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#the long grass mechanic is gone and practically all route trainers
buglaur · 1 year
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rafespeaks · 4 years
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Pokémon Sword and Shield, From the Eyes of a Veteran (Critique)
I want to preface this by saying I have been playing Pokemon since before I can remember. It has been a staple of my childhood since day one and is an incredibly important franchise to me. I have nothing but love for it, and I wish the franchise success and a long life far into the future. That being said... I have some big issues with this latest generation. Big enough that I’m writing out my thoughts for everyone to see for the first time.
As a note, I am not a competitive player, nor do I think I ever will be. I don’t have the patience or technical mind to focus on all the finite mechanics and breed the statistical ‘very-best’ Pokemon out there. As such, I will not be focusing on those aspects (or at least not nearly as heavily as others might).
Now, let’s begin.
As a starting point, let’s start where Nintendo always does when introducing a new region and generation
The Pokémon
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Every new generation of Pokemon comes with brand-new creatures for everyone to love. However, some generations just have... more than others. The original games had 151 Pokemon total to catch, collect, and love. And from there, more were added. Here’s the count:
Johto: 100 Hoenn: 135 Sinnoh: 107 Unova: 156 Kalos: 72 Alola: 88 Galar: 81
This is not accounting for the new Pokemon introduced in Galar’s DLC, as that has yet to come out, or old Pokemon that were given a Mega Evolution or regional variant. Kalos added 30 Mega Evolutions, plus an additional 20 from ORAS. Alola added 18 regional variants, and Galar added 13 of their own (not counting the DLC Slowpoke) plus 24 Gigantimax forms (25 if you count Flapple & Appletun as separate, and 26 with Melmetal).
Numbers-wise, Galar did... okay. Not great. But okay. It still passed up Kalos, at the very least, which was a huge point of contention among fans when gen 6 came out. However, if I had to sum up my feelings towards the new Pokemon I could do it easily with one phrase: they’re very ‘hit-or-miss’. And while new Pokemon that I don’t care for tend to grow on me over time, there’s just one problem with that. They can’t grow on me if I don’t ever see them.
Don’t get me wrong. I have no problem with old Pokemon being in the new games. In fact that’s something I love! But when you want the players to connect with the new being introduced, you have to give them a chance to do so.
This was the first region in what felt like ages where I went in without a plan of what I wanted on my team. Typically, I go with a simple, easy-to-follow formula. Grass, Fire, and Water take up three slots. Add in a Flying-type, as Water and Flying were highly important for transportation in earlier games. And for coverage, the last two spots go to Electric and Ground or Rock. Anything else, I try to cover for with getting as many dual-types as possible. Simple. Effective. Tried and true.
However, after choosing Scorbunny as my starter, I encountered a problem. There are only two Grass-types to choose from, and neither are particularly good for my strategy. Eldegoss, which I ended up going with, is a pure Grass-type and can ONLY learn Grass-type damaging attacks, unless you want to track down the single Bug-type TR it can learn, or use one of the few compatible Normal-type TMs/TRs.
The second Grass-type is Applin. And while both evolutions have better type coverage, there are still problems. One, Applin on its own is pretty bad. The only moves it knows when caught fresh from the wild are Withdraw and Astonish. While that isn’t too horrible in and of itself, the fact that its evolutionary item can only be obtained near the end of the game makes it a horrible choice. Since I was about to take on Nessa and had no access to this item, I was forced to either choose Eldegoss or something from a previous generation. And since I was trying to use all-new Pokemon, Eldegoss it was. (Though on the upside, I realized it had plenty of potential to be a competitive wall.) Now, if you are intent on getting a Flapple or Appletun, you can persevere and evolve one. Now you have your grass dragon! Great! Except... its level-up moveset is pretty bad to begin with... You will have to dedicate a lot of time to training or hunting down TMs and TRs to make up for this seemingly MASSIVE oversight.
This is just one example, of course. And while coverage isn’t particularly BAD considering all the old Pokemon included, it could be much better.
Continuing on from this topic is another that has had a lot of fans, including me, up in arms.
The Pokédex
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Dexit.
Nearly 900 Pokemon, cut SEVERELY down to 400. It’s unprecedented. It’s unfair to the fans of cut Pokemon, completionists, and old players waiting on transferring all their partners from previous games. Frankly, it sucks. And I think every Pokemon fan can agree, no matter the reason.
While some similar things to this have happened before, it has never been this bad. Unova did it right - the only Pokemon available to the player through the main story of Black and White were the newly introduced ones. After defeating the Elite Four, finishing the game, and the credits are done rolling however, all previous Pokemon were welcome in the region once more. Alola didn’t exclude any older Pokemon, but for the first time in any Pokemon game, we did not get a National ‘Dex. Even so, the Pokemon unavailable natively in Alola were still transferable and usable in the new generation. And while it was a bit disappointing not to get any new entries for some old favorites, it was understandable. Coming up with new world lore is hard work!
Nintendo said that all these Pokemon were cut due to time constraints and limitations with the memory. Unfortunately, these are issues that could be fixed easily, which just... weren’t. Sword and Shield could have gone the same route that Zelda: Breath of the Wild did and simply extended production time. As Shigeru Miyamoto once said, “A delayed game is eventually good, but a rushed game is forever bad.” And it shows in Sword and Shield in so many ways.
The memory limitations is, honestly, just a bad lie in my personal opinion. This opinion is only proven to me by the DLC reintroducing over 200 Pokemon from prior games. It’s not that Nintendo couldn’t - it’s that they didn’t give themselves the time. I had hoped for free updates in the future to remedy this, and that’s what’s happening. But not in a good way. (They also cut a plethora of Pokemon moves, which was also heavily disappointing, but the loss there couldn’t be felt nearly as much as over half of the total Pokemon being straight-up unavailable. Every one of those is someone’s favorite!)
Even if the memory WAS an issue, there are so many things that were, ultimately, unnecessary to me that they could have done without. But I’ll get to that in a minute.
Dexit aside, there’s another issue that needs to be addressed with the Pokedex that I’ve touched on already - distribution of Pokemon. There’s just... way too many, way too fast, and not enough of the new Galar Pokemon to go around. I am a Player who takes the famous tagline ‘gotta catch ‘em all’ fairly seriously. As I progress through the game, I am always compelled to search for every Pokemon on a route and catch, at the very least, the basic form of that Pokemon. While I haven’t managed to complete the Pokedex on my own or build a Living ‘Dex yet, those are both major goals I have.
However, shortly after first stepping into the Wild Area, I was overwhelmed. Too many Pokemon were coming my way, with too many variations in weather meaning it would take ages to catch all the Pokemon available to me in a route before moving forward in the story. While the Wild Area is a marvel, fun to explore, and an amazing way to experience Pokemon, it’s all just too much to throw at you in one huge chunk. Plus, there’s one very annoying, very artificial limitation that just feels completely out of place in a game that traditionally has had nothing quite like this. The Pokemon-catching level cap.
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Now, level caps have been talked about among fans of the series, especially those that would like a sort of ‘hard mode’. This is not what they were talking about. Level caps have been used in previous games to prevent a player from transferring or trading overpowered Pokemon to the game and breezing through it as fast as possible. If you don’t have enough badges, the Pokemon will not listen to you, and you’ll be out of luck until you progress. Fans have suggested extending this level cap to all Pokemon, so that potentially even your starter will refuse to listen once it’s too strong. Personally, I wouldn’t enjoy such a change. But that’s why it’s only really suggested for a hard mode.
The way this level cap was implemented, however, was just... bad... I understand why it was done, but it can be put into practice SO much easier with one simple fix - utilizing Routes like previous generations did and closing off the higher-level areas to the player until they have progressed appropriately.
And that brings me to my next talking point.
