But were they free-range Gummi Bears is what I wanna know.

Personally, I'm excited to see just where this style of marketing will go.

Why?

Three words: Celebrity Corpse Puppets!

Faulty audio systems...

...or just further proof that everybody in cinema is secretly a robot?

Try this at home, kids!

It'll get you ALL the popularity!

They've got this sauntering business down to a freakin' science!

All sorts of data runnin' through those steps!

To be fair, I'm pretty certain that every contest could be won through the use of Doritos.

Wow, with all of these, even a Rhythm Heaven one, I'm amazed this one and its fellows fell under the radar.

Let's assess the situation for a moment, shall we?

First off: these people are Pokemon trainers. They left home at a tender young age to go out into the world and have adventures raising their beloved companion creatures and battling them against others for prestige and the incomparable type of companionship between a trainer and their Pokemon.

Second: they identify themselves as fishermen. Maybe this is how they make their living, maybe this is just a nice little hobby they fancy themselves pretty good at. For whatever reason, they've chosen this moniker, and it likely comes with a great deal of personal pride in their skill at the craft They always believed themselves to be pretty darn good anglers, and darn it, that's how they're going to present themselves to the rest of the world.

Now, finally, and most importantly: their teams. Magikarps. Nothing but a full Pokeball belt of Magikarps. Now one might make the argument that they're simply trying to obtain a full set of Gyarados. An admirable goal, and one that might be true in certain instances. However, we know this is not the case. No matter how many times we encounter these people, their Magikarps are always just that...weak, useless, splash-attacking Magikarps. They never evolve. They never kill us all.

Now, consider the implications of this. These men, who left home at a time when they were the most vulnerable and impressionable. These men, who went out into the world with dreams of fame, grandeur, and satisfaction. These men, who take such pride in their fishing ability that they introduce themselves to every person they meet as such. And all they have to show for it is a full team of slow, weak, tasteless, useless, unevolved and unevolving Magikarp.

Note the crazed expression on the Fisherman's face.

Note the discarded cans of beer and the cooler likely full of similar alcoholic drinks.

Now I ask you: sending your team of helpless little Magikarp into a battle that they've no chance of winning only to see them beaten to within an inch of their life.

The careless act of a monster?

Or the only way he knows how to deal with the crippling, traumatic disappointment of a wasted life, and a failed career?

Ahh, but who's to say that the arrow-head isn't still lodged somewhere in their kneecap? Having the shaft and fletching of an arrow jutting out of one's knee would become quite cumbersome, so it's not too unreasonable to think that maybe the grand majority of the guards in Skyrim simply broke away what bits of the shaft they could, while sanding the rest down while not removing what was already embedded in the flesh, then simply choosing to wear their guard armor over it.

Is the entire arrow still in one's knee? Technically speaking, no, but there is still an arrow-head and perhap pieces of the arrow-shaft still in the knee, so one could still argue that they had arrows in their knees. Really, all it comes down to then is semantics.

As for how they might going about removing an arrow embedded in such a way, I'm not really sure. Maybe the Magic of Friendship could help them.

Hah! By the Nine, it's so obvious now! I can't believe I never thought of that before! Man, this is a real knee-slapp--AUGH FUCK!!