My Pokepastas - 2019-2020

God, Not Another One! (1/18/19)

Derek had terrible luck with Pokemon games, and he didn't know why.

Perhaps he had been cursed by a Satanic Pikachu or something in his childhood, or maybe he had some sort of internal weirdness-magnet with a bizarre fixation on Pokemon. Maybe his house was built on an ancient Original Pokemon Red and Green burial ground, like that one culturally insensitive horror trope with Native American cemeteries. Maybe he had Lavender Town Syndrome - not that he knew what that was; he didn't care for creepypasta.

Whatever the reason was, it didn't matter (well, maybe it did a little. If he knew, maybe he could undo it.) Either way, 9 out of 10 Pokemon games he came into possession of ended up evil. It didn't matter if he got it from a shady yard sale, an online store, or even an otherwise reputable GameStop. He'd turn the game on, and a few hours later he'd find himself staring with disdain as his pixelated trainer lay mauled for whatever reason it was this time. The worst part was always when the game looked normal at first, and then wasted his time once again by not letting him finish it.

So, one would ask, why did he keep buying/taking/otherwise acquiring Pokemon games? Well, he was entirely desensitized to it by now, and he felt it was worth it to keep trying for those few times it worked out and he got a game that didn't start slaughtering his party for its sick kicks. Plus, he didn't like ROMs - though honestly, he'd probably somehow end up with an evil one of those too.

He was entirely unsurprised when on his way to the laundromat he worked at, there was a horrific car accident blocking his favorite road, conveniently with no known survivors at the scene and a single black GBA cartridge with "POKEMON" written on the front in white marker on the pavement. Most probably wouldn't have seen it, but Derek had developed an eye for this kind of thing.

A policeman told him to get out of here, that he was too close to the scene of the crime. Apparently some crazy guy was carelessly driving at rapid speed with no respect for the road and accidentally smashed through a mail truck full of cheap Pokemon figurines. Go figure. (Derek chuckled at his own joke. Nobody else found it funny.) Derek decided to ask if they knew about any Pokemon games at the crash and the policemen told him in no uncertain terms to screw off and stop making jokes like that, so he figured he wouldn't get in trouble for taking the cartridge home. So, with a game in hand and a comfortable excuse to not go to work, he went back to his apartment.

Ones like this were totally always going to be haunted. Come on, it even LOOKED haunted! But he had set a rule for himself that he would never skip a game in the off chance that it wasn't messes up in some way. Of course, that optimism was dashed as soon as he booted it up.

No intro. "Pokemon Torture Edition," it said in dripping red text over a black background, with a decaying grey Rayquaza behind it. Its markings bled like they were carved in, and the title theme was simply dead silence. Obviously, another damn hacked game.

He'd have shut it off right then, but he found that usually lead to more palpable hauntings, so he pressed on. And, to his exhaustion, it was as numbingly typical as he had expected. Some such nonsense about Lavender Town, and his starter being evil and obsessive, and copious amounts of blood. Couldn't it have at least tried to scare him?

So, he popped the cartridge out, tossed it in the haunted cartridge drawer he kept, and got to cleaning the gobs of blood off his DS. What a waste of time.

That night, he had nightmares where he got dismembered again by various Pokemon, his Marshtomp from Pokemon Torture added to the group. As expected. He woke up completely unrested, so he supposed he'd have to ask about sleeping medications. The dark circles under his eyes made him look almost dead, and they'd never get better if he kept having nightmares all night.