Routes VS the Wild Area
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Pokemon routes have always been included in every game, from the very beginning. They are the segue between towns, holding new Pokemon for you to battle and catch, the majority of free items to be found across the world, and a good few trainers to pit your team against once you’ve gotten past the first little chunk of story. To put it simply, routes are necessary. Without them, all the different towns would be one huge city, and specifically in Sword and Shield, there would be nowhere but the Wild Area to catch Pokemon.
That being said, the routes throughout Galar are... pretty tiny. I’d even say pitiful. What’s more, it seems that most of them have a short, straight path forward that discourages exploration and bettering yourself through battles with wild Pokemon and trainers. Sure, there’s the occasional arbitrary blockade that will force you to take the long way around, but once that’s done with, there’s nothing else to keep your interest. Glimwood Tangle in particular made me realize how far back they cut the routes. There was so much potential to make a sprawling forest out of it, and they just... didn’t. It was tiny. I wanted more, but they left it lacking in so much.
There’s an easy solution to this - making the Routes into mini Wild Areas. And, to accommodate all these huge routes, CUT BACK THE WILD AREA. Trust me - it needs to be smaller. This fixes the Pokemon distribution, the level cap issues, and the tiny routes all in one fell swoop. Instead of having one massive area with a bunch of sub-areas, have each route be bigger, with two to three sub-areas. The balance will make it much more impressive in the long run.
Speaking of balance, let’s talk about how this affected the pacing of the game. Even when I was taking my time, it felt like I was always rushing, rushing, rushing on to the next town.  Not to mention, there are far too many options in the story to let you skip over backtracking through a route you’ve already been through. I’ve just finished taking on Milo. I blink. I’m standing in the Pokemon center the next town over, prepping for Nessa’s gym. I just defeated Bea. I blink. Now I’m about to take on Opal. The only time I got a little time to breathe was when I had to travel through the Wild Area to get to the next town. And then it was all just so expansive that I... didn’t want to go back to the story. There were items everywhere. There were Pokemon to catch. I wasn’t done here - I had to explore. I had to find everything. Do all I could. Because that’s what you do in a route, right? You explore and find all the goodies to help you on your journey. So what comes after...?
The Towns
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While the towns are gorgeous and each have their own charm, they all feel... almost empty.
Compare to previous games, and it’s obvious to see. Many buildings don’t allow you to go inside and explore. There is a distinct lack of NPCs. And the ‘big’ cities are decidedly small as a result.
Just take a look at Castelia City and Lumiose City. Both are huge, compared to the rest of the locations in the games. They have many buildings, many NPCs to fill them... People needed a map to avoid getting lost in Lumiose! Even in cities that are smaller scale-wise, such as in Alola, they never feel empty. There are plenty of places to go, people to talk to, and things to explore or interact with. You find new things all the time.
Meanwhile in Galar, the only things that seem to give the towns any purpose are the Pokemon gyms. And that is a massive shame. Especially when in prior games, there have been places I will make my way to, just to sit there and take in every little detail of the location, or where I’ll talk to every NPC and soak up all the lore. I go back to murals and statues and unique buildings. I go back to puzzles and the homes of legendary Pokemon. I go back to enjoy the things I’ve seen in a new light and reminisce about my journey. But in Galar... there seems to be very little to reminisce about.
The Story
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This is the biggest disappointment for me. If all the rest of the game were awful, as long as the story is good, I can overlook it. As long as the story is good, I can enjoy any game. 
This story was not good.
As far as Pokemon stories go, they aren’t all complex, nuanced narratives. In the first games, you fight Team Rocket, who are just in it for the money. In Johto, it’s the same thing, with the addition of a rival that has a touching change of heart in the end. Things get a bit bigger in Hoenn, where the world-ending plots officially start in the form of weather crises caused by Team Aqua and Team Magma. In Sinnoh, the entire universe is threatened when Team Galactic aims to remake the world in their image. In Unova, the morals of you and the rest of the Pokemon world are called into question by PETA-- I mean Team Plasma. In Kalos... rich people want to kill the unworthy poor...? Yeah, I didn’t really get that story much either. And in Alola, you deal with alternate dimension aliens running amok. Safe to say things got quite a bit bigger as time went on.
Now we’re in Galar. Something’s going to happen. Something always happens. But when? How?
We get hints about the Darkest Day. Dynamaxing is still very new and not much is known about it. Sonia is looking into the legendary hero(s) that stopped the Darkest Day. But where’s the evil team? What’s their motivation? Where’s the action? The buildup?? Bede mentions he’s collecting Wishing Stars. Why??? We get to Hammerlocke and learn that the Wishing Stars are for the Chairman. But again, why? He mentions a problem has been bothering Rose concerning all Galar, but it’s such a brief moment that it’s easily dismissed. Where’s the action, or the stakes? Nothing has happened yet except we’re being pushed through the gym challenge as fast as possible.
Fourth gym. No sign of any real trouble yet. Except that jerk Bede just vandalized an ancient mural, just because... he wanted to? Yeah, he’s trying to find Wishing Stars, but literally NO ONE told him to make a spectacle of himself and ruin a piece of history in the process. We’re getting more hints about the past and Galar’s history, but nothing solid on what we’re supposed to be doing. Besides the gyms. EVERYTHING is about the gyms... Oh, and apparently Oleana is the one who asked Bede to collect Wishing Stars. Whatever. What does that have to do with anything?
Five gyms in now, and... Ka-BOOM!
FINALLY!!! Some ACTION!!! Something’s happening at the Power Plant, and Sonia’s detecting a Power Spot! Alright, let’s go! I’m finally going to be able to DO something! I’ll finally be able to see what’s going on and--
“You should leave the investigation on the quaking to the adults. Head to Circhester and get that Gym Badge!”
... What... No! No, I refuse! There must be something to see, even if it’s just Sonia, Leon, and the Chairman standing around after things have already been sorted out. I can talk to them and get a little dialogue on what’s going on! Except they aren’t anywhere to be found. No one around the gym, no one by the Power Plant door, nothing.
Sixth gym. More lore. Seventh gym. Heading out towards Raihan and BOOM! Trouble on Route 9! Leon’s here! NPC says I should go help! Heck yes, I will! It’s about time I got some action out here, it’s almost the end of the game!
Run outside, there’s Leon! And... he dismisses you. Again. Says ‘nope, I’ve got this, gym gym gym, see you!’
No way am I taking that laying down. I’m right on his heels - I should at least be able to see him battling or something, right? But no. In the seconds it takes to run after him, Leon has beaten the threat, he’s gone, and now Hop is waving a news article about the debacle in your face, complete with picture! How the hell did all that happen so fast?! It takes time to write something like that up, never mind the time it must have taken to battle the Dynamaxed Pokemon that Leon faced!
The game is almost over, and what little action you could have seen has been blocked from you because you are a child. And I understand, from a moral perspective, that this is what any sane adult would say to a child. But from a story perspective it is a horribly bad writing choice. It gives you a little taste of the story, a tiny hint at what’s going on, and yanks any real explanation away from you until the very end, where you’re floored by everything happening all at once. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Finally, Professor Magnolia mentions that the issue the Chairman is worried about is the future of Galar’s energy. But... why? We have seen no hints of a problem with that throughout the entire game. No mention of shortages. Nothing about global warming or sustainability. It seems there’s exactly zero reason for anyone to worry, much less turn this into a huge issue that needs to be addressed. It’s one thing if a crisis is there and people are ignoring it. It’s another matter entirely if there is no crisis whatsoever to be seen, even if you look for it. And even if there was any sort of issue, Leon once again tells you to do nothing. Nothing at all. 
Eighth gym. On to the Championships. Blah blah, tiny snow route, nothing even remotely close to a Victory Road... In Wyndon now. Still bubcus about an evil team or anything that you can actually DO something about. The Semifinals happen. Leon goes missing.
