Contains out of context spoilers for CHAINSAW MAN episode 9. They're not plot spoilers, but the full impact of the scene deserves to be felt.
“What the freak?!” GAME FREAK yelled, as cursing was not child-friendly. “Those Smogon sadists are still going?”
“Y-yes, sir!” Forget bags; a whole entire baggage claim hung from the developer’s half-closed eyes in the driver’s seat. “The Terastalization debacle went as planned, sir! Their Council is surrounded on all sides, sir! And HOME’s sent their metagame into chaos, sir! But they’re… they’re…” Their half-closed eyes widened with horror as they tried to suppress the yawn. For this, GAME FREAK deemed punishing this little breach in company policy unnecessary. “...they’re still going strong, sir, sir, SIR!”
GAME FREAK basked in the praise for a moment before using Explosion. “How?! Can’t they see that Doubles is just the better format? I even go to the trouble of shaking things up every now and then with my Regulations! But no, they’ve gotta have their usage tiers with their beloved designed-to-be-poopmons like Espathra and Houndstone and taint this wonderful game full of limitless strategic potential with Almost Any Ability and Force of the Fallen and Balanced Hackmons. What does that even mean?!” GAME FREAK smashed the center console, which was against company policy unless GAME FREAK did it. “And they tell us how dumb it is to win with our favorites!”
The company’s rage was tangible in its breath. It was smellable. It smelled like scuffed Tupperware floors and All-Natural Nature Scent (Artificial Flavors) sprayed on a plastic potted plant. It was overwhelming, but opening the windows without a Window Opener Form was against company policy. Being dishonest with GAME FREAK was also against company policy. So was insulting GAME FREAK, for a very liberal definition of ‘insult.’ “I-I guess they… just want more than that, sir?”
The developer winced for a blow that never came. Good. The conditioning is working. GAME FREAK sighed and rubbed its temples. “That kid on the sidewalk. Run him over.”
“W-what, sir?!”
“He’s listening to the Gen 5 soundtrack. One of those stupid remixes by GlitchxThinksshebetterthanus. Run. Him. Over.”
“I-i-i-i-i-i-i…” The developer searched the street for some reason, any reason, why doing so was detrimental to GAME FREAK’S wallet. “In public?!” they yelled.
GAME FREAK STARES.
“...sir.” The developer used MINIMIZE. It was very effective.
GAME FREAK sighed again. “Well, if they’ll keep playing their crumbling tier through all of that, we’ll just have to… no, we can’t give ‘em a good proper jolt until Pokemon X Squared and Y Squared, and a real shock’ll have to wait for Gen 10 in four months.”
It took five seconds of silence for the developer to realize that they were supposed to ask a rhetorical question. “Then what? What do we do?”
GAME FREAK gave a self-satisfied smile, the kind that only appeared on someone who thought they’d thought of the world’s best plan and GAME FREAK’s fiftieth this hour. “We’ll just have to handle it from the current meta.”
~*~*~
The Temple of Charizard, the highest in all the land. Admirers came from all across Kanto to stare in awe at the wondrous might of the First, the Original, the One and True. To facilitate this, the temple was built entirely out of statues and tapestries depicting the Draconic Non-Dragon in all its forms: Original, Baby, a little sketch of its pubescence kept out of politeness to the five-year-old who made it (and tolerance of their childlike mind’s inability to grasp the true wonders of the Red Dragon), Mega X, Mega Y, Gigantamax, Koraidon, and the ten other forms planned for Gen 10. Charizard could be seen flying, feasting, fighting, fainting, engaging in child-safe reproductive activities at a picnic, the entire spectrum of life from birth to farm upstate painted in loving, loving-getting-paid, and please-commission-something-else shades of red and orange. And that was just the outside!
Outside was where GAME FREAK had to be, though, between the two neat rows of Pikachu staring at it with rapt attention. “S-sir,” the developer said, “W-why do you need me here?”
GAME FREAK turned. “A witness.”
“What am I s-supposed to witness with this blindfold on?” the developer said. “W-with all due respect, I just want to do my-”
A smack across the face. “You’re throwing off the company synergy.”
“S-sorry, sir!”
