Work Text:
Journal of Bing Damson, PhD candidate in the Magnolia Lab
3/22, Mesagoza
The purpose of this journal is to chronicle my studies of a potentially undescribed phenomena preventing the formation of Phantump in Paldea. The Paldean Pokemon League does not allow the importation of a large proportion of non-native Pokemon species in order to safeguard their own ecology, a policy also followed in Galar and many other regions. However, one of the species banned in Paldea but not in Galar is Phantump, a ghost-type that forms postbiogenetically from the spirits of children that become lost in the woods. Thus, it is logically impossible to truly ban this Pokemon from any given region, unless that region is entirely tame or entirely uninhabited.
I have three hypotheses as to the nature of Phantump’s apparent absence from Paldea.
- Paldea has a stringent and well-funded wilderness safety programme that prevents children from becoming fatally lost in forests.
- Phantump do appear in Paldea, but they are immediately captured and exported, or even destroyed.
- Some kind of undescribed regional phenomenon prevents Phantump from manifesting at all.
The first hypothesis proved untrue - Paldea has no such programme, and their records of child and adolescent disappearances in wilderness areas are on par with those in other regions.
As to the second, I could find nothing in the Paldean Pokemon League rules about a policy of hunting down Phantump, to my relief. My advisor suggested that such a tradition may not need enshrinement in the Pokemon League, and may occur unofficially. Though I remain open to such a possibility, it seems unlikely that without some form of official enforcement, some trainers wouldn’t at least attempt to keep a captured Phantump.
Which leaves me with the third hypothesis, that some unknown factor is at play that prevents Phantump formation. It is with this in mind that I fly far from my home in Wedgehurst, all the way to Mesagoza, Paldea, to search for clues to this mystery.
After my arrival by Overknight shuttle in Mesagoza, I have taken up lodging at a local bed and breakfast. My Spanish is only so-so, but most of the locals here seem accustomed to catering to tourists.
I know that I’ll have to leave the comforts of the city in order to do the necessary field research. As such, I have taken with me one of the Professor’s Sinistea. It may be overly-optimistic of me, but knowing that ghost-types are strong against other ghost-types, it seems like a good luck charm of sorts to bring a ghost with me.
3/25, Mesagoza
I have spent the last few days discussing my question with relevant researchers at the Academy. I am beginning to suspect that there may be more to this mystery than I at first suspected.
The policy professors, when asked about the criteria for selecting Pokemon that are allowed import to Paldea, said that it nominally had to do with the species’ invasiveness potential and whether they were already present in the region, but that politics and grandfathering-in of favoured varieties also had an impact on the list. They did not seem to understand when I asked about the reasons behind banning Phantump from import, though they were passingly familiar with the theories of ghost-type postbiogenesis.
The ghost specialist researcher was modestly more helpful, though their English was sadly less acute. They were well-acquainted with postbiogenesis, and with little prompting, explained how Sinistea formed from lonely human souls possessing abandoned cups of tea. I tried not to hurry them, despite the fact that I am versed in the origins of Sinistea. Somewhat more informative was their explanation, still unconfirmed, of the origins of Greavard as an unrestful Pokemon soul, though they admitted that more research was needed in that area.
In any event, after I noticed that we’d spent a good 20 minutes discussing almost every ghost type in Paldea, I asked the specialist what their professional opinion was on the formation of Phantump. To my surprise, they were quite taciturn, and responded that it was “a family matter” and “very delicate.”
The other ghost researchers at the Academy were much worse at English, and I was unable to adequately communicate my question. I am beginning to regret not having dual majored in foreign language.
My next plan is to rent a Cyclizar, and venture into the South Province, a well-forested landscape where there have been a few recent child disappearances. Perhaps if I can speak to local law enforcement, I can uncover some clues.
3/27 Los Platos
Los Platos is a quaint town. A one-restaurant kind of town, and the inn where I’ve checked in is similarly… quaint. I would take advantage of the free lodging at the local Pokemon Centre, but my Trainer’s Licence is Galarian, and I don’t think it will carry authority here.
Riding a Cyclizar is not like any other form of transport I have ever experienced. The Pokemon’s extraordinarily swift, rolling gait makes it very difficult to hang on, even with proper equipment. I think I much prefer the Flying Taxis from home. I will admit, however, that the springtime countryside as seen from Cyclizar-back is truly lovely, and the travel is reasonably swift - it took only two days to get here.
