If you're walking across Carolina's campus and come across a large group of people gathered in a circle silently tapping at their phones, don't be afraid. This isn't a cult, but rather a game you might remember from 2016—the people on their phones are fighting in a "raid battle," a part of Pokémon Go that allows players to join together to attack a giant monster in the hope of winning the battle and having a chance to add the Pokémon to their collection.
I loved Pokémon Go when it was first released, as a lot of friends my age did. It was fun, objective-based, social, and, living in a small community where I didn't have a lot to do outside, it gave me an incentive to get out and walk several miles every day. After that first summer, when it faded from popular culture ("Pokémon Go to the polls!" seems like a relic of the distant past now), I remember remarking to my dad, "I miss that game." I kept the app on my phone for a little while, but because there weren't that many people playing in my area all throughout 2017, it was pretty difficult to get anywhere in the game.
This was until June of this year when one of my best friends from high school insisted that I re-download the game so I could play with her. She said that although the game had dropped in users for a while, a lot of people were getting back into it I was reluctant, expecting to be made fun of by my other friends for dedicating time to something so hilariously out of vogue (granted, I did endure my fair share of jokes), but we walked around Charlotte all summer catching Pokémon and had a great time.
Not only did it bring us closer to have this in common, but it also introduced me to a culture that had developed in the time since I'd originally started playing the game, where friendly strangers call out to you on the street asking you if you're playing the same game they are and wishing you the best in whatever personal quest you're trying to accomplish. Finding a new enjoyment in this thing I had lost also allowed me to alleviate a lot of my fear about coming to UNC and not knowing how to interact with the new environment or not having anything concrete to look forward to. Turns out, this is more than enough.
Basically: you know the level of spirituality and oneness with the universe that people hope to achieve through meditation? I believe I've found it on my own in college, and it was through Pokémon. I say this jokingly, but in actuality, the extent of the community built through this game amazes me every single day. Today's a normal weekday, but after my classes wrapped up for the afternoon, I walked to the Old Well and found a group of about 15 made up of Chapel Hill locals, students, TAs, professors (seriously, my organic chemistry professor was there), hospital workers, and dining hall staff alike.
The unspoken agreement on etiquette for raid battles involves helping everyone present try to catch the raid boss, adding them as friends in the game and thanking the group when you leave. It's a quiet, subtle moment of coming together with people across different occupations, age ranges, and everything else, and it always leaves me feeling better and more connected to everyone around me. If you can stand to look a little awkward in public, I wholeheartedly suggest giving Pokémon Go a try—the emotional rewards are limitless, and you get cute little creatures to boot.
