Forget Cofagrigus, Shuppet, Ninjask or Yanmask. Don’t worry about Porygon, Muk, Parasect or Drifloon. While they’re all horrific in their own ways (seriously, look them up), nothing quite compares to the sheer, eldritch body horror that is… Dodrio.

Dodrio is fucked.

Dodrio begins life as a Doduo, a cute little ball of fluff with two innocent-looking heads. It hops around looking and being generally useless and kind of goofy, and it’s hard not to love it. Neither head of the Doduo is ever alone because all it needs is to look to the side and see its constant companion, a friend who has experienced and learned the same things as it ever since they were a chick.

It seems like a nice life to me. But then it evolves.

As soon as Doduo hits level 31, something unspeakable happens: a new head grows. Does a third head burst out of the torso beak-first, rendering the Doduo nothing more than a feathery John Hurt?

No. Oh no, the truth is much, much worse… One head splits into two. This isn’t Alien, it’s The Thing.


One of the innocent dickie-birds has to watch as the life-long friend it is physically attached to gets ripped apart. It has to watch as something that is like them, but very much not them, cracks its way out of their sibling’s skull, mere inches from the end of their beak. And then it’s there. Forever.

Stuck between the pair for the rest of their days is this new… thing. It’s not really a Doduo like they were, because a Doduo is always a pair of heads. That’s kind of their thing. So what is it? It’s a constant reminder that the world is a cruel and vicious place. It’s a reminder that the Doduo’s own flesh is something to be feared.

The newly-formed Dodrio has to learn to live with the parasite that just tore one of them to pieces, and the survivor is obviously scarred. Just look at it, a different facial expression to the blind fury of the other two. Despondent, confused, scared, and somehow alone despite sharing a body, the third head has to come to terms with what it saw, and how it has been replaced.


Dodrio doesn’t have the same bond the Doduo did, either. How can it? All those memories and experiences, the learning and loving and laughing and Doduo-ing it did wouldn’t be passed onto the third head any more than your mother’s memories are passed on to you. It’d be a blank slate, a completely empty brain that hasn’t had the experience to be a mature and grown up Pokemon yet.

It’d be like waking up one day to find your arm has turned into a baby. It’s physically part of you, sure, but that doesn’t stop it from screaming and crying and doing what any other baby would do, but you can’t get rid of it because it’s also your arm. The third head of the Dodrio would completely rely on the other two (neither of which asked for it and one of which has its own problems to work through, mind) for protection.

At least if those eyebrows are anything to go by, it does know one thing. It knows anger.

Dodrio is fucked.


Joe is LPVG’s resident hardware nerd. If it’s overpriced and has gaudy RGB lighting, he’s probably drooling over it. He loves platformers, MMOs, RPGs, hack ‘n slashers and FPS, with his favourite games being Mirror’s Edge, Left 4 Dead, Sonic the Hedgehog 2, Oblivion and Dead Space. Don’t ask him about his unhealthily large Monsters Inc memorabilia collection. Seriously, just don’t ask…