I have contacted the Los Platos Town Hall records about missing person reports, and will hopefully have more to report tomorrow.
3/28, Los Platos
After many long, painstaking hours spent translating town records, I found, as I expected, that most reports of missing children come from more rural areas than Los Platos. There are not many attractions worth visiting in Los Platos, save a shop selling some very oddly-flavoured ice cream. I shall not linger. Unfortunately, transport Cyclizar are not permitted to battle, so I will be setting off with Sinistea only for protection. As mentioned, I do not have a Paldean Trainer’s License, and will not be capturing any Pokemon I cannot take back to Galar. Stocking up on Repel will have to suffice for now.
There is a small hamlet located in the hills south of Los Platos which experienced one of the more recent disappearances, and this is my destination.
3/29, Area One, South Province
I write now by lantern-light from an encampment next to what I think is the path. The countryside has become rugged and more thickly wooded as my Cyclizar (which I have affectionately nicknamed “Bumpy”) and I gain elevation. The roads out here are unmaintained, and in some cases it is difficult to tell man-made trails apart from those worn by passing Pokemon. This has caused my journey to proceed more slowly than I might have wanted. I have needed to become stingy with my Repel, and had to fend off some curious but unruly Skwovet from digging into my pack. I have also seen, but so far evaded, a Paldean Pokemon known as Tarountula.
I’ve met other trainers out here, and one hiker even challenged me. Though I was pleased to battle Sinistea to give the little thing a bit of exercise (and won handily, I will note!), I couldn’t help but feel somewhat anxious at the lack of Pokemon Centres this far out. I spoke with the hiker after our battle (to my pleasant surprise, she was fluent in English), and she said she usually hails a Flying Taxi back to Los Platos when her Pokemon need medical attention. Unfortunately, this service isn’t available to visiting trainers like myself.
I hope to reach my destination tomorrow, in the morning.
3/30 Solaria, Area One, South Province
The hamlet/outpost/forestry station known to locals as “Solaria” (so far as I can tell) is as far off the beaten track as one could possibly imagine. The nearest market is a full day’s Cyclizar ride away, as is the nearest hospital. There is a one-room schoolhouse for the children of foresters and farmers, a feed shop, and that’s it. Almost every farmstead I passed seemed to have a broken-down tractor and a worn-looking Cyclizar penned up in the front. It is hard to imagine making a living in such a place, in these dry hills, yet Arboliva orchards abound. The woods here are dry and lack very large trees, but are thick enough with brush and thorny vines that I can certainly imagine a child going missing.
After repeated attempts at inquiry, made a thousand times more difficult by the lack of English speakers, I managed to track down the Molina family, which had lost a young child in the forest three years ago. Ideally, I should approach this matter carefully and with tact, but realistically it will be difficult to do so, as the language barrier blunts my capable phrasing skills into a crude few words.
It was nearly nightfall by the time I was actually knocking on the Molinas’ door, and the sky was beginning to rain. I think it was this latter factor that convinced them to let me in, or perhaps this Paldean farming community is unusually hospitable to strangers. Mrs. Molina is tall with a lined face, and Mr. Molina has a sallow sort of complexion. They have two sons, Javier and Carlo, both over the age of majority, who live at home and help with the farm. They once also had a young daughter.
I introduced myself as a researcher on ghost Pokemon, which I believe they understood, then asked about the events surrounding their daughter’s disappearance, and whether there had been reports of inexplicable children’s voices in the woods or even sightings of Phantump.
Unfortunately, the Molinas did not seem interested in answering my questions, and seemed rather offended when I referred to their daughter as “muerta” (dead). Perhaps they have had a particularly difficult time with the trauma of losing a child, even years later, or perhaps there is some local taboo. In any event, it was not long before I was ushered out of their simple home.
There are no inns in Solaria, so I am camping along the road tonight under a rain tarp, with Bumpy and Sinistea safe and dry in their pokeballs. I somewhat envy them. It looks like it might be building to a storm.
4/1 Solaria, Area One, South Province
Forgive me for missing yesterday. I am not sure where to begin. I have had little sleep.
The storm and concurrent flooding damaged some of my equipment, blew away a significant fraction of my supplies, and ruined what little I had recorded of interviews with the Molinas. Thank goodness Sinistea and Bumpy are alright.
