Across its nearly 30 years of existence, the calling card of the Pokemon world has been its eponymous dossier of pocket monsters. The moment a new entry is unveiled, we clamour for any shred of detail on its starting Pokemon, before settling in for months of drip-fed reveals of the most marketable creatures you’ll want to catch.

Not all of those creations were intended to dazzle, however, and sometimes you can review the full lineup and end up feeling a tad bit underwhelmed. With this in mind, I thought it prudent to rank them for your my enjoyment.

At last, it’s time to determine which regions had the Pokemon you can’t wait to catch, and which ones are destined to be eternal PC box fodder.

10. Hisui (Legends: Arceus)

As a spinoff entry, Legends: Arceus features the most conservative Pokedex. With only seven new Pokemon and 17 regional forms, it hardly qualifies at all, but it’s there and it’s official, so we will at least give it a cursory look-in for these rankings.

In actuality, the overall quality of Pokemon here is pretty solid. They’re largely derivative, of course, but quite eye-catching, such as the derpy Hisuian Growlithe, or the primordial Hisuian Avalugg. For outright new creations (albeit ones based on existing monsters), it’s a mixed bag: whereas Wyrdeer is an elegant amendment to the long-forgotten Stantler, Sneasler more resembles a trashy fursona than a Pokemon.

Were we talking pound-for-pound output, the Hisuian ‘dex would perhaps leapfrog its nearest competitor, which has far more misses than what we see here. We aren’t, though, so it will have to bring up the rear for now — pending what comes around in Legends: Z-A.

9. Johto (Gold/Silver/Crystal)

Generation 2 was a lot of things, and it maintains a lofty position as one of the most treasured entries in the series. What it was not, however, was dynamic in its delivery of new monsters.

It was always a tall task, having to introduce the new kids on the block after Kanto’s 151 beasts had already become so ingrained in our mind, and I can’t help but feel as though more of an effort was required on that front.

Many of its better designs are in fact variations of existing lines (Blissey to Kanto’s Chansey, Scizor to Kanto’s Scyther, Espeon and Umbreon to Kanto’s Eevee, etc.), while others just fail to make much of an impact whatsoever. Some folks are fond of Dunsparce’s memeability, especially when its ludicrous Paldean evolution was unveiled, but I just find it bland and disinteresting.

It has its moments, of course, like Tyranitar or Lugia, who still occupy a place of significance amongst the crowded field of candidates. Overall, I really think that its slight roster of 100 new(ish) Pokemon has too much filler, as evidenced by the first Gym Leader electing to recycle the Pidgey family instead of trying something new.

For fuck’s sake, Falkner, just use the stupid Hoothoot.

8. Galar (Scarlet/Violet)

My general apathy towards Scarlet and Violet notwithstanding, I’m simply not wowed with the majority of Pokemon available in Galar. I will readily admit that I could be suffering from primacy bias, having not yet had the opportunity to fall in love with these new monsters yet, so down the track my opinion might soften.

The starter trio are an eclectic mix once they reach their final form, yet each offers something visually appealing in their own way. Tinkaton and Greavard are likely to remain at the fore for the discernible future, and Annihilape will surely go down as one of the all-time great designs, as well as one of the most solid puns, too.

There are a few too many that fail to move the needle, however. Bramblin is bad enough that I can’t imagine why they thought an evolution would be necessary, and the Smoliv/Capsakid lines both focus on the same theme of food-based monsters. I didn’t like it in the Vanillite days, and I don’t much prefer it now.

The biggest misstep for me in generation 9’s Pokedex is with its bevy of Paradox Pokemon. For starters, I absolutely hate the naming conventions, and then beyond that, the delivery itself just feels off. Shouldn’t all of the futuristic Violet exclusives be Steel-type? They’re robotic, after all, and each share the name of “Iron”. Scarlet’s prehistoric interpretations ought to be better in that regard, only for them to just look like fan-made designs with awkward proportions.

Sound harsh? It should, because they got it right early on with Mega Evolutions and regional forms, only to stray further and further into lackadaisical alterations.

Fortunately, the legendary Pokemon fare a little better, because their lore is treated as extra special. Chien-Pao and the Treasures of Ruin look cool while being unique in their origins, and Ogerpon vs the Loyal Three makes for some enriching DLC world-building.

You can miss me with the sandwich-gobbling lizardbike mascots, however.

7. Unova (Black/White/Black 2/White 2)

It is my humble opinion that generation 5 is the peak of the Pokemon franchise. It has a range of diverse biomes, peerless spritework, and thanks to Hidden Abilities, a fully realised metagame that made team construction truly satisfying.