Suddenly, you’re thrown into a situation you know nothing about to save this miserable dope. And when you get to him... he doesn’t even need any saving! He’s just having a pleasant chat with this jerk! Drag his butt out of there, then the Finals happen. Now you’re gearing up to face Leon himself. Only to be stopped by Rose SUMMONING ARMAGEDDON TO SOLVE A NONEXISTENT ENERGY CRISIS HE SEEMINGLY MADE UP.........
It makes no sense whatsoever. And unlike in Unova, where the interruption to your Elite Four challenge made sense, these TWO interruptions did not. Leon even promised to help Rose after he finished his Championship match against you! Why couldn’t Rose wait a single day? Or even a few hours? ... I digress.
Anyway, Rose awakens Eternatus, who is the source of Dynamax energy. (Necrozma & Totem Pokemon vibes much?) Leon goes up to capture it, just as Rose planned, and gets his butt kicked, not as planned. Meanwhile, the player and Hop made themselves useful for once, went to find the Sword and Shield from legend, and used them to call Zacian and Zamazenta. Together, all four of you defeat Eternatus! Yaaay for yooouuu!!!
...
Oh. And you finally have that Championship battle. Get that win squared away. Finally, but also way too soon, the credits role.
Perhaps I may have been a bit harsh about the story. But with very little to make up for it, I feel justified in everything I’ve said here. But I’m still not done. After all, a story can’t have no one helping the protagonist along. Or hindering them. Severely.
The Characters
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Unfortunately, many of the characters were just as bad as the story. However, for the most part, it doesn’t entirely seem like their fault. There just wasn’t enough time spent on them, or the writers handled them poorly.
Let’s start from the beginning.
Hop
He’s a friendly rival. Okay, I can get behind that. But he’s also very self-absorbed throughout the entire story. Why are you even friends with him? He doesn’t once talk to you about anything other than how he’s going to be the next Champion. He cheers you on occasionally, but it’s always overshadowed by him harping on the same things over and over again - his brother is The Best and he will defeat him to become The New Best.
Many people say Hop is very much like Hau. I say that’s an insult to Hau. Hau is a laid-back free spirit who’s only goal starting out is to have fun with his Pokemon. He supports you and gives you items along the way because that’s just his nature. He’s a true friend. And when things get a bit tougher, he realizes he needs to step up and take things seriously if he wants to protect the ones he cares about. So he does.
In my opinion, Hop is more like Green in his approach to you, except a bit more friendly. In fact... I’d say he’s MOST like the Diamond/Pearl/Platinum rival, Barry. They’re both braggarts, self-absorbed, and constantly, casually putting you down even though you’re clearly better than them. Long story short, Hop is infinitely annoying like Barry is annoying. I was shocked at myself for how eager I was to beat Hop evey time, and how uncaring I was when Bede crushed his spirit. Hop’s mopiness and woe-is-me attitude felt very forced, especially since he was always smiling and still constantly talked about how he was going to beat you and Leon both.
Not to mention how his story ultimately ended... But I’ll get to that a little later.
Leon
For as annoying as Hop is, Leon is ten times worse. I can see where Hop got all those self-absorbed tendencies. He strikes a dumb pose every five seconds, goes on about how great and undefeated he is, constantly basks in the attention of his fans... Not an ounce of humility or humbleness in this man. Not to mention, he pretty much abandoned Sonia during their journey together. I couldn’t wait to ruin his whole career. But if there’s one positive thing I can say about him, it’s that his team is legitimately tough. Mostly that demon Charizard.
Sonia
She’s nice enough, and it’s pretty neat to see her on her journey to becoming a full-fledged Professor. But her progression to that ultimate payoff seems pretty rushed, probably because the rest of the story is rushed. Also, she consults with you about many of the legends she digs up, and the dialogue choices ultimately mean YOU are drawing the conclusions while SHE just agrees with them. By all rights, I should be the Professor in this game! 
Marnie
Honestly, I don’t have a strong reaction about Marnie either way. She just seems a bit subdued, we don’t see her very much, and there’s no real character arc that we get to see her go through. She’s the same as when we first saw her, only now she knows she’s not going to be the Champion, because you are. 
Bede
He’s a little jerk. And honestly? I love little jerks. But only if they’re done right.
Green was a jerk rival that was done right. He didn’t see the error of his ways throughout the entire game. However, come the Johto arc, he is now a gym leader, realizes he was treating his Pokemon poorly, and it’s implied he regrets his harshness towards Red.
Silver was another done right. He was a jerk from the very start, and a thief to boot. He hated you, and Team Rocket, and... all the world really. But as the game progressed, he came to realize that he needed to be kind. And by the end of the game, he has a Crobat. While his abrasive personality is still there, he respects you, and realizes you were right.
Bede, on the other hand, was pushed through the plot. First, he was working his hardest for the sake of the Chairman. Then when he was forsaken, hurt, and lost for a purpose... he wasn’t allowed to find his way himself. Instead, Opal snatched him away and demanded that he become the next Fairy-type gym leader. She even went so far as to force him to change his type preference! What happened to Gothorita and Duosion?! (Don’t get me wrong, I love Opal as a character. She’s probably my favorite out of everyone. But still...)
Bede should have come into his own by his own choice. And since he didn’t, the change seems like it... wasn’t a change at all. He’s still harsh towards you and others, and the respect he says he has for you seems insincere.
Piers
Unlike the rest of the gym leaders, Piers takes a slightly more active role in the plot once the ball FINALLY gets rolling. So I figured I’d talk about him, too. Piers seems... a lot like Nanu. Like A LOT. And that doesn’t really seem to fit with his rocker look or job. He just seems depressed and like he doesn’t want to be here. At least he’s a fairly responsible brother, always making sure Marnie is safe. I never did get past that hair though... Never liked it. But I seem to be in the minority there.
Oleana
She’s just... She seems like a Rose-obsessed Lusamine, instead of Ultra Beast-obsessed. Except her manipulation of children is more subtle. Honestly, I can see her being a formidable villain, and actually a much bigger threat than Rose. If only she was given the opportunity to actually DO more things through the game.
Chairman Rose
Rose is... Well, he doesn’t feel like a villain, if that makes any sense? He’s too placid. Mild. Calm. There’s no anger or any kind of intense emotion. Even when he’s disappointed in Bede, I don’t really... believe it. It’s like he ordered an ice cream and realized it doesn’t come with sprinkles. “Oh. That’s very slightly disappointing. But it’s still ice cream so it doesn’t really matter. It’s fine.” Even if you want to do a villain without strong emotions, there are other ways to do it.
Cyrus, jokingly referred to as having depression by the Pokemon fanbase, is a big example of this. He is very non-expressive, with a flat, almost scary look. He always talks analytically, and philosophically. He even openly scorns emotions. But when he does finally get a bit more heated and unhinged towards the end of the game, it’s a serious business. He feels dangerous.
Rose, on the other hand... doesn’t. He has all this supposed passion for Galar and its future. So much so that he’s willing to risk putting people and Pokemon in imminent danger to fix this energy crisis he seems to have made up... So then where is that passion? Where is his anger and frustration towards Leon? Where is his desperation?
It seems to me that the only energy deficit in Galar is in Rose’s behavior.
We’ve covered a lot now, but still not everything. My main gripes are over, but like every Pokemon game, there’s just a bit more.
The Post-Game
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Now the main plot is over, and you’re free to do as you please all across the region. Train up your Pokemon and catch newly available ones, explore places you didn’t go deeper in during the story, get a little extra tidbit of story sometimes... And to its credit, this game did deliver a decent post-game story to follow.
You saved the region. You met the legendary Pokemon. Now you have the Master Ball and it’s implied you can go off and get your featured legendary doggo. Fantastic! But once you make your way into the Slumbering Weald... these guys show up. Oh, and Hop is there moping. And Sonia shows up too, for some reason.
