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That's when it happened. The buzzer rung its loud shriek, causing me to leap up from the couch and charge into the hallway. "Hello," I said into the handset, although it was more of a question than a statement. "Daddy, we've got you a surprise!" a little voice filled with Christmas glee shouted. What could it be? A new Xbox 360 game? A toy of some sort? Slippers? My mind boggled."Here you go," my kid said, eyes full of expectations. "We didn't want to leave you out," the wife added. They'd bought me Pokémon Black 2. "Aww, thank you, that's really considerate of you," was only a half-truth. The sentiment was lovely, but the content was lacklustre. "Now you can play it with us!" I was the angel with the scabbed wings, and they were my beautiful people.When Christmas Day rolled round, I knew what I had to do. I had to play the game and pretend I liked it so my kid would be happy. But nothing could prepare me for what came after I plopped the DS cart in the console, picked Snivy, and named my rival 'Bellend' (some things never change). While I was playing through the first area, levelling up my team, and taking directions from my wife and kid who were further ahead than I, a realisation hit me: Pokémon isn't a single-player game, it's a co-op experience. A family co-op. A family co-op where you're all playing simultaneously, in the same room, with the same goal. We were a family, sitting around on Christmas Day, together, playing a game with each other.Related, on Motherboard: What 'Pokémon Go' Owes 'Ingress'
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