Story so meaningful it changed my life - twice.

The writers and voice acting team completely understood the assignment in how to honor the message of the original game and elevate it.

As a Tartarus enjoyer, the gameplay was a blast. The bosses you run into throughout the game are highly varied in mechanical design, forcing you to try out all the strategies in your repertoire at some point in your grueling journey through this massive dungeon.

does anyone think kojima really needed to justify the original mgs trilogy? the chronology between the games is there, but the actual on-going narrative shifts significantly to suit the nature of each game. sewn together by thematic musings yet environmentally distinct, those games crafted their own internal worlds to convey the kinds of story they wanted to tell. video games have traditionally favored self-contained works given both the density of any given game and the need to make any entry a boarding point for new fans, which makes mgs4 all the more puzzling. in likely the only time kojima was truly convinced that he was ending the series, he attempted to string together literally every plot point leftover from prior games into a single nonsensical story as if that's what the series needed. as if some hackneyed sense of closure for each and every character could somehow weave its own web of meaning instead of stumbling so heavily over its own feet.

believe or not it's truly an "everyone is here" moment. meryl? back as a grizzled vet, far from the fresh recruit she was in the first game. olga gurlukovich's daughter kidnapped by the patriots? living with otacon aboard his plane/house/thing. EVA, last seen escaping with the philosopher's legacy in the mid '60s? she's here with her own resistance group and she has virtually no backstory as for why. the guard who shits himself in mgs1 and 2? he gets a name! so many characters from those first three games tumble back into view that it strangles the new additions to the franchise. weapon launderer drebin and his cola-swilling monkey companion rarely solidify their presence beyond justifying the new weapons system, and in particular drebin's suit coat and baggy camo pants locks this into being easily the most 00s mgs ever got. the other new players - the beauty and the beast unit - may be easily the least interesting boss set in the franchise (not that pw or V even really attempt one), especially with drebin's trauma porn backstory dumps for each one. virtually no agency beyond just fusing previous ideas together into some new package. a bit of a microcosm for the rest of the game!

indeed, mgs4's mechanics falter immediately from refusing to build on mgs3's foundation in favor of blending various bits from it and the various third-person shooters from its orbit. this was a post-gears world after all, and a post-modern warfare one as well. the core conceit of mgs4 lies in recreating perpetual war and placing the player as a third party within it, uninvolved in the conflict and attempting to remain unobtrusive. from the moment snake enters the bombed-out ruins of a middle-eastern city it becomes clear that the nature of the classic mgs stealth gameplay has changed. while some soldiers patrol previously-cleared areas, the vast majority of their forces press on towards the front against hostile militias. getting noticed has negative consequences per usual, but in the midst of already-heavy fire simply eliminating a guard and returning to the shadows rarely results in a reset or any major setbacks. in fact, assisting the militia from behind their lines will result in them viewing you as an alley and ignoring your trespassing. in this way the game pushes the player towards more traditional cover-TPS gameplay, with stealth more of a tool than a central gameplay mechanic. while avoiding detection may result overall safer gameplay, it is generally to your benefit to pick off enemy soldiers regardless, and in some instances the combatants are so distracted by the ongoing battle that sneaking past rarely poses an issues. this initial chapter does feature the most raw stealth sequences of the entire game, but juxtaposes this against a straight-forward combat encounter with the haven troopers (otherwise known as the FROGS), which kill the pacing just like similar segments such as the elevator fight from mgs1.

these latter warfare mechanics present themselves more heavily in the game's second chapter, which takes place in south america. should the player squint, they may be able to trick themselves that they're playing a gussied-up version of snake eater thanks to the similar methods of crawling through tall grass in the wetlands that seem particularly useful here. when not in combat, snake has a couple new options for tactical disposal of enemies. the one I found most useful was the metal gear mk ii; this petite cameo from snatcher can roll up on unsuspecting enemies and electrocute them for easy takedowns so long as you yourself aren't caught controlling it like a sitting duck. unfortunately as this chapter rolls on it leans even further into neglecting the stealth altogether, with setpieces such as the mansion really making it clear that getting caught simply doesn't matter in a warzone. at the same time this is the chapter where I really started enjoying the combat for what it was. via drebin snake can purchase weapons at will from a menu outside the purview of the patriots, and ammo refills are easy to buy as well. fooling around with weapons such as the automatic sniper rifle or the nonlethal air shotgun honestly made up for the lack of usual MGS-gameplay. it's evident that kojima was chasing trends with this style, but I can't say he didn't manage to make it work.

