Pokémon: The Gaming System

The next morning began like any other, yet it was fundamentally different, imbued with a new sense of purpose. I slowly opened my eyes, a yawn escaping my mouth as I rolled out of bed, feeling the thin mattress creak beneath me.

The sun was already peeking through the curtains, casting long, golden fingers across the floor, lighting up the small apartment I had once considered a cage, a symbol of my endless poverty. But now… now it felt like a waiting room before something bigger, a temporary staging ground for my grand adventure, a place of quiet anticipation before the storm.

The air, once heavy with the scent of stale ramen, now seemed to carry a hint of fresh possibility, a promise of change, a new beginning.

I got up and shuffled to the bathroom, the cold floor a familiar sensation under my bare feet, a small jolt to my senses. I brushed my teeth, the minty paste a small luxury I now afforded without thought, and washed my face, splashing cool water over my skin, waking myself up fully.

I did all the basic morning rituals, moving through them like an NPC going through a pre-programmed script, a strange thought given my new reality.

After that, I whipped up a quick breakfast: toast and eggs for myself, a simple but satisfying meal that filled my stomach, and ready-made Pokémon food for Treecko, Torchic, and Mudkip—stuff I bought just yesterday with my newfound wealth.

As I laid out the bowls, the three little guys gathered around me, chirping and calling in their own ways, their anticipation palpable, their tiny bodies wiggling with excitement.

They weren't just data anymore; they were my companions, living, breathing extensions of my will, and I felt a deep responsibility for them, a bond forming with each shared moment, a silent understanding that transcended words.

After breakfast, I plopped back on the bed, the mattress sighing under my weight, and opened the system to continue where I left off in Emerald.

My fingers hovered over the translucent panel, eager to dive back into the game world and continue my experiments, to exploit its limits further. But something unexpected happened, something that immediately seized my attention and made my heart skip a beat, a cold dread creeping in.

The usual vibrant green interface was replaced by a stark, unsettling blankness.

Instead of the usual "Welcome to the Gaming System" splash screen, all I saw was a plain message in white letters on a dark screen, stark and unyielding, filling my entire vision.

"Patch deployment in progress..." it read, the words glowing with an internal light, almost pulsating with unseen energy. A loading bar slowly crawled beneath it, its progress agonizingly slow, like molasses in winter, a cruel test of my patience.

The silence in the room was absolute, save for the faint hum of the system itself, a low, continuous thrum that seemed to vibrate through the air.

I blinked, my initial confusion quickly turning to frustration, a knot tightening in my stomach. "...What?" I muttered, tapping buttons on the invisible interface, trying to force a response, to break the lock.

I shook the screen, even spoke to it, my voice echoing in the quiet room, but nothing worked; the system was completely locked, unresponsive to my commands, a digital brick, utterly inert.

It was an unprecedented event, a reminder that even this omnipotent system had its own rules and limitations, its own maintenance schedule, beyond my control.

I let out a long sigh and flopped backwards onto my pillow, the soft fabric doing little to soothe my irritation, my plans momentarily derailed. All I could do now was wait and watch the bar move slowly, pixel by pixel, a tedious, agonizing process that stretched on, seemingly without end.

I muttered under my breath, a wry comment born of my gaming past, "Figures... Even systems need maintenance, I guess." It was a surprising, almost human, flaw in an otherwise perfect tool, a touch of realism I hadn't anticipated in this fantastical new life.

The minutes stretched into what felt like hours, each tick of the loading bar a testament to the system's unseen work, a slow crawl towards an unknown future. I tried to distract myself, picking at a loose thread on my blanket, then tracing the cracks on the ceiling, noting their intricate patterns.

My mind kept drifting back to the implications of a "patch." What kind of changes would it bring, what new rules or alterations? Would it nerf my cheats, stripping away my newfound power? Would it introduce new features, or perhaps new dangers, unforeseen challenges?

The uncertainty was a subtle prickle of anxiety, a constant hum beneath my thoughts. This wasn't just a game anymore; it was a dynamic, evolving reality, and I was just a player in it, subject to its updates, its whims. The thought was both thrilling and unsettling, a constant tightrope walk between power and vulnerability.

But then it hit me, a sudden burst of clarity that cut through my annoyance, a brilliant idea sparking in my mind like a flash of lightning. There was nothing stopping me from heading to Pewter City early, not anymore, not with my newfound freedom and resources.

I had already withdrawn Treecko, Torchic, Mudkip, and some rare candies last night, ensuring I had resources for any immediate needs, a foresight that now paid off handsomely. I had healing items and enough supplies to last for days, even weeks, a comforting thought that eased my worries.

