Nineteen ninety-six was a weird year for video games. The industry was obsessed with the jump to 3D, with the Nintendo 64 and PlayStation pushing polygons like they were going out of style. Then, this chunky, monochromatic handheld game from a struggling developer called Game Freak arrived in Japan. It looked dated. The sprites were, frankly, a bit hideous—looking at you, original Mew. But Pokemon Red and Blue didn't need high-end graphics. They had a soul.
Honestly, it’s hard to overstate how much of a gamble this was. Satoshi Tajiri, the creator, spent six years trying to get this project off the ground. Nintendo almost passed on it. Most people don't realize that the Game Boy was basically a "dead" console by the time the monsters arrived. But it worked. It worked because the game wasn't about the screen; it was about the playground. It was about that link cable.
The Glitchy Genius of Kanto
Kanto is a mess. If you look at the code of Pokemon Red and Blue, it’s a miracle the games even run. You’ve got the infamous MissingNo., the "Mew under the truck" urban legends, and the fact that Psychic-type Pokemon were accidentally made completely invincible because a programming error made Ghost-type moves ineffective against them.
Despite the bugs, the world design is masterclass level. It’s tight. Every route feels purposeful. You start in Pallet Town—a tiny dot on the map—and the sense of progression as you cut down bushes or surf across the water to Cinnabar Island is tactile. It’s not just an RPG; it’s a puzzle box. You aren't just leveling up a character; you’re managing a roster of 151 distinct personalities.
Think about the starters. Bulbasaur, Charmander, and Squirtle aren't just "fire, water, grass." They are difficulty settings. Choosing Bulbasaur is basically "Easy Mode" because he wrecks the first two Gym Leaders, Brock and Misty. Charmander? That's "Hard Mode." Try taking a lizard with a fire tail into a rock gym and see how fast you get crushed. It’s subtle game design that taught kids about strategy without a single tutorial pop-up.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Difficulty
There’s this weird narrative now that the old games were "harder." They weren't necessarily harder; they were just more obtuse. You had limited bag space. You had to go to a PC to switch boxes every time you caught 20 Pokemon. If you didn't have a Flash-capable Pokemon in Rock Tunnel, you were literally stumbling in the dark.
But that friction created memories.
When you finally made it through Victory Road and faced Blue (or whatever you named your rival—usually something profane), the stakes felt real. The music changed. The tension spiked. The AI wasn't brilliant, sure. Agatha’s Gengar would sometimes just spam Dream Eater while you were awake. But the vibe was unmatched.
Junichi Masuda, the composer, managed to squeeze incredible emotion out of the Game Boy's primitive sound chip. The Lavender Town theme is still the stuff of creepypasta legends. It’s haunting. It’s uncomfortable. It gave the world a sense of history and consequence that many modern, polished games lack.
👉 See also: Super Mario Bros Duck Hunt: The Weird History of the Pack-in That Changed Everything
The Social Network Before the Internet
Before Discord, before Reddit, we had the school bus. Pokemon Red and Blue succeeded because they were social. You couldn't get all 151 monsters on one cartridge. You had to find a kid with the other version.
This was a stroke of genius from Shigeru Miyamoto, who suggested the dual-version release. It turned a solitary gaming experience into a bartering economy. We weren't just playing; we were trading. We were sharing secrets. Did you know you can catch a Level 100 Nidoking before the first gym using the Long-Range Trainer glitch? Someone’s older brother definitely "knew" how to find Pikablu (which wasn't real) or Togepi (which wasn't in the game yet).
The misinformation was part of the fun. In a pre-smartphone era, the mystery of the Cinnabar Island coast felt like exploring an actual frontier.
The Competitive Underworld
If you look at the competitive scene for Gen 1 today, it's a nightmare of RNG and broken mechanics. Freeze is basically a death sentence because you don't thaw out naturally. Hyper Beam doesn't require a recharge turn if it knocks the opponent out.
Yet, people still play it.
There's a purity to it. No held items. No abilities. No Nature modifiers. Just six monsters and a prayer that your move doesn't miss because of the "1 in 256" accuracy bug. It’s raw. Modern Pokemon is a math-heavy spreadsheet simulator. Gen 1 was a street fight.
Why We Can’t Let Go
Nintendo has remade Kanto more times than I can count. We had FireRed and LeafGreen, then Let's Go Pikachu and Eevee. They keep dragging us back to the same woods and the same caves.
Why? Because the foundation is perfect.
The 151 designs by Ken Sugimori are iconic because they are simple. They look like creatures that could actually live in your backyard. A pigeon. A rat. A pile of sludge. A magnet. They weren't over-designed with too many spikes or glowing bits. They were relatable.
When you play Pokemon Red and Blue, you aren't playing a relic. You’re playing the blueprint for the largest media franchise on the planet. Every time you see a Charizard on a t-shirt or a Pikachu in a parade, it traces back to those green-tinted screens and the sound of a link cable clicking into place.
Actionable Steps for the Modern Player
If you're looking to revisit Kanto or experience it for the first time, don't just jump into a modern remake. To truly understand the impact, you need to see the rough edges.
- Play the Virtual Console versions: If you have an older 3DS, the Virtual Console releases are the most "authentic" way to play without hunting down a literal 1989 Game Boy and a worm light. They even simulate the trading mechanics via wireless.
- Try a Nuzlocke challenge: The original games are fairly easy once you know the type matchups. A Nuzlocke (where a fainted Pokemon is "dead" and must be released) adds a layer of tension that makes the old-school grind feel meaningful.
- Respect the Psychic type: If you're struggling, catch an Abra north of Nugget Bridge. Alakazam is the "God Mode" of the 90s. Since Special Attack and Special Defense were a single stat (Special) in Gen 1, Alakazam is an absolute tank and a glass cannon at the same time.
- Learn the glitches: Look up the "Trainer Fly" glitch to catch Mew. It’s not a cheat; it’s a rite of passage. It’s part of the historical record of what made these games legendary.
- Ignore the sprites: Yes, Golbat looks like it's having a mid-life crisis. Yes, Exeggutor looks like it's seen things no tree should see. Lean into the weirdness. It’s part of the charm that defined an entire generation of gaming.