which makes the third chapter (and indeed, the rest of the game) all the more perplexing. the setting shifts to eastern europe, where snake must trail local revolutionaries back to their base through dimly lit cobblestone streets. a far cry from the earlier segments though certainly not as bad as it could be. the interesting twist here is that your targets are themselves sneaking around soldiers under the banner of the patriots, and occasionally snake needs to step in to tip the scales in the resistance's favor. discretely handling these close calls for the resistance makes what would otherwise be purely tedious at least somewhat interesting. the second half of this chapter is effectively a protracted light-gun sequence (there's one in the second chapter as I recall), which certainly is an mgs staple but perhaps could have been not been featured so prominently here. virtually no traditional mgs action happens in this chapter, portending the shift the rest of the game takes.

the fourth chapter features a return to shadow moses... at this point the game hits a particular low. the various gekko machines are your main foes for most of these chapters, making the actual "stealth" simply tossing chaff grenades and running like hell. other than plenty of winking otacon conversations about the events of the first game, I could not tell you really what the actual structure of this level is beyond these perfunctory sneaking sections and a deluge of boss fights towards the end. in this latter half of the game boss fights begin dominating the runtime, and overall I can't say most of them are particularly great. having replayed mgs2 and 3 recently I'll admit that a lot of "classic" mgs boss fights are not particularly interesting (notable exceptions include vulcan raven, fatman, the end, and the boss), and mgs4 really has no key fight to really claim as a standout. crying wolf and vamp in this chapter stand out as some of my least favorite fights in the game -- crying wolf may be the most tiresome sniper fight in the series -- while the penultimate fight of REX vs RAY at least gets major points on pure fun factor. it's more of a setpice than an actual fight, but the carnage is so enthralling and the following outer haven reveal so iconically silly that I can at least point to it as one of my favorite parts of the game.

the final chapter launches snake into the maw of outer haven in order to reach the patriot AIs at its core. the opening area here features one of the largest stealth areas in the whole game, and unfortunately it closes out the typical mgs gameplay for the entire game. my first steps here were fraught with danger however; the stark metallic ship deck features little natural cover or hidey-holes for snake to inhabit. thankfully kojima included a salve: the octocamo. in his attempt to rectify the tedious camo swapping of mgs3, snake here receives a high-tech suit that adapts to his environment like a chameleon (or uh, an octopus). on solid backdrops such as the cool gray of the ship, snake receives such a high camo index that enemy soldiers (the FROGS in this instance) will not be able to recognize him as an intruder even when directly examining him, allowing the player to headshot tranq them at point-blank range. abusing this mechanic while also disposing of the gekkos via the nerve bundle on the side of their organic knees makes this section a cakewalk, assuming that you can maintain your composure when said gekkos tip and spin around on the floor, mooing incessantly.

in the closing scenes snake proceeds to muddle through the screaming mantis fight and wade through hallway after hallway of the obnoxious dwarf gekkos until finally crawling towards the core. in the microwave corridor approaching the AI core, snake crawls on hands and knees basking in the radiation while scenes from his allies valiantly fighting play around him. this wonderful scene and the subsequent climatic battle with liquid ocelot manages to salvage some of the pain of the prior hours. as each subsequent classic mgs theme plays, you truly get the sense that in some ways this could have been a perfect "dream match" blend of mgs staples old and new had it not been burdened by simultaneously serving as the ultimate ending to everything the series had been leading towards.