GAME FREAK resumed its position, opened its mouth, and changed its voice. No longer was it a low, scratchy, threatening corporate bark, but a peppy, encouraging PR voice. “Hello, citizens!” it chirped. “Welcome to the Grand Naming Giveaway!” The announcement was enthusiastically applauded by the loyal audience, thousands of tiny speakers cradled by Charizards of various sizes. “Each and every one of you has been assembled here because, due to limited space, you have lost your names, your sprites, your movesets, and even your abilities. However! New space has opened up, and you lucky winners will get to have your sprites back if you just do me a little favor!”
“What’s the favor?” one of them asked, its voice distant and crackling like a crappy speaker.
“You’ll find out. It’s very quick, I promise!” GAME FREAK chirped. “Now, put on your blindfolds and let’s get down to business…”
~*~*~
“Haha Ha!!! Ha HA!!! HahahaHHHHHahahahahahahahahA!” Volcarona’s vibration cut off as suddenly as its laughter. It buzzed up and down and up and down and up and down and all around, dodging every last one of Lando-T’s and the unseen Tyranitar’s reverse rain of sharp-edged stones – and avoiding instant death from what did hit it. “You can’tstop me, anymore! Not after… two Quiver Dances! HAHAAAA!!” It metaphorically waved its formidable boosts in its opponents’ faces, desperately enforcing that it had something, and that something did matter, because it was two Quiver Dances and a Tera Water that let it weave erratically and carelessly between the windows, halls, doors, windoors, and ceilingdoors of the S.M. Escher Memorial Office Building And Family Restaurant.
Ping. Ping. Ping. Gholdengo’s coins! It darted, got bored of darting, and shot over walls, under pillars, through sneaky rocks hanging clocks with their faces punched out. It was looking for something… uh… what was it… Ping. Right! Gholdengo! That smug little nest of carvings arranged into a smug little grin to make smug little quips about ‘bugs’ and ‘bugs’ and ‘worthless BUGS!’ Who’s the bug now? Who’s weak to Fire now! But ze was still smiling. Ze was still smiling even when Volcarona made its ‘good as gold’ body into a MELTED CANDLE. HALF. HALF-MELTED CANDLE. Just one more Flamethrower, (under a beam, over a pillar, what are these room acoustics, can’t pick out a pixel of Tar or Lando) the room had gone silent. Like Volcarona was the only one inside. Alone AGAIN. Like, a-LONE alone, again and again and behind the pillar THERE-
[Volcarona used Flamethrower!]
…but against Tyranitar, it wasn’t very effective.
“Huh-”
PLINK!
A goldensteel coin, much like the one Tar flipped in her hand, shot from the ceiling into its Tera Crown, It broke the surface and stayed inside, suspended uselessly in the water like a Magikarp. Volcarona whirled and wheeled around at the sound spinning up-down along all the planes and THERE!!! Hanging from the ceiling, clenching a buzzing Stone Edge in zer STUPID SMUG BAKED IN CARVED IN SMIRK CARVED UP WITH… “Stop. smiling.” Bzz. “Stop smiling!” BZZ. “STOP!” A flame lit inside it, rising rising IN MY MOUTH. “SMILING!”
[Gholdengo used Trick!]
The coin vibrated once, twice, an early warning.
[Gholdengo swapped the opposing Volcarona’s Gholden Coin for its Stone Edge!]
The thing about round pegs and square holes is that they actually could fit — as long as the square hole accepted it’d never be completely full. Now, square pegs and round holes, or big sharp rocks and coin holes, well, worst case scenario the whole crown fell apart! The blue shards, all unique and beautiful and broken, dazzle and shine their way into NOTHING, NO ONE, “DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU JUST DID TO-”
Next time, less screeching, more flamethrower. It, of all mons, knew that with one measly turn, you could win the game, or lose the game, or feel the presence. Of something bigger. Between the winglike claws of what turned one of its one hundred eyes to Volcarona felt seen, crushed by that eye a magnifying glass a cold cruel child’s boot a gentle grasp on its look away look AWAY make it swallow the fire in its mouth-
“Finchinator.” Tyranitar tapped the tips of its claws to each other. “Ban it.”
[Announcement: Volcarona has been quickbanned from SV OU!]
