Chapter 102: Skills vs. Substance
Professor Oak's sharp critique of the modern battle system left Xiu reeling, yet intrigued. The Professor's words resonated with a certain logic, explaining some of the oddities and limitations Xiu himself had observed. But he needed more clarity.
"So, Professor," Xiu pressed, leaning forward again, "if command-based style aren't 'real'… why does it exist? Why is it the standard now? The basis for official Gym battles, the League Conference… everything?" He suspected the answer might involve commercialization or safety regulations, but wanted to hear Oak's perspective.
Professor Oak seemed to anticipate the question, a wry smile touching his lips. He knew Xiu was sharp, capable of connecting the dots. "Instead of giving you the answer directly," Oak countered, reverting to his Socratic method, perhaps enjoying the intellectual sparring, "let me ask you a question. What is the primary purpose of those televised League battles, those official Gym matches?"
Xiu thought for a moment. "Winning? Proving strength? Earning badges?"
"Those are outcomes," Oak corrected gently. "But the purpose? For the organizers? For the audience?" He paused, letting Xiu consider.
"...Entertainment?" Xiu offered tentatively. "Revenue? Sponsorships?"
"Precisely," Oak nodded. "Entertainment. Spectacle. Profit. The modern battle system, the one you see on TV, was developed primarily to make Pokémon battles more accessible, more understandable, more entertaining for a mass audience. And," he added significantly, "safer."
He leaned back, a nostalgic, almost melancholic look entering his eyes. "You see, 'real' Pokémon battles, the kind driven purely by instinct and raw power… it's fast. Brutal. Often chaotic. Difficult for untrained human eyes to follow, let alone appreciate strategically. And frankly," his expression darkened slightly, "potentially lethal. Not just for the Pokémon involved, but sometimes for the trainers or bystanders caught in the crossfire."
He continued, "Even highly experienced trainers often struggle to keep up mentally with their Pokémon's reaction speed in a true high-stakes fight. Issuing meaningful commands becomes almost impossible. The trainer's role shifts from direct command to broader strategy, support, and post-battle care. But that kind of nuanced interaction? It doesn't make for good television. It doesn't sell tickets."
"So," Oak concluded, "the modern system evolved. Standardized 'skills' with clear visual cues, turn-based exchanges, trainers shouting commands… it imposes structure, slows down the pace, makes the action comprehensible, predictable. More dramatic. More palatable for public consumption." He sighed softly. "I remember… back in the early days, before the League formalized everything… attending unsanctioned tournaments… injuries were common. Fatalities… not unheard of."
"Pfft!" Xiu barely managed to swallow his mouthful of tea, coughing slightly. 'Fatalities?' He stared at Professor Oak, shocked.
Professor Oak looked back, seemingly unfazed by Xiu's reaction. "What? Surprised? It was the reality back then of a more dangerous era. Why do you think I ultimately shifted my focus from competitive battling primarily to research?" The implication, however unintentional, sent another chill down Xiu's spine. 'Was Professor Oak… involved in one of those 'fatalities'? Did he retire from battling because he… killed someone's Pokémon? Or worse?'
Seeing the horrified speculation dawning on Xiu's face, Professor Oak quickly clarified, perhaps realizing how his words sounded. "Don't misunderstand," he said quickly, shaking his head. "My reasons were more… academic. But yes, the inherent risks were a factor for many." He seemed about to elaborate further on his own history, but abruptly stopped himself. "Ah, forget it. That's ancient history."
The sudden cut-off only fueled Xiu's curiosity, but he knew better than to press. He quickly took another sip of tea to cover his awkwardness.
"We didn't even use the term 'skills' back then, not in the way it's used now," Oak continued, returning to the main topic. "And we certainly wouldn't stand there shouting attack names like actors in a play."
"Ahem~" Xiu felt a flush creep up his neck, remembering yelling "Slash!" and "Focus Energy!" during Scyther's battles.
"So," Xiu asked quickly, trying to move past his embarrassment, "these named 'skills'… they're just for show? For the commentators?"
"Largely, yes," Oak confirmed with a chuckle. "Think about it. What's the fundamental difference between Ember and Flamethrower? Both involve projecting fire. One is just… more fire than the other. But giving them distinct names, distinct animations? It creates variety for the audience, talking points for the commentators."
He adopted a mocking, announcer-like voice. "Ooh, a powerful Flamethrower!" sounds much more exciting than "Well, that Pokémon just breathed a slightly larger amount of fire than before!" He grinned. "You can't just say 'Scyther slashed again', no! You have to dramatically declare 'Leaf Blade!' or 'X-Scissor!' Makes the audience feel like something more significant is happening."