It was in this pitiful state that I crawled back to the Molina family homestead, hoping that their hospitality would override whatever taboo or sensitive nerve I had tread upon previously. You can only imagine my absolute shock when Bumpy brought me back along the flooded-out, muddy path and I saw nothing less than a Phantump playing with a rubber ball in the Molinas’ yard!
I was completely confounded. Of all the possible situations I had considered, just running into a Phantump out in the open was not one of them. It seemed rather tame as I approached, so I assumed it had to belong to one of the members of the Molina family. I wondered how they felt so confident flouting their Pokemon League’s regulations.
Then Mrs. Molina opened the door and exclaimed, speaking Spanish too quickly to decipher, and the Phantump slithered through the air toward her. As the Phantump slipped quietly into the house, I tried to ask Mrs. Molina about her Pokemon, but she only seemed irritated. It was only when she referred to the Phantump as her “ daughter” that the solution to the puzzle at last began to take shape.
I was shut out, but through sheer persistence I was at last able to gain an interview with Javier Molina, who seems to speak slightly better English than his parents. He explained that though his sister was now “ fantasmal,” and would need to be cared for into the undetermined future, she was still part of his family. She was still his sister.
It was no different, it seemed, that she had died and given rise to a ghost Pokemon, than if she had become crippled and brain-damaged by some tragic injury.
The idea that the family managed to track down the very same Phantump that had arisen from their lost child seemed wildly unlikely, but then again, if Paldean Phantump are kept inside their family and not bred or released in the region, then there would be very few to find in the wild at all. And of course, if this extreme view is shared throughout Paldea as a cultural norm, no other trainer would try to capture a wild Phantump, as they are considered to be people!
Through Javier’s endorsement, I was able to again view the Phantump, named Raquel just as she was as a human, within the Molinas’ spare home. Raquel apparently stays indoors most of the time, though seems to be in good condition, with hearty, lush leaves sprouting from her encrusting stump.
It was then that I made a mistake. Assuming that, like all Pokemon, Raquel would enjoy fighting, I offered to battle her with Sinistea. The family’s reaction was very negative, and all Javier would tell me of their reasoning is that Raquel was not a monster. I was pointedly shown the door, and have not gained entry again.
I do not want to press the issue. I have enough to think about as it is.
It appears that the answer to the question of Phantump formation in Paldea is not that they do not form, but rather that they are not considered Pokemon at all! But why Phantump and not Sinistea? What happens to these Phantump over time? What if the Pokemon, not kept in a pokeball, simply leaves? What if a family moves, and the Phantump evolves? As in all research, one answer leads to a thousand other questions.
Paldean culture, which I once assumed was mostly similar to Galarian culture, now seems alien and strange. It is one thing to own a Pokemon, to care for a Pokemon, even to bond to a Pokemon as one’s partner, but another thing indeed to see a Pokemon as a member of one’s family, to dote upon it like an eternally-young sibling. I’m not sure if I can wrap my mind around it.
5/30 Wedgehurst
I did not plan, when I began this research, to need a dual degree in Philosophy. Yet, it seems the questions of the nature of personhood and the characteristics distinguishing between Pokemon and Humans across different cultures and times requires more than a purely scientific lens, and I am busy making overtures to the Philosophy, Foreign Language, and Law departments for an interdisciplinary grant.
Once I had determined the nature of the question I was actually looking at (the treatment of certain ghost types as people), rather than the one I thought I was looking at (whether or not Phantump form in Paldea), the rest of the study went more smoothly. There is, apparently, a long history of personified Pokemon in Paldea, and in other regions as well, some of which have abandoned the practice over time. Not just Phantump, either, but Yamask as well, and other ghost species.
Personally, it strikes me as a pity to treat Pokemon this way. They are not humans, and they do not have the needs of humans. It seems a cruelty to deny them the opportunity to battle and evolve, for example. And it seems a waste not to allow bred and trained ghost Pokemon to be imported.
Professor Magnolia allowed me to keep the Sinistea that I borrowed during my Paldean field study, as it seems to have taken a shine to me. When I let it out for exercise and feeding, it even sometimes perches on my shoulder as I type my dissertation, as if it was reading! I’d worry that the concept of personified Pokemon would give the little thing ideas , but of course, Pokemon cannot read. Imagine that, a ghost reading about ghosts…