The average ace attorney case goes something like this:

Wright hadn't seen a case much like this one. He had only a day to prepare for the defense of one Caul Pable, who was seen covered in the victims blood at the crime scene. The victim, Catt Phish, was brutalised in a fast food joint, all of his digits severed. A truly morbid sight.

Phoenix enters the courtroom with a baby dressed in traditional American kimono-spirit-medium garb, nothing in his court record but an (updated) autopsy report and three fish sticks.

Nick approaches the stand, with Edgeworth at the table opposite.

"You're not going to win this time, wright." Edgeworth grins. " Your pathetic attempts at defending this paltry man will only lead to your inevitable defeat."

His glare glides towards the accused, Caul Pable. Caul shivers.

Phoenix brushes off the prosecutors taunts, and the judge promptly orders the first witness to the stand.

The witness, bart tocks, grins from ear to ear.

"You see, all I did on Friday, the day of the murder, was fry some seafood sir, I'm not guilty by any me-"

"OBJECTION!!"

his shout is loud, reverberating throughout the courtroom.

"You see, Mr Bart... That's where you're wrong... You actually ARE guilty because, referring to this autopsy report, the murder didn't happen on Friday... IT HAPPENED ON THURSDAY!!!"

the crowd gasps, and the judge's mouth is agape.

The gavel strikes the table three times. "Wow this is looking really bad for you dude" the bearded man exclaims.

Bart breaks out in cold sweat, and starts break dancing nervously in the courtroom.

"B-but you don't have any evidence!! How could I have killed the man, I was frying fish!" Tocks stammers.

"OBJECTION!!"

"Wh-what?"

"You see Bart... You may have been deep frying... But you have also been... DEEP LYING!! May I present to the court... THESE FISH STICKS!!"

Phoenix tosses the fish in the air, and the day old golden brown snacks land on the table, its oily surface spreading grease on the autopsy report.

Miles grins, a dimple appearing on his cheek. With his palms to the sky, he shrugs and shakes his head. "Phoenix, my nemo-sis... you're making a mockery of this courtroom providing such fishy evidence. You better explain yourself- or you're fin-ished."

Phoenix chuckles.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the court, may I present to you the evidence of this man's guilt."

Phoenix peels open the fish sticks, revealing... the victims severed thumb.

"Looks like we found it. The fingers... Or should I say... Phish's fingers."

Edgeworth, taken aback, stumbles, reeling from shock. He grabs his chair to regain his bearings. As he sees phoenix grin at him, his grip tightens, turning his palms white.

"You see, the crumbs that led to me finding this out were all laid out by this witness... who was actually concealing evidence in these very same breadcrumbs... Panko breadcrumbs to be exact."

"GRRR.... I LEFT THOSE OILY THINGS OUTSIDE!!! I KNEW I SHOULDN'T HAVE WAITED FOR IT TO RAIN!!!" The defendant wails. His cries are met with furrowed brows and shaking heads.

Phoenix lifts his index finger and points it in the air triumphantly. "The only fingering you'll get... WILL BE IN PRISON!!"

Bart Tocks entire body convulses, his eyeballs repeatedly pop out of his head and snap back into their sockets, steam pouring out of his ears. Then his head explodes.

"Well looks like we've seen enough! I'm going to take a nap! Not guilty!" The judge jubilantly exclaims.

Gumshoe celebrates by throwing confetti in the air, and then is promptly escorted out of the premises. Maya is seen outside the courtroom eating a burger. Fatty.

Edgeworth slams his fists on the mahogany table with a thunderous BANG!.

"Im..impossible!!"

His head snaps toward phoenix, his eyes bloodshot, veins popping out of his temple. They lock eyes.

Then they take off their clothes and start making out in front of the judge.

-


The closest thing to ace attorney I can think of off the top of my head would be the Sam Raimi Spiderman movies. Campy, but with alot of heart.

Technically speaking, there's nothing to laud about. Other than the brilliant soundtrack, the art is average, the puzzles vary in quality, and there are massive plotholes.

But what it lacks in quality of its individual elements, it makes up for in said heart.

It's hard to describe, but this game oozes passion and style from every orifice. The creators of this game, from the writers to the localisers clearly have put in so much care into this story, producing something so utterly charming. This game expertly whisks you away in it's ridiculous yet fleshed out world full of perjury and lovable characters.

It's so easy to become engrossed in each mystery, each puzzle ranging from bafflingly simple to a complex mental rube Goldberg machine of a million moving parts that somehow all click together and make sense in the end. But this range is what keeps you guessing, and what makes it so fun.

And that's not to mention, taking each individual element on it's own is doing this game a disservice. This game, this trilogy as a whole needs to be evaluated as one single continuous story. Despite the noticably weaker second entry, each game heavily references the events of previous entries. Elements from the first and second game become retroactively improved once the final game is completed, and yet the final game wouldn't feel as gratifying and memorable without having played the first two.