My pockets felt heavy with the promise of wealth, a tangible sign of my changed fortunes, a constant reassurance.

No need to delay, no reason to wait around for a digital update that might take hours, or even longer, wasting precious time. I packed up everything I needed, a small bag now filled with essentials and a few luxuries, a stark contrast to my previous meager belongings, which consisted of almost nothing but rags.

I grabbed my trusty Pokédex, its smooth casing a familiar comfort in my hand, a symbol of my new life. I took one last look around the apartment, the cracked walls, the dusty shelves, the stiff bed—it wasn't much, but it was my shelter for years, a silent witness to my struggles and my dreams, a place of humble beginnings.

This was the end of an era, a final farewell to my old, impoverished existence.

Still, I wasn't coming back; this was a permanent departure, a definitive break from my old life, a bold step into the unknown.

I locked the door, the click echoing with finality, a sound that sealed my commitment to this new path, and handed the key to the landlord, a brief, silent exchange, his eyes wide with surprise at my sudden departure, probably wondering how I afforded to leave so abruptly.

I stepped out for good, into the bright morning sun, feeling a lightness I hadn't experienced in years, a profound sense of liberation. Time to move forward, to embrace the adventure that awaited, to truly begin my journey, leaving my past behind, a forgotten shadow.

I went and booked a cab, a small act of indulgence that felt incredibly liberating, a symbol of my new status, a stark reminder of how far I'd come from sleeping in storage units.

The plush seats and smooth ride were a stark contrast to the endless walking I used to do, the aching feet and weary muscles that were once my constant companions.

You might be wondering—why did I take a cab instead of walking or heading through Viridian Forest like most rookie trainers? Simple, really, it was about efficiency, about maximizing my time and energy, about playing smarter.

Grinding in the real world is a waste of time for someone like me, a pointless expenditure of energy that yields minimal returns, a tedious chore. I don't need to tire myself or my Pokémon out fighting Caterpies when I can level them up in-game and translate that strength here, instantly, effortlessly.

I can train their instincts, their experience—all from in-game battles, where the risks are minimal and the rewards are guaranteed, a perfect simulation for growth and development.

Real-world training for basic leveling? Redundant, inefficient, and frankly, boring, a tedious chore I could easily bypass for more meaningful pursuits.

My time was too valuable for that now, every moment precious in this new life, dedicated to true progress and strategic advancement.

(A/N: Fun fact he is just been lazy.)

So, cab it was, a comfortable, swift ride towards my destiny, whisking me away from the mundane and into the heart of adventure. The landscape outside the window transformed, the urban sprawl giving way to more rugged terrain, the buildings thinning out, replaced by rocky outcrops and sparse vegetation, a dramatic change in scenery.

I reached Pewter City, its gray, imposing structures rising from the landscape, built from the very stone of the mountains, blending seamlessly with their surroundings.

It looked just like how I remembered it from the anime and games—gray buildings constructed from local stone, rocky terrain dominating the landscape, and that iconic stone Pokémon Gym standing like a fortress, a formidable challenge awaiting me, its presence almost intimidating, a silent dare.

The air here felt cooler, carrying the distinct scent of rock and damp earth, a refreshing change from the city air, a breath of fresh, unpolluted air that invigorated me.

First stop: Pokémon Center, a familiar beacon of comfort and healing, its pristine white and red exterior a welcome sight after the long journey.

I entered, the sliding doors humming softly, a gentle welcome, and signed in at the counter, presenting my new League ID, feeling its cool weight in my palm, a symbol of my legitimacy.

Nurse Joy, looking just as serene and efficient as ever, her pink hair perfectly coiffed, handed me a room key, a small, plastic card with a number.

Apparently, Pokémon League registration comes with some perks, a welcome bonus I hadn't fully appreciated, a true benefit of being official. Free rooms in Centers for registered trainers for a certain period, and basic meals covered—a significant relief for someone who had once starved, a luxury I now took for granted, a small but important comfort in this new life.

Finally, my money was being used for something useful, something beyond mere survival, something that directly benefited my journey and my Pokémon. I released my Pokémon in the spacious, clean room, letting them enjoy the fresh mountain air that wafted through the open window, a taste of freedom after being confined in their balls.

Torchic immediately pecked at a pebble, its curiosity piqued, its tiny flames flickering with playful energy.

Mudkip flopped into a shallow puddle it found near the corner, splashing happily, its fins twitching with delight, enjoying the cool water.

