyduck gets no name, just tossed into pokemon cryo.
Dammit! I am getting severely distracted while playing tonight. Youtube. RetroForce. My housemate’s wounded cat. The playful breeze sliding in through my open door, seeking to know if I want to come out and frolic in the backyard. All this is keeping me from this game. But fear not! I shall push on and persevere. Nothing shall dissuade me from my chosen quest. Nothing!
Okay, I’ve been dicking around down in this cave and all I’ve come across is some sparkly stardust, a kid on a bicycle, and a new toy to teach a pokemon a new technique. Oh, and I’ve blown up lots of rocks
Ah, I need a bicycle to go farther. That explains it.
Back in Jubilife City.
Soooo…Team Rocket is out, then? To be replaced by these douchebags.
While beating up on Team Galactic’s little pokemon, Marsellus learn Rock Polish.
Hee! Marsellus “polished his rocks”! Ah, dick jokes.
And a fat guy just gave me a Fashion Case because I battled the bad guys. That would be less creepy if my character wasn’t a barely-pubescent girl.
Buuuut, now I can get into the t.v. station! You know, I don’t think that there is anything not even vaguely Pokemon-related on t.v. in this world. The only news is about Pokemon trainers. The only fashions shows are about pokemons. In fact, it seems the whole world’s economy is based around the exploitation of pokemons by sociopathic tweens from broken homes!
Damn. I just got worked by a reporter! Took me using Marsellus, GranySmith, and TheGimp to take down her Chatot.
Uh yeah. Another creepy fat guy going on about how cute my pokemons are, and how he wants me to dress them in his boudoir. What kind of man gets so excited about dressing up pokemons, and taking pictures of them? The really sick, creepy kind, thats what.
Wow, I’ve defeated 100 pokemon. This calls for a celebration. I think I’ll go to bed before the excitement kills me.
Psyche! No rest for the wicked! I continue on!!
So, how do I know how friendly my pokemon are feeling? I can’t find anything in the status menu…of course, I really haven’t been looking too hard.
I like to think that in this magical world of pokemen, there are trainers who have been real dicks to their pokemons, and after a while one of the little sins against nature just snaps and gores the owner, leaving nothing but a splash of red and viscera-covered bushes. Ah, dare to dream, young Goggolor. Dare to dream.
I don’t have anyone to play with, but I’m going to make a group anyway.
New group – DiqJoke.
“DiqJoke. That’s a great name!” Oh man, the hilarity!!!
No, you can’t be a member of my group…
…Because I don’t have a wireless dongle…
…But also because I’m an anti-social dick…
…But mostly because I don’t like this game enough to want to play it against others.
Okay, enough of JubiLife City! Time to move on.
“My dad gave me some pokemon. They’re going to win for me!” Oh my lord. Pokemon has trust-fund trainers! Kid, I am going to beat your pokemons, take their pokemon pink slips, and send you crying home to lie to your daddy about how you lost them.
Man, Magikarp has the worst facial expression. I’ll use Marsellus.
You know, the real life version of this battle would have a carp flopping around on dry land, trying to breath and desperately trying to make its way back to water, while a lump of granite just sits there, doing nothing.
Oh crap! I have laundry in the wash. I’m going to need that for tomorrow, tomorrow, and tomorrow.
Which creeps in this petty pace.
From day to day.
Until the last syllable of recorded time.
You know, Macbeth could well have been talking about the agony of playing Pokemon games, rather than the dreary existence that had been his.
I should really buy some more pokeballs.
Hey, that’s right! I have a fishing rod!
Wow. Fishing is really f***ing boring.
One of my pokeballs is shaking. Why is my pokeball shaking?
Man, Marsellus just totally had his balls drained by that Budew.
Speaking of Budew, have I already captured one of those?
Oh right, this is a trainer battle. Can’t capture it.
Aaarrrgh! Frickin’ wild Bidoofs. The little bastards are like rats, only cuter in a really creepy way, and far more useless.
Hm…Aroma Lady…use Budew. Yeah, she’s a stoner. You know, Nintendo really does try to sneak a lot of shit in, don’t they?
Caught a Pokemon! Fishing is still boring, but it’s nice to know it isn’t completely useless. Oh, and the Magikarp is now Tempura.
Okay. Going to bed now. More later.
You lucky devils, you.
Crap! I still have laundry int he washer!