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| Pikachu Records | bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net |
Another pair of games, another suite of improvements. It's easier to write about shortcomings than successes, but rest assured that I'm always impressed by GameFreak's constant forward momentum. Immediate access to the menu on the touchscreen is a huge timesaver, and what heartless beast could fail to be charmed at their partner Pokémon dogging their footsteps from town to forest, via caves and skyscrapers, splashing across beaches and scaling perilous cliffs, through thick and thin?
HeartGold and SoulSilver take the originals' vague Japanese influences and transplant them to their sleeves. Many locations feature traditional architecture and musical instruments. Several cities in Johto boast tall towers with slanted eaves decorating each floor. The soundtrack's affinity for the minor pentatonic scale is complemented by the expanded sonic palette of the Nintendo DS, especially when visiting these towers. A mandatory subplot entails a flock of mysterious kimonoed women procuring your aid in performing an ancient ritual to summon a legendary bird; in HeartGold the rainbow phoenix Ho-Oh alights upon the summit of Ecruteak City's Bell Tower, while in SoulSilver the ocean spirit Lugia appears deep within the caverns below the Whirl Islands.
(The renaming of the Tin Tower to the Bell Tower provoked substantial ire. It was argued that adherence to the original is more important than giving such an esteemed monument a sufficiently impressive name. Ironically, the name Tin Tower was in fact a mistranslation brought about by the mind-boggling mass of homophones in the Japanese language — it should always have been called the Bell Tower. Similarly, the Burned Tower, formerly known by Ecruteakians as the Brass Tower, should have referenced a certain gonglike instrument used in Shinto and Buddhist religious ceremonies as its namesake. This mistranslation was not corrected.)
(By some miracle, the Bell Tower was correctly rendered by a bootleg Vietnamese translation of Pokémon Crystal circulated by impatient fans before the release of the official localisation. Almost nothing else was accurate, resulting in endlessly quotable amusement. Pokémon professors became elf doctors; Pokémon trainers, monster coaches; health potions, drugs — lending a shady tone to a certain fetch quest atop Olivine City's lighthouse. Whitney's normal-type gym awards the Regularly Badge, a sign in Ecruteak City elucidates that "The Burnt Tower was burnt off by fire," and most amusingly, the player's standoffish rival is cast as their violently tsundere lover.)
In an engaging and refreshing step forward, the soundtrack stretches much further from the original than FireRed and LeafGreen did from Red and Blue. Several tracks have indeed been completely restructured. Johto's labyrinthine capital Goldenrod City has replaced its square belltoll with a chirpy new ditty. Similarly, Cherrygrove City has swapped out its austere waveforms for a lovely seaside picnic. The decadent piano improvisation that greets the player upon entering the scenic National Park is the soundtrack's boldest moment, and never fails to enchant.
All these restructurings feature in the first half of the game however, and peter out once the player departs Ecruteak City. It would be tempting to conclude that after expending so much effort on comparatively little music, the soundtrack team threw in the towel and lazily copied the rest, except of course for the fact that the whole thing is really rather good. Brighter and jauntier by far, quite an achievement given that Gold and Silver were already surprisingly captivating, almost every track has been tightened up and tweaked. Though Goldenrod's casino has been bowlderised to a single table of glorified Minecraft, its glossy bouncing anthem still sets the heart racing with excitement. Christmas came early for the network of caves in Johto's east, which received a particularly becoming package of decorations. When pondering one's next move against a wild monster or another trainer, the music has layers and detail and sheer variety enough to keep you entertained for hours.
These games are not, unfortunately, without their weak points. Team Rocket's paper-thin plot from Gold and Silver has barely been touched and remains underwhelming, especially so soon after the involved epic of the Sinnoh games. Just two years prior, the player stepped into a legend brought to life, a legend that threatened to overwhelm the galaxy. The Rocket storyline climaxes with them kidnapping the director of the national radio station and occupying their studios. The comedown is brutal.
The inclusion of the entire region from the first games was a baffling decision in Gold and Silver, and the remakes do nothing to remedy how tacked-on and superfluous it feels. Kanto has admittedly resprouted from its severely pruned state, necessary to squeeze the whole thing into a tiny Gameboy Colour cartridge. Collapsed caves have reinflated, logged forests have regrown, and closed parks have reopened. Excised bridges and B-sections have been reincorporated into the soundtrack. (The graveyard in Lavender Town has still been dug up and relocated, a shiny new radio tower standing in its place. What the hell, GameFreak.) Each city in Kanto has now been lovingly landscaped with its own unique tileset of streetlights and pathways, only serving to increase the overwhelming impression of an inert, lifeless world. Cosmetic improvements, lovely though they may be, are laughably insufficient to paper over the fact that nothing ever happens in Kanto. The player can look forward to approximately six minutes of plot, tellingly devoted to getting the train to Goldenrod back online.
