Battling the virtual demons of Pokémon GO
This game has potential … to help Hamiltonians explore neighbourhoods they’ve never before visited
I woke up to find a Squirtle in my living room. Smiley, blue, floating by the fireplace like it belonged.
I nailed that sucker (after several awkward attempts at throwing a virtual ball) and felt a teensy tingly thrill of accomplishment. I CAN do stuff, I thought. Take that, haters.
I turned my phone around to see a more menacing creature floating tauntingly near my snoozing pup’s head. Purple, furry — a Venonat, a poisonous bug. Well, that’s all I need — more dog problems. A few more attempts at ball-throwing and I finally zapped that one, too. My pooch lifted her head, completely oblivious to the dangers that lurked and to the fact that I am a goddess who saved her from harm. She’ll thank me later. (I don’t know if I’m killing them or collecting them. I still have a lot to learn.)
But I was out of balls. My phone told me that nearby Veterans Memorial Park in Dundas (described as “a field of bliss among suburbia”) is a Pokéstop, a place where I can power up and collect more balls that I can use to zap more imaginary and very dangerous predators. So I jumped up, grabbed the dog’s leash and we headed out for a walk.
It wasn’t easy finding my way into this world, I’ve got to tell ya. But the minute I read about Pokémon GO, an augmented reality video game that uses your phone’s GPS and camera to basically superimpose Pokémon images into real life, I was obsessed. Not because of Pokémon (a game I only ever feigned interest in to win over the niece and nephew), or because I care one whit about video games at all. But Pokémon GO is basically like virtual geocaching, but with cute little monsters. I had to try it.
The problem, it’s not officially available in Canada for another two weeks, according to news reports.
Which hasn’t stopped Canadians from finding a workaround, courtesy of Google. In my case, I logged out of my Canadian iTunes account, switched my phone location to the United States, created a US iTunes account, and downloaded the free app.
I can tell you that Nintendo stocks have soared since the app launched in the U.S., Australia and New Zealand late last week. I can tell you that countless cautionary tales have been printed about unwitting gamers walking into traps, being robbed, strolling into traffic, all in search of virtual monsters.
But I’d rather tell you how fast I jumped out of my pyjamas, into street clothes and headed out for a walk because of this game. I’d rather tell you about the potential this game has to make you (or your kids) move off the couch, into the great outdoors, to walk, hunt, play. I’d like to tell you about the potential for brick and mortar retailers to attract customers into their stores in search of the cute animated monsters (of course, the trick, I suppose, is keeping them and getting them to spend money). And I’d like to tell you about the potential this game has to help Hamiltonians explore neighbourhoods they’ve never before visited.
Once we found our way to Veterans Memorial Park, with an 80sera Adam Sandleresque keyboard tune playing through my headphones courtesy of the game, I reloaded and went off in search of new monsters. A birdlike creature lurked nearby, the game said. So I hunted and searched and walked. Basically, I walked and stared at my screen until the Pidgey appeared and I zapped it with my virtual ball.
Just then, an actual real live bunny hopped across our path. My dog, predictably, went bananas. And that’s when it hit me. Oh. My. God. I now know what it feels like to be my dog. I am my dog, chasing a bunny. MIND. BLOWN.
So I took my virtual balls and, walking in step to the Adam Sandler keyboard, headed home. I’ll try again later in another neighbourhood with fewer bunnies.
Countless cautionary tales have been printed about unwitting gamers walking into traps, being robbed, strolling into traffic.