Revisiting Pokémon Snap

My final post of 2020 was a discussion of the video games I’d played during the pandemic. One of them was Pokémon Snap, which took a lax approach to the franchise by having you capture Pokémon metaphorically. Despite being archaic nowadays, especially in light of photography taking off with the digital age, the game was a big hit back in the day, earning a cult following and being one the N64’s most-rented titles. And with a sequel debuting soon, albeit 22 years later, I figured it was time to discuss it in more detail.

The premise is quite simple: you take the role of Todd Snap, an aspiring photographer recruited by Professor Oak to observe wild Pokémon. Armed initially with nothing but a camera and an on-rails cart, you traverse environments and photograph the critters in their natural states. It’s a simple premise, and on paper it sounds mundane, but there’s depth to the mechanics that make it all worth it. I say that despite some minute frustrations I still have.

One of the key elements that makes Pokémon Snap great is its accessibility. It embodies the “easy to pick up, yet difficult to master” philosophy, as getting the “perfect shot” requires patience and good timing. This dichotomy makes it worth returning to previous levels as you acquire more gadgets, especially as opportunities for photographs that wouldn’t have existed prior become more-apparent.

While being simple, you also can’t do whatever you want. Todd can’t leave his cart and explore, he must remain on the predetermined track. Additionally, any obstacles that impede movement, like an unhatched egg, have to be cleared to progress further. Finally, you only have 60 slots for photos. That number does reset when you re-enter a level, but the limitation forces efficiency.

Which leads to the most-important piece of the experience: Professor Oak. Upon completing a level, your arsenal of photographs is shown to you in full-force. You then pick one photo per Pokémon and take it to be graded. It’s fun hearing him speak and reading his predetermined lines, but Oak isn’t always the best judge of quality. Sometimes he’ll be too critical and nitpick details. Other times he’ll completely ignore your efforts. And then there are times where his grading makes no sense. It’s a missed opportunity in that regard, and you quickly learn that Professor Oak isn’t the best at judging, but it’s still funny and entertaining.

Aesthetically, the game’s pretty simple. The 7 courses are pretty bare-bones, and the N64’s limitations have made the visuals and layouts look that much more limited nowadays. But what it lacks in technical prowess it makes up for in appeal. Each of the courses is unique and brimming with Pokémon, and while they might behave a certain way, they give off the illusion of agency too. If you anger the Magmar near the Charmander in the Volcano level, it’ll breathe fire at it, knock it out-cold and cause it to evolve into a Charmeleon. In the Tunnel level, if you hit the Electrode guarding a blocked-off path at the end, it’ll explode and reveal a path to progress further. Some of these tidbits blew my mind when I first discovered them, and even now it’s worth noting how much care went in.

After unlocking the first 6 levels, you’re given a special quest. Professor Oak has been searching for the infamous Mew this whole time, and he needs you to photograph signs from each level to find it. You’re then forced to backtrack and look for clues to help in your new objective, and the game becomes an interactive version of I Spy with photography. This seems like a tedious time-waster initially, but finding these signs is one of the highlights. It’s also neat seeing how every tool you’ve collected gets used for the objective.

The game’s music’s also deceptively simple. Despite each track playing on loop, the tunes are quite catchy and pleasant. Standouts are the Beach and the Cave, although it’s hard to pick a favourite. To quote an age-old cliché: everyone’s a winner!

If I have any complaints, they’d be about how I’m left wanting more. For one, the game has only 63 of the original 151 Pokémon, and quite a few are repeats. This is especially apparent with the final level only containing Mew. It’s not like there couldn’t have been more variety if they cut down on the number of Pikachu, so why the game settled on 63 is beyond me. But I guess it’s too late now...

Another complaint I have is with the overall experience. To be fair, I have no problem with Pokémon Snap being 3-hours. I’d happily spend an afternoon beating it! But there’s little to entice you to return when you’ve photographed all 151 Pokémon. And this is with the additional challenges and secret third ending. I’d much sooner restart the game from scratch than do that, honestly!

Finally, the game lacks a multiplayer option. I know it’s unfair to gripe about that, but Pokémon Snap practically begs for it. It’s a missed opportunity to not be able to play this with friends, and I wish HAL Laboratory foresaw that. It’s not like the N64 wasn’t known for multiplayer games, after all! And given how HAL’s biggest entry for system, Super Smash Bros., had multiplayer functionality, I’m surprised it wasn’t included here too.