And Treecko leaned against a wall with arms crossed, observing them like a mini badass, radiating quiet confidence, ever watchful, ever ready for action.

I spent the rest of the day relaxing, enjoying the unexpected comfort of a clean bed and a full stomach, a rare treat I savored, knowing it was a luxury I'd earned.

I browsed the local shops, bought a few new clothes that weren't threadbare, replacing my old, worn-out rags, and even treated myself to a proper meal at a small restaurant, savoring every bite of the delicious food. No need to rush, no need to push myself or my Pokémon; we were well-prepared, well-rested, and ready for tomorrow's challenge.

Tomorrow was Gym Day, the first real test of my new life, and I wanted to be fully prepared, mentally and physically, for the challenge that awaited. The anticipation was a pleasant hum beneath my skin, a quiet excitement that fueled my resolve, a sense of purpose.

The next morning, I walked straight into Pewter Gym, feeling a surge of confidence, a quiet determination that settled deep in my bones. It was exactly like I remembered—dusty, rocky, dimly lit like someone forgot to pay the electric bill, giving it a raw, old feel, like a forgotten cavern, echoing with history.

The air was cool and smelled faintly of damp stone, a scent that spoke of deep earth and mineral deposits, a primal aroma.

Standing there in the center of the battlefield, a stoic figure against the stone backdrop, was none other than Brock himself, the familiar spikey hair and perpetually closed eyes, a living legend from my childhood, now a tangible opponent.

Yep. Still here, still the same, a living legend from my childhood, just as I remembered him from the anime.

He crossed his arms and gave a professional nod, his expression serious, his gaze unwavering, assessing me with practiced ease, a silent challenge.

"You here for a badge challenge?" he asked, his voice gravelly but clear, echoing slightly in the vast space, a formal inquiry, a traditional opening.

"I am," I said, stepping up confidently, my League ID clutched in my hand, feeling its cool, smooth surface, a symbol of my legitimacy.

"Zevion. Registered trainer." My voice was firm, leaving no room for doubt, a clear declaration of intent, a challenge accepted.

He scanned my League ID with a small handheld device, its screen glowing faintly, and nodded again, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, perhaps a hint of surprise at my young age or my confidence.

"Alright. Standard rules. Two Pokémon each." His words were concise, setting the stage for the battle, the terms clear and unambiguous, just as in the games.

I smiled, already knowing how this would go, my strategy laid out in my mind, honed by countless in-game battles and careful planning. My cheats would ensure victory, a silent, powerful advantage that no one else knew about, my secret weapon.

He tossed his Pokéball, a practiced flick of the wrist, sending it arcing through the air with a soft whir.

"Geodude, let's go!" With a flash of white light, the floating boulder with fists appeared, landing with a solid thud on the battle grid, letting out a gravelly growl, its rocky body solid and imposing, ready for combat.

I responded by releasing Treecko, his green form a vibrant contrast to the gray gym, landing lightly on the ground, ready for action, his eyes sharp and focused, eager for the fight.

The battle began instantly, a clash of elements and wills, a dance of power and strategy, a spectacle of raw force.

"Geodude, Rock Throw!" Brock commanded, his voice sharp, cutting through the air, a clear order. The hunk of rock ripped up several stones from the ground and hurled them toward Treecko with surprising speed, a barrage of projectiles aimed to overwhelm.

"Dodge and use Absorb!" I countered, my voice firm, my eyes fixed on the action, anticipating every move. Treecko leaped nimbly to the side, avoiding the attack with ease before placing a hand on Geodude and draining its energy, a visible green aura flowing between them, weakening it with every pulse.

The effect was instant. Geodude recoiled, visibly weakened, its rocky surface dimming slightly, its growls turning to grunts of pain, its movements slowing.

"Geodude, Tackle!" Brock urged, trying to press the attack, a desperate command to his faltering Pokémon. It charged, a surprisingly fast boulder, rumbling across the floor, determined to land a hit.

"Quick Attack, then Absorb again!" I commanded, seizing the initiative, pressing my advantage, not letting up. Treecko vanished in a blur, slammed into Geodude, and before it could recover, latched on once more for a final Absorb. Geodude slumped mid-air, knocked out, its form dissolving back into its Pokéball, a swift, decisive victory.

Brock recalled it and narrowed his eyes, a flicker of surprise crossing his usually stoic face, replaced by a grudging respect that was clear despite his composure.

"You're strong," he admitted, his voice tinged with genuine admiration, a rare compliment from a veteran Gym Leader who had seen many challengers. He then pulled out his second ball, larger and heavier than the first, a sign of his ace, his final trump card, his last hope.

