Which Pokemon Protagonists Inspired Popular Fan Theories?

Honestly, Eevee is one of those Pokémon I’ll loudly stan in any lobby chat — and when people ask which protagonists actually started with Eevee, the short story is: in the core mainline series, it’s pretty rare. The clearest, canonical place where the player character is partnered with an Eevee from the very beginning is 'Pokémon: Let's Go, Eevee!'. That game was built around Eevee as the player’s mascot partner (just like 'Pokémon: Let’s Go, Pikachu!' centers Pikachu), so the protagonist effectively “starts” with an Eevee that tags along, levels up, and unlocks unique interactions. It’s the most mainstream example where Eevee functions exactly like a starter Pokémon in the way longtime fans expect. If you step into spin-offs and side titles, the list gets friendlier for Eevee fans. In multiple entries of the 'Pokémon Mystery Dungeon' franchise you can play as Eevee — sometimes the game’s personality quiz slots you into a species that can be Eevee, and in other versions you can specifically pick Eevee as your playable form. That includes titles like 'Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Rescue Team DX', 'Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Time/Darkness/Sky', 'Super Mystery Dungeon', and a few others in that line where being an Eevee is a legit starting choice. I’ve spent many cozy evenings as a tiny Eevee in those dungeons; the emotional contrast of being adorable and unexpectedly durable is chef’s kiss. Beyond Mystery Dungeon, a handful of spin-offs and smaller games let you control or use Eevee very early on. For example, the toy-brawler series 'Pokémon Rumble' and some mobile/handheld spin-offs make Eevee available as an early playable figure. But in the main numbered games — like the Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh, Unova, Kalos, Alola, Galar, and Paldea titles — Eevee is rarely handed to the protagonist as a default starter. You can catch or be gifted an Eevee in many of those games, but it’s not the standard starter choice like Bulbasaur, Charmander, or Squirtle (and their regional variants). If you’re thinking about anime and manga protagonists, the situation is more varied: Eevee and its evolutions show up a lot as partner Pokémon for side characters, rivals, and secondary leads, but the most famous anime protagonist — Ash — didn’t start his journey with Eevee as his starter. I like pointing that out because it’s a favorite trivia nugget to drop in casual convos: Eevee’s presence in the franchise is huge, but it’s usually a special treat (like ‘‘Let’s Go, Eevee!’’) rather than the default beginning-of-the-journey pick in the numbered series. Personally, I recommend trying a playthrough where you start with Eevee in 'Let's Go, Eevee!' or rolling an Eevee personality in a Mystery Dungeon game — you get both a nostalgic vibe and a surprisingly versatile teammate, and it never stops being charming to watch those evolution choices unfold.

Growing up with cartridge-inserts and a pocket full of cheap Poké Balls, I always thought about who actually managed to catch a legendary first — and the timeline splits depending on whether you look at the games or the anime/movies. If you look at official game releases, the earliest playable protagonist who could legitimately put a legendary in a Poké Ball was the player in 'Pokémon Red' and 'Pokémon Green' (1996 JP). Those games let the player go after the legendary birds — Articuno, Zapdos, Moltres — which means that the in-game protagonist (often called Red) was the first canon trainer to have the opportunity to catch legendaries. That predates the anime’s big legendary moments by a long shot. I love this kind of split because it shows how Pokémon’s story lives in parallel universes: the games gave players agency to capture legendaries from the start, while the anime treated legendaries more like mythic allies or movie-level events. It’s a neat reminder that “first” depends on which version of the world you’re counting.

I'm the kind of fan who gets hyped watching tournaments, so this one always sparks a fun debate for me. If we're strict about the long-running anime continuity, only one protagonist has won a regional Pokémon League title: Ash (he finally won the Alola League/Manalo Conference in 'Pokémon the Series: Sun & Moon', which was a huge moment for longtime watchers). But if you broaden the scope to include mini-series that adapt the games more faithfully, then Red from 'Pokémon Origins' is also a clear winner — he defeats the Elite Four and the Champion, which is literally winning the Pokémon League. So, short and honest: two protagonists are commonly counted as having won a Pokémon League title (Ash and Red), though the total can feel larger depending on whether you include tournament-style titles like the World Coronation Series that Ash later wins. If you haven’t watched those climactic matches lately, rewatching Ash’s Alola run and 'Pokémon Origins' is a real treat.

