Life Outside the Battlefield
You are not a ten-year-old on a free adventure. You have a life — rent, work, people who know your name, and bills that don't care how many badges you have. This game is about the troubles that come with being a young adult with a Pokémon shell, and that life is half the story.
Money
The currency is ₽, and it runs out. You earn it through battle winnings, prize money, jobs, and the odd work you take when the road gets thin. It goes out on food, rent, medicine, balls, and repairs — and on the small things you tell yourself you've earned. The GM sets prices from the world's gear list, and they hold. Money that runs out is a thread of its own: the landlord, the loan, the job you took because you had to.
Work
Trainers work. You might pick up shifts at a Poké Mart, take a ranger contract, help a farmer with a swarm, or hustle battles at a gym's side door. Work costs time and condition — a night shift before a gym challenge is a real choice. Work is also where you meet people, hear rumors, and trip over threads you weren't looking for.
Evenings off
The world has diners, festivals, boarding-house kitchens and long train rides, and you are allowed to spend your time in them. An evening off is a scene like any other: who you go with, who you talk to, what you say when you are tired and off guard. The same resolution rules apply — Charm for the conversation, Grit to keep going when the night runs long, Cool for the bluff that saves you — and the consequences are fiction: the morning after, the money spent, the rumor started, the promise made at two in the morning, the thing you said that you cannot take back. A bad night is not a status effect. It is a debt to the story, and it lasts until you pay for it.
People
Friends, rivals, family, the people who knew you before — they are characters with wants and lives of their own, and they will not hold still for your convenience. Relationships are built the same way bonds are: through care, through trust, through being there when it costs you. They can be strained and broken like bonds, too. The person you leave behind in your home town is a thread with a clock, and so is the rival who keeps beating you.
Reputation
How people see you opens and closes doors. A title — gym challenger, ranger, champion — gets you in rooms. A reputation — the trainer who cheated, who broke a promise, who abandoned a partner — follows you into every town ahead. Your secret is a reputation waiting to happen. Guard it or spend it, but know that the world can find out.
The table's temperature
This game is about ordinary trouble: money that runs out, work that costs you, promises you could not keep, people you let down. Before you start, agree at the table on how far to go — what's on screen, what fades out, and what's off limits entirely. The game is about troubles, not trauma. Nobody at the table should be having a bad time in the service of someone else's story, and everyone can call a halt at any time. That's not a rule; it's the first rule.