Still, these are minor quibbles. Is Pokémon Snap winning awards for “Best Game on the N64”? No. Is it the most-enjoyable video game I’ve ever played? Again, no. But it’s stood the test of time, something many N64 titles haven’t. And with the sequel arriving 22 years later, that it endures after all these years says something. At least, I think it does.

One Year Later

COVID-19.

Simply uttering that makes many people angry. I know it sparks intense emotions in me, considering how poorly parts of the world have reacted to it. Regardless, SARS CoV-2, or COVID-19, has rocked the world’s stability. At best, it’s been a rough 13 months since The WHO declared it a pandemic. At worst, it’s been a nightmare.

Personally, though, COVID-19 has been an intense, mixed bag. Starting in late-March, I was furloughed from my courier job. Food was initially scarce, and general panic and anxiety skyrocketed. It quickly became a nightmare navigating basic essentials that I took for granted. I couldn’t even go shopping, lest I bring home the virus through fomites.

But it hasn’t been an entire loss. For one, I finally learned how to play Settlers of Catan, a game I was too scared to try. A forced staycation opened up opportunities I never thought possible, so I figured that was worth it. So I learned, even if I’m not the best anyway.

Two, I had many social opportunities online. Before April 2020, if you’d have asked me what Zoom was, I’d have scratched my forehead in confusion. After April 2020, however, it became my lifeline. Whether it was talking to colleagues from work, activities via social groups, or simply talking to friends and family, Zoom was the go-to platform. So much so that I even got a monthly subscription.

Three, my possibilities for skill expansion opened up. In the past 13 months, I’ve taken a novel writing course, joined a writer’s group, listened to various MasterClass lessons and completed an office administration course. I wouldn’t have done any of this without the pandemic. I’m not thrilled it had to happen this way, but I’m grateful.

Four, I wound up with a new job. In December I secured a position at a grocery chain as a lot associate. I, basically, am now responsible for scouting shopping carts from the parking lot, bringing them to the main entrance and spraying them for customers. It’s not my ideal job, I’d have preferred something at-home, but it at least got me socializing. And it gave me something to do outside of playing video games and watching YouTube videos.

And five, I’ve become a face-mask aficionado. Prior to the lockdown, I didn’t have masks in my wardrobe. Face-masks were something I despised, and I hated putting them on when I was recovering from a bad cold. Nowadays they’re not so bad. I’ve even built up a modest collection!

The pandemic has been a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it’s been the worst time for my tics and anxiety, both of which have been out of control. But, on the other hand, it’s shown how valuable everything I took for granted was. And as my community enters its third lockdown to combat the more contagious strains, I see that even more. I hope I’ll take that to heart.

Since this piece is a little bit short as is, I’ll end it with a poem I wrote after receiving my first Pfizer shot. Those who follow me on Facebook will have already seen it, since that’s where I originally posted it, but it’s to the tune of “Who Knows One?” from the Haggadah:

“Who knows one? I know one! One is for the pandemic, may it be damned forever!

Who knows two? I know two! Two is for both doses of the vaccine, one is for the pandemic, may it be damned forever!

Who knows three? I know three! Three is for the vaccine types available in Canada, two is for both doses of the vaccine, one is for the pandemic, may it be damned forever!

Who knows four? I know four! Four is for the four people who were in my household during this pandemic, three is for the vaccine types available in Canada, two is for both doses of the vaccine, one is for the pandemic, may it be damned forever!

Who knows five? I know five! Five is for the guests I had outside for my birthday last year, four is for the four people who were in my household during this pandemic, three is for the vaccine types available in Canada, two is for both doses of the vaccine, one is for the pandemic, may it be damned forever!

Who knows six? I know six! Six is for the major Chagim last year that I couldn't celebrate with extended family, five is for the guests I had outside for my birthday last year, four is for the four people who were in my household during this pandemic, three is for the vaccine types available in Canada, two is for both doses of the vaccine, one is for the pandemic, may it be damned forever!

