I just finished playing Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney for the Nintendo DS. I'm considering cosplaying as one of the game's characters when I go to Otakon in July. There are a few more options for brown-haired people in this installment than in the original trilogy, after all, but the outfits are a tad elaborate for my sewing skills (and lack of a sewing machine).
I'm generally an RPG person, not that I really play that many games. Outside of the Ace Attorney series, I have Pokémon Black, Chrono Trigger, Golden Sun: Dark Dawn, and The World Ends With You for my personal library (though I've traded around for other games). The size of my library proves a bit revealing of how little I tend to spend. I'd much rather trade around the games I have with friends.
But back on topic: Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney is the fourth installment of the Ace Attorney series of video games. The games are Capcom products and were a popular import from Japan for a while, hence the amount of fanfiction and fanart floating around the internet that uses the Japanese names. Originally, the series was a trilogy of games released for the Game Boy Advance. They starred Naruhodou Ryuuichi (or Ryuuichi Naruhodou in Western name order), better known as Phoenix Wright. Naruhodou is a phrase meaning "I see," which works the same in Japanese as it does in English. Ryuuichi means "Dragon no. 1," so "Phoenix" sort of preserves the mystical animal thing. Interestingly enough, Ho-oh the sacred fire bird and Shenlong the dragon god are the partners in the flow of yin and yang in Taoism, but I don't think the choice of a phoenix was necessarily that deep.
Anyway, the GBA games did well, and became popular English-patched ROMs and imports. Later, the series was re-released for the Nintendo DS, and finally given an official localization. Then, taking gameplay elements and even characters from the special DS-only bonus case of the first game, the fourth game was made, set seven years after the original trilogy. The new hero is Apollo Justice, or Odoroki Housuke (which is something confusing like "king mired in the mud rejoicing mediator of law"). Phoenix has become a bit of a bum, and yet he is now the veteran mastermind orchestrating the events of the game. His love interests, both of them, have disappeared without explanation (exactly how much prison time did Iris get, anyways?). And the big supernatural mechanic is gone without a trace until one special part of the fourth case, at which point that trace is just kind of there. Another, far more tedious gameplay / plot element is introduced instead. And the third case is quite possibly the worst courtroom segment in the series. How many times can YOU watch the same 32 bit partially 3D synthesized singing music video?
The game was simplified quite a bit. No more presenting character profiles, which means that if you want someone to think of a certain character, you either need a photograph or some kind of item that ties them together. No more psyche-locks, at least until the second-to-last segment of the last case. None of the cases go three days, meaning they're rather short, on the whole. What to present tends to be a lot more obvious, though there was still one point where I just found myself presenting everything (this game's equivalent of button-mashing). But these are things I have to say as someone who has played the rest of the series. The sound is good, really, always keeping me immersed in the mood (Lamiroir's theme song and Klavier's guitar solo are particularly note-worthy), despite my mixed feelings towards "The Guitar's Serenade." Having the recycled GBA sounds and backgrounds in the flashback courtroom segment really shows the differences between the platforms, when I see Phoenix's character sprite and hear his voice.
Trucy Wright is an enjoyable sidekick, though I think they should have cut out the Easter eggs. I know that seems a bit weird, since those are generally there to reward loyal fans, but the whole step-ladder routine...isn't tired, but it was Maya's thing with Phoenix. Reusing it with Apollo and Trucy just makes them feel like substitutes. A lot of Apollo's lines are exactly lifted from Phoenix's, such as when presenting the wrong evidence. For the judge, that's fine, since he's the same character, but Phoenix and Apollo? Not so much so. I wish Maya had at least made a cameo. And Phoenix doesn't feel like the same person in this game. Meanwhile, what happened to Gumshoe? Did he finally get fired? Where's Edgeworth? Was law no longer worth it without his rival? Von Karma? Ema Skye was easily one of my favorite characters, but when compared to her original appearance in the bonus case of the first game, doesn't it seem like a let-down that she never became a forensic investigator?
Don't get me wrong: I love this game. I've loved every one of the games in this series, which is why I continue to buy them instead of a flashcart and a miniSD card. Now I just have to get Ace Attorney Investigations: Miles Edgeworth and pray that its sequel gets localized. That and wait for the crossover with Professor Layton that's coming out for the 3DS eventually.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
Swing
Today I went to the swing-set. About six minutes walking from where I live is a childcare center for the children of my college's faculty. Since I live on campus year-round, it's not all that hard to head on over when the place is abandoned.
Swings are always so melancholy. Even on TV, they're the place people go to when they're upset or depressed. My Aniki uses the swings still, bellowing Death Cab for Cutie lyrics at the top of his lungs. Today, I went and bellowed Breaking Benjamin's album Phobia. I left because of the incoming thunderstorm (something about a metal swing-set and lightning seemed like a bad idea).
When I'm on a swing, I close my eyes and remember all the times before, when I would sit there, head titled up, watching the sky and trees overhead come closer, into focus, then fall away. I remember laughing with friends, then feeling isolated, because they didn't look up, because it didn't matter. They were laughing and smiling because it was fun. I just wanted to fly, to soar, to let go and catch the wind beneath me. On the swing, I could fly faster, farther, higher than anyone else. And so often, I would realize that only I was "flying." I had to choose, between playing with my friends or flying alone. The choice made me sad, and isolated.
"Hitori". Alone.