One of my favorite recurring moments in the Pokémon world is when a protagonist actually gets coached or straight-up trained by a gym leader — it feels like a real mentor arc, not just another battle. In the anime, the clearest and longest-running example is Ash with Brock. Brock is the Pewter City Gym Leader and he spent years traveling with Ash, acting as cook, medic, and tactical adviser. He taught Ash fundamentals: how to care for Pokémon, how to think about team composition, and gave him battle strategy hints that Ash used through the original series and beyond. Later on, in Kalos, Ash gets hands-on help from Korrina (the Shalour City Gym Leader) around Mega Evolution; she’s not just a namesake you fight once and forget—Korrina helps Ash understand aura and the mechanics behind Mega Evolution for Lucario in a way that’s explicitly instructional. Clemont (the Lumiose Gym Leader) is another example: he travels with Ash in 'XY' and constantly provides technical help, training ideas, and even devices that change how Ash approaches battles. Those relationships are textbook “protagonist trained by a gym leader” in the anime space. May’s arc is another one that jumped out to me, because it’s more familial and personal. May is the daughter of Norman, the Petalburg Gym Leader, and that home connection means she has a mentor, parent, and Gym Leader in one person. Norman gives her critiques, advice on contest and battle technique, and that shapes how she grows into her role as a trainer and coordinator. That’s a neat dynamic because the training comes from someone with official standing in the Gym system, not just a casual mentor. Serena, while not trained in battle by a gym leader in the same formal way, receives mentorship from Clemont and other friends during her journey — it blurs the line between coaching and formal Gym-style training, but you can see the influence of gym-leader-level expertise on her development, especially in performance and battle pacing. If you nudge over to the games and manga, the idea still shows up but often in different flavors. In games the player character rarely has a long-term travelling Gym Leader coach the way anime protagonists do, but familial links exist — Norman is not just an anime dad; he’s the Hoenn Gym Leader in the games too, and that creates moments of mentorship for his child (and rival) characters. In the manga 'Pokémon Adventures' (which treats Gym Leaders and rivals differently than the show), you’ll also find protagonists learning from and clashing with Gym Leaders in ways that force growth. Overall, the best places to watch this play out are the early 'Indigo League' episodes for Brock-and-Ash mentorship, the 'Advanced Generation' arcs for May-and-Norman family training beats, and the 'XY' arc for Korrina and Clemont’s direct influence on Ash (Korrina’s episodes around Mega Evolution are especially satisfying). If you like mentor-style growth, those arcs hit that sweet spot where a Gym Leader isn’t just an obstacle — they’re a teacher, and the protagonists come out measurably better for it.

There's something about Pallet Town that always pulls at me — the tiny house, the oak lab, the very first Poké Ball. If we're talking who actually starts their journey in Kanto, the core list from the games is pretty clear: Red is the big one, the original protagonist of 'Pokémon Red'/'Blue'/'Green' and the star again in 'Pokémon Yellow' and later remakes. The female counterpart who gets introduced in the remakes is Leaf, the playable lead in 'Pokémon LeafGreen'. Beyond those, the player characters in 'Pokémon: Let’s Go, Pikachu!' and 'Let’s Go, Eevee!' also begin in Pallet Town/Kanto — they’re modern takes on that classic starter vibe. Then you’ve got the anime side: Ash Ketchum (from 'Pokémon') kicks off his journey in Pallet Town too. If you dip into manga, Red (from 'Pokémon Adventures' or 'Pokémon Special') is right there starting out in Kanto as well. A small caveat: trainers like the protagonists of 'Pokémon Gold'/'Silver' later travel to Kanto, but they don’t actually start there. So, in short: Red (and his variants), Leaf, the 'Let’s Go' protagonists, Ash, and the manga’s Red are the main faces who begin in Kanto — each one gives that same first-day-of-adventure feeling in slightly different flavors.

I still get giddy thinking about the anime road trips—there’s something about board­ing a slow boat with a Pikachu on your shoulder and not knowing which gym town you’ll wake up in. If you mean the TV series protagonists who actually traveled across multiple official regions, the big headline is Ash Ketchum: he’s the poster child for cross‑regional wandering. Ash’s journey starts in Kanto, detours into the nostalgic 'Orange Islands' arc, then moves through Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh, Unova, Kalos, Alola and — thanks to 'Pokémon Journeys' — he’s effectively globe‑hopping, visiting places from older series and newer spots like Galar. Watching his team grow and change through those moves is like flipping through a travel scrapbook; his roster, rivalries and badges are a living timeline of the franchise. A different flavor of traveling protagonist is found in Ash’s long‑running companions. Brock, for instance, heads out with Ash in Kanto, tags along through the 'Orange Islands', then through Johto and most of Hoenn before moving in and out of later arcs. Misty’s route is shorter but still multi‑regional—she’s Kanto → Orange Islands → Johto—and Tracey briefly covers Kanto and the Orange Islands as the replacement water‑type watcher. May and Max started in Hoenn, then May later appears in arcs connected to Kanto and the Battle Frontier, while Dawn’s main stretch is Sinnoh before she shows up again in reunion specials and the broader 'Journeys' timeline. Those companions give the series the feeling of a caravan; even when the main protagonist changes, the world keeps getting larger. If you peek into spin‑off series and specials you’ll find even more crossovers: characters from one series sometimes cameo in another, and a few arcs explicitly send trainers off to other regions for contests or competitions. For someone who loves watching character dynamics shift when placed in fresh environments, this is pure gold—there’s the thrill of a new gym leader, the nostalgia of an old friend’s return, and the fun of seeing different regional Pokémon interact. If you want a checklist for bingeing, start with 'Pokémon' (Kanto and Orange Islands), then follow the order through 'Pokémon: The Johto Journeys', 'Advanced', 'Diamond and Pearl', 'Black & White', 'XY', 'Sun & Moon', and finish up with 'Pokémon Journeys' to get the full multi‑regional tour. I tend to rewatch particular arcs based on which region’s vibe I’m craving, and tellingly, I always find something fresh in the backgrounds no matter how many times I revisit them.