the feature-length epilogue finally draws these threads to a close centered around a truly ridiculous data dump from a somehow-alive big boss regarding his long-term proxy war with major zero and cipher. while enjoyable in its own way ("snake lived a hard life" still hits really hard), it's clear that whatever rich thematic base that kojima intended for this game has been utterly smothered by too much explaining. too many events that happened off-screen that someone needs to relay to snake, too many double-crosses and twists, and far too many random old elements dragged out far past their expiration date. where are the stakes for snake's mutated FOXDIE virus housed within his cells when you know it won't amount to anything anyway, just like it did at the end of mgs1? why cry for raiden convulsing from needing dialysis for his synthetic blood when you know he'll just show up as a deus ex machina again later? does ocelot's endgame reveal about liquid's consciousness inside of him really enlighten us about his character or flesh out his flimsy rationale for anything he does over the course of this game?

in a series coated in ruminations on legacy, mgs4 seems the most focused on the legacy of the series itself. snake's decaying body, unraveling from his imperfect artificial conception, may be the most evident symbol that metal gear's golden era had passed by. david hayter renders his voice in a particularly uncomfortable gravely tone over the course of the game to the point of smushing his capability to effect anything but a monotone. there's a particularly poignant moment where aboard the USS missouri snake drags on a cigarette, sending him into a heart-wrenching coughing fit that leaves him bent on the floor in near-syncope. his existence may truly be an affront to God (portrayed in the game as hideo kojima himself, unironically (or maybe with a tinge of irony)).

but beyond this seeming need to break out of the restrictions of metal gear, there is little to gleam from mgs4's text that isn't muddled by the overwrought web of plot points. the war economy is profitable but bad? very true, but pretty much on the level of mgs1's "nuclear annihilation is bad" moral. and much like the ultimate verdict on whether love can bloom on the battlefield -- snake intones during mgs2 that his whirlwind romance with meryl wasn't built to last -- mgs4 doesn't seem very intent on exploring anything it brings up. that worked for mgs1, but mgs4 has nearly 10 hours of cutscenes; twice as long as mgs2 or mgs3. I have a tolerance for metal gear's cheese, but mgs4 really strained me with just how much needless fluff, bug-eyed callbacks, and empty soliloquies it crammed into the chassis of a game that wasn't up to snuff to the series' earlier outings. for how bombastic of a finale this was supposed to be, it's easy to also see how the formerly-innovative mgs resorted to trend-chasing with this entry. shoving a pointless psyche meter in the game or the usual exclamation point guard reactions doesn't change the fact that mgs4 is just another third-person shooter. even when it succeeds at slotting into that classification, it spends the second half of the game grasping at other styles in an attempt to differentiate itself with poor results. there's so much love here, but it still disappoints.

that is, other than the saving grace that is johnny sasaki. what kojima intended to show with this character is redemption for those who have previously failed and embarassed themselves... [the essay continues on from here for another nine paragraphs]

Started this with pretty low expectations not because I thought it'd be bad, but because after 4 playthroughs you would think there's not much else to be impressed or moved by, and it absolutely proved me wrong.
Its biggest strength is understanding how beautiful the original's message is. It brings new life to the social links thanks to their voice performance, it allows you to spend more time with the main cast while focusing on the more understated aspects of their characters, and despite some of my issues in terms of presentation (both tone and visuals) these are not important enough to overshadow how breathtaking and refreshing it is.
I'm very grateful towards this game, not only because it was able to remind me of how much P3 has meant to me through the years and helping me find new things to love about it, but also for reinvigorating the way I interact with art and the value I find in every little thing I can take away from it, and that's something really special I think.

'Persona 3 FES Fan Excited To Finish Persona 3 FES For The First Time'

(Contains spoilers for Persona 3 FES: The Journey)

The second the trailer for that hilariously overpriced DLC expansion pass for Persona 3 Reload dropped, I realized I had to be more than a stereotype. It was time for me to beat the Persona fan allegations of “knowing a story only because I watched the cutscenes on YouTube.” It was time for me to beat The Answer before it becomes cool…

Okay. That's all like. 30% of my actual motivation for doing this. I replayed the entirety of The Journey beforehand as a way to cement my feelings towards the original in the wake of Reload. And due to my various gripes with Reload’s presentation and also generally just preferring the original on most fronts, I didn’t think it’d be right if my first, proper experience with The Answer was through its remake. Though I’ve replayed Persona 3 FES many times before, this post-story gamemode was something I was never in the mood to finish after reaching the phenomenal conclusion of the original story. I never saw a continuation as necessary. And I think P3’s dungeon crawling loses much of its thematic meaning and intrigue when you divorce it from its other social sim half. Even now, after properly finishing The Answer, I’d say my initial concerns weren’t unfounded. But there definitely is still much worth in the experience.

