It’s hard to believe that New Pokémon Snap is more than five years old. I remember the days of wistfully dreaming of a follow-up to the bite-sized N64 game that I spent hours and hours on as a kid, trying to figure out how to get that Charmeleon to evolve, or how to unlock the last level with Mew.

Of course, as an adult, I can do all of that within a couple of hours now, but the magic of seeing Pokémon in any environment that isn’t just catching and battling has always been a draw to me. I think the original Pokémon Snap is why I fell in love with these Pocket Monsters. A sequel felt like a dream.

But, despite my excitement, I skipped over New Pokémon Snap initially. 2021 was admittedly a very different time, but it was my relationship with photography — and not my then mixed feelings about the franchise — that stopped me from dropping the cash on it immediately.

You see, my dad loved taking pictures. Growing up, there were always cameras lying around the house. It was the ‘90s and early ‘00s, so if you were a family, you probably had one or two of those yellow-bound Kodak cameras stuffed in a drawer somewhere, ready for the next beach day or school trip. We even adopted a digital camera pretty early.

I wouldn’t call my dad a photographer – in a running blog he kept in the years before his death, he wrote, “I’ve never pretended to be any good, I’ve always worked on the premise that if I take enough photos some of them might be ok.” But he was good. And I know that because these words have sat with me since I read them 15 years ago:

“I think I just see things that others don’t. It’s not that I’m any good at it, just have a knack of knowing what is a good picture. I don’t necessarily know it beforehand, just a realisation when I come to view the finished product.”

For a while, whenever I tried to take something “nice”, I always felt a little twinge, like the ghost of his talents were there. Yes, that even stretched to video game photography – something I’m sure he would’ve found amusing. Video games weren’t really his thing unless they were realistic racing sims (complete with a wheel and brakes) or a few rounds of Mario Golf with the kids.

So when I eventually got New Snap, it was a very different experience. It wasn’t just, “Awww, look at all the pretty Pokémon!”, it was now a case of “What do I see in these creatures that others maybe don’t?”

Now, my dad wasn’t much of a wildlife photographer: he was more about the landscapes, the sunsets, the moments and places. And when you have a history with something like Pokémon, you probably already know or have preconceptions about what those ‘mons are like.

But New Snap allows those creatures to thrive in their environments. All I have to do is capture the moment I want.

To start with, I’m way more cautious than I should be. Florio Nature Park is full of colourful, adorable Pokémon, so I have a lot to choose from, and a whopping 70 shots I can take. I’m enamoured by the lovely floristry and how calm the park seems as Vivillon flutter around and Grookey and Pikachu stroll along side-by-side.

So when I zoom in to try and grab my first picture, I’m hesitant. Trying to angle the camera correctly, waiting to see if the creatures will turn or do something interesting. This isn’t a sunset or a vista that’s already pristine and perfect; it’s a living creature. I don’t have time to think, but I desperately want to get it.

I remembered the words my dad wrote down, but in the moment, I couldn’t even capture a grumpy-looking Taillow sitting on a sign without doubting myself. I took lots of photos, but were they good? I didn’t think so, regardless of what Professor Mirror scored them.

I kept going, revisiting Florio Nature Park at night, heading to an Illumina Spot to be wowed by the beautiful glowing Meganium. Eventually, I started branching out, unlocking new maps like the Founja Jungle, the Sweltering Sands, and Fireflow Volcano. I gained new skills and items to help me interact with Pokémon and get new pictures of them. Eventually, I could even speed through courses if there was something specific I wanted to capture with my lens.

I was learning something new with each run, and each time I reflected on the words my dad wrote, the photos he’d taken – at least, the ones I remembered. The photos he took of me and my brother were often of small, seemingly insignificant moments. And with the repetition of New Snap, of revisiting areas, I began to realise that, for these fictional creatures, this was just life. Their life. I should just capture it.

One day, while at my brother’s place, I found myself poring over some old, glossy, fingerprint-smothered photos of a day trip I barely even remember. I think it was Brighton or a little further east. There were photos of me on a tan-coloured stone wall, the salty breeze messing up my short curly hair. Peering over another wall to see someone painting what I think were TMNT figures. Getting ice cream for a reasonable price.

I stopped worrying about the photo limit in New Pokémon Snap and just started pressing the shutter when I saw something I wanted to immortalise. I could stack up seven crappy photos of Koffing and maybe one extremely good one. I could come back and look at it years later and go, “Ah, yeah! I remember that.”

Sometimes, even the rubbish photos are amusing. There are way too many butt photos of Bidoof as it stares aimlessly at Dodrio or Volcarona as it zips past my lens. A reminder to try something different next time, but ultimately, still a memory, still something I captured and no one else.

I even started to roll my eyes at Professor Mirror’s scoring. I took a great photo of Liepard at night, basking in the glow of the Illumina Orb I’d gently thrown towards it. She looked like she was protecting a Morelull, the little mushroom stared at her happily. I showed it to the professor who scored it a few points lower than a wide-shot of Liepard I’d taken years before. I shrugged and saved the newer photo for my own needs.

Eldegloss nonchalantly standing in the sun, proud and adorable. A close-up of Vespiquen munching on a fluffruit. Pichu and Scorbunny, shocked at the appearance of another Pokémon. Beautifly elegantly showing me the waterfalls.

Most of these were taken on-the-fly. I didn’t plan for them, I just saw something and started snapping, or I decided to focus on one thing per run and get a series of shots, hoping something would say something to me. More often than not, it did, and when it didn’t, I could always go back.

New Pokémon Snap’s approach is certainly different from real-life photography – we’ll rarely find ourselves in some technologically-advanced vehicle designed to float and teleport across a map. But even with the arcade-y, rail-shooter tendencies, it allowed me to find joy in taking photos, both in real-life and in video games.

But it also made me realise just how important all the photos my dad took were, and are. It didn’t matter if I was looking at a champagne bottle lying in the grass or a blurry robin as it made a nest or a beautiful sunset at the Glastonbury Festival; these photos are my dad. They’re how he saw and understood the world. The camera was essentially an extension of him.

Memories are important, but sometimes, they need a bit of a kick. A blurry shot of the beach. A blink in the middle of the flashlight. A video game photo of Pikachu’s tail sticking out of the edge because it’s too quick for me to get. But then there’s also the sunsets, the siblings and their dad sitting at the beach, the perfectly majestic Milotic gliding through the water.

Whether it’s a real glossy photograph, an old Instagram post, something on my phone, or even my Switch, a photo will always remind me of my dad. Whether he took it or not, photographs are part of who he was, a scrapbook of intelligence and ideas, and a unique perception of the world. If I can embrace that — even in a video game — then I can keep his memory close.

Are you a fan of New Pokémon Snap? Do you enjoy in-game photography? Let us know down below.