As a dad of young boys, I’ve had my fair share in imaginative roleplaying. Most recently, I decided to print out a map of one of my favorite games, Pokemon Blue. Starting from Pallet Town, I directed our journey entirely from memory, with wild encounters, trainer battles, dungeons, and gym leaders, and all the details in between. My children loved it.
I was a Nintendo kid. I always preferred Mario, Zelda, and the colorful, immersive worlds and stories over games more “entertaining.” Pokemon Blue, however, always shines brightest in my memory. And as I reflect on my creative imagination in the present, I detect the deep well of wonder the game offered.
However, as I was “replaying” the game with my boys, it hit me that this game holds a wonderful tension of minimalistic yet all-encompassing. Every time I’ve played it, there’s a piece of me that wants to be surprised. I don’t want to map out the whole storyline before I dive back in. I want to let the adventure unfold as if it’s never going to end and as if I’ve never lived through it before.
The seemingly infinite seas, the (presumably) still-floating SS Anne, the inexhaustible mart in Celadon City, the towns with their potential for tales, lore and dwellings, and the vast Safari Zone, all present a world that is vast. And yet, the vastness is communicated through limitation: the seas that don’t lead to anywhere, the SS Anne that has no clear backstory and future journey, the lack of practically useful items in the mart, the lack of connection between the townspeople and the game’s plot, the rather withholding of what I imagine an enjoyable safari excursion would actually be.
Pokemon Blue feels vast because it presents gaps yet doesn’t fill them. The gaps contribute to the vastness. It’s creative, and a lot of attention to detail was required. Yet, it expresses beauty in the “just enough.” When gaps are present, you are required to fill them in, and that’s alright. Dare I say, we learn to love it. Detail begins but lack perfects.
In the exhaustion of information glut accelerating, I do wonder if an opportunity resides in Pokemon Blue-like things. There may emerge writing and self-expression that creatively builds just enough, doesn’t fuss about gaps and perfect cohesion, and requires our imagination to do its work. Maybe we’ll take information a little less seriously. Can we construct something that lacks?