But these guys... These guys were arrogant little jerks from the beginning. And it makes sense once you learn they’re a part of Galar’s royal family - the descendants of the people who supposedly stopped the Darkest Day from happening and saved the region. Of course, now everyone knows that’s not true, and they’re pissed about what this means for them. Their family isn’t anything special. They aren’t anything special. Their status and positions have been taken away and given to Pokemon! It’s insulting to them! (Though they still have a loyal following.)
So what do they do? Pumping Zacian & Zamazenta full of Dynamax energy and causing them to wreak havoc will absolutely turn the people of Galar against them! And the cost? Eh, they don’t much care. As long as the legendary Pokemon look bad and they’re able to retain their status.
Of course, their plan backfires, and in true benevolent legendary fashion, the one legendary they do manage to overload with power does its absolute best to avoid hurting anyone. It’s a touching little story to go on. And what’s more? It actually makes sense! In fact, I would have greatly preferred this story as the main one focused on, rather than the hot garbage we got with Chairman Rose! My only gripe regarding the new story is how ridiculous these two princes are... Really Gamefreak? Swordward and Shieldbert? And that hair?? Do you have no subtlety anymore?
But as for wrapping up the old story... things still fall a bit flat. After the legendaries are calm again and you have your version’s pup, you go after Hop. And he is accepted by the other legendary in the duo. Considering everything he went through to try and get the sword/shield back just now, as well as his concern for and efforts to calm down the legendary, it’s understandable. He’s proven himself in their eyes. But then... he goes and decides to become Sonia’s assistant and work towards being a professor.
How did that happen? Why did it happen? There was no buildup in the slightest before this decision, and it seems very out of character for someone like Hop. He’s not technically minded. While he takes a mild interest in the legends of his home region (who wouldn’t when they’re that fun?), he doesn’t seem interested in doing any actual research. And now that he actually owns a legendary Pokemon, you would expect him to double down on his rivalry with you or at least aspire to do something more... heroic? Exciting? Why would a legendary Pokemon want to hang around when you’re not going to be utilizing them at all?
This extra little story is over very fast. Not only that, but everything you do pertaining to the story is done without having to struggle through a route or many other additional challenges. (Hey, a lot like the main story. Lack of travel/drawn-out struggle leads to pacing issues.)
Additionally, there are no new places to explore after the main story. Which really, REALLY sucks. Every Pokemon game has had more to see afterwards. Kanto had Cerulean Cave. Johto had an entire additional region, plus Mt Silver. Hoenn had lots of legendary Pokemon homes open up to you, plus the Battle Frontier in Emerald. Sinnoh had the entire Battle Zone. Unova had several towns and routes blocked off. Kalos had it’s own last town as well as a couple places you could go for legendaries, like Mewtwo. And Alola had an entire half of Poni Island. Galar has... nothing... Everywhere you can go in Galar, you will have access to before the Championship battle with Leon is over. And that’s a crying shame. They seem to be trying to remedy this with the DLC coming out, but that’s a whole ‘nother can of worms. I’ll get into that later. First, there still something else I want to talk about...
Dynamaxing and Gigantimaxing
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I get why this exists. I really do. Every single region has something that shakes up the way battles are done. Whether it’s more technical, statistic-based changes or something much more obvious. Hold items, double battles, tag battles, triple and rotation battles, Mega Evolving, Z moves, blah blah blah. We all know about that stuff, right? Each of the newer regions has some gimmick to go along with it. This is the Galar version. But unfortunately... when they implemented this change, they decided to get rid of the much-beloved Mega Evolutions entirely.
Now I could understand why they would do this with Z-moves. Dynamaxing is essentially the same thing, with the addition of more HP and the flashy, massive size of Pokemon to go along with it. Though it is disappointing, it’s not really a net loss.
But Mega Evolutions on the other hand... Those were something special.
Mega Evolution could have, potentially, coexisted with Dynamaxing. All it is is making the Pokemon bigger after all, right? A bigger Mega Evolution is doable.
But then the Gigantimax Pokemon come in... and thing start to make less sense. Basically, they made more Mega Evolutions, but named them something different. Why couldn’t they simply be more Megas? People LOVE Mega Evolution Pokemon! No one would have been mad at this! Except the people who, rightfully, say Charizard gets far too much attention. Three Mega Evolutions is a bit much.
But even then, if you’re so insistent on Gigantimax Pokemon being a separate beast entirely, then there’s STILL a way you can make Mega Evolution work in tandem with the new system.
Simply make Gigantimaxed Pokemon a Dynamaxed form of a Mega Evolution.
Okay, I know that was a mouthful and possible hard to wrap your head around, but imagine with me: You’re in a battle. You Mega Evolve your Pokemon. It’s stronger now. But you’re also in the position where you can Dynamax. You do so, and... instead of getting a bigger Mega, your Pokemon changes form a second time. So for example, let’s say you have a Charizard. Mega Evolve it. It is now a Charizard X/Y. Now Dynamax it. It is now the unholy lava abomination you see when you battle Leon. If you had not Mega Evolved beforehand, then it would have grown into a normal, everyday Charizard, But Bigger. 
This also takes away a completely arbitrary restriction - that not every Pokemon of a species can Gigantimax. I’m sure everyone knows by now, but let’s go over it again.
You have an Alcremie. You raised it from a Milcery, evolved it with your favorite Sweet, into your favorite flavor, whatever. Maybe it’s one of the strongest contributors to your team. But when you Dynamax it, it does nothing but get bigger. Then you see Opal’s Alcremie and wonder - how can I get my baby to do that? Is there a special item it needs to hold, or some other requirement?
Nope. Your Alcremie just isn’t good enough. It will never Gigantimax, because it was never capable of doing so in the first place.
With Mega Evolution, there is no limitation. You simply need to give your Pokemon the matching Mega Stone for its species and it can Mega Evolve, simple as that. you don’t need to find that certain special creature, when you already have a perfectly good teammate you’re attached to.
What’s more, Mega Evolution could be performed any time, anywhere, in any battle. Dynamaxing and Gigantimaxing is extremely limited to the Power Spots. Keeping Mega Evolution in would have lessened the disappointment of not being able to use the new mechanic casually. This was something that was heavily advertised when the game was first released, and to find out it’s so limited... I think it left a bad taste in a lot of fans’ mouths.
The DLC
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Now... on to this... I’ve touched on this before, and I’m sure everyone can tell.
I am not happy.
First, the financial aspect. If you are going to charge $30 for a two-part expansion, make it apply to both game versions. This may not mean much to casual players, since they likely bought only one copy of the game. But to people who bought both, or share the two copies with family, this is a massive slap in the face. You would have to pay double, for the same content, so both versions are updated. That is a low, low blow.
Now, the Pokemon. I’m glad they are introducing new Pokemon (most of which seem to be Galarian forms or new Gigantimax forms), but there seems to be little reason why they held off releasing them in the first place. Legendaries, I understand. Others, not so much. And the over-two-hundred Pokemon that are being reintroduced isn’t something that should get a pat on the back. They’re fixing their own mistake. They shot themselves in the foot and now they’re trying to say “Oh look! We’re improving things! This bloody hole is going to be healed now! How great are we?” The only saving grace to this for me is that the Pokemon being reintroduced will be available to everyone (to transfer or trade over) via the free update mentioned before. And even then, there are still Pokemon missing!
The new areas now. While we have seen snippets by now, there has been nothing really definitive to go on. These new areas will be in the style of the Wild Area - that much has been made clear. But that makes me exceedingly nervous. Will they be empty, devoid of NPCs? What will there be to do? Just how big are these areas? If they are, in fact, exactly like the Wild Area... I am going to be deeply disappointed. Aside from battling/catching wild Pokemon and gathering items, there is very, very little to do in the existing Wild Area. But at the same time, if the area the DLC gives us is too small, everything will feel sparse and rushed, just like the story of the game.