Who knows seven? I know seven! Seven is for the average number of chapters I wrote in my novel before we had our table reads on Zoom, six is for the major Chagim last year that I couldn't celebrate with extended family, five is for the guests I had outside for my birthday last year, four is for the four people who were in my household during this pandemic, three is for the vaccine types available in Canada, two is for both doses of the vaccine, one is for the pandemic, may it be damned forever!

Who knows eight? I know eight! Eight is for the number of months that vaccines were in trial mode, seven is for the average number of chapters I wrote in my novel before we had our table reads on Zoom, six is for the major Chagim last year that I couldn't celebrate with extended family, five is for the guests I had outside for my birthday last year, four is for the four people who were in my household during this pandemic, three is for the vaccine types available in Canada, two is for both doses of the vaccine, one is for the pandemic, may it be damned forever!

Who knows nine? I know nine? Nine is for the months that I lost last year, eight is for the number of months that vaccines were in trial mode, seven is for the average number of chapters I wrote in my novel before we had our table reads on Zoom, six is for the major Chagim last year that I couldn't celebrate with extended family, five is for the guests I had outside for my birthday last year, four is for the four people who were in my household during this pandemic, three is for the vaccine types available in Canada, two is for both doses of the vaccine, one is for the pandemic, may it be damned forever!

Who knows ten? I know ten! Ten is for the months before Pfizer was made public, nine is for the months that I lost last year, eight is for the number of months that vaccines were in trial mode, seven is for the average number of chapters I wrote in my novel before we had our table reads on Zoom, six is for the major Chagim last year that I couldn't celebrate with extended family, five is for the guests I had outside for my birthday last year, four is for the four people who were in my household during this pandemic, three is for the vaccine types available in Canada, two is for both doses of the vaccine, one is for the pandemic, may it be damned forever!

Who knows eleven? I know eleven! Eleven is for the months last year that the economy was in peril, ten is for the months before Pfizer was made public, nine is for the months that I lost last year, eight is for the number of months that vaccines were in trial mode, seven is for the average number of chapters I wrote in my novel before we had our table reads on Zoom, six is for the major Chagim last year that I couldn't celebrate with extended family, five is for the guests I had outside for my birthday last year, four is for the four people who were in my household during this pandemic, three is for the vaccine types available in Canada, two is for both doses of the vaccine, one is for the pandemic, may it be damned forever!

Who knows twelve? I know twelve? Twelve is for the number of months this pandemic has been a global crisis, eleven is for the months last year that the economy was in peril, ten is for the months before Pfizer was made public, nine is for the months that I lost last year, eight is for the number of months that vaccines were in trial mode, seven is for the average number of chapters I wrote in my novel before we had our table reads on Zoom, six is for the major Chagim last year that I couldn't celebrate with extended family, five is for the guests I had outside for my birthday last year, four is for the four people who were in my household during this pandemic, three is for the vaccine types available in Canada, two is for both doses of the vaccine, one is for the pandemic, may it be damned forever!

Who knows thirteen? I know thirteen! Thirteen is for the number of months it took for me to finally get my first COVID shot, twelve is for the number of months this pandemic has been a global crisis, eleven is for the months last year that the economy was in peril, ten is for the months before Pfizer was made public, nine is for the months that I lost last year, eight is for the number of months that vaccines were in trial mode, seven is for the average number of chapters I wrote in my novel before we had our table reads on Zoom, six is for the major Chagim last year that I couldn't celebrate with extended family, five is for the guests I had outside for my birthday last year, four is for the four people who were in my household during this pandemic, three is for the vaccine types available in Canada, two is for both doses of the vaccine, one is for the pandemic, may it be damned forever!”

Let’s pray this ends soon, so I can go outside without worrying about getting sick!

Premiering Near You...

Last year, I wrote a piece about Mulan and how Premier Access was bad. In it, I mentioned the following:

“Perhaps I’m being cynical, but this is the kind of dystopian price gouging you hear about in science-fiction, the kind you’d read in a Phillip K. Dick novel or watch on the big-screen. It’s sketchy nonsense you’d expect in fantasy, not reality.”

I’m mentioning this again because I’d hoped it’d be a one-off. I’d hoped Disney would lose money, realize it was bad business and never repeat it. And for a while, it looked like that happened: Mulan underperformed, and Disney nixed it with Soul. Problem solved.