The soundtrack is probably the best part of the game. The fragrance of dark coffee in particular was my favourite.

In ace attorney, throughout each case, you're fed these passive tunes during the investigations, calming soft music that mirror the scenario that the characters are in. As the case speeds up in pace, so does the ost. You enter the courtroom, and you're assaulted with tense tunes that keep you on the edge of your seat. Then, at the very climax, the moment that hours of gameplay has led up to.

The pursuit theme plays.

And there's this release. Release of all the tension and excitement that's been building up the entire time, and your ears are blessed with the best fucking music in video games.

The greatest compliment I can give ace attorney is that if I played this ten years ago I would have become insufferable and would base my entire personality off of Edgeworth. And playing it now, it fills me with this sense of whimsy that reminds me of when I played Pokémon when I was a kid. A strange sense of nostalgia that I guess comes with games made during the early 2000s.

This trilogy goes on sale on steam pretty frequently together with TGAAC, so I highly reccomend buying it when theyre bundled.

In Tibetan Buddhism, there is a practice of creating detailed patterned mandelas out of colored sand. They spend days weaving these intricate patterns of profound beauty.

And then they destroy it. Sweep it up. Hours upon hours of labor gone. It's done to symbolise impermanence. How nothing lasts forever. And, without saying too much, I think dark souls 3's story manages to encapsulate that wonderfully.

The aesthetic is another thing.

Ash on top of ash. A bleak smouldering flame casts a boundless shadow on a vast nothing. Mounds of dust pile up on a bleak, dead world. The grey palette of this world accentuates this fact. And yet, there's beauty in it, beauty in the faded colours of tattered tapestries and stone monuments from a bygone era. The struggle of the worlds inhabitants, their hollowed bodies like broken down machines, their ideals and aspirations long gone, as their flesh twitches and moves by instinct alone. The mangled corpse of this world has been violated, moulded into an unrecognisable shape by forces that resist change. Something that was meant to burn with vigor and grace has now become unsightly cinders, begging to be snuffed out.

This is not even mentioning the combat. Being a zombie clad in rusted armour and tattered clothing has never felt this good. With each swing of my exile Greatsword, you feel the weight of the unwieldy hunk of steel. But the animations make you feel like it's something one can hold with grace. The swings cut through the air, and feel responsive and chunky. The bosses, giant figures that tower over you. Which makes it all the more gratifying when they get staggered when hit by a tiny undead carrying a comically large weapon. The combat, while not as tight as sekiro, still has a rhythm to it. The boss fights are the best out of any souls game, with the worst of them still being memorable experiences, but the best feeling like a dance. They swing, you roll. It takes two to tango, and Gael needs a dance partner. The responsive combat and fluid animations making it all the more satisfying to get in a fight.

The combat is tight. The story, a fitting for a conclusion to this long running saga. And the world is a sight to behold. I could not ask for a better conclusion to the series.

He ran his fingers across the hard, dried oak. Cracks could be seen on its dark, dehydrated surface. It never rained here -- just an endless, cloudless, black night. A streetlamp hummed somberly, illuminating a metallic deadbolt with faint white light. Underneath, a brass handle. Slowly, he twisted it.

It's cold.

He pushed gently. Nothing moved. He tried again, harder this time. His other hand impatiently fidgeted an antique metal lighter in his trench pocket. Peering through dark gap in-between the frames, he saw the lock jam the large chunk of wood in place.

Stepping back for a brief moment, he analyzed the estate.

It was a multi-story penthouse. Geometric and unsightly. Walls were crassly painted with bone-white, revealing underneath red-brown brick and dull cement. Though florescent lights were visible from the outside, it was dead quiet.

In the distance, squares and rectangles split the sky like unadorned monoliths.

He was looking for a vampire -- Sir Stela from the family of the same name, who led co-led the 1000 Year Royals along with Madame Stela. Supposedly, the Candles believed him to have information regarding the production of Ash, an unknown new drug abused by the Undead. Yet, through his own investigation, he believed that there was more to it than merely a high.

The silent night was shredded by a loud crack from the upper floor of the penthouse.

He let go of the lighter, and drew a Smith & Wesson Model 30 from his inner left pocket. It chambered only six .32 caliber rounds, but it would have to do for now. He banged on the door with a curled fist, splintering pieces off the frame, further disturbing the dead night. A grunt, then footsteps could be heard approaching the door. The sounds were hollow. Heavy. Rattling. And then -- a click.

As the door pried open, he pulled the trigger lightly, cocking the hammer.

As the wood groaned against its hinges, a gaunt, skeletal figure was swiftly met with smooth iron in his jaw.

And as the light poured out from within, so did shards of bone and lead, splaying across the doorstep and hallway with withered, black blood painting the dried wooden frame.

Cold air flooded the penthouse -- and the deadbolt's steel body continued to shine in the lifeless luminescence.