But furthermore and inseparably, the subject — the object of representation — is also animated: ordinary lifeless objects, plants, beasts — all are animated and humanized.
Sergei Eisenstein, Eisenstein on Disney
I.
Geodude and its evolved forms Graveler and Golem represent new territory for this series. Until this post, every Pokémon I’ve covered has taken its inspiration from either a real-life animal or a mythical creature. Every Pokémon I’ve covered exists in its fictional world essentially as an animal, or perhaps a plant-animal hybrid: an animal with its own habit, diet, and characteristic behaviors.
Geodude and Graveler, on the other hand, are living rocks with arms that bear only the vaguest of resemblances to real animals. (The final stage of this family, a boulder/tortoise hybrid known as Golem, always struck me as somehow not matching them, as a creature from a different evolutionary line.) Pokémon #74 and #75 in the Pokédex, they are numerically the first of a group of Pokémon best described as animate inanimate objects. Magnemite and Magneton are metallic robotic creatures that levitate; Grimer and Muk are living piles of sludge; Voltorb and Electrode are living Pokéballs, Koffing and Weezing are solidified clouds of air pollution.
This trend has continued in newer generations of Pokémon games, which have featured, among others, Pokémon based on letters, Easter Island statues, bells, ice cream cones, snowflakes, teapots, sandcastles and lumps of coal.
Some of these creatures will appear in future posts. Voltorb and Electrode, for instance, seem like the perfect springboard for a discussion of tsukumogami, household objects that come to life in Japanese folklore. Magnemite and Magneton, the most robotic first-generation Pokémon, could perhaps feature in a post about how new technologies — or, more accurately, our hopes and fears about them — have made AI perhaps the most prevalent mythical creature of our age.
This post will follow a very different path. This is, incidentally, the Necessary Monsters post that underwent the most complete transformation during the writing process. My first attempt at writing it began with Golem, the English-language name1 of its final form, with connecting these Pokémon to that creature of Jewish folklore and its analogues such as Talos and Frankenstein’s monster.
For all three of these creatures, life — or some artificial approximation of it — is unnatural, supernatural, the result of something done to them. In the world of Pokémon, on the other hand, there is nothing to suggest Geodude and its evolutions have been animated by some external force, that there is something unheimlich about their existence. In the Pokémon world, they seem to be as normal and as much a part of their particular ecosystem as snails or mushrooms or palm trees are in our world.
This post will therefore go in a different direction, a look at these creatures as not directly analogous to any specific mythical characters but as representative of a general anthropomorphic tendency in mythology, especially the tendency to imagine impersonal natural forces and events as characters.
What role do Geodude and its evolutions play in the Pokémon universe? They are rock-type/ground-type hybrids whose attacks usually involve hurling rocks at enemies, causing earthquakes, or exploding. In Pokémon Red and Blue, the player can encounter and capture wild Geodude in caves at Mt. Moon, Rock Tunnel and Victory Road. Wild Graveler can be caught in the Victory Road caves and only evolve into Golem after being traded to another player.
Geodude’s most famous appearance is as the trusty go-to Pokémon of Brock, the Pewter City gym leader who specializes in rock-type Pokémon. Brock’s Geodude is a constant if minor presence across all Pokémon media, from the original games to the anime, the Trading Card Game, and the manga series Pokémon Adventures and The Electric Tale of Pikachu. While it often loses in the anime (such as against Ash’s Pikachu in Showdown in Pewter City), its resilience befits a creature presumably made of solid rock. (Bulbapedia accurately describes this character as “markedly mature and tough” while also acknowledging that it “received very little character development as it did not receive much screen time.”)
Its evolved forms Graveler and Golem have sparser presences in Pokémon multimedia. The player can encounter wild Graveler on Victory Road and, in Yellow, in the endgame dungeon, the Cerulean cave. A few one-shot anime characters2 use Graveler, including the haughty prep student Giselle. In the games, they are a useful weapon against multiple gym leaders, as their elemental types make them immune to electric attacks and resistant to fire and poison attacks.
Elemental type seems like the best place to begin discussing how we might interpret these rock-ground creatures. In Pokémon’s first generation, water-type Pokémon almost always take clear inspiration from real-world aquatic creatures like turtles, frogs, fish and starfish. Flying-type Pokémon take inspiration from birds. Grass-type Pokémon take inspiration from various plants. Even ground-only Pokémon often take inspiration from real animals that live in the ground like moles and burrowing rodents.
