MONROE - I have never caught 'em all.
I've tried, over the years. On Gameboys and Nintendo DS systems, I hunted down Pokemon one at a time in the hopes of capturing every one.
But every time I neared my goal, a new game released, and with it, scores of new monsters to spend hours hunting. Eventually, I simply gave up on the Sisyphean chore as I outgrew Pokemon and could no longer spend dozens of hours playing video games and eating junk food without feeling guilty.
Now, though, Pokemon is back. And so, intrigued by the promise of exercising while collecting monsters, I joined the millions of other Americans who downloaded Pokemon Go. My sedentary lifestyle would surely be no more.
Upon starting the game, the player is given a choice between three classic Pokemon: the water-spitting turtle Squirtle, the fire-breathing lizard Charmander and the seed-shooting dinosaur Bulbasaur. These Pokemon, like all Pokemon in the game, appear on the app's walking map around your location.
In my case, however, Squirtle appeared directly on my location. Without rising from my couch, I captured my first Pokemon! Take that, Fitness!
My second Pokemon appeared seconds later when the loathsome tapir Drowzee materialized at my front door. Drowzee is ugly, creepy and unpleasant, but one mustn't be picky, so I caught it too.
Hoping to learn the ropes of Pokemon Go, I decided to walk to the Square, where I was told Pokemon could be found in abundance. On the way, I overheard a man with graying hair discuss his Pokemon catches of the day with another man. Years earlier, most adults couldn't tell the difference between a Vulpix and a Vileplume. The times, they are a-changing.
Still, I tried not to seem too obvious while playing, if only to avoid walking into traffic while focused on the map. The app's loading screen warns of this possibility, depicting a silhouetted pedestrian staring at his phone, while a Gyarados - a particularly angry-looking sea serpent - rears up in front of him. "Don't be like this goober," the image suggests, "staring at his phone when there's a rare Pokemon to catch!"
About halfway to the Square, the app crashed. As I attempted to reload the app, I received a notification that I could not connect to the servers. Rather than sit in the July heat waiting for the app to reload, I walked to the Garden Deli and bought some ice cream instead. Strike two, Fitness!
After 20 minutes, the app finally reconnected to the server, and I ventured into the heat once more. With a bit of jaywalking, I found my third Pokemon, a worthless Rattata lurking around the Courthouse. The app crashed again after this.
When I reopened the app, I investigated a few of Monroe's PokeStops, local landmarks where you can restock on in-game items. The second one I investigated, the Believers Fellowship Church, caused the app to crash. I began to detest the app's loading screen, with its sneering sea snake silently mocking the player for his shoddy network connection.
By this point, Pokemon Go had drained about 60 percent of my phone's anemic battery, and I began the walk back home. On the way, I encountered a Weedle (which caused the game to crash) and a Pidgey (which also caused the game to crash).
Upon arriving back at my sweltering apartment, I decided to eat pizza and watch Netflix while I waited for my phone to recharge (Strike three, Fitness!). When it finished, however, the server connection was down again, so I was forced to take my exercise like some sort of troglodyte, walking throughout a town bereft of Pokemon.
Since then, I have only caught two other Pokemon. One, a Caterpie, appeared while I was sitting at my desk at work. The other, a Venonat, appeared in line at a fast-food restaurant. It would seem that, while Pokemon games have changed dramatically since my childhood, they still can't change bad habits.
I've tried, over the years. On Gameboys and Nintendo DS systems, I hunted down Pokemon one at a time in the hopes of capturing every one.
But every time I neared my goal, a new game released, and with it, scores of new monsters to spend hours hunting. Eventually, I simply gave up on the Sisyphean chore as I outgrew Pokemon and could no longer spend dozens of hours playing video games and eating junk food without feeling guilty.
Now, though, Pokemon is back. And so, intrigued by the promise of exercising while collecting monsters, I joined the millions of other Americans who downloaded Pokemon Go. My sedentary lifestyle would surely be no more.
Upon starting the game, the player is given a choice between three classic Pokemon: the water-spitting turtle Squirtle, the fire-breathing lizard Charmander and the seed-shooting dinosaur Bulbasaur. These Pokemon, like all Pokemon in the game, appear on the app's walking map around your location.
In my case, however, Squirtle appeared directly on my location. Without rising from my couch, I captured my first Pokemon! Take that, Fitness!
My second Pokemon appeared seconds later when the loathsome tapir Drowzee materialized at my front door. Drowzee is ugly, creepy and unpleasant, but one mustn't be picky, so I caught it too.
Hoping to learn the ropes of Pokemon Go, I decided to walk to the Square, where I was told Pokemon could be found in abundance. On the way, I overheard a man with graying hair discuss his Pokemon catches of the day with another man. Years earlier, most adults couldn't tell the difference between a Vulpix and a Vileplume. The times, they are a-changing.
Still, I tried not to seem too obvious while playing, if only to avoid walking into traffic while focused on the map. The app's loading screen warns of this possibility, depicting a silhouetted pedestrian staring at his phone, while a Gyarados - a particularly angry-looking sea serpent - rears up in front of him. "Don't be like this goober," the image suggests, "staring at his phone when there's a rare Pokemon to catch!"
About halfway to the Square, the app crashed. As I attempted to reload the app, I received a notification that I could not connect to the servers. Rather than sit in the July heat waiting for the app to reload, I walked to the Garden Deli and bought some ice cream instead. Strike two, Fitness!
After 20 minutes, the app finally reconnected to the server, and I ventured into the heat once more. With a bit of jaywalking, I found my third Pokemon, a worthless Rattata lurking around the Courthouse. The app crashed again after this.
When I reopened the app, I investigated a few of Monroe's PokeStops, local landmarks where you can restock on in-game items. The second one I investigated, the Believers Fellowship Church, caused the app to crash. I began to detest the app's loading screen, with its sneering sea snake silently mocking the player for his shoddy network connection.
By this point, Pokemon Go had drained about 60 percent of my phone's anemic battery, and I began the walk back home. On the way, I encountered a Weedle (which caused the game to crash) and a Pidgey (which also caused the game to crash).
Upon arriving back at my sweltering apartment, I decided to eat pizza and watch Netflix while I waited for my phone to recharge (Strike three, Fitness!). When it finished, however, the server connection was down again, so I was forced to take my exercise like some sort of troglodyte, walking throughout a town bereft of Pokemon.
Since then, I have only caught two other Pokemon. One, a Caterpie, appeared while I was sitting at my desk at work. The other, a Venonat, appeared in line at a fast-food restaurant. It would seem that, while Pokemon games have changed dramatically since my childhood, they still can't change bad habits.