![]() I first started playing Pokemon Go the day it launched, and probably played at least six days a week for a year thereafter. “I have beaten the system!” Little did I know, my victory was to be frustratingly short-lived. In reality, I was sat in my kitchen in Dublin, Ireland, wearing a dressing gown that was slightly too small for me and sculling my fifth consecutive can of warm beer. Or at least that’s what Pokemon Go thought I was doing. I think it was when I caught my 50th - no, my 60th - Gyarados in a row that I hesitated for a moment and thought, “Actually, this isn’t very fun anymore.” I was wandering along the boardwalk at Santa Monica Pier, hurling Poke Balls at every weird and magical creature that came within a kilometre of me, determined to catch ‘em all, once and for all.
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