"Let's see how you handle this. Onix, go!" His voice held a new challenge, a hint of anticipation, a desire to truly test my limits.

With a flash of white light, the towering serpent of boulders appeared, its roar shaking the gym, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through the very stones, making the ground tremble beneath my feet.

Seeing Onix in real life was... something else entirely, a truly awe-inspiring sight that dwarfed everything else in the room. In the game, it was just a sprite, a collection of pixels on a screen, easily dismissed as a digital construct.

In the anime, it was exaggerated, a cartoonish giant that defied physics, a fun fantasy. But here—its sheer size, the grinding sound of its rocks shifting, the immense pressure it exerted on the air—it was like watching a living avalanche, a force of nature unleashed, filling the entire battle arena, its eyes glowing with ancient power, a truly terrifying presence.

I stayed calm, forcing myself to breathe steadily, despite the awe inspired by the colossal Pokémon, my mind racing through strategies, recalling its weaknesses and my own strengths.

"Mudkip, your turn," I said, my voice steady, betraying none of my internal thoughts, my confidence unwavering. The little blue Pokémon took the field, wagging its tail innocently, a tiny figure against the massive Onix, a stark contrast in size that made Brock raise an eyebrow.

Brock raised a brow, a hint of curiosity in his expression, clearly surprised by my choice, expecting a more conventional counter. "Water type, huh? Smart." He seemed genuinely intrigued by my choice, acknowledging the tactical advantage I held, a rare moment of recognition.

"Let's finish this quick," I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to Mudkip, eager to secure the victory and claim my badge. "Onix, Bind!" Brock commanded, his voice booming, urging his giant Pokémon forward, its body coiling, preparing to strike.

The rocky snake lunged, its massive body attempting to wrap Mudkip in a crushing hold, a terrifying display of power that could easily crush the small Pokémon.

"Water Gun, full blast!" I countered, my voice sharp, a clear command that Mudkip instantly obeyed, unleashing its attack. Mudkip opened its mouth and unleashed a stream of water with incredible force.

It slammed into Onix's face, making the giant recoil in pain, its roar turning into a pained grunt, its rocky scales glistening wetly from the impact, water streaming down its face.

"Now Mud Slap!" I followed up immediately, pressing the advantage, not giving Onix a chance to recover, maintaining the pressure relentlessly. A splash of mud flew into Onix's eyes, blinding it, obscuring its vision, making it thrash blindly in confusion and frustration.

"Water Gun again!" This time, the stream knocked Onix off balance, its massive body swaying precariously, losing its footing on the stone floor, its massive weight shifting.

The creature let out a groan before collapsing with a heavy boom, shaking the entire gym, a resounding defeat that echoed through the hall. Brock silently returned his Pokémon, his face a mask of quiet defeat, his shoulders slumped in resignation, acknowledging his loss.

"You win. That was impressive," he said, his voice tinged with genuine admiration, a rare compliment from a veteran Gym Leader who had seen countless challengers.

He walked over and handed me a small, gray badge shaped like a boulder—the Boulder Badge, my first official proof of victory.

I took it, my heart pounding with pride, the cool, smooth stone a tangible representation of my success, a symbol of my progress.

First badge: acquired. The feeling was exhilarating, a rush of accomplishment I hadn't felt in years, a true taste of victory that fueled my ambition and resolve.

As I stepped outside the gym, ready to return to the Pokémon Center, the afternoon sun casting long shadows, I noticed a familiar group walking up the road.

Misty, with her fiery red hair, her hands on her hips, looking annoyed, a classic pose.

Ash, unmistakable with his cap, bouncing with energy, his usual boundless enthusiasm radiating from him.

And Pikachu on his shoulder, its cheeks sparking faintly, a vibrant yellow against Ash's jacket, a familiar sight from my childhood. They looked exactly like the anime, which was kind of surreal, like characters stepping out of a television screen and into my reality, a bizarre encounter that defied logic.

Ash looked pumped, probably about to challenge Brock, his eyes gleaming with anticipation, his usual boundless energy radiating from him. Misty seemed annoyed—likely about something Ash said, her arms crossed, a familiar pout on her face, a classic dynamic between them. Pikachu looked... smug, its small, yellow face radiating confidence, almost as if it knew it was a star, the true protagonist of this world, the beloved mascot.

Our eyes met briefly, a fleeting moment of recognition on my part, though they saw only a stranger, another trainer passing by, nothing more than a fleeting glimpse.

I nodded politely, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, and then walked past them, continuing my path without breaking stride. No point talking to them, no reason to break the fourth wall, so to speak, and disrupt their narrative, their destined journey.

