Image courtesy Prima Games
Ahh, 1998. If you were a kid, this was a great year for popular toys and games. It was the time of Furbys, which were small, creepy, robotic creatures that randomly became chatty at three a.m. Beanie Babies, such as the iconic Princess Diana memorial purple bear, were stuffed toys that parents kept safe in a plastic casing. Oh, and Tamagotchis, computer generated pets with the lifespan of a fly. But the biggest kahuna of them all were the fantastical pocket monsters called Pokémon.
I was absolutely obsessed: I collected the cards, watched the animated show religiously after school, and played the blue version of the video game every possible moment I could on my Game Boy Pocket. I played it on the playground in after school care, on the bus, and even under my desk. Well, that was until my fifth-grade teacher, Mr. Gurling, caught me rapidly pushing buttons while in a poke battle. He confiscated it and locked it up on his desk until the end of the day. It was also in his classroom that someone stole my beloved and rare holographic Charizard card from my binder.
I was proud of my game stats until one afternoon. Sitting on a plastic chair, the boy next to me whipped out his Game Boy. He proudly showed off all six of his level 100 Pokémon, a completed Pokedex, and a set of gym badges. Eyes wide and mouth open, I asked, “How did you do that?” The boy shrugged, as if it weren’t a difficult feat. I'd been playing the game every day for weeks. I earned a few gym badges, and all of my Pokémon were under level thirty.
The next Friday night, while searching through the video game walkthrough books sold before the checkout counter at Blockbuster, I found my golden ticket to victory: “The Unofficial Pokémon Red/Blue Walkthrough.” It contained a complete step by step guide on how to beat the game and where to locate the glitches. One glitch in particular would open Pandora's box to fulfill every obstacle in the game.
When encountering the glitch, you obtain 128 of whatever item is in the sixth slot of your bag. If the sixth item is a master ball, then you can catch 128 Pokémon without breaking a sweat. Or, if it’s a rare candy, you get to level up your Pokémon to whatever level your heart desires. When surfing up and down one side of Cinnabar Island, you come across a whacked out set of pixels named MISSINGNO. According to the walkthrough, you’re supposed to battle it, then run away. That alone is all that’s needed for the glitch to work its magic.
Later that night, I sat up in my twin sized bed with a nightlight attached to my Game Boy. I flew my Pidgeotto to Cinnabar Island, then hopped on my Wartortle to surf. With my eyes glued to the screen, I anxiously awaited as I went up and down the island perimeter. Then, a flashing Pokémon alert engulfed my screen. After a brief blackout, the MISSINGNO made its appearance with a warped screech.
My Wartortle bubbled and water gunned it repeatedly. Right when it was about to faint, I had an idea. What would happen if I caught it? Would that mean infinite items forever? I was blinded by my obsession to catch em’ all. To become a PokeMaster. I threw pokeball after pokeball while my Pokémon suffered MISSINGNO’s wrath. Finally, after smashing the A button furiously, one stuck.
I CAUGHT MISSINGNO!
I was ecstatic, with a fist pump in the air and a hushed “yes!” as not to alert my parents that I was awake at midnight. I pulled up my items, and hmm. I didn’t have 128 rare candies-I had my 1 and then a glitchy symbol beside it. Huh. Okay, I guessed it was part of the glitch. No matter. I gave one of the rare candies to my Wartortle, making him level up by one! I did this repeatedly to all of my team of Pokémon, except MISSINGNO. Even after giving over 128 rare candies, more appeared. I thought I was a genius for catching the glitch. I couldn’t wait to show off my stats to everyone at school.
But then, hell began to rain down upon my once-pristine game. When battling other trainers, my Pokémon refused to obey my commands. Since their levels made them nearly immortal, all of the fights took forever to finish, if ever. I began saving my game and shutting it off before a fight just in case my team didn’t listen. Then, more glitches popped up. Text and images were randomly blurred. In an attempt to salvage my game, I released MISSINGNO back into the wild-but it was too late. The damage was permanent.
I cried, sobbed, and begged the Gameboy Gods to return the clock of my game to before I ever encountered MISSINGNO. But no amount of crying or pleading could undo the damage caused by my greed. After several attempts to resuscitate it, my game took its last breath with the push of a button, wiping my game. Eventually, by the skin of my teeth, I did win by collecting all the gym badges. I never caught all 150 Pokemon, though. As the game's end credits rolled, both the Game Boy Color and Pokémon Yellow were released. I was onto bigger and more colorful things.
Glitches and cheats are cool to play with, as long as you’re willing to accept the consequences. Walkthroughs are helpful, but they can also lead your innocent game down a dangerous path if you’re not careful. Through all the stress and heartache, I learned a valuable lesson: have patience and just have fun. Don’t worry about stats. It’s one that I’ll teach my daughter when she’s old enough to hold a controller.
Bethany Bruno is an Irish/Italian American writer. Her writing has been previously featured in several journals, including The Sun, The MacGuffin, The First Line, Ruminate, and Lunch Ticket Magazine. You can find her at https://bethanybruno.journoportfolio.com