Gholdengo dropped from the chandelier of tiny fluorescent lights and flopped down on the pillars and beams and “Hey, weren’t staircases S.M. Escher’s whole thing?”
Tar crossed her arms crossly. “Really, newbie? No ‘gr8 pl8s, t33m’? No ‘gottem GOOD! UH!’? Not even a simple, two-character ‘gg’?”
“Come on, ‘Tar, cut the newbie some slack.” Lando-T floated up to the two conversants. “The etiquette takes time to learn, and h- sh- th-”
“Z-” Gholdengo supplied.
“Thanks and sorry. Xe did- Y- Black2- White2-”
“Eh, forget it! We can practice later.” Gholdengo flicked the air, flicking Lando-T’s pronunciation problems to the edge of a bridge they’d be put under later.
“Thanks and sorry. Anyway, you did great for a first timer. That Trick with the Stone Edge and coin? Genius.” The veteran beamed. “You’re gonna go far, kid.”
“AY, thanks!” Gholdengo flopped the golden hair flops on zer head, as was their function. “You’re melting my heart! More.”
Tyranitar nodded her begrudging assent. “It was good, but don’t get cocky. For example, taking the Stone Edge head on wasn’t necess-”
…
Was she done? Thinking of something? “AY, thanks for the tip!” Gholdengo said anyway to the evenly-distributed pile of green rubble. “And nice alt form, too! Very compact.”
Ze figured ze should turn zer head to Lando-T, zer other partner in the conversation. And ze was glad ze did, cause something about this new form was giving the old guy the fright of his career. His face was white as a Normal attack and his skin shined with a sheen of sweat. “Hey, Lando, some’n about this is bothering you-”
Gholdengo had been tackled to the ground zer fair share. The thing about being a jokester is that sometimes you just very funny, and sometimes you really weren’t funny. It was inevitable. The laughing at people’s physical features was pretty evitable, but ze didn’t see anything ze could do about it now that ze’d apologized, or anything ze could not do other than doing it again. Being tackled to the air, though, was a new thing, and while being wrapped in someone’s tail and sent soaring at cannonball speeds wasn’t, they generally didn’t go along with zer.
“Whooooooa, what’s happening?!” ze asked zer mentor-captor.
In true Lando-T fashion, he gave a versatile reply that could accurately describe any number of situations. “Shit.”
“Y-yes, sir!” Forget bags; a whole entire baggage claim hung from the developer’s half-closed eyes in the driver’s seat. “The Terastalization debacle went as planned, sir! Their Council is surrounded on all sides, sir! And HOME’s sent their metagame into chaos, sir! But they’re… they’re…” Their half-closed eyes widened with horror as they tried to suppress the yawn. For this, GAME FREAK deemed punishing this little breach in company policy unnecessary. “...they’re still going strong, sir, sir, SIR!”
GAME FREAK basked in the praise for a moment before using Explosion. “How?! Can’t they see that Doubles is just the better format? I even go to the trouble of shaking things up every now and then with my Regulations! But no, they’ve gotta have their usage tiers with their beloved designed-to-be-poopmons like Espathra and Houndstone and taint this wonderful game full of limitless strategic potential with Almost Any Ability and Force of the Fallen and Balanced Hackmons. What does that even mean?!” GAME FREAK smashed the center console, which was against company policy unless GAME FREAK did it. “And they tell us how dumb it is to win with our favorites!”
The company’s rage was tangible in its breath. It was smellable. It smelled like scuffed Tupperware floors and All-Natural Nature Scent (Artificial Flavors) sprayed on a plastic potted plant. It was overwhelming, but opening the windows without a Window Opener Form was against company policy. Being dishonest with GAME FREAK was also against company policy. So was insulting GAME FREAK, for a very liberal definition of ‘insult.’ “I-I guess they… just want more than that, sir?”
The developer winced for a blow that never came. Good. The conditioning is working. GAME FREAK sighed and rubbed its temples. “That kid on the sidewalk. Run him over.”
“W-what, sir?!”
“He’s listening to the Gen 5 soundtrack. One of those stupid remixes by GlitchxThinksshebetterthanus. Run. Him. Over.”
“I-i-i-i-i-i-i…” The developer searched the street for some reason, any reason, why doing so was detrimental to GAME FREAK’S wallet. “In public?!” they yelled.
