Creatures that eat dreams, lure children to the afterlife, or devour entire ships??
There are tons of weird Pokédex entries, so let’s get some at random, then VOTE for which ones will inspire stories we write together!
During the last stream, a subscriber requested that we write some stories based off random entries in the Pokédex.
Watch a short version of the stream here or scroll down for what we wrote.
– The Pokédex is a piece of equipment in the Pokémon video game series that lets its user scan a Pokémon and get some information about it
– But! Some Pokédex entries are weird, hilarious, or creepy:
- Drifloon — “Stories go that it grabs the hands of small children and drags them away to the afterlife. It dislikes heavy children.”
- Seaking — “Trainers who are crazy for Seaking are divided into horn enthusiasts and fin enthusiasts. The two groups do not get along well.”
- Hypno — “When it is very hungry, it puts humans it meets to sleep, then it feasts on their dreams.”
We got some random Pokédex entries from this site, and then chat voted on the ones that would inspire our stories.
The first winner was this one:
Alakazam (Sapphire): Alakazam’s brain continually grows, infinitely multiplying brain cells. This amazing brain gives this Pokémon an astoundingly high IQ of 5,000. It has a thorough memory of everything that has occurred in the world.
Here’s what we wrote:
When we first discovered the Creature, we thought it was nothing spectacular. It just sat there, staring blankly, with its horns and long, strange mustache. Surely there couldn’t be much going on inside of its head.
That assumption was our first mistake.
We brought the Creature back to the lab for investigation, hooking it up to nodes to test its brain activity, but got no tangible results. No matter how we calibrated our equipment, the result was always zero. Either our equipment was faulty, or it was brain dead yet still somehow alive. Since it had done nothing but stare straight ahead since we’d found it, we were leaning toward the latter.
I’d wanted to give up and move on to an autopsy, but my colleagues insisted on running some more primitive tests. They gave the Creature some shapes and holes to put them through, but they just lay before it, untouched. We sighed and went to lunch.
But when we came back, something had changed. All of the blocks were in their proper holes. Not only that, but the other tests we hadn’t even given to the Creature yet, were lying on the floor, completed. The four-piece puzzle was complete, the grape had been extracted from the glass box, and even the maze drawn on paper — representing extreme abstract comprehension — was complete with a perfect, single lawn drawn from start to finish. The Creature itself sat in the same position we’d left it.
That set off a flurry of new tests. We quickly ran out of animal intelligence tests and moved on to human ones. Math questions using symbols, it aced them all. Science questions using the periodic table were a cinch. Even moving on to language questions, English and Chinese and Sanskrit, its reading comprehension was perfect.
But the most surprising was history. Somehow, the Creature knew every war, every disaster, every leader of every country, going back so far that it started writing history for us.
The first time that happened, seeing the words appear on the tablet we were holding in front of it, that was when I first felt afraid. My colleagues were too excited to care, calling other labs and universities. One of them even brought it human food to eat, a lunch tray from the cafeteria, but it didn’t take a single bite. It only picked up the metal spoon, held it in one hand, then typed the words “Another please” on the tablet. That was the only movement any of us had ever seen it make, to grab onto two spoons, before it went back to its normal sitting position.
With the Creature getting more attention, an official IQ test was performed on it. The results were… inconclusive, so another was performed. Then another, and another. By the end of the hundredth exam, not only had it gotten a perfect score on each of them, but it had twisted the questions themselves to be answers to new questions that it created.
We gave it an arbitrary IQ of 5,000. And that was when things got weird.
With no more intelligence tests, we had to try and test the Creature for things we couldn’t even comprehend. Like fish trying to test a monkey on banana-peeling. We rolled dice in front of it, it didn’t matter if there were two or twenty of five-hundred of them, it knew the results every single time, somehow able to calculate in an instant all of the small angles and rotations and collisions of the small plastic cubes.