He then mimicked Xiu's earlier sparring commands. "And you can't just say 'Scyther hit it several times quickly', heavens no! It must be 'Fury Cutter!', building power with each consecutive strike! Sounds much more impressive, doesn't it?"
Xiu winced, feeling thoroughly ridiculed, but couldn't help a reluctant smile. Professor Oak's imitation was surprisingly accurate. He took another sip of tea, laughing awkwardly.
"But the concept of skills," Xiu pressed, trying to salvage some legitimacy for the system he'd been trying to learn, "the idea of specific techniques… that's not entirely fake, is it?"
"Eh! No, not entirely," Professor Oak conceded, his expression becoming serious again. "The term 'skill' existed in our time too, just with a different meaning. We used it to refer to a Pokémon's mastery over its innate abilities, its specific ways of manipulating energy or utilizing its physical attributes. These techniques were often passed down, refined over generations by experienced trainers and breeders – summaries of effective energy usage, efficient movement patterns. They weren't flashy 'named moves' for public entertainment; they were practical applications of power."
He clarified further. "Understanding modern 'skills' is still important. Recognizing the visual cues, knowing the potential effects of what your opponent is called… that's basic tactical awareness. But," he stressed, "don't become reliant on them. Don't mistake the label for the substance."
Seeing Xiu still looked slightly confused, Professor Oak posed another question. "Let's go deeper. What is the essence of these skills? What fundamentally underlies all Pokémon abilities?"
"The essence?" Xiu repeated, momentarily stumped. His mind felt overloaded, his previous understanding completely shaken. He tried to synthesize Oak's explanations, grasp the core concept. "Didn't… didn't you say it earlier, Professor? It's about… energy manipulation?"
"Precisely!" Oak confirmed, looking pleased. "Skills, at their core, are simply applications of a Pokémon's inherent energy – whether it's elemental energy like fire or water, psychic energy, physical kinetic energy, even life force itself.
The 'named skills' are just standardized, often simplified, ways of channeling that energy. Actions, like specific claw strikes or tackles, are also part of it. But the foundation," he tapped his temple, "is energy control. Understanding how to gather it, shape it, release it effectively."
He leaned back, a thoughtful expression returning. "Think of it like this," he mused. "The named skills are like pre-set formulas, recipes. Easy to learn, easy to replicate, produce consistent results. Useful for beginners, useful for standardized competitions." He paused. "But a true master," his eyes gleamed, "doesn't just follow recipes. They understand the ingredients – the raw energy itself. They can improvise, combine elements, create entirely new effects tailored to the specific situation. That," he concluded softly, "is the difference."
He chuckled again, perhaps at Xiu's bewildered expression. "Of course," he added playfully, "you could just invent your own flashy names for Scyther's attacks, shout them dramatically during a match. If one catches on, gets adopted by other trainers… you could become famous! The originator of the 'Hyper-Sonic Scythe Strike' or whatnot!"
"Professor, please," Xiu groaned, burying his face in his hands momentarily.
"Hahaha! Alright, alright," Oak relented, clearly enjoying Xiu's discomfort. "Truthfully, this modern, command-based system… it is the dominant trend now. Maybe, eventually, it will completely replace the older, freer style of combat. Society changes. Most trainers don't face life-or-death battles in the wild anymore. For regulated sport, for entertainment… perhaps this structured approach is sufficient." He took another sip of tea, leaning back against the sofa, a touch of melancholy entering his eyes. "Times change."
Xiu understood the sentiment— as society became safer, more regulated, the need for raw, instinctual combat diminished. Battles become entertainment. Trainers became more like coaches or directors, Pokémon like skilled athletes or actors, executing choreographed routines. It made sense, logically. But for someone like Professor Oak, who had likely experienced the older, harsher reality… the shift must feel like a dilution, a loss of something essential. 'No wonder he seemed so critical, so almost… bitter.'
"So," Xiu ventured carefully, trying to reconcile Oak's critique with his acceptance, "the modern battle system… it isn't entirely useless then? It has its place?"
"Of course," Oak confirmed readily. "I never said it was useless. My critique was aimed at its limitations, at the danger of mistaking the spectacle for true combat capability. Understanding the system is necessary." He leaned forward again, his expression turning analytical. "In fact, since we're discussing it… let's analyze some of the benefits, the specific structural elements, that the modern system introduced."
He paused, thinking. "Have you ever noticed, Xiu," he asked pointedly, "watching those televised League battles… certain powerful, wide-ranging techniques are almost never used? Take, for instance, the move Earthquake."
Xiu thought back. Shirley watched battle broadcasts in the TV constantly. He'd seen dozens, maybe hundreds, of matches passively while studying. Powerful moves, yes – Hyper Beam, Fire Blast, Thunder… but Earthquake? He searched his memory.
"You know… now that you mention it… I don't think I have ever seen Earthquake used in an official televised match."