Rock Pokémon like Geodude, on the other hand, come from a different place; other rock-type first generation include Onix, a snake whose segmented body is made up of boulders and a handful of prehistoric Pokémon that the player can recreate from fossils à la Jurassic Park. If not supernatural and the result of man playing God, as with the golem and Frankenstein’s monster, they are nonetheless the product of a certain kind of animation.
II.
I began this post with a quote from the Russian filmmaker and film theorist Sergei Eisenstein, partially for his insight into anthropomorphism and partially because I could not resist including a quote from a man whose name literally means “iron stone” in an analysis of living stone creatures.3
That quote comes from Eisenstein’s extensive, glowing writings on the now-classic Disney films, films he values above all for their protean quality: for the way they break the usual barriers between animal and human, object and subject, living organism and inanimate thing. As he puts it, “the liberation of forms from the laws of logic and forever established stability.”
(Pokémon, of course, has a similar protean quality, being a world of creatures that transform into other creatures, animals that are also plants, or vice versa, foxes that grow additional tails as they get older and salamanders that grow up into dragons.)
Disney, as Eisenstein writes elsewhere, “constantly gives us prescriptions for folkloric, mythological, prelogical thought.” One of the key aspects of this kind of thought — and one that Eisenstein focuses on — is the anthropomorphic tendency4, the imaginative interpretation of, say, the forces of nature. For perhaps the most obvious example, think of how many of the world’s mythologies include gods who embody the sun and moon. Another god with many faces is the embodiment of storms, the wielder of thunder: Zeus, Jupiter, Indra, Thor, Perun, Susanoo. In the worlds of many mythologies, the sun, moon, storms, sea and harvest are not impersonal objects or forces but kings and queens, husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, lovers and enemies.
This anthropomorphic urge extends beyond mythology and religion to daily life. Anyone who’s ever spent time around young children — or remembers their own early childhood — knows the strength of the emotional attachments they can form with stuffed animals and other toys. Even as adults, as Eisenstein notes, we can sometimes regress into childish anthropomorphism, as when we bump into a chair in the dark and proceed to “curse the chair as though it were a living being.”
Eisenstein’s example resonates with anyone who’s ever hit a malfunctioning computer or slammed down a phone; in emotional moments, especially moments of anger, we do seem to revert to a childlike or animistic perception of objects as not just capable of feeling pain but as actively trying to frustrate us.
In Pokémon Red and Blue, the player encounters a hiker on the slopes of Mt. Moon whose only line of dialogue is “Ouch! I tripped over a rocky Pokémon, Geodude!” I can imagine a real-world equivalent of that nameless character kicking that stupid rock again and again or perhaps picking it up and throwing away, or even smashing it against a larger boulder.
This, I propose, is one of the human experiences fantastically embodied in Geodude, a seemingly normal rock that can spring to life and start throwing punches.
III.
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Tsukumogami, in the words of yokai scholar Michael Dylan Foster, "is a general term referring to all sorts of household utensils, musical instruments, and other human-made objects that have become yokai.” While other Pokémon, as previously mentioned, are closer analogues to this class of yokai, a few affinities are worth mentioning here.
First are the obvious visual similarities between Geodude and tsukumogami, which, as seen above, are often imagined and represented as inanimate objects that have grown eyes, limbs and mouths. That is precisely how one would describe Geodude: a boulder that has somehow grown these features.
In his entry on tsukumogami in The Book of Yokai, Foster identifies tsukumogami as just one manifestation of a more general theme in Japanese folklore, the hope and/or fear that “when any normal thing exists for long enough it can transform into something not so normal.” These transformations, Foster continues, may originate in animism, in the belief that inanimate objects and aspects of nature such as rivers, mountains and the wind also have spirits or souls. In his introduction, Foster situates yokai in general — as well as kami — in this animistic context, noting that these mythical beings resemble the natural forces they embody in that they are sometimes helpful, sometimes dangerous, and never fully controllable by humans.