I'm just a random guy in their world, an extra in their story, and I didn't want to draw unnecessary attention to myself or my unique circumstances.

If someone like me walked up and acted all familiar, like he knew you inside out for ages, I would label them as stalker or pervert already, and I didn't want to risk that, not when my secrets were so important.

They didn't stop me either, thankfully, continuing their animated conversation, completely oblivious to my true nature, to the power I held, to the fact that I knew their entire story. Good.

I stayed at the Center for two more days, relaxing, resting my Pokémon, and preparing for Cerulean Gym, my next target on the League challenge. I spent my time reading the League regulations, learning about the world's structure, its various regions and rules, and planning my next moves, charting my course meticulously, considering every possibility.

I also spent time training my Pokémon in the real world, focusing on their physical conditioning and battle instincts, things the game couldn't fully replicate, like dodging and agility in a real environment.

We practiced dodging, quick movements, and responding to my verbal commands, building a deeper, more intuitive bond, a seamless connection in battle that would serve us well.

During that time, the patch deployment finally completed, the system's translucent panel returning to its usual state, a soft hum indicating its readiness for my next session.

The screen now greeted me as usual, with the "Welcome to the Gaming System" splash, its green glow familiar and inviting, a portal to my power.

No notes, no changelog—just the same interface as before, deceptively normal, offering no clues about the update's contents, no explicit details.

I opened Pokémon Emerald… only to find that my save file was gone. My heart dropped, a cold dread washing over me, a familiar sinking feeling of loss, a profound sense of emptiness.

"No…" I whispered, my voice barely audible, a raw sound of disbelief and despair, a quiet plea. I shut the system. Reopened it. Still gone. Everything—my progress, my badge, my items in-game—wiped clean, utterly erased, as if it had never existed, a digital ghost.

"Damn it…" The frustration was immense, a punch to the gut, a bitter taste in my mouth, a setback I hadn't anticipated, a true loss. I made a mental note: future patches wipe save files. Good to know, a harsh lesson learned, but a valuable one for future planning.

This meant I could never rely solely on in-game progress, always needing to extract what was important.

Still, the items and Pokémon I had extracted before the patch—Treecko, Torchic, Mudkip—were all with me in the real world. Safe. They were my true assets, unbound by digital resets, my tangible proof of power, my real companions, my loyal team.

I started a new game, going through the familiar opening cutscene, meeting Professor Birch again, the dialogue repeating like a broken record, a tedious but necessary chore.

This time, I tried to pick Torchic, curious about the system's new limitations, to see if the duplication exploit was truly gone, if the system had truly patched that loophole.

Something unexpected happened.

The professor's dialogue changed, a new line appearing in his text box, a subtle but significant alteration: "Oh! You already got all the starter Pokémon, so forget it and help me here!"

...What? So that's it? I could only get one of each starter species now? Apparently, the patch prevented duplicating starters, a clear nerf to my previous exploit, closing that loophole permanently.

Interesting, a deliberate balance adjustment by the system, a way to prevent me from becoming too overpowered too quickly, forcing me to diversify my team and strategy.

After helping him, I went out to Route 101 to check something else, my mind already racing with new possibilities, new avenues to explore for Pokémon. The first wild Pokémon I encountered?

Pansage. A Gen V Pokémon, definitely not native to Hoenn, a clear sign of a major change, a vast expansion to the world's ecosystem. I kept playing, pushing deeper into the routes, encountering more and more unfamiliar faces, Pokémon from regions I hadn't even considered possible to find here.

More wild Pokémon showed up—Shinx, Bunnelby, even a Rookidee. Pokémon from every generation, appearing randomly, a true global Pokédex now at my fingertips, a boundless array of choices for my team.

My conclusion? The patch expanded the game.

Now it includes all Pokémon from every known region and generation, a vast, new world to explore and capture, a truly endless adventure beyond the original Hoenn.

Honestly? That's awesome, a far greater boon than the minor nerf to duplication, an incredible trade-off that opened up so many more possibilities for my journey. And even better—my cheat codes still worked.

Rare candies. Money. All functional, all at my disposal, a constant source of power that would keep me ahead of the curve. I smiled to myself, a true, unburdened grin, feeling a surge of excitement and renewed purpose.

"Time to grind back to where I was," I muttered, my voice filled with renewed determination. The path ahead was clear, and now, it was even more exciting, more expansive, more challenging. 

Though I plan to not make the game inventory my personal safety storage anymore now that I know that patch deletes everything.