Speaking of story, we aren’t really given anything meaningful about the DLC’s story, either. We were vaguely told that the two separate locations will be focused on the themes of ‘Growth’ and ‘Exploration’, and we were introduced to a small handful of characters that will be central to the story, but that’s about it. You’re training in the Isle of Armor, and you’ve been enlisted to explore the Crown Tundra. That’s all we know. Literally anything could happen. And that, again, makes me very nervous.
Gamefreak have said these DLC are supposed to take the place of the story changes a third game would make. But in this instance, I seriously believe Sword and Shield would have benefited from a second pass. Much like Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon had the “Good Ending” over Sun and Moon, I think a follow-up game could have amended a lot of the issues I’ve laid out. Though I couldn’t say if Gamefreak would have actually committed...
The biggest thing to me here is that... this is not necessary. At all. I feel as though these new locations, as well as the new stories, should have been included from the get-go in the base game. For free. Of course, if the scope of these stories is on par with the main storylines of Pokemon games, I can understand. But if it’s much smaller... I just can’t condone this.
It is a blatant cash grab. One that I can find no excuse for whatsoever. This game, and most everything that has come of it, has been such a dumpster fire that it has drained my love of Pokemon and left me with nothing but anger and a deep, dark disappointment. Gamefreak can do better. Nintendo can do better. I know they can. And I am willing to wait for good content.
They’re just not willing to give their fanbase the time to make that happen.
And speaking of blatant cash grabs...
Pokemon Home 
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Pokemon fans have been wanting a cloud-based Pokemon storage system for years. At least, that’s what I’ve heard. But compared to Pokemon Bank’s YEARLY fee of $4.99, Pokemon Home’s premium fee for the same amount of time is quite shocking at $15.99 a pop. 
So what in the world went wrong here? Why is that price justified? While others have tried to explain it away by listing off all the different features, I say it’s not justified at all. And I’ll detail why below.
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You see these graphs? Both of these contain all the points I need to make. And I’ll explain exactly why.
I’ll start from the top of the list and move down.
Transferring Pokemon is only available if you pay money for it. That means that if you want to get the additional Pokemon returning with the DLC releases, you either have to pay for the DLC or you have to pay for Pokemon Home. While transfer between games used to be free, that changed when Pokemon Bank was released. And while many people were understandably upset, the low price and additional storage space that Bank provided was enough for me to accept the change. Pokemon Home, on the other hand, doesn’t deliver enough for its price. It doubles the storage capacity Pokemon Bank had, and it introduces Room Trades. Which, honestly... don’t sound very appealing.
The number of Pokemon that can be deposited for free is... thirty. A single measly box worth. This may be enough for some people, but this, plus the box space in a copy of Sword/Shield, is not even enough to make a Living ‘Dex (if you want to include every different form of Pokemon. Otherwise it’s just barely enough). Not that you could make a Living ‘Dex anyway, with so many Pokemon still cut out. But back to the box capacity. For transferring only, this number might have been okay. But for storage purposes, this is only half a percent of the 6,000 potential Pokemon you could store if you paid up. Not even 1%. It’s 0.5%. It’s outrageous.
Wonder Trades, GTS trades, and Room Trades I’ll do together. For these features, I have little problem with the way they’re set up. The additional slots for trading are actually useful, and it makes sense to put them behind a paywall. This, I would be willing to pay for. Just not pay so much. Especially when this feature was taken out of the base game in the first place. Since the GTS was first introduced in Gen 4 (Sinnoh), it has been a staple of the game and a vital tool for completing the Pokedex, especially if you have no one to trade with in person. Many people were surprised and upset to find that the only trading function left in the base Sword & Shield games was the Surprise Trade, which is essentially Wonder Trade with a new name. However, while it is a little reassuring to have these features free to use, there is still a major limitation. It can only be done on the mobile phone version of Home.
This is something that has never existed before. You have never needed any device other than your gaming console. And to not have trades available in the Switch version as well is completely absurd. How do they expect children to use this? While tablets and smartphones have become more and more common, I doubt the vast majority of children have a device that is purely their own. They will have to nag their parents to download the app, and then further pester them each time they want to trade. Why not have that a part of the Switch version in the first place? It would be much more streamlined. I understand the practicality of having a Home app - I really do. It makes moving from Go to Home easier, I’m sure, and you now have added mobile usage when your Switch is out of range of an internet connection. But blocking features from the Switch makes no sense whatsoever.
Continuing on to the Judge function. Again, this was a feature that was removed from the main game. Not only that, but this time it is locked completely behind the paywall. When this feature came out just last generation, many competitive breeders were ecstatic. They no longer had to jump through hoops to determine that there was a Perfect IV baby in the hundreds, sometimes thousands of eggs they just hatched - they could see it right on the screen. And as a casual player, it was cool to see how many breedjects I ended up with. But it seems Gamefreak gave us a taste of a very good thing, then yanked it away, like candy from a baby.
On to the second chart. I already talked about the trading limitations, so I’ll skip over that. And it makes sense that moving Pokemon from the Switch games would be Switch Home exclusive, in addition to receiving Battle Points. There is nothing on your phone that can make use of BP. However, there are more phone restrictions that make no sense. Why can’t you receive Mystery Gifts or check Battle Data/News on the Switch? It’s certainly capable of it. Mystery Gifts in particular are another frustrating problem on par with the trading issue. The other two features I wouldn’t mind being mobile exclusive.
All in all, Pokemon Home is another hot mess for Gamefreak and Nintendo.
Conclusion
I know I’ve been rough on this new generation. Arceus knows I was pretty brutal, especially where the story was concerned. But that’s only because I know they can do better. Up until this point, we’ve been given some games that were downright masterpieces. I am highly disappointed in the creators, and I hope with all my heart they listen to their fans and do better going forward. Even if that means we have to wait a little longer.
What’s more, I seriously hope they don’t continue to financially extort their market. Charging this much for something so rushed and poorly executed is an insult. And if it continues... I’m afraid of where the Pokemon franchise may be headed.
That’s all. I’m sorry if I stepped on some toes here, but these are all my honest opinions. I hope that some of these things have validated others’ feelings, too, and perhaps that people look at some of these issues in a new light.
PS, I’m sorry for any abrupt tonal shift that might be seen between the “Characters” and “Post-Game” sections. I had to stop writing to go to bed, but then I didn’t get around to finishing until nearly a month later.
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mrcoreymonroe · 5 years
Text
Pilot Experiences Double Engine Failure Over Africa
A river in Africa almost became the runway for Bill Cox.
You might call the approach to the runway at Funchal, Madeira Islands, Portugal, challenging, especially if you’re flying on an even modestly windy day. In my case, I went into Funchal in a typical wind event, flying a new Cessna T303 Crusader, a medium twin intended to compete head-to-head with Piper’s wildly successful Seneca. It was December of 1981, and “my” Cessna T303 was the first Crusader to be ferried overseas. My destination was Johannesburg, South Africa, roughly halfway around the world. Under contract to Globe Aero of Lakeland, Florida, I’d picked up the airplane at the Cessna factory in Wichita and hurried down to Lakeland for tanking. Two days later, I flew the Crusader to Bangor, Maine, then on to St. John’s, Newfoundland, the following day.
The next leg was a 1900 nm overwater hop, diagonally across the Atlantic to the aforementioned Funchal, 700 nm off the south coast of Morocco. I’d never been in to that particular airport, but its reputation preceded it. The consensus was, it could get exciting when the wind was woofing, and the wind at Funchal was nearly always woofing. The Madeira Islands, famous for Madeira wine, are mostly rugged hills and low mountains, so there was little room for a conventional runway at Funchal. Accordingly, the airport was built at the apex of a half-moon bay; the approach is semi-circular practically all the way to touchdown. Navy pilots should love it. The threshold is constructed on pylons that begin 1000 feet out in the bay and stand 250 feet above the water. The threshold starts you on a fairly steep uphill rollout. Just past the terminal at midfield, the runway begins to level, then turns downhill, so you’d better be pretty well stopped by midfield. The asphalt extends for over 5400 feet—runway length isn’t a big problem—but the curving approach to avoid the hills means you’re often battling turbulent winds off the mountains all the way to touchdown.
