This happened decades ago now, back in primary school. I only remembered it because I was recently catching up with old friends from back then, and we got to laughing over old stories and then someone mentioned, "The wildest was when you organised that whole protest against our teacher."
"The time I did what?"
The consensus was I did, indeed, organise the entire class to rebel against our teacher that resulted in her being deposed and our class getting a "substitute" for the rest of the year. I almost fell out of my chair hearing this story from their mouths. It wasn't that I didn't remember it, of course I did--that year was awful. It was just that it existed very differently in my memory.
Two important pieces of background knowledge to understand here:
I went to a very very small, very very rural school. How small? Each classroom was composed of the entire year level, and the largest had at most 30 kids in them. My class/year level was on the smallest in the entire school, with a piddling 14 kids in it altogether. While we still had our cliques and factions, our small size caused our class to be very tight knit and protective of each other. How rural? The school building itself was incredibly small, but one thing we were not short on was gigantic empty fields surrounding us on all sides. Great for sports, great for (it turns out) student protests.
I was, at the time, undiagnosed autistic. I mean I still am autistic, I'm just formally diagnosed now. But back then I was just seen as being a very quirky kid. One of the ways this quirkiness manifested was that I really had trouble adapting to the rules and structure of grade school and how it differed from what I was used to. At home if I wanted to pee, I just went to the toilet. Now I have to put my hand up? Now I have to ask permission to piss? Then I went home and put my hand up to ask my mom for permission to pee and she told me I didn't need to! Madness! Chaos! I don't care what the rules are, please just be consistent!
But one of the main parts of my brain and the way it works is that sometimes my brain, separate from my will, would just make a decision about a course of action and I would very calmly commit to it come hell or high water. Like, it is vitally important that I stay true to this course of action. I can't explain it. It's like I set a rule for myself and if something disrupts that, I just shut down and stop functioning.
So when the school said, "Okay, when this bell rings during recess/lunch, that means you have to leave the playground and go back to class", I was a confused child already struggling with all these completely nonsensical limitations and guidelines imposed on me. So when that bell rang, I got that calm little voice in my head that said, "Hmm, no, I'm good out here actually. I don't think I will go back into class." So I would just continue to sit out on the playground, playing with my plastic spider toys or sitting on the swing. Teachers would realise what was going on and come out to get me and tell me I have to go back to class, and I would just very calmly hear them out and then smile at them and politely as possible tell them, "No thank you, I want to stay out here."
They really didn't know what to do with me. I wasn't getting upset, I wasn't throwing a tantrum, I wasn't yelling, I wasn't being rude in any way. I was incredibly docile and would let them explain things to me with endless patience and then just politely refute them and go back to what I was doing, like this was just a very normal and reasonable negotiation between two equal parties. I have memories of sitting on the swing while three very confused and flustered adult staff huddled around me trying to bribe me with candy to go back to class. It would take a whole lesson block to lure me back to the classroom, and then at lunch the whole thing would start over again. It took me three years at school to finally accept the status quo thanks to a religious nutter I got for a teacher, and finally went back to class when the bell rang (was never happy about it though).
I eventually settled into school life. Excelled at subjects I liked, at least passed subjects I didn't, followed the rules, was seen as intelligent and obedient and was often liked by my teachers. Until my final year, when we got the teacher I can only rudely monniker Mrs Bigmouth.
Mrs Bigmouth should not have been a teacher. She had a trigger temper and would explode into long, verbally abusive tirades against us if we ever did anything she felt was disrespectful behaviour. What was disrespectful behaviour? Damned if I know. It changed day by day, depending on mood. You could disrespect her to her face one day and she'd laugh and say you have such razor wit, and politely ask a question the next and she'd scream at you for ten nonstop minutes then give you a week of DT for talking back. The absolute peak moment of her boiling temper came when she threw a dictionary at a girl's head because she was whispering to me in class. When I tell you it missed her by half an inch...