Because of my affinity for BW, I assumed its Pokedex would rank highly on this list, and then, I reviewed the lineup and found myself largely nonplussed. I’m rather fond of several of them, such as Sawsbuck, Chandelure, and Serperior. Could I fairly say that they chart quite as well in the court of public opinion, however? No, I don’t believe I can.

Many of the Unovan Pokemon just kinda feel like they’re there, and I’m not entirely sure I could recall more than half of them without a visual aid. This is especially interesting when one considers that, initially, these games released without a single returning monster on offer. Although some of them are nice and all, I can confirm that in the increased Pokedex of the sequels, I was most excited to find an Eevee in Castelia Park.

The standouts, at least on the marketing front, are the tricksy pupper Zorua and its evolution Zoroark. Once again, solid though it may be, it’s no Lucario, even with its more dynamic in-game functionality.

Oddly enough, this generation also marked the first time I actively despised my starting Pokemon, which is somewhat significant in my mind. I chose Oshawott this time around, only to find its final form, Samurott, to be an abject failure. Perhaps I hadn’t been using it quite right, I just resented it for tarnishing the legacy of its predecessors, and I’ve never deigned to tinker with it any further.

That’s not entirely relevant to this article, I’m just glad I got that off my chest.

6. Sinnoh (Diamond/Pearl/Platinum)

Whereas in previous games, the advancing hardware was used to the designers’ advantage, I cannot shake this notion that generation 4 was hamstrung by its hardware.

To my eye, Sinnoh’s beasts are oversized and clunky. Now that the series had made the jump to the Nintendo DS, sprites filled up the screen in a manner more bloated than impressive. This is especially true with the new evolutions added to existed lines, which are almost universally a downgrade. The cute, pixie-like Togetic is now the garish aircraft monster Togekiss, Tangela now had a burlier, vinier facsimile in Tangrowth, and Lickillicky remains a curse that the world has not yet fully recovered from.

Electivire, on the other hand, I have plenty of time for. It’s like LeBron James on the 2007 Cavaliers, doing its best to carry a team of no-hopers.

It’s not all bad, though. As always, the new duo of Eeveelutions (Leafeon and Glaceon) are terrific, Stunky and its evolution Skuntank are silly and appealing, and Lucario has stamped its ticket as one of the big boys in town. It’s helped by the fact that it was pushed down our throat in feature films and Smash Bros inclusions, but that doesn’t undermine the fact that its design is top notch.

Another gripe I have is that there are far too many legendaries on offer this time around; where Kanto had five between the three legendary birds, Mewtwo in the endgame and Mew as the elusive mythical Pokemon, Sinnoh flings 12 of the damned things in your direction. Considering there are only 107 new Pokemon in total, that means that 11% of them are “legendary”. Sounds far too commonplace to me.

5. Galar (Sword/Shield)

Much like Sword and Shield themselves, the Galarian Pokedex was a shining example of one step forward, two steps back. There were still some fun regional variants (although the concept was already showing signs of diminishing returns by this point), and I will give credit for some — but absolutely not all — of the Gigantamax forms.

I’ve already mentioned my aversion to this mechanic on the competitive front, but by and large, they are a definite visual downgrade to the scrapped Mega Evolutions. I prefer the ones that opt for silly rather than intimidating, such as the cakefied Alcremie or the stoner overlord Venusaur, as far too many are just the same but with bigger appendages.

Outside of that specific feature, the Pokedex is… fine, really. Corviknight is pretty cool, though I’m sour that it failed to finally provide us with a new fully evolved pure-Flying Pokemon. The Applin twins Flapple and Appletun are great fun, and as blatant as Obstagoon’s source material is, this doesn’t discount the fact that it looks fabulous.

Where Galar is most lacking is on the top shelf; those must-have Pokemon that define a generation. Don’t let the competitive over-reliance on Rapid Strike Style Urshifu fool you, it is unspectacular beyond its dominance of the modern metagame. It’s just another face in a batch of “oh yeah, that one” Pokemon.

4. Kalos (X/Y)

Though I will attest that the franchise has never recovered on the personality front once the switch was made from generation 5’s expressive sprites to more rigid polygonal designs, Kalos at least has better overall Pokemon to its name.

Of course, it has the usual suspects, like the slug monster Goodra or drastically overused Aeglislash, the latter of which I’m not really a fan of. I’m more attracted to its peripheral beasts; the fossil duo of Tyrantrum and Aurorus provide an exceptional dynamic of chaos and tranquility, and I am downright delighted by the pumpkin Pokemon and their various sizes.

While Espurr is notorious for its thousand-yard stare, I’m rather fond of its divergent Meowstic evolutions. They’re both snuggly little bundles of fluff, and the fact that they each operate in entirely different roles is a plus. Then there’s the goofy lizard lad Heliolisk, or mi luchador amigo Hawlucha, an oft forgotten gem that finally broke the mould of the fighting/flying dual-type.