Funchal is on practically everyone’s list of the 10 worst airports in the world. The History Channel program “Most Extreme Airports” labeled Funchal the ninth most dangerous airport in the world and the third most dangerous in Europe. There’s almost no ramp space at Funchal, so unless you arrive late and depart early the next morning, you can only fuel up, grab a sandwich and leave town.
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I arrived late with two other ferry aircraft, a Mooney 231 and a Piper Seneca. All three of us were headed for Rand Airport in Johannesburg. Technical problems with further clearances held us up for an extra day, so we had an additional 24 hours to prepare for Africa. The bad news was that the only refueling truck with avgas wasn’t a truck at all. It was a trainer with no power to drive the pump. This meant the poor kid selling fuel had to cycle a manual swing arm pump to fill our tanks for the next leg across the Sahara to Abidjan, Ivory Coast. The young gas boy must have cycled that pump a thousand times to fill our three airplanes.
Even worse, I was the last airplane to be refueled, and the trainer ran dry before the Crusader’s last ferry tank was full. This meant whatever miscellaneous glorp that might have accumulated at the bottom of the trailer’s tank may have gone straight into my ferry tanks. Fortunately, all other tanks were already topped. Sadly, there are no convenient quick drains at the bottom of ferry tanks. Owners aren’t enthusiastic about ferry companies cutting holes in the belly of their new airplane to install them. That meant the only way I could check the ferry fuel for contamination was to climb on top of the tank, unscrew the cap and shine a flashlight inside. Not much chance of seeing anything deep down in the bottom of the tanks.
We departed Funchal the following morning and headed southeast toward Mauritania and the Sahara. The day’s destination was Abidjan, Ivory Coast. As we tracked above a desert roughly the size of the contiguous United States, I watched the two fuel flow needles fluttering slightly on the single gauge. The engines were running smooth and all other indications were normal, so I wrote it off to an instrument problem. We passed Bamako, Mali, about 200 nm from the infamous city of legend, Timbuktu; then Yamoussoukro, capital of Ivory Coast, and continued to Abidjan with no mechanical complaints. The fuel flows were still flittering slightly as I turned final for Abidjan. Just the gauge, I reminded myself.
Safely on the ground, I talked to the Seneca pilot, Ernie Kuney, an A&P mechanic, and he dismissed the problem as a typical new airplane glitch. It seemed there were soldiers with AK-47s everywhere we went, including the parking lot and lobby of the Intercontinental Hotel. The constant presence of military personnel and vehicles was unnerving.
The following day’s flight would be a short one, only about 850 nm across the Gulf of Guinea to Libreville, Gabon. Again, I watched the fuel flows occasionally ticking as our three airplanes flew over water toward out next-to-last stop. Everything else seemed normal. We arrived early enough for me to catch the mechanic at Cessna of Gabon. He‘d never even seen a photo of a Crusader before (hardly anyone else had either), but he reassured me that it was ”most certainly the gauge.” Most certainly hope so.
The next day’s leg was 1500 nm down the west coast of Africa to Windhoek, Namibia. The other two pilots had flown this route before, and they suggested turning slightly right at the Congo River, flying out to sea at least 30 miles to avoid Angolan airspace altogether, and then traveling 1000 nm straight south until reaching the Tiger Peninsula. Tiger was a small, sandy, white spit of land, outlet of the Cunene River to the South Atlantic and Angola’s border with Namibia. After that, we could turn slightly left, back over the coastal Namib Desert and on into Windhoek without fear of being shot at. Angola and Namibia were at war at the time, and Angola had virtually no air force. Accordingly, it assumed any airplane was an enemy machine. This provided a strong incentive to stay out over the Atlantic until we were well clear of Angola.
I’d been warned that there were few radio navaids in this part of the world, and most of the ones that did exist were inop. Sure enough, the trip so far had demonstrated that only about one in five was working. For that reason, navigation in much of Africa was mostly point-and-shoot or flying by landmarks. This was long before the introduction of GPS, so finding a destination was relegated to whatever worked. Twitchy fuel flows again. The gauge, right? To everyone’s surprise, there was a VOR near the equator in southern Gabon with a strong signal, Tchibanga (TCH, I think). As we passed over it level at 11,000 feet and made our turn off the coast, I pushed my seat all the way back, repositioned the right seat forward so I could put my feet up, and let the Crusader’s autopilot do the work.
Directly below, I could see the almost iridescent green, double canopy rain forest stretching in every direction except west, a near-solid blanket of thick jungle with few open spaces. Wouldn’t want to go down in this part of Africa. I’d reluctantly switched to the aft, 100-gallon ferry tank a few minutes before, the one that was last to be fueled in Funchal. We always departed and landed on the wing tanks, usually the farthest forward. Ferry tanks were nearly always installed in the back of the airplane. For that reason, we had to switch to the farthest aft tank as soon as possible to keep the CG from shifting too far aft. I watched the fuel flows to make certain there was no change, nothing too erratic. By now, I was convinced I was just being paranoid and that everyone else was right. The fuel flow problem seemed to be more imagination than real. I opened a package of chocolate chip cookies, popped the top off a bottle of water, and settled down for the long ride south. That’s when the left engine quit.
There was the predictable pause of disbelief, during which the autopilot disconnected and the left wing dropped toward the jungle. The right engine also quit before I could even react, and the Crusader’s nose pitched down toward the impenetrable tangle of trees below. I hit the pumps, switched back to the wing tanks, pushed the mixtures forward, eased them back and generally tried to undo anything I might have done wrong in the last minute or two. Nothing helped. Each of the two 100-gallon ferry tanks fed both engines at the same time, a concession to simplicity. That meant the same tank was fueling, or in this case, defueling, both engines simultaneously. Whatever was blocking fuel flow to the engines had probably come out of the aft ferry tank, and switching back to the mains had not solved the problem.
I squeaked out a mayday to my two playmates. “Tom and Ernie, I just lost power on both engines.” Ernie came back first, “Bill, don’t screw around on the radio.” Tom Willett jumped in next, apparently recognizing that I didn’t normally talk with that high a voice. “Bill, where are you?”
"Tom, I’m right behind you, have you in sight. I’m about a mile back, circling to the left,” I replied, desperately searching for an opening in the trees below. The only flat spot I could see was a small, lazy river flowing toward the coast. I’d rather take my chances with crocodiles than try to dodge the trees. After 8,000 hours of accident-free flying, it was beginning to look as if I was about to wreck my first airplane. Even worse, I might even wreck me. No more ferry flights. I’ll never see space. What about the girl back home? Who’ll feed my dogs?
“I’m coming back,” said Tom, interrupting my cynical reverie. “There’s a small, grass missionary strip around here somewhere. I saw it on my last trip.” Both engines were staggering, chugging out occasional short bursts of power, then reverting to idle. Neither engine had quit completely, but that was little consolation. I pegged the airspeed at 110 knots and tried not to look at the VSI as I augured down in the general direction of the river.
The radio came alive with an announcement by Tom Willett in the Mooney. “Bill, I have you in sight, and I’ve spotted the grass strip,” he said. “It’s just north of you.” I rolled out of the turn to the north but didn’t see anything even vaguely resembling a flat spot between the trees, much less a grass runway. The Crusader was gliding like a Steinway, and when I finally picked up the strip, I was practically overhead, the wrong place to try to improvise a pattern without power. I couldn’t begin to guess how long the runway was, but it looked far too short for a 6000-pound twin. I widened out to the east in a modified semblance of an abbreviated downwind leg, turned base and hurried the airplane around to final. As I rolled out, I dropped the wheels and flaps, only to realize I’d already blown it. I was going to be short.