But believe it or not, this wasn't what made her such an awful teacher. It was so hard to get teachers at rural schools back then, there was almost nothing you could do to get fired, so we had experience with teachers with nightmare tempers. What made her such an issue was her big mouth. She used us, her trapped audience, as free therapy. She would infodump, traumadump, about her very personal, very private life to us. All day. She'd be two words into a spelling list and launch into an extended story session about her marital issues with her husband. We'd be heads down doing fractions and, unprompted, she'd declare to the class that her adult daughter no longer talks to her and then diatribe to us about it until the bell rang. She had money issues, a contentious relationship with her parents, her marriage was on the rocks. She once pulled me aside after school and spoke with me, at length, about how she was thinking of having another child to try to repair her marriage. I was like, okay lady, I'm 11, about to miss my bus, and my house is a 4 hour walk on foot from here.
We weren't learning. We'd hadn't had a complete lesson since the first week of the school year. We were behind on the cirriculum and frustrated. One kid had brought a stopwatch into school and would time lessons vs her monologues and kept detailed lists, and we would come to school each morning and do betting pools on them. What subject would she interrupt, what would she talk about, and how long would it go.
But all that still wasn't the breaking point if you can believe it. No! Still not! The problem was it wasn't just her own private life she couldn't keep her mouth shut about. It was everyone else's. Because parents would make the reasonable assumption that she should be told things as our class teacher that would be important to know, and that she would understand these things were said in confidence. Instead she would veer randomly off in the middle of talking to us about her horrible weekend to let us know whatever private or traumatic thing was going on in a classmate's life that she had been made aware of. That was awful. That was what made that year hell. It wasn't even about when my secrets were shared with the entire class against my consent. It was watching the faces of my small, lovely, supportive class of 11 year old children go pale and scrunch up with held-back tears as things they never wanted to share were announced like morning news. God we hated her.
Then one day that voice came. The one I hadn't heard in years. The bell ring to go back into class and that voice said, "But I don't want to be in that classroom. I'm not even being taught there." So I just... didn't. I didn't go back to class. I just sat in the playground in a daze eating grass (don't eat grass, it's not good for your teeth). Despite how small my class was, I don't think Mrs Bigmouth even noticed I wasn't there. Others did though. Come lunch and everyone came out, my friends asked me where I was and I said, "Oh, I didn't go back to class."
"Why didn't you go back to class?"
"Why would I go back to class?"
Lightbulb moment for my schoolmates. Yeah, why would they go back to class? What was the point? From a practical standpoint, they weren't learning. From an emotional standpoint, it was horrible to be there. A friend who had had her family's dirty laundry aired to the entire class just last week, things even she didn't know because her parents tried to keep it from her, asked if she could sit with me rather than go back to class. I just stared at her, vacant and confused.
"Sure? I mean, I'm just eating grass though."
Over the next few days, two kids turned into four, turned into ten, turned into the whole class. The whole class was doing a sit-out protest on the field rather than go back to class. Of course Mrs Bigmouth tried to do something about it. She'd come out, screaming at us and threatening us with DT and internal suspension, but six months of that behaviour had totally vaccinated us against her. I'd become the de facto leader and spokesperson of the protest by merit of being the first to sit out and also because I was well known to not give a shit (autistic brain: I actually just frequently had trouble reading and reacting with the correct social behaviour but it gave me a cool and aloof bad boy mystique I guess). I gave her the exact same treatment from back in grade one. I would let her scream, let her holler, let her threaten, let her spittle rain down on me, and then I would give her a sweet and innocent smile and nod in acknowledgement and say, "No thank you, we're going to remain out here." And thirteen pairs of eyes would stare at her in total silence. No one, not even the most gobbermouthed little shite in the class, would volunteer a word. The unspoken agreement was all negotiations were my responsibility.
The thing about angry people is that they feed off conflict. They get you angry so they can respond with even more anger and it nourishes them. She had no absolutely no plan of action on how to deal with me patiently hearing her out then refuting her in the gentlest of terms.
Another thing that ended up helping down the line is that we made an attempt to conduct our own classes. I mean, they sucked and we didn't learn much because we were kids with no supervision, but it was really cute in retrospect. We'd have groups of people assigned to subjects, with some people bringing in words they found in a dictionary for spelling lists and others bringing in old 6th grade homework from older siblings. The heart was there and it served a purpose, if not educational.
"Okay, but how did no one else notice this was happening? Surely people would notice 14 kids sitting on the lawn, not in class?"
