Riona (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rionaleonhart) wrote2009-05-01 08:13 pm
rionaleonhart) wrote2009-05-01 08:13 pm
Je M'appelle Riona. Je Suis Loser.
I was going to play Pokémon Crystal, you guys. It was going to be the first time I had ever played a second-generation Pokémon game. I was really excited.
And then it turned out that the cartridge was corrupted and wouldn't register saves.
I am genuinely woeful. I WAS GOING TO HAVE A CYNDAQUIL AND I WAS GOING TO NAME IT MERLIN. (And my Red-version save also appears to be corrupted, so I have to start again. Fortunately, the cartridge still registers saves. Had my beloved Red cartridge been rendered entirely useless, I would probably have wept. I got it for Christmas when I was ten. It was my first ever videogame. My first Pokémon was a Bulbasaur named Bulby, and oh how I loved him. (Oh, how I completely failed to train any of the other Pokémon on my first team.))
In order to make up for this sad, sad lack of Pokémon-playing and soothe my ten-year-old soul, I would like to request that you either share your own Pokémon-related stories (what was your first Pokémon? Which is your favourite? What do you always have on your team? What do you name your Pokémon?) or write Pokémon-related ficsnippets (crossovery or otherwise) in the comments. Pokémon-related photomanips or doodles would also be very welcome. JUST POKÉMON UP MY COMMENTS, GUYS. YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO.
To kick things off:
"Where's Merlin?"
"I'm afraid Merlin is busy, sire," Gaius replies, rummaging through his bookshelves.
"He's not busy. What's he doing? Where is he?"
"I believe he is running an errand for Morgana."
"He's not Morgana's manservant," Arthur points out, straddling the wooden bench by Gaius' worktable. There is a creature on the table, he notices: some sort of large, dark-furred rodent. It is staring at Arthur in a most disconcerting fashion. "Do you have a rat problem?"
"Just a pet," Gaius says, glancing over. "A whim, if you like."
The stare seems almost familiar. Arthur has the unpleasant feeling that Gaius' pet thinks he is an idiot. "What sort of creature is it?"
"A species of mouse," Gaius says. "They're very common in the western regions. I wouldn't go too near if I were you; he can be quite vicious."
He can't be sure in this light, but Arthur would almost be prepared to swear that its fur is blue. He reaches out to touch it.
There is a burst of light and heat, and Arthur immediately draws his hand back to shield his face.
A moment goes by.
"Gaius," Arthur says, "your mouse is on fire."
And then it turned out that the cartridge was corrupted and wouldn't register saves.
I am genuinely woeful. I WAS GOING TO HAVE A CYNDAQUIL AND I WAS GOING TO NAME IT MERLIN. (And my Red-version save also appears to be corrupted, so I have to start again. Fortunately, the cartridge still registers saves. Had my beloved Red cartridge been rendered entirely useless, I would probably have wept. I got it for Christmas when I was ten. It was my first ever videogame. My first Pokémon was a Bulbasaur named Bulby, and oh how I loved him. (Oh, how I completely failed to train any of the other Pokémon on my first team.))
In order to make up for this sad, sad lack of Pokémon-playing and soothe my ten-year-old soul, I would like to request that you either share your own Pokémon-related stories (what was your first Pokémon? Which is your favourite? What do you always have on your team? What do you name your Pokémon?) or write Pokémon-related ficsnippets (crossovery or otherwise) in the comments. Pokémon-related photomanips or doodles would also be very welcome. JUST POKÉMON UP MY COMMENTS, GUYS. YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO.
To kick things off:
"Where's Merlin?"
"I'm afraid Merlin is busy, sire," Gaius replies, rummaging through his bookshelves.
"He's not busy. What's he doing? Where is he?"
"I believe he is running an errand for Morgana."
"He's not Morgana's manservant," Arthur points out, straddling the wooden bench by Gaius' worktable. There is a creature on the table, he notices: some sort of large, dark-furred rodent. It is staring at Arthur in a most disconcerting fashion. "Do you have a rat problem?"
"Just a pet," Gaius says, glancing over. "A whim, if you like."
The stare seems almost familiar. Arthur has the unpleasant feeling that Gaius' pet thinks he is an idiot. "What sort of creature is it?"
"A species of mouse," Gaius says. "They're very common in the western regions. I wouldn't go too near if I were you; he can be quite vicious."
He can't be sure in this light, but Arthur would almost be prepared to swear that its fur is blue. He reaches out to touch it.
There is a burst of light and heat, and Arthur immediately draws his hand back to shield his face.
A moment goes by.
"Gaius," Arthur says, "your mouse is on fire."