GAME FREAK STARES.
“...sir.” The developer used MINIMIZE. It was very effective.
GAME FREAK sighed again. “Well, if they’ll keep playing their crumbling tier through all of that, we’ll just have to… no, we can’t give ‘em a good proper jolt until Pokemon X Squared and Y Squared, and a real shock’ll have to wait for Gen 10 in four months.”
It took five seconds of silence for the developer to realize that they were supposed to ask a rhetorical question. “Then what? What do we do?”
GAME FREAK gave a self-satisfied smile, the kind that only appeared on someone who thought they’d thought of the world’s best plan and GAME FREAK’s fiftieth this hour. “We’ll just have to handle it from the current meta.”
~*~*~
The Temple of Charizard, the highest in all the land. Admirers came from all across Kanto to stare in awe at the wondrous might of the First, the Original, the One and True. To facilitate this, the temple was built entirely out of statues and tapestries depicting the Draconic Non-Dragon in all its forms: Original, Baby, a little sketch of its pubescence kept out of politeness to the five-year-old who made it (and tolerance of their childlike mind’s inability to grasp the true wonders of the Red Dragon), Mega X, Mega Y, Gigantamax, Koraidon, and the ten other forms planned for Gen 10. Charizard could be seen flying, feasting, fighting, fainting, engaging in child-safe reproductive activities at a picnic, the entire spectrum of life from birth to farm upstate painted in loving, loving-getting-paid, and please-commission-something-else shades of red and orange. And that was just the outside!
Outside was where GAME FREAK had to be, though, between the two neat rows of Pikachu staring at it with rapt attention. “S-sir,” the developer said, “W-why do you need me here?”
GAME FREAK turned. “A witness.”
“What am I s-supposed to witness with this blindfold on?” the developer said. “W-with all due respect, I just want to do my-”
A smack across the face. “You’re throwing off the company synergy.”
“S-sorry, sir!”
GAME FREAK resumed its position, opened its mouth, and changed its voice. No longer was it a low, scratchy, threatening corporate bark, but a peppy, encouraging PR voice. “Hello, citizens!” it chirped. “Welcome to the Grand Naming Giveaway!” The announcement was enthusiastically applauded by the loyal audience, thousands of tiny speakers cradled by Charizards of various sizes. “Each and every one of you has been assembled here because, due to limited space, you have lost your names, your sprites, your movesets, and even your abilities. However! New space has opened up, and you lucky winners will get to have your sprites back if you just do me a little favor!”
“What’s the favor?” one of them asked, its voice distant and crackling like a crappy speaker.
“You’ll find out. It’s very quick, I promise!” GAME FREAK chirped. “Now, put on your blindfolds and let’s get down to business…”
~*~*~
“Haha Ha!!! Ha HA!!! HahahaHHHHHahahahahahahahahA!” Volcarona’s vibration cut off as suddenly as its laughter. It buzzed up and down and up and down and up and down and all around, dodging every last one of Lando-T’s and the unseen Tyranitar’s reverse rain of sharp-edged stones – and avoiding instant death from what did hit it. “You can’tstop me, anymore! Not after… two Quiver Dances! HAHAAAA!!” It metaphorically waved its formidable boosts in its opponents’ faces, desperately enforcing that it had something, and that something did matter, because it was two Quiver Dances and a Tera Water that let it weave erratically and carelessly between the windows, halls, doors, windoors, and ceilingdoors of the S.M. Escher Memorial Office Building And Family Restaurant.
Ping. Ping. Ping. Gholdengo’s coins! It darted, got bored of darting, and shot over walls, under pillars, through sneaky rocks hanging clocks with their faces punched out. It was looking for something… uh… what was it… Ping. Right! Gholdengo! That smug little nest of carvings arranged into a smug little grin to make smug little quips about ‘bugs’ and ‘bugs’ and ‘worthless BUGS!’ Who’s the bug now? Who’s weak to Fire now! But ze was still smiling. Ze was still smiling even when Volcarona made its ‘good as gold’ body into a MELTED CANDLE. HALF. HALF-MELTED CANDLE. Just one more Flamethrower, (under a beam, over a pillar, what are these room acoustics, can’t pick out a pixel of Tar or Lando) the room had gone silent. Like Volcarona was the only one inside. Alone AGAIN. Like, a-LONE alone, again and again and behind the pillar THERE-
[Volcarona used Flamethrower!]