Rural school. Big. Empty. Fields. Even screaming at us, the most other classrooms would hear would be muffled voices, and everyone was used to hearing her yelling at us or taking us out onto the field abruptly to make us do laps as group punishment. Plus the way the school buildings were arranged was that it was actually all in one straight line of adjacent rooms, and ours happened to be at the very end of the building. No windows faced the field we all sat in except that of our own classroom. It was just a very lucky arrangement of coincidences and preconceived notions, at least for a couple weeks. I couldn't tell you the exact number, this was so long ago and as a kid I definitely had a more stretched idea of time. Minutes felt like hours, especially during that year. But there was definitely at least two weekends that passed by since the "sit-out protest" started.
Eventually someone cottoned on to what was happening, or maybe Mrs Bigmouth humbled herself and finally confessed to her boss that she had lost control of a bunch of 11-year-olds, so we were called into the principal's office to sort this out. As the representative of our class, I was of course chosen to attend the meeting, flanked by the girl who'd had the dictionary thrown at her head and my friend who was the first to sit out with me. Since I understood that this meeting was one where we were probably going to be yelled at for doing the wrong thing, a thing I had ample experience of, I felt like the easiest way to mitigate things (especially since I felt guilty for being the instigator) was to explain in a very rational and logical way the series of events that led up to our bad behaviour. As well, for my entire life my mother had always taught me that it was no good complaining about things unless you were also willing to think of solutions. "I'm hungry!" - "Well, what's a solution to that problem?" - "Uh, make myself a sandwich?" - "Great! Let's do that together!"
So what did I do? Of course, to make things as clean and concise as possible, I interviewed my class one by one to hear each individual story of why they didn't feel comfortable going to class anymore, itemised them under categories (Verbal Aggression; Interruptions of Lessons; Oversharing Student Life) for easier discussion because my little quirky brain loved itemising things, and then as a kind of olive branch came up with solutions (we wanted to finish lessons unhindered, we wanted our personal privacy to be respected, we wanted to be able to catch our bus on time rather than being held back with unfair DT or long "chats"). So many things sort of came together in this beautiful, wholly accidental way. We had months of records of timed rants and monologues, noted down to the millisecond thanks to that kid's stopwatch. We had records of us trying to teach ourselves during the protests, showing this wasn't us just not wanting to go to class but due to us feeling as though we did not have a class to go to. When the principal heard all this, her jaw it the floor. A lot of it was stuff she knew, peripherally, but things had just never been laid out so neatly before. Some of it was stuff we'd complained to parents about, but it was one kid coming home and telling one parent one time, weeks ago. There was no real sense, up until now, the sheer scope of her behaviour. She didn't even answer us. She just said, "Okay, I need to call your parents."
We got the rest of the week off school. That weekend, every parent of every student came to a meeting between them, Mrs Bigmouth, and the principal. Stories were swapped. My exercise book with my tidy little lists and the records of the betting pool and monologue times were confiscated and brought into the meeting. I don't know what went down, but when my mother came home she just told me that Mrs Bigmouth would not be our problem for the rest of the school year, and more importantly, that she was incredibly proud of me and that I did the right thing. Rarely in my childhood had my inability to integrate into normal society led me to doing the right thing, so I just remember crying and hugging and feeling vindicated about, I don't know, just existing or something.
So yeah. From the outside perspective here is what it looked like: I, the ringleader with a history of dismissing school rules, organised a sit-out strike amongst my class. I kept the protest peaceful and non-disruptive to other classes. When negotiations with the principal were finally arranged, as the representative I compiled a clear list of greivances, with evidence, and a list of reasonable demands. I mean, holy crap, yes, yes I clearly organised a student protest.
The actual results of it are mixed. We got a revolving door of substitute teachers of varying quality for the rest of the school year, occasionally being bundled into other classrooms entirely when they couldn't find someone. It wasn't a great learning environment and we continued to struggle a lot, but it was better than before. Mrs Bigmouth was not actually fired but put on leave for the rest of the school year, then returned and was put in charge of a different year level (which happened to be the class of the younger sister of a guy in my class: according to him, she was quiet as a church mouse that entire year so I hope at least she learned her lesson, or at least finally got divorced and went to actual therapy). The entire ordeal caused our already small and close class to become really really supportive and like family to each other and we all remain in touch until this day. And we became fierce about standing up for ourselves.
I kind of learned to parse the difference between when it was appropriate to go along with set societal rules even if I don't understand them, and when those rules were just straight up unreasonable and nobody should be required to follow them. I did, years alter, lead an actual (very small) strike at work but intentionally that time. My mother was proud of me then too. :)

