Before I knew it, I was a Lv. 5. In every other game I’ve played getting to this point was barely a recognizable threshold. It meant I was still new and fresh to the unfamiliar digital environment, but for Pokemon Go, it was the transition from boyhood to adulthood.
The biggest choice (for the foreseeable future) that I had to make was to which team I should devote my loyalty to. This decision was not taken lightly.
Now, I know what some would think: It’s only a game dude.
I agree. It is. But my allegance would obviously affect certain relationships with those I interacted with, or would interact with down the road. Upon further thought however, I concluded…that it really did not matter.
So I stuck with what appealed to me aestheticly.
Team Mystic. I’m not regretting the choice in any capacity. I feel that joining a team has little impact on the full experience of the game, and rather than rivalry, it comes down to convenience. Luckily, in my town there are plenty of assorted gyms.
Speaking of which, since I was “old” enough to battle, I dived right in almost immediately. And like a pool with shallow water, the landing hurt more than I imagined.
I got beat. Mercilessly. It could have been the sub-par processor in my phone, or the server’s spotty connection–regardless, Professor Willow did little to prepare me for the feature comparative to a tap war.
Throughout the week I avoided battles and focused more on catching and releasing, gaining Exp and rocketing towards my end goal. In a couple days I went from a Lvl. 4, to a Lvl. 9 (and a half, if you count those bits).
So far I’ve caught 42, and seen 43. It was 41 until I found the one Pokemon I had been searching for since day one.
The catches didn’t stop there either, replacing most of my lower level CP Pokemon with stronger, more capable ones. So far my strongest is a Dodrio. Not exactly what I expected to have as a team lead, but…until Gen 3 I can’t have my Metagross.
That’s when the real hunt begins.