But then Raya and the Last Dragon, which I was highly-anticipating, was sent to Disney+ because the pandemic was still going. Sure enough, there it was again: Premier Access until June. Unless you wanted to wait, you were forced to pay $30 (or $35 in Canada) to watch it. And now Black Widow’s receiving that same treatment. Cruella too, though I’m not as interested in that one.

To be fair, it makes sense financially: Disney’s missing revenue by not having theatrical releases. Premier Access on Disney+, therefore, helps offset that. It also builds hype by making it elusive, like you’re getting something special. In that sense, it’s pragmatic.

But I don’t get everything else about this decision. For one, why charge extra on a service you’re already paying for? It’s the timed-exclusive, digital content model I hate with modern-day video games: you’ve already shelled out money for the product, why pay extra for missing content? Especially if it should’ve been there on day 1? Isn’t that self-defeating?

Two, why that much extra? Movie tickets aren’t that expensive, even in VIP theatres. And even if you’re trying to recoup revenue, that’s still ludicrous. Movies, even with concessions, don’t cost $35. I say that knowing concessions are a rip-off, as well as the reason behind them being so. If you want to convince me that Premier Access is worth it, slash the starting fee. You’ll get more of an audience.

And three, why only make this timed? I understand wanting to charge more, but go all-in if you’re being greedy. Better yet, slowly lower the cost as the weeks go on to keep the discourse going. That’d not only satisfy investors, it’d also ease concerns. As it stands now, this reads as pure greed.

That’s what bugs me the most: greed. I know Disney+ increased its yearly subscription fee to compensate for Star, but at least that opens its library to adult content. I can tolerate that. But charging extra for content that’ll be free in a few months? Does Disney think I’m a money tree?

I know Disney+ is a family-friendly streaming device, so parents will put up with this for the sake of their kids. This is especially true now, where the global pandemic has made theatregoing unsafe. I currently work in a grocery store and come into contact with lots of people, some of whom don’t follow proper protocol. I put myself at risk regularly, and I don’t have much of a choice there!

But I can’t imagine I’m alone on considering Premier Access extortion. It sure feels like it, especially given the aforementioned points. That it’s increasingly looking to be the case for Disney+ movies worries me. It worries me because of the dystopian implications that tag along with it.

Additionally, I’m concerned by the potentially negative ripple effects that Premier Access could create. I’m concerned that it could become so normalized that other streaming services might start using something similar for their exclusives. Like, HBO Max could’ve easily done this with Zack Snyder’s Justice League, especially since it’s a special circumstance. But they didn’t, and I’m glad.

Yet if AT&T or Netflix ever see the potential for money, and nothing’s ever off the table with that, we could be in for more of this financially dystopian nonsense. And that’s scary. It’s almost as if streaming services will do it because theatres are dwindling in popularity, so they can extort the masses who have fewer options for their “faves”. Streaming services also have the potential to become like digital-only gaming, too. We’re already seeing that with the dozens of services that are starting to pop up.

This goes back to a longstanding complaint I’ve had about digital content. On one hand, it’s easy, convenient and has relative ease of access. These are all benefits to ditching physical media, which is bulky, flimsy and limited in its usage. But at least physical media, for the most part, is reliable. At least I know what I’m getting upfront. I don’t have that certainty with streaming, and Premier Access is another reason why.

I guess there’s not much I can do outside of wait for titles I’m interested in to become regular movies on Disney+. That much I have power over, and I’m grateful. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be concerned and frustrated that Disney’s being greedy again. I shouldn’t be surprised, corporations aren’t my friends, but I can still feel that way about a megalith that gets bigger by the day. Because I do, and that worries me.

"Congratulations: You're Cancelled Also!"

I know I’m late to the conversation, but let’s talk Lindsay Ellis.

Before I go into why she’s a hot-topic, I want to make something clear: I like Lindsay’s videos. I liked them even when she was The Nostalgia Chick on That Guy With the Glasses, and she became a go-to on YouTube in the years since. She makes good content. But I don’t Follow her on Twitter, as I have no interest giving in to my darkest temptations. She’s like Bob Chipman in that regard: great content creator, lousy opinions.

A few days ago, Lindsay Ellis Tweeted two Tweets that made everyone roll their eyes. One of them was how Raya and the Last Dragon “ripped off Avatar: The Last Airbender” and shared much in-common with half of YA fiction in the last while. The other was that Soul was “a movie for pro-lifers”. Both times she received backlash, prompting her to do damage control and deactivate her account.