Right off the bat, I adore the set up. Characterization is one of Persona 3’s strong suits, and it’s on full display here. You’re immediately stricken by its understated, yet somber tone. The rest of the story is quite solid in showcasing the various ways each member of SEES have either developed or regressed since the original story’s end, but the banter of the opening few scenes alone communicates these ideas in such a perfect fashion. SEES’ fallibility has always been one of my favorite aspects about them as a cast. They’re beloved for that sense of realness and humanity that permeates throughout each member, and their flaws being so highlighted is a key part as to why. They might dramatically “complete” their character arcs through Persona evolutions or strengthen their own convictions to the degree where they can clash with the embodiment of death itself. But none of that means the writers won’t continue to portray them as the messy little fucked up group of teens that they are. And this idea is what The Answer most strongly reinforces. As showcasing the self-destructive actions they make in reaction to facing such a devastating loss is the entire crux of the story.

The Answer shines the most with its character writing in three clear cases: Aigis, Metis, and Yukari. The former is a perfect lead for the protagonist to pass his torch to. Aigis’s arc up until this point already shared much in common with her emo husband, as they both primarily developed and gained a sense of identity through their collective experiences alongside their friends. So fully cementing her as a Wild Card just feels extremely right, especially after the bond the two form in the main story and this version's newly added Aeon social link (best social link in the series btw). Newcomer Metis exists primarily to strengthen Aigis’ character arc and she does a phenomenal job at that. It’s clear from the start that she’s meant to reflect Aigis in a symbolic sense and the parallels between them only grow stronger in terms of effectiveness as the story builds up their relationship. But despite playing a more function oriented role in the narrative, she is still incredibly entertaining. I clapped at every scene where Akihiko threatened her life and she responds by casually telling him to shut the fuck up. Then there’s Yukari. Do I even need to justify her role? I feel like that’s just a waste of breath. Shocking: a 17 year old girl gets a little bit mean when the boy she loves dies in the arms of another girl who’s neglecting to face the full reality of his death. Anyways, she’s great here. Though I definitely feel like her story could’ve been told with a better degree of nuance. Yukari’s always been one of the more empathetic cast members and seeing her act so abrasive towards everyone in general is a bit off putting at times. But I still respect the idea behind it all and it results in these beautiful emotionally charged scenes that’re on par with some of the best from the base game.

Though where this story really begins to lose me is its poor pacing and sloppy structure. It’s a case of stretching such a short narrative extremely thin. There’s just not enough here to justify going through seven different sequences of dungeon crawling. And while I’d compliment the characterization, I honestly feel the arcs of Aigis, Metis, and Yukari are the only things here that felt like they were written with complete confidence and intention. There’s this specific and formulaic way they go about exploring SEES as characters for the entire middle point of the story that feels so… random? They’re nice scenes to see, especially since I adore these characters, but I honestly can’t tell you how the looks into the past are supposed to add to the story’s statement in any substantial way. Also not a big fan of Metis’s info dumping or SEES’ guesswork, as a lot of it comes off as these awkward justifications for the story’s progression. It results in these genuinely intriguing mysteries and heartfelt conflicts that feel clunky in their resolutions.

