By and large, pokémon and animals get along reasonably well. I say “reasonably” because of course wild creatures may display hostility to one another, and it’s true that pokémon wield powers no animal can defend themselves against. Furthermore, unlike humans, pokémon gain no benefit from coexisting with animals, generally speaking, so one would assume that the two don’t cohabit.

Yet strangely … they do. Pokémon actually treat animals with caution for the most part, and while animals are a bit rarer than pokémon, pokémon ensure that there is some sort of niche left for animal wildlife. Sometimes, the two even work together, to build nests, to hunt, or generally to survive. For example, sometimes, wild poochyena will hunt alongside wild coyote to take down larger prey. On the other hand, wild pikachu will often defend rabbits from hawks or snakes, and sunkern will sometimes help squirrels find new sources of nuts. (Then again, with the latter example, that’s partly because squirrels will otherwise eat sunkern.) Even outside of woodland environments, you have corsola serving as homes for fish, rattata leading urban rats to food caches, and so on and so forth.

In the home, meanwhile, most pet pokémon will get along quite well with pet animals. It’s just that pokémon will often perceive themselves to be a step between their human owners and their animal companions. That is to say, pokémon will often view themselves as caretakers for cats, dogs, and so forth, even though they realize they’re only pets for humans themselves.

That relationship has offered a lot of insight into the pokémon kingdom’s relationship to both mankind and the rest of the animal kingdom, actually. By observing the way pet pokémon interact with animal pokémon, scientists were able to form the current going theory: that pokémon view themselves as custodians of nature, in a way. That is to say, because they’re more in-tune with nature than humans are, they take on a role in which they accommodate and work hand-in-hand with the other creatures sharing their world. For humans, that means battling alongside them and getting stronger. For animals, that means living in harmony with them.

Unless, of course, the animals happen to be prey or vice versa. Squirrels eat sunkern, pidgeotto eat worms, and so on and so forth.

No to the last one, anonymous. Rather, our regions are merely fragments of larger countries. For example, Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh are all regions within the country of Japan. These aren’t the only regions in Japan, but they’re the most populous, to be honest. Kalos, meanwhile, is a good portion of France, while Alola and Unova are both vastly different parts of the United States. There are, of course, more regions than this, but these are simply the only ones participating in the National Dex Program at the moment.

As for how big a city is (I assume you mean one of our cities—pokémon do sometimes organize themselves into primitive social structures, but they’re rarely organized enough to construct entire cities), that also depends. For example, Cerulean City isn’t that large at all. Rather, it only has a population of about 140,000 people, most of which are concentrated within a small urban center surrounding the Cerulean Gym. On the other hand, Goldenrod City, the largest city in Johto, hosts about 2 million inhabitants and sprawls across almost all of Goldenrod Bay’s coastline. Goldenrod isn’t even the largest or most populous city among all seven regions of the National Dex Program (it’s the fifth largest, behind Castelia, Mauville, Nimbasa, and Lumiose), but this should give you a rough idea of how large (and small) a city can be.

Finally, with regards to the size of a region … that’s a bit more difficult to say, anonymous. Some regions, such as Johto, are actually rather small. (Johto and Kanto combined only cover about 40000 square miles. It’s one of the reasons why I have no trouble traveling back and forth across both of them as their regional system administrator.) By contrast, other regions can be quite large—such as Kalos, which takes up over 213 thousand square miles.

In short, our world can be quite diverse in terms of both regional size and population, but no, regions are not countries in themselves.

But of course! Human society needs just as many facilities specific to our species as we do facilities specific to pokémon.

Although for whatever reason, a lot of trainers seem to forget that human hospitals exist, so allow me to just say, yes, trainers, if you’re injured and your team isn’t, please consider going to a doctor specific to people. Not only do you avoid using resources meant for pokémon, but you also would be working with a doctor who has a better understanding of how the human body heals. (Not that a Nurse Joy wouldn’t be able to apply first aid, of course! It’s simply that you don’t consult a dentist for a heart condition, so to speak.)

Ah, yes. The “Nuzlocke” challenge.

To be perfectly honest, anonymous, I have mixed feelings about this challenge. On the one hand, yes, there is an element of cruelty to it because it very rarely takes into consideration a pokémon’s feelings on the matter. Oftentimes, pokémon want to remain with their trainers as long as possible, and the act of simply breaking the bonds you’ve worked so hard to achieve after one loss can be devastating or even traumatizing to a pokémon that has come to trust and care deeply for its trainer.

On the other, to be fair, releasing a pokémon is a fact of a trainer’s life, and there are situations where it might not be as cruel as it sounds for this particular challenge.

For one, Nuzlocke challenges tend to be intense, so some trainers release their pokémon out of actual concern for their well-being. Admittedly, this selection of trainers isn’t the majority, but it exists. 

For another, the alternative is that trainers engaging in a Nuzlocke challenge send their pokémon home or place them in the storage system until the end of their challenge, which may last only for a single league. After that, they may raise their pokémon equally or simply rehome them as necessary.

And for a third, as I’ve said, releasing is a fact of practically every trainer’s lives, even when they’re not participating in a Nuzlocke challenge. The problem is that not everyone can be a trainer forever, and when one retires, not everyone can keep all of the pokémon they captured on their adventures. It’s simply not feasible for the majority of people. So under normal circumstances, breaking the bonds you’ve created will eventually happen; it’s simply a matter of when. (In these cases, though, I highly encourage rehoming your pokémon with friends or family, or find a reputable shelter that may be able to match your pokémon with a loving home for you.)

So for those three reasons, I can’t rightly say that it’s outright cruel. Granted, yes, the above three situations don’t actually describe the motivations of all trainers who release their pokémon on their Nuzlocke journeys; I’m simply saying that there are instances that are a bit more morally gray than others. In cases where a trainer simply abandons their pokémon for losing, however, yes, that would be outright cruel, especially if the pokémon in question has bonded with them. But otherwise, yes, my opinion of these practices are a bit complicated.

Of course, I don’t entirely understand the point of a Nuzlocke challenge to begin with, but then again, I was never fantastically interested in training for the sake of training itself.