I missed a lot of this drama because of Passover. However, it’s been archived for anyone interested in verifying it. It’s also worth noting that, despite how tone-deaf the Tweets were, these weren’t in isolation. I know it’s not a 1:1 comparison, but Ellis, like Chipman, has a history of off-colour Tweets. Why these two were the tipping point, therefore, is beyond me.

Much discussion has surfaced in light of this about “BreadTube”, or “leftist video essayists”, and how obnoxious they are. Honestly, I don’t think it’s fair to generalize, since BreadTube isn’t a monolith. But I see the concern, as some of these individuals, like Shaun from Shaun Vids, have made me quite angry. And that much of BreadTube is “white and cis” is also valid, as it limits perspectives in the conversation on racism and bigotry.

What bugs me about this now, of all times, is that it should’ve been discussed sooner. Many BreadTube personalities have large social media bases, and they’ve had them for years. With that comes the responsibility to be socially conscious, as they can do much more damage than if they were small-fries. But I don’t have such a big fanbase, so what do I know?

This is usually where I’d make a statement about how there needs to be diversity of voices in this community, and how that’d help remedy the problem. And on some level I genuinely believe that. However, there are three problems that complicate this. The first is that even with minorities there are differences in life experiences. Even in the same communities there are differences in life experiences. No two people are alike, so getting an accurate sample of where the conversation should be steered requires multiple voices.

The second is that some minority voices are dishonest. There are bad-faith actors in every community, and they openly dilute the message. Expecting individuals to always be honest is the epitome of The Scotsman Fallacy. It’s also not helpful to the first issue, especially when it involves knowing who to weed out.

The third issue, and this is the most-crucial, is that minority voices, even well-intended ones, don’t always help steer social progress. Marginalized communities routinely step on and gaslight other marginalized communities, even though that’s not helpful in the slightest. For example, some of the most-frustrating individuals I’ve dealt with have been Muslim and non-Jewish black individuals who’ve assumed that because I’m “white passing”, my Jewish identity’s linked to colonialism and, therefore, isn’t worth anything. This isn’t to indict them as a collective, but it’s been a challenge.

Going back to Lindsay Ellis, I see the frustrations surrounding her through other e-celebs. I used to love Shaun’s work until he referred to Jewish critics of Jeremy Corbyn as “bitter Blairites”, even though Jews aren’t monolithic. I was partial to Jacob Chapman’s content until he used his trans and gay identities to gate-keep queer media. Losing trust in the people I respect is so commonplace now that I’m surprised when it doesn’t happen. That’s how much the internet’s ruined discourse.

Outside of that, while Ellis’s Tweets were indefensible, and her attempts at damage control weren’t any better, some of her critics were acting in bad faith too. Did she deserve criticism? I’d say so. Does she need to understand that her words have consequences? Again, I’d say so. But did she deserve to be harassed off of Twitter? No.

I can’t think of anyone who hasn’t had at least one bad take. I’ve made many, some recently. I’m a flustered speaker in real life, so I make comments that I immediately regret. Even online, where I have time to compose myself, I’ve gotten in trouble for not properly crossing my t’s or dotting my i’s. It’s inevitable.

I’ve also heard far worse from other individuals who haven’t been called out. I’ve seen bigger profiles than Lindsay Ellis say or type stuff that was equally/more-offensive and not get called out. Or, if they have, they’d have their fans pile-drive critics. Social media’s both The Wild West and Mean Girls in that regard.

I’m not saying we should forgive Lindsay right away, if at all. I’m not the one she’s harmed, so it’s not my place to demand that for her. Like with Noelle Stevenson, only those harmed have the power to forgive her. And even then, that doesn’t mean they have to trust her again. It also doesn’t mean she’s suddenly absolved of accountability.

That said, we should be cautious of how we rebuke her. Remember, criticizing someone is simple. I do it all the time! But it’s easy to do it when we’re busy doing what we’re critiquing, and that gets lost in mob outrages. If we’re criticizing someone, even someone vile, it has to be done in a way that we don’t stoop to their level. We owe that much to ourselves.

If anything can be learned from this, it’s that people can be really insensitive at the best of times. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to resume throwing darts at my hostages…