I had negative expectations for the gameplay here. And that left me kinda shocked when I walked away enjoying most of the experience. The Answer is nothing but dungeon crawling, set on hardmode, with more complex boss design, and restricted access to certain quality of life features. On paper that all sounds fucking terrible. And some of it is. I, for the life of me, still question why they decided to remove warp stations before boss floors in favor of one way teleporters and a save point. To the point where I grabbed a mod that lets you fully heal at said save points (Sorry for being a filthy CHEATER, but I did not have the strength to deal with such a waste of time. I have a life 💔). But after getting over a lot of the annoyances that came from the simple concept of these changes, I came to realize that The Answer truly appeals to little freaks like me. Someone who genuinely likes Persona 3 FES’s flawed, yet bold battle system.

Battles can be infuriating on occasion due to the amped up resistances of most enemies and how that tends to bring out the worst of the AI party system, but I generally found them fun to fight. Though the one thing I’d like to acknowledge in particular are the nerfs to Fusion. That’s right. My The Answer hot take isn’t that weak shit like “it’s actually good” or “Yukari is reasonable.” It’s that the lack of arcana burst and compendium are valuable changes that add a different layer to the way you’re expected to engage with the dungeon crawling. Foresight is paramount and every fusion you make feels important. Between making sure I had each buff skill accounted for at any given moment or making the most of EXP share passives by transferring them to Personae with desirable skills, it feels like The Answer was able to bring out a niche appeal of the Fusion system the other mainline titles rarely nail. Due to my foresight and knowledge of the base game’s skill progression, I almost never had to stop and grind like I was expecting to. I was entirely prepared for 99% of the encounters I faced (fuck the penultimate Abyss of Time fight oh my god) and that felt extremely rewarding. I get that it’s harsh in design and not everyone’s experience is going to go as smoothly. But I found it was an interesting twist on a system that normally becomes less and less substantive to engage with as the game goes on.

It was really satisfying to see the credits draw to a close. I’ve been madly in love with Persona 3 FES for almost four years now and, though it’s funny to say, today is the day I finally finished it properly. While a lot of my initial assessments of The Answer came to be true, I’m glad I was still able to get something out of it in this playthrough. I’m still shocked by the amount of enjoyment I was able to find in its challenge run-esque design mentality. And best of all, it’s given me an excuse to brainrot over Persona 3 for a little while longer, thanks to the ways it expands on its cast. As flawed and half baked as it feels in so many regards, I’d say I overall enjoyed my time with it. Can’t wait to see how I feel about its remake, especially given the announcement that they’ll be adding in more story scenes. Now, someone come restrain me before I buy the $35 expansion pass for Persona 3 Reload. Hurry… There’s not much time. The microchip is beeping oh god o h no I. LOVE ATLUS GAAAAAAH!!!

The secret behind Pikmin’s success was not that it somehow outclassed classic real-time strategy franchises, but rather that it was never competing with them to begin with. According to Shigeru Miyamoto, he came up with the idea for Pikmin one day when he observed a group of ants carrying leaves together into their nest. Miyamoto then imagined a game focused on cooperation rather than competition; he asked, “Why can’t everyone just move together in the same direction, carrying things as a team?” Nintendo EAD’s design philosophy went along with this line of reasoning, melding design mechanics from different genres to create an entirely new yet familiar experience. As a result, instead of competing against other players in Pikmin akin to classic RTS games, Pikmin forces players to explore and compete with the very environment itself by introducing puzzle-exploration and survival mechanics. It made sense in the end; after all, real-time strategy is concerned with minimizing time spent to get a competitive edge over opponents, and what better way to translate this than to force players to master their understanding over the terrain itself, managing and optimizing the one resource which governs them all?

Perhaps Nintendo’s greatest challenge was figuring out how to translate a genre considered by many to be niche and technical to an intuitive yet layered game, and even more so, translating classic actions from a mouse and keyboard allowing for such complexity to a suite of simplified controls using a gamepad. Coming from the other side as someone who played Starcraft as a kid and didn’t get into Pikmin until recently however, I’m surprised at how well EAD’s tackled this endeavor. Classic RTS games focus upon base-building and resource gathering through the micromanagement of units. Pikmin’s take upon this is to introduce a dichotomy between the player character Captain Olimar, who is incapable of doing anything by himself but can issue commands to the units only he can create by plucking out of the soil, and the Pikmin, who are essentially brainless but represent the units that must do everything. The player as Olimar must be present to figure out exactly how to best traverse and exploit the environment around him (replacing the base-building with management/prioritization puzzles) while the Pikmin provide bodies to construct, move, and attack the world around them. However, the Pikmin’s AI is fairly limited and as a result, Pikmin will sit around helplessly once they finish their actions and often get distracted by nearby objects while moving around, which is where the micromanagement kicks in. Therefore, the player has to decide how to best build up their supply of Pikmin to allocate tasks to surmount bottlenecks while exploring and opening the world, all while working against the limited thirty-day timer throughout the game’s five areas.

