I Choose You Amsterdam #GottaCatchEmAll
This year at Amsterdam Dance Event, I’m not pitching. I’m not chasing deals. I’m chasing wonder, passion, deep connection — and maybe expanding my network into your orbit. Maybe a dash of cute chaos, too. In color. With respect and honor.
Inside my bag is something I’ve protected for over 20 years: my childhood Pokémon collection — around 750 cards total. About 250 holographics in hard sleeves (you’ll have to find me for those), and 500 commons and energies scattered across the city for you and your friends to discover. This week, I’m letting them go.
Not sold. Not auctioned. Not tokenized. Just preserved because I cared — and now I release them because it’s time.
I’m turning Amsterdam ADE 2025 into a Pokémon Treasure Hunt. Every card you find is yours to keep. No strings attached — except, I hope, a moment of curiosity or joy. Maybe some sharing and trading. And, each one carries a QR code that leads back to me.
Yes, it’s a networking move. A guerrilla publicity stunt, sure. But it’s also a social experiment. I want to see how far joy travels when I let go — and who it finds along the way.
The ADE 2025 Pokemon Easter Egg Hunt
I’m leaving these pieces of myself all over the city.
Taped to street signs and mirrors
Slipped behind coffee cups
Hidden near conference halls
Maybe tucked into the pocket of someone who looks like they need a sign
Hard-sleeved holographics: the rare ones — you have to find me. Some are valued around $300 (maybe more), but that’s not the point. I WANT to give everyone these. It’s time for someone else to enjoy them and hopefully experience wonder.
Soft-sleeved commons & energies: for the streets — wanderers, night owls, and lucky finds.
Scan the code. You’ll land somewhere in my universe — maybe this blog, maybe a new idea, maybe a new friend. Honestly, I’d love help building a map of where they end up. If that’s you — hit me up.
It’s part nostalgia, part honoring tradition, part preserving history — and part releasing things at the right moment so the community can step into my little world of wonder.
Why I Became a Pokémon Master (of sorts)
Before I was a “music industry professional,” I was a kid at Nintendo conventions. My parents were independent contractors for Nintendo, selling commercial displays across the U.S.
I grew up around unreleased prototypes, game kiosks, and characters that felt alive—the Philips CD-i, the Cybiko, all of it. Before “influencers,” the convention floor was my front row. The kind of access ‘90s kids would have dreamed about.
I didn’t know it then, but it rewired me. It taught me branding can be beautiful and durable — not manipulative, but magical. These cards carry my stories. You’ll have your own. That’s the point: a tiny spark, a keepsake that lasts.
What’s So Great About Nintendo & Pokémon
I’ve had a Game Boy in my hands since I was four. That little gray brick with the green-tinted screen was my first portal — to story, to sound, to muted color, to control.
While other kids were watching Nickelodeon, I was speed-running Pokémon — hundreds of times — still chasing that spark of progress every run and each time I re-played I came up with a different strategy.
It was my first taste of immersion, that beautiful surrender where imagination and technology meet halfway. Not a bad thing — we already do it at raves. Different portals, same instinct.
Nintendo has been at this since 1889, starting in Kyoto with handmade Hanafuda (“flower cards”). Before pixels or the word gamer existed, they were crafting strategy, symbolism, play.
More than a century later, they’re still connecting generations through imagination, fandom, community, and creativity — not just what we play, but how we play and who we become through it.
There’s a story from Game Over that always stuck with me. When a new Yamauchi took over Nintendo in the late ’60s or early ’70s, the family message was simple but radical: “Throw out everything you know.” (paraphrased)
That mindset changed everything for their company and led them to amazing successes. It sparked innovation from the inside out — leading to the NES, the Game Boy, and the systems that redefined play.
Their goal was beautifully simple: to be in every home across the world. How? Use accessible hardware, then build worlds that pull you in through storytelling, design, and heart.
Nintendo has never been afraid to start over — quietly, behind the scenes — revealing work only when it’s truly ready. That’s why they remain timeless:
They protect what’s sacred
Yet constantly evolve (like Pokémon)
And, they reinvent (quite often) without betraying the soul of their mission
People criticize them for keeping IP close — too private, too protective, too stubborn. But, I get it. They’re guarding the spirit of their worlds.
They know what happens when creativity falls into the wrong hands — innocence becomes formula, and formula becomes commodity.