Of course, the soundtrack to this perplexing tumour of a region is almost as nice as Johto's. Rumbling and regal, the march of Indigo Plateau is more than sufficiently intimidating. Chromatically chaotic, challenging dragon tamer Lance is a futile decision wrought of despair rather than bravery. Breezy and casual, the gentle jazzy guitar figure of Viridian City has never sounded better.
Most egregiously, the stunted level curve of the player's first charmingly pixilated journey around Johto has not been redressed. After clearing the fourth gym, coincidentally located in Ecruteak City (the point at which the soundtrack quality drops from great to merely very good), the player is free to challenge the next three in any order they choose, precipitating at most minuscule level increases, resulting in half the continent stagnating in its early thirties. Introducing some simple roadblocks, as Pokémon games are infamous for doing, would be quite trivial to implement.
This sense of flatness is not confined to the level curve — the entire Johto region, spruced up and perfectly pleasant though it may be, leaves much to be desired. The cities and towns are small and perfunctory, and the routes between them are far too short and straightforward.
Passing by a tiny farm in the region's northwest, three trainers accost the player in a row just as they arrive at the outskirts of Olivine City, perhaps to prolong the unimpressive and forgettable impression not left by Route 39. After stumbling out of Union Cave, the player is prepared for a second leg of the journey en route to Azalea Town, the wooded sanctuary situated at the southernmost cape of the mainland. The map is prepared too — Route 33 promises a rain-drenched slough. But after defeating a single rogue hiker and scrambling down a ledge, the player is almost disappointed to immediately trip over the famed town well. The quiet isolated mountain village of Blackthorn City is stated many times to be a haven for dragon trainers, but its only bite to that claim's bark is a small shrine stashed away in a flooded cavern beneath the city — barely a nibble.
It would have been nice to improve upon the original iteration of the region as much as the soundtrack did, even if that means simply linearly scaling up each area. Perhaps Mount Mortar could be reimagined from a cold, dim, avoidable cavern to an actual mountain — perhaps, given the name, an active volcano like Hoenn's Mount Chimney. Perhaps Route 42, which skirts around the small ponds at the mountain's base, could instead wind up and down its foothills. Perhaps trainers from nearby Mahogany Town's ice-type gym would appreciate the influx of new fire-type Pokémon to train against. Perhaps the player would be encouraged to devise a strategy effective against both fire- and ice-types, lest they be utterly outmaneuvered.
We're halfway to Sun and Moon! Next time: the pros and cons of the Unova region!
HeartGold and SoulSilver take the originals' vague Japanese influences and transplant them to their sleeves. Many locations feature traditional architecture and musical instruments. Several cities in Johto boast tall towers with slanted eaves decorating each floor. The soundtrack's affinity for the minor pentatonic scale is complemented by the expanded sonic palette of the Nintendo DS, especially when visiting these towers. A mandatory subplot entails a flock of mysterious kimonoed women procuring your aid in performing an ancient ritual to summon a legendary bird; in HeartGold the rainbow phoenix Ho-Oh alights upon the summit of Ecruteak City's Bell Tower, while in SoulSilver the ocean spirit Lugia appears deep within the caverns below the Whirl Islands.
(The renaming of the Tin Tower to the Bell Tower provoked substantial ire. It was argued that adherence to the original is more important than giving such an esteemed monument a sufficiently impressive name. Ironically, the name Tin Tower was in fact a mistranslation brought about by the mind-boggling mass of homophones in the Japanese language — it should always have been called the Bell Tower. Similarly, the Burned Tower, formerly known by Ecruteakians as the Brass Tower, should have referenced a certain gonglike instrument used in Shinto and Buddhist religious ceremonies as its namesake. This mistranslation was not corrected.)
(By some miracle, the Bell Tower was correctly rendered by a bootleg Vietnamese translation of Pokémon Crystal circulated by impatient fans before the release of the official localisation. Almost nothing else was accurate, resulting in endlessly quotable amusement. Pokémon professors became elf doctors; Pokémon trainers, monster coaches; health potions, drugs — lending a shady tone to a certain fetch quest atop Olivine City's lighthouse. Whitney's normal-type gym awards the Regularly Badge, a sign in Ecruteak City elucidates that "The Burnt Tower was burnt off by fire," and most amusingly, the player's standoffish rival is cast as their violently tsundere lover.)
In an engaging and refreshing step forward, the soundtrack stretches much further from the original than FireRed and LeafGreen did from Red and Blue. Several tracks have indeed been completely restructured. Johto's labyrinthine capital Goldenrod City has replaced its square belltoll with a chirpy new ditty. Similarly, Cherrygrove City has swapped out its austere waveforms for a lovely seaside picnic. The decadent piano improvisation that greets the player upon entering the scenic National Park is the soundtrack's boldest moment, and never fails to enchant.