A part of me expected to really struggle with the gamepad while playing Pikmin, but the available actions on offer allow for a surprising degree of control despite the simplification. For instance, consider Olimar’s whistle; as a substitute for dragging and clicking to select units on PC, the whistle on the GameCube lets Olimar quickly rally groups of clustered units. Holding down B for longer allows the player to increase the size of the whistle’s AOE, which allows the player to better control and target how many Pikmin to rally in any cluster (hence, the analog of clicking and dragging to select boxes of units on mouse and keyboard). The Swarm command is another interesting translation. The obvious use is to allow Olimar to quickly move nearby Pikmin by directing them with the C-stick versus needing to aim and throw them by positioning and rotating Olimar himself. However, because it can be used to shift the position of Pikmin with respect to Olimar, it can also be used to swap the Pikmin on-deck for throwing (since Olimar will always throw the Pikmin closest to him) without needing to dismiss and re-rally separated Pikmin colors, and most importantly, it allows you to directly control the group of Pikmin following Olimar while moving Olimar himself. This second application allows the player to kite the Pikmin around telegraphed enemy attacks, and properly funnel them so the Pikmin aren’t getting as easily stuck behind walls or falling off ledges/bridges into hazards. That said, noticeable control limitations do exist. Olimar cannot pivot to move the reticle without changing his position with respect to the Pikmin around him, which can make aiming in place annoying if the Pikmin types you need to throw aren’t close enough to be moved next to Olimar with Swarm. Additionally, there is no way for Olimar to simultaneously and directly control multiple separated groups of Pikmin, which does make allocating tasks a bit slower. However, given that the tasks themselves usually don’t necessitate more than one Pikmin type at a time, this limitation is understandable, especially since the sequels would tackle this challenge with more expansive controls and multiple playable characters on the field.

Pikmin’s base model as a result is a fantastic translation of an abstract design philosophy, but I can’t help but wonder if the original could have been pushed further. Don’t misunderstand me: I absolutely take pride in mastering a game by learning all about its inner workings and pushing its mechanics to the limits simply by following a few intuitive genre principles. As such, I wish that the game was a bit harder in order to really force me to squeeze every bit of time from the game’s solid premise. For example, combat is often optional in Pikmin given how many full-grown Bulborbs are found sleeping, but given that most enemies don’t respawn within the next day after killing them and I can bring their carcasses back to base to more than replenish my Pikmin supply, combat is almost always in my favor, especially since certain enemies will spawn more mobs if they aren’t defeated. If circumstances existed where it would be unfavorable to engage (such as losing a significant number of Pikmin every time, or having so little time left that engaging would waste time), then I feel that this would add an additional layer of decision-making of deciding when to sneak past sleeping Bulborbs rather than just wiping out as many foes as I could as soon as possible. In a similar sense, I felt that certain design elements such as the Candypop Buds for switching Pikmin colors were a bit underutilized; outside of one environmental puzzle, I never had to use the Candypop Buds, mainly because I had so many remaining Pikmin and time to never justify their usage. I’ll concede here that Pikmin’s one-day Challenge Mode does at least provide a score attack sandbox where I’m forced to take my Pikmin stock and remaining time into higher consideration, but it’s missing the connectivity of the main story mode where my earlier actions would greatly affect how I planned later days in a run, particularly in making judgement calls on which days to spend at each site and which days I dedicate towards building up my Pikmin numbers versus hauling in ship parts. Regardless, I found myself completing the main game with all parts in just twenty days on my first run with minimal resets, and I’d love to try a harder difficulty mode with a stricter time limit and tougher Pikmin margins to really force me to better conserve my working force and dedicate more time to restocking my supply.

