Magikarp Jump is the worst game I can’t stop playing. It’s been almost a month since I got my first orange fish and I find myself checking the app multiple times a day. When I wake up, I make sure to click my Litten and Pikachu to make sure I get the most JP. Then, I feed my little bugger, watch him smack his head into a rock or a Dwebble, and clear out whatever Manaphy or Feebas chilling around my tank. I know it serves no purpose, but I’m powerless when I’m under the orange mackerel's control.
It’s not like I even like Magikarp — it’s one of my least favorite Pok é mon from generation one. Back in the late 90s’, when Pok é -mania was as its highest, I lived and breathed Pok é mon. My binder was covered in 150 Pok é mon stickers, I only wore shirts inspired by Game Freak and alienated classmates with my encyclopedic Kanto knowledge. During my first play through of my first Pok é mon game, I wasted all my money trying to buy a Magikarp from a sleazy salesman on the way to Mt. Moon.
You could say that left a lasting impression on me, considering I’m still complaining it decades later.
Since then, I’ve had an unending hatred towards all fish pocket monsters. From the defenseless Remoraid all the way to the useless Wishiwashi, I’ve done my part to ignore or exterminate all aquatic wildlife. I had to pick Pok é mon Ruby , where Team Aqua wanted to create a new world by putting ours under water. Living on a floating island, surrounded by evil Magikarp, is a fate that I couldn’t have my avatar suffer through.
Now that I’ve matured, nothing’s changed. Still, in order to grow up, I had to learn to let go of some of my baggage. Instead of discussing my hoarding obsession or poor social skills, I decided to aim for something a lot smaller: Magikarp. It’s a bit ridiculous to harbor resentment at a virtual fsh, but I’m a ridiculous guy. The little things are the ones that pick at me the most, like a Weedle trying to eat its way out of a Pidgey.
After training over 40 Magikarp, beating seven leagues and going through more berries than a Jamba Juice at Penn Station, have I learned to accept the Magikarp? I’m not sure I admire or even tolerate Pok é mon’s version of a goldfish cracker, but I definitely admire the fish. It’s not easy being the most useless monster, especially in a world where gods can be caught in balls wielded by young children. Arceus might have granted you life, but Red from Pallet Town will forever control the cosmos.
When I’m on the Subway or have time to kill, I’ll boot up Magikarp Jump . Mindless mobile games are addictive and there’s a reason everyone’s mom plays Candy Crush . Tapping on a screen for an instant reward makes the primal side of our brain happy, rewarding us with melatonin for doing absolutely nothing. That rush you get when you beat a level, get an achievement or fish a golden Magikarp out a river isn’t real, but the facade is enough of a reason to keep playing.
I’ll keep playing Magikarp Jump until all my fish die in a mobile crossover with the only other mobile game I play, Fallout Shelter.
