Are you ready for some rowdy legal action? (Action! Action!) Well get hyped, because Jeanne and I are back for another game chock full of…
Lyin’-ass witness testimony!
Homoeroticism!
WACKY characters!
Objections!
More homoeroticism!
Plotholes!
Aaaaaaaaaand featuring Truckasaurus!
Well, I’m fucking excited. Mostly about Truckasaurus, which I’m totally lying about. But before we get to Phoenix’s brand-new set of legal adventures that won’t be derivative in any way, I should note that in terms of graphics and gameplay, Phoenix Wright: Anal Attorney: Justass for All is 99.9 percent identical to its predecessor. So other than the very few elements that have changed, we’re not going to bother explaining how the game works or re-describing the appearances of our recurring characters. This isn’t Xenosaga II, and Maya didn’t gain 20 pounds and an uncanny valley face.
So! Let’s get to it. We open with the ominous chords of Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. Phoenix, hidden behind a black screen, is huffing and puffing like he and Edgeworth just had a vigorous quickie in the coat check room. “Grr!! How did I get into this mess…?” Well, Phoenix, let’s all hope one day you will learn to carry a packet of tissues in your pocket.
“That’s far enough!” booms another voice. “You can’t run forever, Mr. Phoenix Wright!” The black screen gives way to a psychedelic purple sky. Phoenix, blue suit flapping in the wind, is standing on the edge of a cliff, as a massive, demonic, red-eyed demon shaped like the judge looms over him. His Honor is really pissed about the stain Phoenix left on his spare robes.
Udgey is still taking Damon Gant’s arrest pretty hard.
Okay, I will stop pretending this is about an incoming whopper of a dry cleaning bill. But trust me, we’ve gotta squeeze in the Phoenix/Edgeworth innuendo where we can this time around. Phoenix wails that he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong, and the judge cryptically responds, “I cannot allow you to go on like this!” Poor Phoenix yells at the sky, “B-But I’m just a simple defense attorney!” He is, indeed, simple. We do not need to be told this. But the Chernabog Judge raises his gavel, ready to make spiky-haired mince meat out of our boy. “Silence!” he shouts. “You are no longer worthy of your title.” The music reaches its crescendo as the judge’s gavel whooshes down toward Phoenix’s head. Well, he’s dead. That was a short game!
Of course, Phoenix was just having a nightmare. But since dreams in videogames must always have a deeper meaning, we can assume that Phoenix is currently suffering some sort of personal crisis, one that His Subconscious Honor thinks he can no longer endure, and that he is worried he may no longer be “worthy,” WINK WINK. But put a pin in that–we’ll deal with it later. For now, Phoenix wakes up, and the scene card lets us know it’s the morning of September 8, putting us nine months out from Miles Edgeworth’s murder trial. (Remember, thanks to silly excuses like “when these things were written in the real world,” pfft, the Lana Skye trial basically never happened.) A shitty MIDI version of the Bach music we just heard is playing, and we fade in on Phoenix, in his shirtsleeves, waking up from a nap on the drab brown sofa in the courtroom lobby. Somehow, he does not have even a small case of bedhead. A still shot shows him staring with an irritated frown at the cell phone in his hand. “What a nightmare…” he says. “And I bet it was this ringtone that caused it…” Phoenix correctly notes that he shouldn’t have been napping at 9 a.m. the morning of a trial in the first place, like he’s been a paragon of professional behavior except for this one oversight.
When Phoenix answers the call, there’s no reply. As he continues to stare dumbly at the phone, the camera pans left to a man standing around the corner. The notable thing about this man is that he’s holding a fire extinguisher that he certainly is not about to brain Phoenix with, but the other notable thing is his extremely douchey ensemble. This surely harmless mystery man is wearing a cobalt blue suit over a black button-down with the top two buttons undone, accessorized with a white scarf. His dark hair is similarly accessorized with a single blond skunk stripe. To complete the look he’s only missing wire-frame glasses with pink lenses, but those would only distract from his cartoonish mascara work. He looks like he’s auditioning for a gay reboot of Entourage.
When Phoenix said he wanted to wake up to something long and hard, this was not what he meant.
Lest we worry that this man is is not wearing enough pink to be a villain, he is for some reason glowing with a fuchsia aura in the shadows of the courthouse hallway. And just to dispel all doubt, the non-MIDI Bach has started up again. Whew! Was worried this might get subtle. “Ah, good,” he says, eyeballing Phoenix. “I finally found it.” A beat later the screen goes black in time to a thwack! sound. “Talk about a close call,” he says, presumably standing over Phoenix’s body. “I hate to do this to you, but… It’s nothing personal…Mr. Attorney.” I think Phoenix would be hard-pressed not to take a fire extinguisher to his spiky cranium as personal.