…but against Tyranitar, it wasn’t very effective.
“Huh-”
PLINK!
A goldensteel coin, much like the one Tar flipped in her hand, shot from the ceiling into its Tera Crown, It broke the surface and stayed inside, suspended uselessly in the water like a Magikarp. Volcarona whirled and wheeled around at the sound spinning up-down along all the planes and THERE!!! Hanging from the ceiling, clenching a buzzing Stone Edge in zer STUPID SMUG BAKED IN CARVED IN SMIRK CARVED UP WITH… “Stop. smiling.” Bzz. “Stop smiling!” BZZ. “STOP!” A flame lit inside it, rising rising IN MY MOUTH. “SMILING!”
[Gholdengo used Trick!]
The coin vibrated once, twice, an early warning.
[Gholdengo swapped the opposing Volcarona’s Gholden Coin for its Stone Edge!]
The thing about round pegs and square holes is that they actually could fit — as long as the square hole accepted it’d never be completely full. Now, square pegs and round holes, or big sharp rocks and coin holes, well, worst case scenario the whole crown fell apart! The blue shards, all unique and beautiful and broken, dazzle and shine their way into NOTHING, NO ONE, “DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU JUST DID TO-”
Next time, less screeching, more flamethrower. It, of all mons, knew that with one measly turn, you could win the game, or lose the game, or feel the presence. Of something bigger. Between the winglike claws of what turned one of its one hundred eyes to Volcarona felt seen, crushed by that eye a magnifying glass a cold cruel child’s boot a gentle grasp on its look away look AWAY make it swallow the fire in its mouth-
“Finchinator.” Tyranitar tapped the tips of its claws to each other. “Ban it.”
[Announcement: Volcarona has been quickbanned from SV OU!]
Gholdengo dropped from the chandelier of tiny fluorescent lights and flopped down on the pillars and beams and “Hey, weren’t staircases S.M. Escher’s whole thing?”
Tar crossed her arms crossly. “Really, newbie? No ‘gr8 pl8s, t33m’? No ‘gottem GOOD! UH!’? Not even a simple, two-character ‘gg’?”
“Come on, ‘Tar, cut the newbie some slack.” Lando-T floated up to the two conversants. “The etiquette takes time to learn, and h- sh- th-”
“Z-” Gholdengo supplied.
“Thanks and sorry. Xe did- Y- Black2- White2-”
“Eh, forget it! We can practice later.” Gholdengo flicked the air, flicking Lando-T’s pronunciation problems to the edge of a bridge they’d be put under later.
“Thanks and sorry. Anyway, you did great for a first timer. That Trick with the Stone Edge and coin? Genius.” The veteran beamed. “You’re gonna go far, kid.”
“AY, thanks!” Gholdengo flopped the golden hair flops on zer head, as was their function. “You’re melting my heart! More.”
Tyranitar nodded her begrudging assent. “It was good, but don’t get cocky. For example, taking the Stone Edge head on wasn’t necess-”
…
Was she done? Thinking of something? “AY, thanks for the tip!” Gholdengo said anyway to the evenly-distributed pile of green rubble. “And nice alt form, too! Very compact.”
Ze figured ze should turn zer head to Lando-T, zer other partner in the conversation. And ze was glad ze did, cause something about this new form was giving the old guy the fright of his career. His face was white as a Normal attack and his skin shined with a sheen of sweat. “Hey, Lando, some’n about this is bothering you-”
Gholdengo had been tackled to the ground zer fair share. The thing about being a jokester is that sometimes you just very funny, and sometimes you really weren’t funny. It was inevitable. The laughing at people’s physical features was pretty evitable, but ze didn’t see anything ze could do about it now that ze’d apologized, or anything ze could not do other than doing it again. Being tackled to the air, though, was a new thing, and while being wrapped in someone’s tail and sent soaring at cannonball speeds wasn’t, they generally didn’t go along with zer.
“Whooooooa, what’s happening?!” ze asked zer mentor-captor.
In true Lando-T fashion, he gave a versatile reply that could accurately describe any number of situations. “Shit.”
