The act of playing a pokemon game grows more and more surreal the older I get. The "story" transformers and is now about a 10-14 year old child that suddenly gets possessed by a fat, 36 year old, nerdy, malcontent from another universe.

One that knows these games made for children far more thoroughly than anyone without autism has any right too.

The puppeted child then finds their dreams of being a pokemon champion realized in cruel ironic fashion as the he next several weeks to months are without sleep, without food, often minde numbing as I force them to thoroughly search every single patch of grass for literally every species it contains only for the vast majority of the captures to be filed away neatly into a computer and never seen again.

The DS and 3DS being equipped with a microphone implied this innocent youngling from the otherside of the multiverse gets to hear my sweaty, greasy voice as I say the most awful shit:
"Dammit, Gary! You stupid faggot, I need to get to the pokemon center. If I don't have enough potions to murder your shit 'mon I'm going to have Machoke rape your ass."
"Good lord Shouna, I bet I could wrap one hand around your waist and work you on my cock like a fleshlight."