Legend tells that the first pokemon trainers used acorns as pokeballs, and dinosaur bones as TMs, or some stupid shit. The truth of the matter was, it was the pokemon which first tamed their masters. Young Ungo-Boingus, a strapping lad of totally legal consent, would emerge one day from his family’s beachside condo cave and head down to the river. There, he would admire the overhang of his massive brow ridge, scratch his primate asshole, smell it for some reason, and then contemplate the future plans of his race to destroy the natural beauty of this world. Rather, it was he who was being contemplated that day. From the bushes near an anime con that was going on that very day, a perverted gaggle of Pokemon had gathered to discuss whether “One Day” was a better opening than “We Are.” In the stupor of their increasingly violent discussion, young Ungo was spotted across the way, heaving a mighty nosefull of his own particulate leavings. It was there, on what would one day become a CVS parking lot, that Ungo would first find something of greater interest than his own butt stink, and a small party of socially inhibited animal things would discover that humans are totally down for whatever. And that they’re the only lifeform on the planet that doesn’t also have magic powers, for some reason. Making humans the Isekai. Probably. And so, they for realsie slammed. And God looked upon his creation, and then looked away, pretending not to see. And it wasn’t good. But good enough.