With my siblings, it was different, at least with Aniki. My youngest brother -- not so much. He's never been much for imagination, unless it was stock cars or slapstick. But Aniki could soar like an eagle, higher than the rest, farther, longer. It was my job to keep up, but gravity forever would pull me back in. A racing, deep desire to break free would overwhelm me. But Aniki would forever pull away, like the eagle flying ahead of Spirit in Spirit: Stallion of the Cimmaron. Not that I particularly recommend this series, but it very much so recalls the yearning of the C ranked team of corporate salarymen Kogarasumaru faces off against in Air Gear: "You will soar to the highest heaven, but we Wolves will run to the ends of the world!" If I cannot fly, I'll run!
That's how my dreams have always been: I dreamed about flight, over and over, until it finally hit me that I cannot fly. And ever since then, I have been running, pursued, to the ends of the world. If I hit flight, it is an epiphany, from which I invariably awaken or fall.
Farther, higher, faster, yet ultimately alone.
Swings are always so melancholy. Even on TV, they're the place people go to when they're upset or depressed. My Aniki uses the swings still, bellowing Death Cab for Cutie lyrics at the top of his lungs. Today, I went and bellowed Breaking Benjamin's album Phobia. I left because of the incoming thunderstorm (something about a metal swing-set and lightning seemed like a bad idea).
When I'm on a swing, I close my eyes and remember all the times before, when I would sit there, head titled up, watching the sky and trees overhead come closer, into focus, then fall away. I remember laughing with friends, then feeling isolated, because they didn't look up, because it didn't matter. They were laughing and smiling because it was fun. I just wanted to fly, to soar, to let go and catch the wind beneath me. On the swing, I could fly faster, farther, higher than anyone else. And so often, I would realize that only I was "flying." I had to choose, between playing with my friends or flying alone. The choice made me sad, and isolated.
"Hitori". Alone.
With my siblings, it was different, at least with Aniki. My youngest brother -- not so much. He's never been much for imagination, unless it was stock cars or slapstick. But Aniki could soar like an eagle, higher than the rest, farther, longer. It was my job to keep up, but gravity forever would pull me back in. A racing, deep desire to break free would overwhelm me. But Aniki would forever pull away, like the eagle flying ahead of Spirit in Spirit: Stallion of the Cimmaron. Not that I particularly recommend this series, but it very much so recalls the yearning of the C ranked team of corporate salarymen Kogarasumaru faces off against in Air Gear: "You will soar to the highest heaven, but we Wolves will run to the ends of the world!" If I cannot fly, I'll run!
That's how my dreams have always been: I dreamed about flight, over and over, until it finally hit me that I cannot fly. And ever since then, I have been running, pursued, to the ends of the world. If I hit flight, it is an epiphany, from which I invariably awaken or fall.
Farther, higher, faster, yet ultimately alone.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
The Naming Ceremony
Here I am, naming what is quite possibly a public journal of sorts, and the best I can do for a name is to rephrase the name of one of my old journals from junior high. I can't decide if this is a good thing or an omen of ill portent...
They say the one who names a thing has power over it. I think I first encountered the idea in Eragon. The thing is, we tend to define ourselves by our names. You walk up to someone and say, "In the most fundamental sense, who are you?" and most of them will say "Um, Alex?" "I'm...Chelsea?" "My name is Adam, if that's what you're looking for." Or if they're religious, "I'm a Christian." "I'm a Jew." I wave that off and tell them, "Those are only definitions. That's not who you are. You are yourself." But then I remember these things for later. It's fascinating how what I consider an absolute, others argue is baseless.
Names aren't absolute. People can change their names. When women get married, they take on their husbands' family names (usually, but not always). My mom changed her first name. I think Tolkien's essay on Elvish naming customs (which I believe is in volume XII of the Histories of Middle Earth) has the best approach to it: names are prophecies. The mother-name is the prophecy, the father-name the fact.
That's one of the sorrier aspects of European names: because they are so mutated from the root words, knowing the meanings of our names is a matter of possessing some esoteric knowledge that may or may not have been considered by our parents. My grandparents weren't paying all that much attention when they strung together for my mother "Bitter Avenger"! They were naming their daughter after Mary, Mother of God, and Maria, a relative. None of them knew a lick of Hebrew to say, "Oh, that means bitter," nor do I think it would matter, judging by the number of Mary's down through the years.
The name of this blog, "Follow the Wind," has a deep meaning. But I think I'll leave that for another time.
They say the one who names a thing has power over it. I think I first encountered the idea in Eragon. The thing is, we tend to define ourselves by our names. You walk up to someone and say, "In the most fundamental sense, who are you?" and most of them will say "Um, Alex?" "I'm...Chelsea?" "My name is Adam, if that's what you're looking for." Or if they're religious, "I'm a Christian." "I'm a Jew." I wave that off and tell them, "Those are only definitions. That's not who you are. You are yourself." But then I remember these things for later. It's fascinating how what I consider an absolute, others argue is baseless.
Names aren't absolute. People can change their names. When women get married, they take on their husbands' family names (usually, but not always). My mom changed her first name. I think Tolkien's essay on Elvish naming customs (which I believe is in volume XII of the Histories of Middle Earth) has the best approach to it: names are prophecies. The mother-name is the prophecy, the father-name the fact.
That's one of the sorrier aspects of European names: because they are so mutated from the root words, knowing the meanings of our names is a matter of possessing some esoteric knowledge that may or may not have been considered by our parents. My grandparents weren't paying all that much attention when they strung together for my mother "Bitter Avenger"! They were naming their daughter after Mary, Mother of God, and Maria, a relative. None of them knew a lick of Hebrew to say, "Oh, that means bitter," nor do I think it would matter, judging by the number of Mary's down through the years.
The name of this blog, "Follow the Wind," has a deep meaning. But I think I'll leave that for another time.
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