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I tried doing a Nuzlocke but I played faster than I wrote so I just scrapped the thing. I stopped playing that challenge after I lost my Grovyle anyways. I did keep the main character, though.
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Well, Nuzlockes are very tricky to do since you can't really plan ahead. You have to account for every death that happens, since a death can and will screw up anything you had planned.I tried doing a Nuzlocke but I played faster than I wrote so I just scrapped the thing. I stopped playing that challenge after I lost my Grovyle anyways. I did keep the main character, though.
Depends on why you're interested in the challenge in the first place. If it's just to generate material for the story, then yeah, you're probably better off just going straight to planning a story. A challenge run doesn't necessarily generate a great plot structure or pacing, since highly degenerate things can happen in gameplay that could derail a story and create anticlimaxes. I don't know what challenge you were thinking of - for me, the first one that comes to mind is Nuzlockes, in which the most common and apparent problem is likely to be Pokemon dying in ordinary battles against non-entity opponents, with no intended story stakes at all. In a written story, I'd probably just cut such battles altogether, but that becomes awkward if a character died during such a fight.I want to do a challenge run and write a story based on it, but I am not sure if it's even worth doing. Should I just drop the challenge and write the story?
Water/Fairy Gyarados is not something I expected, but it's something I need.
She's still around, just not on Bulbagarden.I haven't seen canisaries in a while.
Reminds me of the time I got AI to finish the first chapter of one of my fics (stuff in bold is the original text):I "made" an AI-generated fanfic but I can't post it because of the privileges I have
Wallace stared at his reflection. He used to be just a little short for his age. His Hinodejin name, Mikouri, meant "little child" in Sootopolitan Greek; he was a small baby, a small toddler, a small child. It was just one of the many things people would tease him for.
But then, at the age of fifteen and a half, he had a sudden growth spurt. Now, at the age of sixteen, he had a lanky frame and stood just under six feet. He felt awkward, he felt weird, he felt confused.
But that didn’t matter: In ten minutes, he and Victoria would be performing in their first Contest.
Wallace picked up his beret and put it on. After staring at his reflection some more, he became dissatisfied with his appearance and took it off. He wore a purple shirt, white jacket, turquoise dress pants, and white boots. At least he had settled on that much—his outfit. And his hair, which was tied up in a low bun.
Victoria watched as he took out his makeup case and put on foundation and turquoise eyeshadow. Wallace had spent a whole hour making sure his Milotic looked her best—her scales shimmered like a lake, and her Blue Scarf was tied into a perfect bow—and now he was nearing an hour and a half spent on his own appearance.
He put on lipstick of a subtle shade of pink, but after five seconds, he wiped it off. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable with makeup, but in that moment, staring at himself in the green room mirror, everything felt off, down to the finest details of his face.
He looked up to established and well known Coordinators and saw that the main difference between him and them was that he wasn’t perfect. If he wasn’t perfect, how would he succeed?
The stress made him feel sick. He shook his head, unable to concentrate on what he was doing.
“Wallace?” Victoria said. “Why are you wearing lipstick?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know how to use it.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, his hair falling in front of his eyes. He placed his hand on his head, pushing it out of the way.
Victoria was confused, but didn’t say anything. Wallace only wore makeup when he was on stage. She understood.
“Come on, Wallace,” she said. “Come back in ten minutes. We’re ready to go.”
Wallace walked into the tent. He sat on the bench and placed his hands on his knees. It would be so easy to say yes. He was a good Coordinator. He always had been. But now he wasn’t even good. Was he meant to be happy? To succeed? He’d never be considered the best. He didn’t want to be known for that. He didn’t want to be known as Wallace, the Classy Coordinator. He wanted to be known as Wallace, the Trainer.
"Hey, Wallace!” Lydia, the girl from the official Hinodejin Facebook page, came into the tent. She had curly brown hair and bright hazel eyes. She smiled, as if she already knew what had happened.
"Hi, Lydia,” Wallace said.
“So, will you be in the showcase?” Lydia asked.
“Yes,” Wallace said. “I hope.”
“Oh, good.” Lydia flashed her pearly white teeth.
"You're happy with that, right?” Lydia asked.
Wallace was silent.
“You want to win, don't you?” she said. “As much as it hurts, you want to win. And to win, you need to know what it’s like to lose.”
Wallace swallowed hard. He was about to lose.
"So do you want to meet up after the Contest and have some coffee?” she said.
Wallace wanted to win. He did. But he wanted to win with his friends. He wanted to win for them. He wanted to win for them so badly that he wasn’t really considering losing.
"I...I don't know,” he said. “I might be busy.”
“I understand,” she said. “We’ll do this another time.”
"Oh, no.” Wallace pulled out his phone and pressed the answer button. He’d forgotten to call his dad and warn him about the Contest. "I need to take this.”
(All non-dialogue instances of the word "you" should be replaced with Leaf.)