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Home » Arts » B-Side » You’ve been challenged by a random-ass stranger!

Matthew Prock/DAILY

For a part-time introvert like myself, strangers pose a dangerous threat to my peaceful walk to class. Any time someone tries to approach me on the street — or, more likely, the Diag — I hold my head down and pretend some form of screamo-rock is blasting in my ears. Much to the dismay of many friends, acquaintances or vague associates who attempt to initiate a genial greeting, I frequently find myself lost to the clamors of the outside world in an attempt to minimize any interactions with foreign entities. Can a boy not walk to class in relative peace? That being said, there’s a world of difference between someone asking me to sign their petition and someone challenging me to brawl right then and there. If the latter were the case, I would never leave the house.

Nevertheless, one fan-favorite fictional franchise presents this as a reality: Pokémon. One of the franchise’s most iconic elements is the Pokémon trainer — a person who captures the monster-like animals known as Pokémon and makes them battle other characters’ Pokémon. Each installment (the most recent being Pokémon Legends: Z-A) features the player as a trainer setting out to “be the very best / like no one ever was,” per the anime adaptation’s theme. In most main series games, the primary objective is to become the Pokémon League Champion of the region where the game takes place by beating a series of the strongest Pokémon trainers around. Yet, despite this being the player’s own objective, it appears the goal is not limited to just them — rather, the vast majority of characters in the game aim to be the very best. But, like most things in life, there can only be one.

From this context, we arrive in a world where, instead of a smile, wave or even a scowl, strangers lob Poké Balls at you, ready to take on you and your team of Pokémon. Usually, they get approximately one tagline in before the battle begins, aiming to get another notch in their Poké Ball-filled belt. This experience is a near universality outside of any town, making journeys between main locations become full of countless skirmishes. On one hand, in a culture where battling Pokémon is the primary leisure activity, this may be a form of friendly scrimmage — a socially acceptable method of making friends. On the other, you have to consider that in the games, there’s no way to escape such a battle. You either beat the challenger’s Pokémon to a pulp and take an unknown sum of money as your prize, or lose the battle, in addition to both your dignity and honor. And let’s just say, the very best don’t lose. Ever.

Whether Pokémon battles are meant as an olive branch or as arrows of war, the fact of the matter remains: There is still a preteen (don’t forget most Pokémon protagonists are around 11 to 12 years old) running around getting jumped by random strangers — many of whom are much older than them — in an attempt to assert dominance. The Pokémon world would be scandalized by the idea of “stranger danger” or any form of true crime. Either the universe of these games is just an overall safer place than the real world (a fact I find hard to believe, considering some Pokédex entries), or it somehow spawns from the time that countless parents love to falsely proclaim “the good ole’ days.”

Pokémon games showcase a reality where a healthy fear of strangers simply doesn’t exist. Instead, they create a society built upon a shared love of Pokémon that overcomes malicious intent. While its society is not a utopia, Pokémon offers a vision of a world where strangers are not to be feared. The result? The ability to enrich yourself in an environment, learning more about the setting and characters who make up each game.

Just like real life, the strangers you’ll encounter in Pokémon vary on a scale from relatively normal to downright absurd. Their personality traits are typically derived from their trainer type, ranging from hobby-based interests (swimmers, joggers, hikers) to more niche categories (birdkeepers, psychics, socialites, fanatics, parasol girls). The newer games have a wide variety of types, bringing a diverse range of possible interactions and dialogue. While it’s certainly comical at certain points to limit characters to essentially one personality trait (for example, swimmers are always wearing bathing suits — and you’ll never guess what type of Pokémon they have), the trainers are always aptly placed and contain unique ending dialogue that lands on theme. Some of them provide battle tips to improve your strategy, hints for the next task in the plot, secrets about the world itself or, most commonly, random supporting dialogue to cheer you on.

Part of the role of strangers depends on the player’s game style. For some people, it might be easy to argue that the games make players more aware of strangers, hypervigilant in order to avoid yet another battle with Youngster Joey. As noted earlier, once your character is spotted by a trainer, you can’t escape the resulting five-ish-minute battle. However, I would argue that these characters bring life to the game. Battles are the heart of each Pokémon game, so having the opportunity to interact with strangers allows you to progress forward while trying out different combat styles and learning how best to use your team.

Pokémon games argue for a world where strangers are either sought or seek you out. They become an integral part of the experience, challenging the player with necessary trials to become the very best. But they also bring a bit of humanity to the games, reminding players that people are still the core of each Pokémon battle.

In many ways, these facets aren’t far off from our own world. While there are certainly more dangers present in the real world (and you don’t have a massive dragon to defend yourself here), strangers can provide so much enrichment in our lives: stories about the places you’re in, advice for both practical and impractical things, random anecdotes that brighten your day. The world is brimming with people who each have their own unique quips to share. So maybe we should work to find just a bit of inspiration from the 11-year-old Pokémon trainer, chatting with more people out in the world. After all, all of us were strangers at one point.

Then again, maybe not too much inspiration; I don’t need to be brawling on the Diag. I’ll save that for whatever rat-like creature Game Freak comes up with next.

Daily Arts Writer Ian Gallmore can be reached at gallmore@umich.edu.