30 Years of Pokémon – Childhood, Discovery, and a Digital Retreat
Pokémon was never just a game to me. It was a place to retreat to, and at the same time a world that felt bigger than anything else I knew.
It began with the Red and Blue versions, both gifted to me by my parents. Looking back, this was more than just having two games, it was access to a complete world. Yellow, Gold, Silver, and Crystal followed, each not replacing the last, but expanding it with new perspectives.
Very early on, Pokémon became something shared. With a link cable connecting two Game Boys, a single player experience turned into a social one. Trading was an event. Battling was a moment. It was no longer just my journey, but ours.
One memory stands out: on the way home from swimming lessons, two Game Boys connected, a battle in progress. My Mewtwo was frozen, until a Fire Blast from my friend’s Pokémon unexpectedly thawed it again. A moment where mechanics, experience, and intuition aligned perfectly.
That is what defined Pokémon for me, not just playing the system, but understanding it.
I gravitated toward Grass type Pokémon like Bulbasaur and Chikorita, and of course Pikachu in Yellow. But team building was only part of it. Pokémon taught systems: strengths and weaknesses, strategy, patience, and consistency. It was never just about winning, but about learning how things work.
With Pokémon Stadium and Stadium 2, that system expanded even further. My trained Pokémon carried over into a larger context, creating a loop of training, transfer, and reward. The game no longer ended when you turned it off.
Patience became part of the experience. I trained my Pokémon myself to level 100, often without using items. It meant losing repeatedly, especially against the Elite Four, but it also meant achieving progress on my own terms.
At the same time, Pokémon lived through its mysteries. MissingNo., hidden areas, rumors about Mew, whether real or not, they created a sense of exploration that went beyond the intended game. What mattered was the search, the curiosity, the discovery.
That sense of discovery has stayed with me to this day. Even now, I follow the same approach: building teams slowly, training them myself, not for efficiency, but for the connection it creates.
Pokémon was a retreat, but also a space of learning and reflection. That is where its cultural significance lies. Thirty years of Pokémon represent more than a successful franchise, they represent shared memories, rituals, and personal stories across generations.
This is the perspective I carry into my work with Safe in the Shell, not as a collection alone, but as a context that preserves and interprets these experiences.
A part of this journey can currently be seen in the Retro Gaming Museum Vienna, where my Pokémon collection is on display.