I was glad the airplane had no cockpit voice recorder as I braced for impact. I was about to crash the first Crusader to leave the U.S. The airplane cleared the trees by inches and slammed down well short of the runway, splattering mud everywhere. It half-skidded, half-bounced out of the tall grass onto the short strip. To my utter amazement, nothing had punched up through the top wing skins, despite the hard impact. Somehow, the T303’s rugged, trailing beam gear system had protected me from evil.
The Cessna rolled out a short distance, and I turned off to the left with the last of my momentum as Tom Willett buzzed me in the Mooney. He gave me a congratulatory wing waggle, then pulled up, entered an abbreviated pattern and landed. Ernie was still circling above at 11,000 feet in the Seneca, and he was talking to Air Gabon in Libreville on VHF. Tom advised him that my airplane appeared undamaged, and I was still breathing and had no pieces missing. Ernie relayed the news to Air Gabon. They immediately launched a rescue Skylane with a mechanic and tools aboard. We pulled the top cowls, and just as I’d suspected, both engines had ingested foreign material, presumably from the aft ferry tank. It appeared to be a half-dissolved fabric substance, and it had plugged up fuel flow to both engines. We never understood why it took so long to shut down fuel flow. We saved as much of the contaminant as possible in a plastic baggie, and I sent it to Shell for analysis after I got home. The report suggested it was a long-outdated fabric filter that was no longer used but was supposed to be changed every six months when in service. It estimated this material was at least three years old.
The mechanic did the best he could to clean out the injector lines and filters, then wished me luck for the short flight back to Libreville. Willet and I drained as much fuel as we could from both ferry tanks to reduce the load for takeoff. I staggered out of Tchibanga with nearly full wing tanks and managed to sneak back into Libreville barely before the night time curfew.
The following day, there were 20 cars lined up outside the Air Gabon maintenance hangar. All the owners were eager to collect their allotment of 10 gallons each, as the Crusader’s entire fuel system was drained of every ounce of 100 octane, probably close to 200 gallons. Each driver strained his 10 gallons through a chamois before pouring it into his car’s gas tank. Willett’s Mooney had been fueled just before mine in Funchal, so Air Gabon checked his fuel and found the same fibrous contaminants. As a result, his airplane’s fuel and injection system also had to be drained and cleaned—another free 130 gallons for the Gabon Auto Club.
The remainder of the trip was anti-climactic. Willett and I launched out of Libreville for Namibia on December 29, spent the 30th cleaning up the airplanes in Windhoek, and finally made the last leg across the Kalahari Desert to Johannesburg on December 31. Cessna’s South African dealer held a big New Year’s party in honor of the first Crusader’s safe arrival. It seemed everyone had heard about the double engine failure and subsequent emergency landing in Gabon. I told the story a dozen or more times, and I was an instant curiosity for about 10 of my allotted 15 minutes of fame.
Editor’s note: Since this trip in 1981, both the Funchal and Tchibanga airports have been extended and improved.
Check out more Cross-Country Log flying stories from ferry pilot and Senior Editor Bill Cox.
  The post Pilot Experiences Double Engine Failure Over Africa appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.
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mrcoreymonroe · 5 years
Text
Pilot Experiences Double Engine Failure Over Africa
A river in Africa almost became the runway for Bill Cox.
You might call the approach to the runway at Funchal, Madeira Islands, Portugal, challenging, especially if you’re flying on an even modestly windy day. In my case, I went into Funchal in a typical wind event, flying a new Cessna T303 Crusader, a medium twin intended to compete head-to-head with Piper’s wildly successful Seneca. It was December of 1981, and “my” Cessna T303 was the first Crusader to be ferried overseas. My destination was Johannesburg, South Africa, roughly halfway around the world. Under contract to Globe Aero of Lakeland, Florida, I’d picked up the airplane at the Cessna factory in Wichita and hurried down to Lakeland for tanking. Two days later, I flew the Crusader to Bangor, Maine, then on to St. John’s, Newfoundland, the following day.
The next leg was a 1900 nm overwater hop, diagonally across the Atlantic to the aforementioned Funchal, 700 nm off the south coast of Morocco. I’d never been in to that particular airport, but its reputation preceded it. The consensus was, it could get exciting when the wind was woofing, and the wind at Funchal was nearly always woofing. The Madeira Islands, famous for Madeira wine, are mostly rugged hills and low mountains, so there was little room for a conventional runway at Funchal. Accordingly, the airport was built at the apex of a half-moon bay; the approach is semi-circular practically all the way to touchdown. Navy pilots should love it. The threshold is constructed on pylons that begin 1000 feet out in the bay and stand 250 feet above the water. The threshold starts you on a fairly steep uphill rollout. Just past the terminal at midfield, the runway begins to level, then turns downhill, so you’d better be pretty well stopped by midfield. The asphalt extends for over 5400 feet—runway length isn’t a big problem—but the curving approach to avoid the hills means you’re often battling turbulent winds off the mountains all the way to touchdown.
Funchal is on practically everyone’s list of the 10 worst airports in the world. The History Channel program “Most Extreme Airports” labeled Funchal the ninth most dangerous airport in the world and the third most dangerous in Europe. There’s almost no ramp space at Funchal, so unless you arrive late and depart early the next morning, you can only fuel up, grab a sandwich and leave town.
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I arrived late with two other ferry aircraft, a Mooney 231 and a Piper Seneca. All three of us were headed for Rand Airport in Johannesburg. Technical problems with further clearances held us up for an extra day, so we had an additional 24 hours to prepare for Africa. The bad news was that the only refueling truck with avgas wasn’t a truck at all. It was a trainer with no power to drive the pump. This meant the poor kid selling fuel had to cycle a manual swing arm pump to fill our tanks for the next leg across the Sahara to Abidjan, Ivory Coast. The young gas boy must have cycled that pump a thousand times to fill our three airplanes.
Even worse, I was the last airplane to be refueled, and the trainer ran dry before the Crusader’s last ferry tank was full. This meant whatever miscellaneous glorp that might have accumulated at the bottom of the trailer’s tank may have gone straight into my ferry tanks. Fortunately, all other tanks were already topped. Sadly, there are no convenient quick drains at the bottom of ferry tanks. Owners aren’t enthusiastic about ferry companies cutting holes in the belly of their new airplane to install them. That meant the only way I could check the ferry fuel for contamination was to climb on top of the tank, unscrew the cap and shine a flashlight inside. Not much chance of seeing anything deep down in the bottom of the tanks.
We departed Funchal the following morning and headed southeast toward Mauritania and the Sahara. The day’s destination was Abidjan, Ivory Coast. As we tracked above a desert roughly the size of the contiguous United States, I watched the two fuel flow needles fluttering slightly on the single gauge. The engines were running smooth and all other indications were normal, so I wrote it off to an instrument problem. We passed Bamako, Mali, about 200 nm from the infamous city of legend, Timbuktu; then Yamoussoukro, capital of Ivory Coast, and continued to Abidjan with no mechanical complaints. The fuel flows were still flittering slightly as I turned final for Abidjan. Just the gauge, I reminded myself.
Safely on the ground, I talked to the Seneca pilot, Ernie Kuney, an A&P mechanic, and he dismissed the problem as a typical new airplane glitch. It seemed there were soldiers with AK-47s everywhere we went, including the parking lot and lobby of the Intercontinental Hotel. The constant presence of military personnel and vehicles was unnerving.
The following day’s flight would be a short one, only about 850 nm across the Gulf of Guinea to Libreville, Gabon. Again, I watched the fuel flows occasionally ticking as our three airplanes flew over water toward out next-to-last stop. Everything else seemed normal. We arrived early enough for me to catch the mechanic at Cessna of Gabon. He‘d never even seen a photo of a Crusader before (hardly anyone else had either), but he reassured me that it was ”most certainly the gauge.” Most certainly hope so.