Nintendo cares — about story, about character, about us. They design for everyone: kids, teens, and adults — together. That care is why they’ve endured.
My Personal Pokémon Evolution
I’ve worked across almost every corner of entertainment — music, tech, AI, publicity, marketing, talent management. I’ve built frameworks, events, and creative ecosystems that bridge art and algorithm.
I’ve worked with giants — Disney, Twitch Prime, Uber, Hallmark Channel — and seen where the magic thrives and where it dies.
And, straight up, I’ve failed, repeatedly… a lot:
Projects half-finished.
Jobs lost.
Doors closed.
“Too loud. Too opinionated. Too emotional.”
Or maybe just too me.
But I’m still here.
Because when you love something — music, art, gaming, storytelling, connection — it doesn’t die. It just changes shape. That’s why this treasure hunt isn’t just nostalgia. It’s, essentially, alchemy.
I’m taking my past, sharing it with others, and hoping it fuels a future that still pauses to ask:
What’s my goal here?
Am I doing this for people, or for profit?
Both can coexist — but we all know how easily money can drain wonder from a person, or from a company that once had it.
Letting go is strange when your whole life’s built on preservation. I’ve always been a collector of proof — ticket stubs, backstage passes, photos, little whispers that say remember this.
But even the most beautiful things get heavy when they never move.
So I’m turning nostalgia into an offering:
Maybe a stranger finds a card, scans the QR, and tumbles into my world.
Maybe they remember their own childhood.
Maybe it’s silly.
Maybe it’s sacred.
Maybe it’s both.
Either way, it’s proof that connection still works without an algorithm.
Why I Choose You, Amsterdam (ADE 2025)
Amsterdam has always been my reset button — the city that reminds me I’m a fan first, not a founder.
This year broke my heart right open. It was traumatic. But, it is healing me in the best way. And, is why I decided to come back just for the sanctity of letting go — of possessions, of pain, of the need to always be “on.”
I want to see what happens when you take something sacred and release it into chaos.
Will people care?
Will it spread?
Will it mean anything at all?
That’s what ADE is to me — where art, business, and madness collide. It’s like tumbling down a modern-day rabbit hole. Hellooooo Alice in Amsterdam!
If one of my Pokémon cards ends up in a billionaire’s pocket, or on the dance floor at De School, or taped to a Red Light District window — good. That’s the point.
It’s all energy transfer.
Why This Stunt Really Matters
This isn’t nostalgia for nostalgia’s sake. It’s a study of human connection.
Can something as analog as a trading card still spark curiosity in a digital world?
Can physical media still connect strangers?
Can emotion travel through time, across continents, through plastic sleeves and QR codes?
I think yes — because I’m the living, walking, 90s kid caricature proof.
This collection has carried me through multiple lifetimes:
Childhood
Heartbreak
Motherhood
Burnout
Rebirth
Now I’m giving it to people who might need a spark of wonder more than I do.
Each card is a token of appreciation — for the community that made me, the scene that raised me, and the culture that continues to evolve because we refuse to stop believing.
Legacy, Loops, and Letting Go
I don’t see this as “giving up”. I see it as pressing restart.
Nintendo’s been doing that for over a century — adapting, reimagining, never abandoning their mission: bring joy to everyone, everywhere. If they can do that through every version of history, I can too.
So this is my experiment. My handshake with the universe... in beautiful Amsterdam. My favorite fandoms colliding in a non-linear, human way — kind of like how AI is evolving right now (and yes, I know how to utilize it at a high level).
And of course, my business cards are wrapped in childhood magic — something tangible to keep, to look at, to remember that play still matters.
Find a card.
Scan it.
Find me.
I planned to build a database to track it all, but ran out of time. If this sparks something in you and you want to help, hit me up.
Maybe nothing happens. Maybe everything does. Either way — it’s going to be fun.
Because letting go isn’t about losing the past. It’s about passing it forward while honoring and respecting the past, the old traditions that were fulfilling, and helping it not lose it’s magic in the sea of AI mass influx of whatever.
And if even one person smiles, connects, or remembers who they were before the world got loud — then this silly, sentimental, maybe-stupid experiment will have done exactly what it was meant to.
Play. Connect. Remember. Repeat.
And as always — Peace. Love. Unity. Respect.
Love,
Stacy ✌️
#GottaCatchEmAll
THIS SHIT AINT FREE. TIPS APPRECIATED.
THIS SHIT AINT FREE. TIPS APPRECIATED.