Along these lines, one can interpret Geodude and Graveler as outdoor variations on tsukumogami, as an original take on the Japanese mythological theme of continued existence leading to metamorphosis. Tsukumogami, according to legend, come to life after 100 years; rocks have the span of geological time in which to come to life.
To sum up the discussion thus far, Geodude and its evolutions seem to have three main ingredients. First, what seems like a general human tendency — probably most active during childhood but never completely absent — to anthropomorphize inanimate objects, especially those objects with which we have strongly positive or negative experience. Second, a specifically Japanese mythological motif of inanimate objects coming to life after many years of existence, a transformation often imagined and represented as the object in question growing eyes, limbs and a mouth. The next section will explore the third ingredient, which I’ve already touched on — the personification of forces of nature.
IV.
Like mythical creatures from across the world, yokai often reflect and embody natural forces and phenomena. In a previous post, for instance, I discussed the kappa, a creature with likely origins in fears of drowning in strong river currents. The yamamba (a somewhat witch-like character known in English as the mountain crone or mountain hag) is an ambiguous figure that, in Foster’s words, represents “the furtive powers and dangers of the mountains.” Anyone who’s ever seen Kwaidan (1965) or read the original Lafcadio Hearn stories will remember the yuki-onna, the ghostly woman of the snow who only appears in blizzards and leaves her victims frozen to death.
In this mythopoeic context, Geodude and its relatives can be read as embodying embodying how seemingly solid ground can erupt into sudden and violent life.
As the youngest and least powerful member of this family, Geodude’s Pokédex descriptions reflect the experience of hiking, of walking on uneven ground, tripping over rocks, stepping on a rocky ledge that collapses under one’s weight — of losing one’s footing. As we’ve already seen, a character in the Game Boy games has just this experience; Geodude, according to the Red and Blue Pokédex, are “found in fields and mountains. Mistaking them for boulders, people often step or trip on them.” The Yellow Pokédex adds that “if you step on one by accident, it gets angry.”
If Geodude represents the instability of mountain slopes, then its evolved form Graveler seems to represent the danger of rockslides and landslides. The Red and Blue, Yellow and Pokémon Stadium Pokédex entries on Graveler all essentially say the same thing: that it rolls down the mountainside, rolling over any obstacle that gets in its way.5
These are creatures, in other words, that might embody a very real and at times very dangerous aspect of the world around us. They are particularly upsetting because, at least in our daily lives, we think of the ground beneath our feet as the exemplary example of stability, as the unmoving foundation beneath everything else.
“Three people are missing after massive thunderstorms and rainfall in southeastern Switzerland caused a landslide yesterday,” to quote a June 2023 Independent article. “One woman was pulled out alive after being buried in the Alpine valley of Misox in Graubünden. A rescue operation for the three others is ongoing.”
A selection of headlines from around the world over the past 12 months:
Massive rockslide to keep part of Zion closed for now
Highway 4 to close temporarily for removal of rockslide debris
Bid to save miners trapped by rockslide
Popular Mountain Gorge in Crete Closed After Earthquake Triggers Rockslide
What caused dangerous rockslide at Mead's Quarry? Earthquakes and rain might be factors
Fear grips Vijayawada as multiple rockslides hit Durga temple road
Kabul-Jalalabad highway closed for second day due to rockslides
The attacks used by these Pokémon align with this interpretation. In FireRed and LeafGreen, for instance, Geodude and its family naturally learn Rock Throw, Magnitude, Rollout, Rock Blast and Earthquake. In the card game, various versions of Geodude and Graveler can attack with several of these moves as well as with Rock Toss and Stone Barrage.
As they level up further, Graveler and Golem can learn two powerful, self-destructive attacks called Selfdestruct and Explosion; using either of these attacks, as you might imagine, generally results in a KO for both Pokémon in play. This could reflect a further, related source of inspiration for these creatures and their powers, that of cave-ins and mining accidents. As we’ve already seen, caves are these creatures’ natural habitat, and the Red and Blue Pokédex entry on Golem specifically mentions its ability to withstand dynamite blasts. (The Pokémon Ultra Moon Pokédex entry on the Alolan6 variation of Graveler reads as follows: “They eat rocks and often get into a scrap over them. The shock of Graveler smashing together causes a flash of light and a booming noise.”)