When given a tablet and a random human face, it could write that person’s entire life story. What they’d eaten for breakfast last Tuesday, what grade they’d gotten on a 7th grade Revolutionary War project, who their parents were, and their parents’ life stories, and then theirs too. And on and on and on.
This Creature had a thorough memory of everything that ever occurred in the world. Every person, every animal, every gust of wind, every cell division, every journey of every grain of sand. It kept it all catalogued inside its seemingly infinite brain as easily as we would different colors, numbers, or names.
Some of my colleagues thought it was God itself sitting before us, but I knew better. This was no god. This was something else.
I ran up to the creature and grabbed it by the shoulders, demanding to know who it was, why it was here. Everyone screamed at me to stop, but the creature wouldn’t let them move. It wouldn’t let them exist.
They all disappeared around me. The laboratory vanished, disappearing as if caught in a mist. It was just me and the Creature, staring at each other, the only things left in the universe.
“Everything was just thought up by you,” I said, the words falling out of my mouth like lead. “But why? Why would you create all of us, our world, just to take it away?”
For the first time, the Creature smiled with its small mouth. It held up its hands, showing me the two metal spoons that we’d given it.
The last thing I heard before I flashed out of existence along with everything else:
“You created spoons,” it said inside my head. “The one thing I did not foresee. And I think they’re pretty neat.”
Next, chat voted for this one:
Aron (Pearl Version): It usually lives deep in mountains. However, hunger may drive it to eat railroad tracks and cars.
Here’s what we wrote:
The pedantic man decided to go up for a drive into the mountains. Since he had no friends, for being so pedantic, he wanted to get away for the weekend in a nice log cabin.
The only problem was this log cabin was protected by a nasty troll, who devoured anyone — and their car — who dared to trespass into his territory and could not answer his riddle. A risk for sure, but at only thirty bucks a night, the cabin was too good an offer to pass up.
The pedantic man drove up, up, up the mountain road, until finally the troll appeared before him. It was a disgusting creature, covered in green boils and with long greasy hair. Its mouth hung open, the size of a refrigerator, with fragments of yellowed teeth on top and bottom.
“Stop there, intruder!” the troll bellowed. The pedantic man slowly brought his car to a stop before it, and the troll leaned down to peer into the driver side window. “Before you pass, you must answer my riddle. Answer incorrectly, and I will eat you and your automobile!”
The pedantic man didn’t say anything, just waited for the troll. It sneered at him, and when it spoke, putrid fumes poured out from its throat.
“Can I eat your car?” it asked.
The pedantic man waited for more, but apparently that was it. That was the troll’s big riddle. If he said yes, then the troll would eat his car. If he said no, then his incorrect answer would result in the troll eating his car.
He’d never been more unimpressed, but perhaps that was because he’d been practicing for this moment his entire life. Every holiday, every family get-together, every meal with friends, whenever someone asked him if he can pass the salt.
“Um, excuse me,” the pedantic man said. “You mean to ask, may I eat your car.”
The troll was so taken aback by his answer, that it didn’t even notice when the pedantic man drove past it, leaving it in the rearview mirror, contemplating its grammatical usage.
The pedantic man quickly arrived at the cabin and checked in with the clerk there. The clerk was surprised to see him.
“You made it past the troll?” she asked.
“Of course,” the pedantic man said. “In fact, it was pretty easy for my car and I.”
The woman sneered at him. “You know, I is the grammatical subject, not the object, so when it comes after a preposition, you should be using me instead. It should be for me and my car.”
That was when the pedantic man realized the creature he’d outsmarted was just some poor monster. This thing, the woman inside the cabin, was the true troll.
Be sure to check out the video for some dramatic readings!
If you want to join us and help write a story by trolling in chat, or share your own writing for feedback, then we’d love to have you join us on Twitch.
And you missed the stream, you can still watch them on the YouTube channel or watch the full stream reruns.
Hope to see you next time, friend!
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