Real Goblin

I recently watched the newest teaser trailer for the next installment in the Pokémon franchise. I haven’t been keeping up, as I am no longer a child. But I’ve always had a soft spot for those games nonetheless. As I watched the Pokémon Legends: Z-A announcement video, I was struck by how entirely ugly the game looks. In the past decade, Pokémon games have looked far more unsightly than they did on the original Game Boy.

At no point in Pokémon’s nearly three-decade history would I have described the games as “breathtaking.” It was never a graphically intensive franchise. Once upon a time, Pokémon was a novel concept, something that thoroughly consumed me and millions of children across the globe. And unlike many 1990s franchises that faded away, Pokémon has maintained consistent momentum for almost thirty years. That in itself is impressive. It also proves that franchise creator Satoshi Tajiri was onto something when he first pitched Pocket Monsters to Nintendo.

By 1990, Tajiri had become a respected figure in the burgeoning game design community. He used to hand-make a zine, stapling pages together in his home in western Tokyo. His reputation was strong enough that Nintendo was willing to hear him out on an idea they themselves couldn’t quite grasp. But they placed their trust in Tajiri, and Shigeru Miyamoto himself took him under his wing.

After a years-long development process that nearly bankrupted Game Freak, Pokémon Red and Green (released as Pocket Monsters in Japan) debuted in 1996. They weren’t an instant critical hit. However, the rumored easter egg Pokémon, Mew, generated enough buzz to keep the games in the zeitgeist. And ultimately, they succeeded. Now, Pikachu keychains hang off the backpacks of millions. Even I have a corduroy Squirtle on a shelf at home.

Despite not actually growing up in the ’90s, it sometimes felt like I did. My experience with video games was always ten years behind. My parents didn’t understand video games, nor did they respect them as a concept. But for as long as I can remember, I had access to them in some form, even if it was always previous-generation technology. My brother and I didn’t know the difference. And even if we did, I doubt we’d have cared. I poured hours of my life into those little plastic cartridges. My earliest memory of a game console was a grape-purple Game Boy Color. It didn’t have a backlight, so on long car rides, you had to angle the screen toward the setting sun to play as daylight faded. I never complained. Pokémon Blue continued to capture my attention well into the late 2000s. Kids my age were playing Halo 3, and I was still enamored with a decade-old game on a handheld you couldn’t play in the dark.

It never occurred to me back then that Pokémon was somewhat ugly—at least, Blue was. Pokémon’s second generation passed me by, but the third did not. I had a copy of Pokémon FireRed, and it was then that I began to appreciate the artistry behind the franchise. The designs were satisfying, the colors rich. In color, it was easier to appreciate the cutesy, pixelated art style that I, and many others, fell in love with as the series progressed.

The fourth generation blended 3D with the classic sprite style, releasing alongside the Nintendo DS. Even then, it felt like the franchise was keeping pace with the hardware. I was late to these games and mostly experienced them over the shoulder of a friend on a moving school bus. But I appreciated them nonetheless.

Then came HeartGold and SoulSilver. This was the peak of Pokémon. Never was the franchise more enjoyable. “I played those games for hours—losing the cartridges under car seats, finding them a month later, and picking up right where I left off. The colors were vibrant, the designs detailed.

Then came Gen 5. By this point, I had enough of my own money to buy Pokémon Black and White brand new. And I did. But for the first time, I felt dread playing a Pokémon game. Sometimes, around a certain age, a kid consumes a piece of media and realizes for the first time that they don’t like it. This was that moment for me. The whole game had an odd neon theme. The Pokémon designs were hit-or-miss—some were intriguing, others were shaped like ice cream. I wouldn’t have understood why at the time, but that big graphical and thematic leap felt unsatisfying.

As the 2000s came to an end, Nintendo was in a weird place. Financially, they were fine. Their games still sold millions of copies, their consoles millions of units. But as they began winding down the DS, fans were left waiting to see what came next. The Wii certainly sold well, but it marked a clear divergence from Sony and Microsoft. While they pushed for technological leaps, Nintendo leaned into gimmicks.

The 3DS always confused me, even as a preteen. I had no interest in it, and for the first time, I stopped keeping up with new Nintendo games.

Fast forward a decade. I finally decided to buy a Nintendo Switch. Breath of the Wild convinced me, and I was intrigued by Pokémon Legends: Arceus. I was ready to get back into Pokémon—in my 20s.

For whatever reason, I checked Facebook Marketplace first. I found a Switch at a decent price. The seller offered to ship it, but I, wary of a scam, arranged to pick it up instead. The drive would take hours, but it was near my brother’s college, so I committed to the trip.

I arrived at a quaint Upstate New York town, knocked on the door, and got no response. I called the seller—no answer. Frustrated, I knocked on another door of the early 20th-century home. A shirtless man with a large overbite answered. He looked prehistoric to be frank. He didn’t respond with full sentences, but it was clear he was not selling a Nintendo Switch on Facebook Marketplace.

Was this a scam? If so, what was the point? Either way, it was a waste of time. Later, at a low-quality Mexican restaurant with my brother, I bit the bullet and bought a Switch online.

Finally, I had it. I was ready to play a new Pokémon game. And upon starting Arceus… it was hideous. The Pokémon themselves retained their cute, creative designs, but the original creators had never envisioned them in full 3D. Even when the series blended 2D and 3D, the spirit of the original art style remained. But that spirit faded when the developers transitioned to a fully 3D world.

None of this has anything to do with gameplay—that’s another discussion. And to Arceus’ credit, I found the revamped gameplay refreshing, at least for a while.

Many argue that gameplay holds the franchise back, but I disagree. With each new game, developers tweak the turn-based formula—introducing new evolutions, battle types, and features like Gigantamaxing or whatever. I don’t care for it, but that’s beside the point.

The real issue is the graphical quality. In the last five games, character models, textures, and environments all seem trapped in limbo. Pokémon designs are too smooth. The world is too bright. Buildings are too clean. Characters are too simple.

Is this a hardware limitation?

I doubt it. The Switch lacks power, sure. But more ambitious, inspired developers push the console’s boundaries to create truly beautiful games. Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom aren’t the prettiest games I’ve ever seen, but their art style is deliberate. Pokémon’s, by contrast, feels like an afterthought—each new installment resembling an unfinished build.

The latest game, Z-A, is inspired by real-world France. So why does it lack the character of real-world France? Paris is old. Its buildings reflect centuries of history. I don’t need Pokémon to be Baldur’s Gate 3, but a little effort would go a long way.

The problem isn’t the Switch—it’s complacency. These games sell millions, so why try harder?

Nintendo, as a whole, seems to share this attitude. No company leaves more money on the table. A simple port of SoulSilver would sell like crazy, yet they let classics sit in limbo—locked on aging consoles or hunted down on emulators.

I don’t know the solution. But despite everything, I still feel that nostalgia when a new Pokémon game is announced.

I guess I’ll just keep waiting for that SoulSilver port.