The next day’s leg was 1500 nm down the west coast of Africa to Windhoek, Namibia. The other two pilots had flown this route before, and they suggested turning slightly right at the Congo River, flying out to sea at least 30 miles to avoid Angolan airspace altogether, and then traveling 1000 nm straight south until reaching the Tiger Peninsula. Tiger was a small, sandy, white spit of land, outlet of the Cunene River to the South Atlantic and Angola’s border with Namibia. After that, we could turn slightly left, back over the coastal Namib Desert and on into Windhoek without fear of being shot at. Angola and Namibia were at war at the time, and Angola had virtually no air force. Accordingly, it assumed any airplane was an enemy machine. This provided a strong incentive to stay out over the Atlantic until we were well clear of Angola.
I’d been warned that there were few radio navaids in this part of the world, and most of the ones that did exist were inop. Sure enough, the trip so far had demonstrated that only about one in five was working. For that reason, navigation in much of Africa was mostly point-and-shoot or flying by landmarks. This was long before the introduction of GPS, so finding a destination was relegated to whatever worked. Twitchy fuel flows again. The gauge, right? To everyone’s surprise, there was a VOR near the equator in southern Gabon with a strong signal, Tchibanga (TCH, I think). As we passed over it level at 11,000 feet and made our turn off the coast, I pushed my seat all the way back, repositioned the right seat forward so I could put my feet up, and let the Crusader’s autopilot do the work.
Directly below, I could see the almost iridescent green, double canopy rain forest stretching in every direction except west, a near-solid blanket of thick jungle with few open spaces. Wouldn’t want to go down in this part of Africa. I’d reluctantly switched to the aft, 100-gallon ferry tank a few minutes before, the one that was last to be fueled in Funchal. We always departed and landed on the wing tanks, usually the farthest forward. Ferry tanks were nearly always installed in the back of the airplane. For that reason, we had to switch to the farthest aft tank as soon as possible to keep the CG from shifting too far aft. I watched the fuel flows to make certain there was no change, nothing too erratic. By now, I was convinced I was just being paranoid and that everyone else was right. The fuel flow problem seemed to be more imagination than real. I opened a package of chocolate chip cookies, popped the top off a bottle of water, and settled down for the long ride south. That’s when the left engine quit.
There was the predictable pause of disbelief, during which the autopilot disconnected and the left wing dropped toward the jungle. The right engine also quit before I could even react, and the Crusader’s nose pitched down toward the impenetrable tangle of trees below. I hit the pumps, switched back to the wing tanks, pushed the mixtures forward, eased them back and generally tried to undo anything I might have done wrong in the last minute or two. Nothing helped. Each of the two 100-gallon ferry tanks fed both engines at the same time, a concession to simplicity. That meant the same tank was fueling, or in this case, defueling, both engines simultaneously. Whatever was blocking fuel flow to the engines had probably come out of the aft ferry tank, and switching back to the mains had not solved the problem.
I squeaked out a mayday to my two playmates. “Tom and Ernie, I just lost power on both engines.” Ernie came back first, “Bill, don’t screw around on the radio.” Tom Willett jumped in next, apparently recognizing that I didn’t normally talk with that high a voice. “Bill, where are you?”
"Tom, I’m right behind you, have you in sight. I’m about a mile back, circling to the left,” I replied, desperately searching for an opening in the trees below. The only flat spot I could see was a small, lazy river flowing toward the coast. I’d rather take my chances with crocodiles than try to dodge the trees. After 8,000 hours of accident-free flying, it was beginning to look as if I was about to wreck my first airplane. Even worse, I might even wreck me. No more ferry flights. I’ll never see space. What about the girl back home? Who’ll feed my dogs?
“I’m coming back,” said Tom, interrupting my cynical reverie. “There’s a small, grass missionary strip around here somewhere. I saw it on my last trip.” Both engines were staggering, chugging out occasional short bursts of power, then reverting to idle. Neither engine had quit completely, but that was little consolation. I pegged the airspeed at 110 knots and tried not to look at the VSI as I augured down in the general direction of the river.
The radio came alive with an announcement by Tom Willett in the Mooney. “Bill, I have you in sight, and I’ve spotted the grass strip,” he said. “It’s just north of you.” I rolled out of the turn to the north but didn’t see anything even vaguely resembling a flat spot between the trees, much less a grass runway. The Crusader was gliding like a Steinway, and when I finally picked up the strip, I was practically overhead, the wrong place to try to improvise a pattern without power. I couldn’t begin to guess how long the runway was, but it looked far too short for a 6000-pound twin. I widened out to the east in a modified semblance of an abbreviated downwind leg, turned base and hurried the airplane around to final. As I rolled out, I dropped the wheels and flaps, only to realize I’d already blown it. I was going to be short.
I was glad the airplane had no cockpit voice recorder as I braced for impact. I was about to crash the first Crusader to leave the U.S. The airplane cleared the trees by inches and slammed down well short of the runway, splattering mud everywhere. It half-skidded, half-bounced out of the tall grass onto the short strip. To my utter amazement, nothing had punched up through the top wing skins, despite the hard impact. Somehow, the T303’s rugged, trailing beam gear system had protected me from evil.
The Cessna rolled out a short distance, and I turned off to the left with the last of my momentum as Tom Willett buzzed me in the Mooney. He gave me a congratulatory wing waggle, then pulled up, entered an abbreviated pattern and landed. Ernie was still circling above at 11,000 feet in the Seneca, and he was talking to Air Gabon in Libreville on VHF. Tom advised him that my airplane appeared undamaged, and I was still breathing and had no pieces missing. Ernie relayed the news to Air Gabon. They immediately launched a rescue Skylane with a mechanic and tools aboard. We pulled the top cowls, and just as I’d suspected, both engines had ingested foreign material, presumably from the aft ferry tank. It appeared to be a half-dissolved fabric substance, and it had plugged up fuel flow to both engines. We never understood why it took so long to shut down fuel flow. We saved as much of the contaminant as possible in a plastic baggie, and I sent it to Shell for analysis after I got home. The report suggested it was a long-outdated fabric filter that was no longer used but was supposed to be changed every six months when in service. It estimated this material was at least three years old.
The mechanic did the best he could to clean out the injector lines and filters, then wished me luck for the short flight back to Libreville. Willet and I drained as much fuel as we could from both ferry tanks to reduce the load for takeoff. I staggered out of Tchibanga with nearly full wing tanks and managed to sneak back into Libreville barely before the night time curfew.
The following day, there were 20 cars lined up outside the Air Gabon maintenance hangar. All the owners were eager to collect their allotment of 10 gallons each, as the Crusader’s entire fuel system was drained of every ounce of 100 octane, probably close to 200 gallons. Each driver strained his 10 gallons through a chamois before pouring it into his car’s gas tank. Willett’s Mooney had been fueled just before mine in Funchal, so Air Gabon checked his fuel and found the same fibrous contaminants. As a result, his airplane’s fuel and injection system also had to be drained and cleaned—another free 130 gallons for the Gabon Auto Club.
The remainder of the trip was anti-climactic. Willett and I launched out of Libreville for Namibia on December 29, spent the 30th cleaning up the airplanes in Windhoek, and finally made the last leg across the Kalahari Desert to Johannesburg on December 31. Cessna’s South African dealer held a big New Year’s party in honor of the first Crusader’s safe arrival. It seemed everyone had heard about the double engine failure and subsequent emergency landing in Gabon. I told the story a dozen or more times, and I was an instant curiosity for about 10 of my allotted 15 minutes of fame.
Editor’s note: Since this trip in 1981, both the Funchal and Tchibanga airports have been extended and improved.
Check out more Cross-Country Log flying stories from ferry pilot and Senior Editor Bill Cox.
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