What really puts this generation over the edge for me, is its bevy of Mega Evolutions. Technically they don’t count, considering that they don’t occupy their own Pokedex slot and are just upgrades of existing monsters, but that simple fact is exactly what makes them so special to begin with. I love Venusaur, and now I’ve got a souped up version that’s tankier, with a built up resistance to its fire and ice weaknesses? I was sold from the get-go.

3. Hoenn (Ruby/Sapphire/Emerald)

In my mind, generation 3’s Pokemon are rather overlooked. At its best, it never quite reaches the heights of its predecessors, but it’s bolstered by a pretty solid undercard. I have a real soft spot for Breloom and its eclectic mix of elements, and I understand that Blaziken is amongst the more favoured starting Pokemon for some reason.

Perhaps Hoenn’s best feature is its relative lack of duds. While Surskit fails to inspire, its evolution Masquerain — a butterfly Pokemon whose wings resemble an intimidating face — is incredibly clever. Additionally, now we were seeing more unique evolutionary methods than we had before, such as Feebas only becoming Milotic when its Beauty statistic was maxed out, or the unnerving Shedinja appearing in your party as the discarded carapace of the newly evolved Nincada.

On that note, Shedinja deserves an entire paragraph all to itself as an experiment of fascination. Visually, its lifeless gaze pulls you in, and on the lore front, peering into the hole within its back will allegedly cause you to lose your soul (unfortunate considering trainers are constantly standing behind their Pokemon). Combined with its 1 HP/Wonder Guard gimmick, you have a niche battler unlike anything else.

If only it had a few more heavy hitters, this could have been the generation to topple the unrivalled champion that remains atop the mountain. As it stands, Hoenn has a lot of Pokemon I like, few that I dislike, and only a scant few that I love; a veritable jack-of-all-trades Pokedex.

2. Alola (Sun/Moon/Ultra Sun/Ultra Moon)

By now, Game Freak had cottoned on that appealing to our sense of nostalgia was just good business. Generation 6 scratched this itch with its Mega Evolutions, and generation 7 went one step further with regional forms; a newfound series staple that endures to this day.

Vulpix and Ninetales already felt perfect by most accounts, and yet, they had somehow made them even more mystical by creating icy variants. Then, there was the fire dancing Alolan Marowak, the psychic surfing Alolan Raichu, and the hilariously gangly Alolan Exeggutor. They’re all a whole bunch of fun, and allowed us to revisit some of our old favourites.

The native beasts were no slouches either, starting with the divisive yet impactful Incineroar all the way down to the beautifully designed Tapu deities. The Alolan Pokedex isn’t one that necessarily jumped out at me when I was first considering these rankings, and then I reviewed it and kept saying “oh wait, that one’s good, too!”

Unlike other generations where the most enduring monsters are the pseudo-legendaries, this time the crown for lastability assuredly lands on the crooked dome of Mimikyu. A haunted Pikachu wannabe that is desperate for attention and yet will murder any who reveal its true visage? That’s inspired stuff right there.

Top to bottom, there is a lot to like about the Alolan lineup, and it’s clear that a focus on tropical climates made for some clever brainstorming.

1. Kanto (Red/Blue/Yellow)

It was fairly academic that Kanto would take the top spot, but it’s still worth observing just what makes this batch of monsters so darned good.

For starters, this was the very first attempt at world-building, where any concept was fair game. Want an angry rock? Okay, let’s make Geodude. Keen on some scowling eggs? Hell yeah, I’m calling it Exeggcute. How about a shapeshifting blob devoid of features? Umm, sure, that’s how Ditto happened.

The above examples are in fact, amongst the worst Pokemon you’ll encounter in Kanto, and yet, they are no less memorable in their own right. These were the games that made the franchise what it is, so hype and nostalgia are going to shoulder much of the load.

With that being said, simplicity is sometimes a blessing in disguise, and a select few would become downright iconic. Pikachu’s design philosophy is so succinct, you could write an entire thesis about it; with its bright yellow colouration and lightning-like tail, it’s easily surmised that it has electrical powers, while its bright pink cheeks and friendly face make it accessible to children of all ages.

There really is something for everyone in this generation; Charizard and Mewtwo are still the measuring sticks for badassery, there are plenty of cute avian and mamallian friends like Pidgey or Meowth, and of course, I have to mention my ride-or-die homie, Bulbasaur.

As the legendary Junichi Masuda once put it, “It really kind of exemplifies what Pokemon is for me. It has that kind of monster-like creature, with a plant-like thing on its back — and I think that that simple combination exemplifies what Pokemon is all about.”

Can you beat that kind of symbolism? So far, Game Freak haven’t been able to, but we’re grateful as heck that they keep trying all these years later.