Installing Pokémon Masters

1. Via Apple Store: HERE

1. Via Google Play Store: HERE
2. Others

Reroll Guide

• You're a new or returning player and you want to get your hands on meta Sync Pairs for easier clears.
• A favourite/meta Sync Pair has been released and you want to get him/her no matter what.

• Professor Oak & Mew: Complete his Sync Pair story and finish the bingo missions from Professor Oak & Mew Special Missions.
• Rosa & Serperior: Complete all bingo missions from "Rise to 6★ EX with Rosa!" and upgrade her to 6★ EX.
• Legendary Event Sync Pairs: Obtainable via Legendary Adventures. Reach the end of story to obtain the legendary Sync Pair, character-exclusive 5★ promotion tickets and event vouchers. Try to upgrade them to 5/5 20/20 as soon as possible and invest in their Sync Grids; they will be valuable assets for content clearing. Do note that exclusive materials such as Champion Spirit and Sync Grid expansion for these Sync Pair are only obtainable in event reruns, and hence event-limited.

EX Gear Type Chart

In-Game FAQ

• Strike:
  • Critical Strike 2 (3★ Crunchy)
  • Weathered Warrior 3 (3★ Deluxe) if used exclusively in weather
    • Boosts the damage of attack moves and sync moves but not max moves
• Support:
  • Vigilance (3★ Creamy), unless the Sync Pair already has Vigilance in their kit
  • Head Start 1 or Adrenaline 1 (both 3★ Deluxe) for -3 sync countdown acceleration
• Tech:
  • Refer to Strike if the Sync Pair's kit is Strike-based (e.g. Marnie & Morpeko, May & Swampert, P Serena & Whimsicott, etc.)
  • Refer to Support if the Sync Pair's kit is a tanker and/or a healer (e.g. Prof Oak & Mew, SS Leaf & Venusaur, etc.)
  • Head Start 1 or Adrenaline 1 (both 3★ Deluxe) for -3 sync countdown acceleration
• Sprint:
  • Head Start 1 or Adrenaline 1 (both 3★ Deluxe) for -3 sync countdown acceleration
  • Refer to Strike if the Sync Pair's kit is Strike-based (e.g. Nemona & Pawmot, Paulo & Lycanroc Dusk, etc.)
• Field:
  • Refer to Strike if the Sync Pair's kit is Strike-based (e.g. Victor & Spectrier, Variety Giovanni & Rhydon, etc.)

• Iris & Haxorous favours Lessen Confusion 9 (2★ Crispy) to increase DPS under confusion with Confusion Boon 5 in grid.
• Serena & Delphox and most other sleep-inducing units favour Troublemaker 1 (3★ Crunchy) to increase the accuracy of sleep-inducing status moves.
• Zinnia & Rayquaza can go for either Dauntless (3★ Creamy) to mitigate SP ATK debuffs after each use of Draco Meteor, or Weathered Warrior 3 (3★ Deluxe) to stack with her weather-based multipliers.

• Strike: Sync Move becomes AoE. (Its power is not reduced against multiple targets.)
• Support: Sync Move raises sync buff by +2 instead of +1 when it is used for the first time. (Each sync buff increases damage output by 50%.)
• Tech: Sync Move power x1.5
• Sprint: Sync Move reduces the user's sync move countdown by 3.
• Field: Sync Move applies a field effect before dealing damage and extends its duration by 50%.

Common Technical Questions/Errors

1. Error 20103 — Please check your connection and try again: Usually caused due to lack of connection or sudden disconnection. Try playing the game in a place with more stable connection.
2. Error 10102 — An error has occurred. Restarting the game: This error is often triggered because it detects your phone is rooted, or that you are using external applications which allows opening multiple accounts on the same device. For rooted phone users, make sure you hide your rooted status.
3. Game crashed mid-battle: Restart the app and clear your cache. This option is available in the bottom-left corner of the title screen.
4. Does Pokémon Masters work on emulators? No. As of now, PM is not compatible with any of the emulators (including Bluestacks, Nox, etc.) However, playing two accounts on the same device is possible on Android by cloning with Island.

Tools

• Events Countdown Timer (created by u/antocs, updated by Thunder#4694)
• PoMaTools (u/stdk12)

Guides

• A Beginner’s Guide for Building Teams and Training Pokémon (u/Stitch426)
• Pokémon Masters: Tier List & Resources (PokemonMasters Guide Writer Team, Gamepress)
• Pokémon Masters EX: Datamine Analysis (PokemonMasters Guide Writer Team)
• Sync Grid Builds & Lucky Skills (u/MomoSpark)
• Eggmon Compendium (u/Zinfogel)
• Pokémon Masters Damage Formula (u/stdk12)
• More guides can be found HERE.

• To receive quicker response from other fellow users, it is strongly recommended to enlist your roster, Lucky Skills, Sync Grid builds and other information deemed necessary, such that you can be provided a strategic team with higher chance of success when battling.
• If you would like to provide images and videos, you may use external websites such as Imgur, Gyazo and Streamable to embed links.
• Do not force your own playstyle onto others as it is completely subjective. Different kinds of players, veterans and novices, casual and hardcore, may all share different opinions and playstyles. It is fine to give suggestions, but forcing your ideas and way of playing onto others is not something to be condoned here. No one's way of playing is completely right.

1. Audience Understanding Leads To Steering Success.

• Fear of starting and not being perfect in the initial stages.
• Fear of not being recognized despite creating quality content.
• Fear of judgment and not being accepted by viewers.
• Fear of investing time and effort without seeing substantial growth or results.
• Fear of the ever-changing YouTube algorithm affecting their channel negatively.
• Fear of stagnation or decline in channel growth.

2. If You Have A Channel, You Need A Brand.

3. Entertainment Comes First.

4. Most Success On YouTube Is a Slow Burn.

5. Rabit Hole Content Can Perform Extremely Well.

6. Trend Jacking Can Lead To Crazy Numbers.

7. Don’t Steal, Rebuild.

Pablo Picasso – “Good artists copy, great artists steal”