From tripping and skinning one’s knee to a devastating landslide, these Pokémon and their attacks express — in a child-friendly way, of course — the various ways in which the ground itself can frustrate or damage us, as if it was some dangerous giant we unknowingly woke from its sleep.
V.
While Geodude, Graveler and Golem lack direct mythical analogues, I hope I’ve been able to show that they seem to operate along mythical lines, as creatures that the anthropomorphizing of both specific inanimate objects and of larger-scale natural events and processes.
One major difference between Pokémon and both true mythologies and many other mythopoeic fantasies — and, I think, one major reason behind its incredible appeal to children — is that the Pokémon who embody nature’s splendors and terrors are not unseen and uncontrollable gods. The player can potentially tame and command any Pokémon, even the three legendary birds who embody blizzards, thunderstorms and volcanic eruptions.
The Pokémon in question combine this wish fulfillment power fantasy with another widespread childish impulse, the imaginative animation of lifeless objects.
Bibliography:
“Bid to save miners trapped by rockslide.” Daily News (Durban, South Africa), 22 March 2024.
Dassow, Daniel. “What caused dangerous rockslide at Mead's Quarry? Earthquakes and rain might be factors.” News Sentinel (Knoxville, TN), 29 May 2024.
Eddington, Mark. “Massive rockslide to keep part of Zion closed for now.” Salt Lake Tribune, 22 November 2023.
Eisenstein, Sergei. Eisenstein on Disney. Edited by Jay Leyda. Methuen, 1988.
Foster, Michael Dylan. Pandemonium and Parade: Japanese Monsters and the Culture of Yokai. University of California Press, 2009.
Foster, Michael Dylan. The Book of Yokai: Mysterious Creatures of Japanese Folklore. University of California Press, 2015.
“Greece: Popular Mountain Gorge in Crete Closed After Earthquake Triggers Rockslide.” Asia News Monitor, 17 August 2023.
“Highway 4 to close temporarily for removal of rockslide debris.” Time-Colonist (Victoria, BC), 7 December 2023.
Lanka, Venu. “Fear grips Vijayawada as multiple rockslides hit Durga temple road.” Times of India, 27 July 2023.
“3 missing in a landslide in Swiss Alps as heavy rains cause flash floods.” The Independent, 22 June 2024.
This creature’s original Japanese name is Golonya, which comes from goron-goron, an onomatopoeia for the sound of rocks rolling. This Japanese word also provided a name for the Gorons, a race of rock people in The Legend of Zelda.
Or, as the Pokémon fandom puts it, characters of the day.
Geodude’s German name is Kleinstein.
For Eisenstein, Disney’s films are doubly anthropomorphic, doubly animistic. As animated films, they necessarily involve creating an artificial illusion of life — the illusion that a series of photographed inked and painted drawings can become a living, thinking, reacting character. The process of animation, in other words, involves what could be called a modern, applied animism. Their subject matter is also frequently animistic: animals that talk and act like human beings, inanimate objects (most famously a wooden puppet with dreams of becoming a real boy) that come to life.
The Pokémon Saphire Pokédex entry on Golem reads as follows: “Golem is known for rolling down from mountains. To prevent them from rolling into the homes of people downhill, grooves have been dug into the sides of mountains to serve as guideways for diverting this Pokémon’s course.” This struck me as a wonderful little bit of worldbuilding, an imaginative and whimsical description of normal human life — and of public infrastructure — in a world where human beings coexist with such strange, powerful creatures.
Alola is the Pokémon world’s fictionalized version of Hawaii; its name is clearly a corruption of “aloha.” It is the setting of the seventh generation Pokémon games and is home to a number of regional relatives of previously introduced Pokémon.
It's amazing how you can take a subject which would seem to hold no interest for me— toys I wasn't even the right generation to have played with— and make them relevant to me as an artist and storyteller.
What great insights about anthropomorphism, animism and cautionary myths! Love it.
I found Geodude, Graveler and Golem to be a fascinating exploration of the anthropomorphic tendencies in mythology and their reflection in Pokémon. Your detailed analysis of these rock-type creatures and their place in the Pokémon world and broader mythological context was insightful and engaging. The connection to Sergei Eisenstein's thoughts on animation added a rich layer to the discussion. Brilliant read, thank you.