There’s something about a hat that can make a character unforgettable, and in the world of 'Pokémon' a good hat almost feels like another character. For me, the first cap that pops into my head is Ash’s: that simple red-and-white cap with the green emblem from the original series. I was a kid watching cartoons after school and that silhouette—cap tilted forward, Pikachu on his shoulder—was the poster on my bedroom wall. It wasn’t just a hat, it was the “I’m ready” flag. Over the years Ash’s caps changed with each series, but every new design kept that same bold, sporty energy that screams “trainer.” I still wear a cap to conventions sometimes, and it’s funny how people instantly clock the homage even if it’s just a subtle color nod. Shifting to the games, Red’s cap is another icon. His more compact, slightly turned-up cap in art and sprites built this silent, cool vibe—less talk, more action. I’ve always loved how Red’s hat works as a visual anchor for his mystery; he’s rarely expressive in official art, but the hat gives him identity. Then you’ve got characters like May and Brendan from 'Pokémon Ruby/Sapphire'—May’s bandana-ish headgear has this sporty, adventurer feel that matches her upbeat, can-do personality, while Brendan’s cap-and-goggles combo reads like someone who’s a bit more hands-on and ready to tinker. Those designs made a lot of fans want to emulate their look in online avatars and cosplay groups I lurked in during my teens. Dawn’s toque from 'Pokémon Diamond/Pearl' deserves a shout-out too. That white hat with the pink Poké Ball motif stood out at the time because it mixed cuteness with functionality; she looked ready for snow and contests at once. Ethan (golden-era protagonist from 'Pokémon Gold/Silver') rocked a backwards cap which felt rebellious in a charming, approachable way—almost like a kid who plays by his own rules but still cares a lot for his Pokémon. Across handheld and TV, hats do more than keep the sun out of trainers’ eyes; they show era, personality, region, and mood. I find myself cataloguing them like badges in my head, and every time a new game drops I’m excited to see what the next iconic silhouette will be.

I still get a little giddy talking about this — swapping main partners in 'Pokémon' isn't random, it's a mix of storytelling, game tie-ins, and a pinch of real-world business that keeps the franchise feeling alive. From my perspective, the main reasons fall into three big buckets: narrative needs, marketing/merchandising alignment, and pacing/power-scaling for long-running heroes. Narratively, switching a protagonist’s primary partner gives writers a fresh emotional hook. Take Ash’s long run: Pikachu is iconic, sure, but different arcs needed different focal relationships. In 'Pokémon XY' the Greninja bond and that whole synchronized 'Bond Phenomenon' was a story tool that let the show explore themes of identity and partnership in ways Pikachu’s role didn’t. Then in 'Sun & Moon' the series leaned into school-life comedy and character-driven episodes, which meant Ash’s team dynamics and day-to-day interactions shifted — new episodes asked for other Pokémon to drive the plot. Writers retire, switch, or spotlight a Pokémon to reflect character growth, to give the audience something new emotionally, or to let the hero face challenges that a fresh partner is better suited for. On the game-and-merch side, Pokémon is almost unique: the anime and games are in constant dialogue. New game generations bring new starter Pokémon and legendary designs that become the next big toys, cards, and promotional focal points. When the anime follows a new region, featuring that region’s starters and local mascots helps sell the next wave of products and keeps cross-media synergy tight. This isn't just cynical cash-grab talk; it also lets the series showcase new species, move sets, and battle styles that the audience is excited to see animated. I’ve bought plushies and TCG packs after an episode or two — the show’s spotlight on a new partner absolutely feeds into fandom momentum. Finally, there’s the practical storytelling reason: power-scaling and variety. If a hero keeps one unbeatable partner for years, battles and tension get stale. Rotating main partners lets the protagonist face diverse challenges (water-heavy regions, flying-centric trials, puzzles needing a specific type), and it helps maintain suspense. It also gives secondary characters a chance to shine; sometimes a partner is 'retired' to allow it to grow off-screen or to live with a new caretaker (a sentimentality the show often leans into). So even though I sometimes miss long runs with a single favorite, I appreciate how the switches let different themes breathe and keep the ride surprising — and I'm always a little excited to see which Pokémon becomes the next emotional center of the story.