Gripes aside, I’m glad that my friends finally convinced me to try out Pikmin, not just to better appreciate RTS games as a whole but to also gain an appreciation of how different genre mechanics can work in tandem to intuitively convey concepts without spelling everything out to the player. It’s classic Nintendo at their core, and while I had my reservations coming in as a fan of older RTS franchises, they’ve managed to convince me once again that the best hook is not simply offering something that’s visibly better, but rather offering something that’s visibly different. I still think that there’s improvement to be had, but given how much I’ve enjoyed the first game, I can’t wait to see what they have to offer from iterating upon their memorable beginnings.

Today is my birthday! And for such an occasion, me and my bestie are playing through the Ace Attorney trilogy, in what is the first revisit I've had to the original games since I was a child

Anyone who knows me knows the importance the AA trilogy had in my early years. As an adult, I'm somewhat forced to view the game in a different manner, but I can also now look back to see the purpose this held to me, in the past. To be a child in the western world is to be ignored, I think. Especially a child like me who could understand these things more than most. Adults play little lords who can offer no refuge from the agony they bring, purposeful or not. It always seemed to me that everyone was making base mistakes that I could never fathom, that reflected off them and burned into me because children have no say in anything that goes on around them. And I could never understand their actions- I could never understand the screaming, I could never understand the deeply ingrained violence, I never understood why no one listened or could even parse things that were immediately obvious to me. Or why no one felt spurred to change. For years, I just ghosted the world feeling like one big tear all the time, very alone, but I would rather be alone than be with people like that. But I never forgot it, the extreme frustration of being that child. The child who is forced into situations with no voice and no autonomy, getting punished when I myself could not say anything back, lashing out and being unable to convey my desperation. Its pure bile and anger to be there.

I had so many feelings and thoughts about this growing up, the above can only be a tame simplification of many years of displacement. But one day, I caught a glimpse of a weird lawyer game on my shitty little ipod's app store in 2013, and things kind of changed. As I played, suddenly, I could see what it was like to have a voice. I could see what it was like to have friends, to find a family. I was introduced to a manner of things through Ace Attorney, a new manner of thought even, which at the time felt very cathartic to me. It reinforced a conviction that I've held since I could remember and I could see myself a little in it, sometimes. It was a comforting space. As an adult who knows more about the world than I did then, the writing isnt so mind-blowingly fantastic. But boy, as a child was it sure fucking incredible. To shout your objections and have pure, undeniable proof of what you meant at terrible people who otherwise would never see it. It was the spark of that more than the actual meat of it.

As for this game itself, it's more about what it did for me rather than what it is. To encourage thinking for ones self, to encourage that faith in an informed conviction. And that which fueled my fire for creative work, that I am still drawimg today. I talked about this a lot in my aai2 review, and I will talk about it again, but the introduction of Miles Edgeworth resonated with me so much back then. Who doesnt want to watch their shitty father bash their head into a wall- but that meant so much to me then. Actually, I forgot that this character largely introduced the concept of homosexuality to me. I would have figured myself out sooner or later, as I would with all these things, but at the very least I finished this game back then with an appreciation for a masculine demeanor and a strong need for a fitted suit.

I'm kind of rambling, and not well, but its my birthday so I'm allowed to. In present times, I'm noticing many spelling errors and sometimes a lacking of tone. And sometimes I feel like it relies too much on a joke so that the whole thing comes off as clowny, but I also feel like it might just be the english translation that made things this way. This was the first of its kind after all, and I've seen how the series has grown, so I can cut it some slack. Turnabout Goodbyes and Rise from the Ashes are still fantastic cases, and what's been even more fun than running down memory lane is watching my best friend experiencing it with me for the first time. I cant explain how much I absolutely love every piece of these games, though. They feel like a part of me, and I'm fairly proud of that. Its been a blast, and I cant wait to rediscover the rest of the series again.


Dont forget DL-6!