All these restructurings feature in the first half of the game however, and peter out once the player departs Ecruteak City. It would be tempting to conclude that after expending so much effort on comparatively little music, the soundtrack team threw in the towel and lazily copied the rest, except of course for the fact that the whole thing is really rather good. Brighter and jauntier by far, quite an achievement given that Gold and Silver were already surprisingly captivating, almost every track has been tightened up and tweaked. Though Goldenrod's casino has been bowlderised to a single table of glorified Minecraft, its glossy bouncing anthem still sets the heart racing with excitement. Christmas came early for the network of caves in Johto's east, which received a particularly becoming package of decorations. When pondering one's next move against a wild monster or another trainer, the music has layers and detail and sheer variety enough to keep you entertained for hours.
These games are not, unfortunately, without their weak points. Team Rocket's paper-thin plot from Gold and Silver has barely been touched and remains underwhelming, especially so soon after the involved epic of the Sinnoh games. Just two years prior, the player stepped into a legend brought to life, a legend that threatened to overwhelm the galaxy. The Rocket storyline climaxes with them kidnapping the director of the national radio station and occupying their studios. The comedown is brutal.
The inclusion of the entire region from the first games was a baffling decision in Gold and Silver, and the remakes do nothing to remedy how tacked-on and superfluous it feels. Kanto has admittedly resprouted from its severely pruned state, necessary to squeeze the whole thing into a tiny Gameboy Colour cartridge. Collapsed caves have reinflated, logged forests have regrown, and closed parks have reopened. Excised bridges and B-sections have been reincorporated into the soundtrack. (The graveyard in Lavender Town has still been dug up and relocated, a shiny new radio tower standing in its place. What the hell, GameFreak.) Each city in Kanto has now been lovingly landscaped with its own unique tileset of streetlights and pathways, only serving to increase the overwhelming impression of an inert, lifeless world. Cosmetic improvements, lovely though they may be, are laughably insufficient to paper over the fact that nothing ever happens in Kanto. The player can look forward to approximately six minutes of plot, tellingly devoted to getting the train to Goldenrod back online.
Of course, the soundtrack to this perplexing tumour of a region is almost as nice as Johto's. Rumbling and regal, the march of Indigo Plateau is more than sufficiently intimidating. Chromatically chaotic, challenging dragon tamer Lance is a futile decision wrought of despair rather than bravery. Breezy and casual, the gentle jazzy guitar figure of Viridian City has never sounded better.
Most egregiously, the stunted level curve of the player's first charmingly pixilated journey around Johto has not been redressed. After clearing the fourth gym, coincidentally located in Ecruteak City (the point at which the soundtrack quality drops from great to merely very good), the player is free to challenge the next three in any order they choose, precipitating at most minuscule level increases, resulting in half the continent stagnating in its early thirties. Introducing some simple roadblocks, as Pokémon games are infamous for doing, would be quite trivial to implement.
This sense of flatness is not confined to the level curve — the entire Johto region, spruced up and perfectly pleasant though it may be, leaves much to be desired. The cities and towns are small and perfunctory, and the routes between them are far too short and straightforward.
Passing by a tiny farm in the region's northwest, three trainers accost the player in a row just as they arrive at the outskirts of Olivine City, perhaps to prolong the unimpressive and forgettable impression not left by Route 39. After stumbling out of Union Cave, the player is prepared for a second leg of the journey en route to Azalea Town, the wooded sanctuary situated at the southernmost cape of the mainland. The map is prepared too — Route 33 promises a rain-drenched slough. But after defeating a single rogue hiker and scrambling down a ledge, the player is almost disappointed to immediately trip over the famed town well. The quiet isolated mountain village of Blackthorn City is stated many times to be a haven for dragon trainers, but its only bite to that claim's bark is a small shrine stashed away in a flooded cavern beneath the city — barely a nibble.
It would have been nice to improve upon the original iteration of the region as much as the soundtrack did, even if that means simply linearly scaling up each area. Perhaps Mount Mortar could be reimagined from a cold, dim, avoidable cavern to an actual mountain — perhaps, given the name, an active volcano like Hoenn's Mount Chimney. Perhaps Route 42, which skirts around the small ponds at the mountain's base, could instead wind up and down its foothills. Perhaps trainers from nearby Mahogany Town's ice-type gym would appreciate the influx of new fire-type Pokémon to train against. Perhaps the player would be encouraged to devise a strategy effective against both fire- and ice-types, lest they be utterly outmaneuvered.
We're halfway to Sun and Moon! Next time: the pros and cons of the Unova region!