Poor Phoenix is really having a bad day, even by his abysmal standards. And it’s about to get worse! A few minutes later, per the scene card, Phoenix is conscious but foggy, and staring into the face of a young lady with glasses, random red feathers all over a light blue uniform, and Yuna’s FFX-2 haircut under a tiny blue hat. Officer Dressphere Yuna salutes Phoenix–complete with a snappy “slapping her hand into her forehead” sound effect–and bids him a chirpy good morning. Phoenix is terrified of her, like how Bob Barker could tell when deranged lady contestants on The Price Is Right would be exuberant huggers. Officer Yuna salutes again and tells him, “People are at their best first thing in the morning! Where’s that fighting spirit!?” Even if Phoenix hadn’t just been assaulted, I’m sure he has not had enough coffee yet to deal with this shit. “…Sorry,” he asks, “but can you please turn the cheeriness down? My head…sort of hurts…” Officer Yuna salutes a third time and goes, “Roger that!” Clearly she has a different bar for cheeriness than Phoenix.
Oh great, he suffered brain damage and now he’s Shion.
The two of them stare at each other for a long, awkward moment, before Phoenix finally asks, “…Um…Am I in trouble or something?” He rambles on, since Officer Yuna isn’t getting it, that she appears to be a policewoman, and so he is worried he’s done something wrong since she’s all up in his grill with the saluting and before-noon perkiness. Officer Yuna balls her fists up, looking creepily like Maya. “Wh-What are you talking about? I’m placing my life in your hands today, Mr. Phoenix Wright!” Now we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Officer Yuna is Phoenix’s client, but Phoenix is more confused than ever. “You promised me!” Officer Yuna shouts, no doubt doing wonders for Phoenix’s headache. “You said you would prove that I was not guilty!” As Phoenix is still floundering, Officer Yuna’s eyes go anime-sparkly as she remembers Phoenix-senpai coming to her rescue. “Just when I thought all hope was lost; when all the other lawyers had laughed me off… ‘Leave it to me!’ you said! The one and only Phoenix Wright came to save the day!” Oh, this poor woman.
Just what Phoenix needed: Mike Meekins with boobs.
Officer Yuna, with some amount of irony, tells Phoenix she will never forget what he’s done for her, as Phoenix blue-fonts that he has no idea what she’s talking about. She goes on, just so embarrassingly, that she’s a huge fan of his and comes to court when she’s off-duty to watch her pink-tied hero flop sweat and bumblefuck his way to not guilty verdicts. But once she’s made me throw a pile of blankets over my head so I don’t have to look at her as she says this stuff, she finally realizes there is something genuinely off about Phoenix, and asks him what’s up. Phoenix knows how awkward this is going to be, but comes out and asks, “So, this might sound bad, but…uh… Who are you…?” Oh man, Phoenix. Can you imagine if Officer Yuna were his girlfriend? I mean, I know that’s impossible, for such a wide array of reasons, but still.
Officer Yuna is, of course, shocked and hurt, and sighs, “How can you do this to the fragile heart of a girl about to go on trial…? You’re absolutely horrible!” Phoenix is in the middle of telling Officer Yuna she has the wrong person, but when it occurs to him to tell her who he actually is, he finally says, “…I’m… Who am I?” He blue-fonts over the black screen of his empty brain, “Why am I drawing a blank?” Oh no! An even bigger one than usual?!
So: not only does Phoenix not remember his client, he also does not remember anything about himself, including his name or his occupation. He developed this all-encompassing plot amnesia from one metal cylinder to the head–when Miles Edgeworth vigorously humping his face over the course of a year never resulted in more than temporary inability to remember single relevant facts–but shows no signs of aphasia or brain damage (beyond the regular). I know I’m being shitty about this–it’s a silly game and silly games do enjoy their plot amnesia–but I also know this is in service to Phoenix reverting to a neophyte who doesn’t know what the court record is and having the judge stare at him like he is impressed his clothes aren’t all on backward. Which I could very much do without. Aren’t we all fine with the level of idiot Phoenix is treated like without him conveniently losing his memory?
And sure enough, before Officer Yuna can get to the bottom of this problem, a bailiff announces that the trial is about to begin, and she’s forced to put on a brave face and tell Phoenix again that she’s counting on him. Over a black screen as they wander into the courtroom, Phoenix wonders, “Hmm…I guess I must have amnesia…” He at least pieces together that he’s a defense attorney, thanks to Officer Yuna screaming those words in his face a minute ago. “And that girl…I said I’d prove her ‘not guilty‘…” he thinks. “I can’t believe I made such an irresponsible promise.” If that’s not enough wink-nudge meta-humor for you, he then screams out loud, “Aaaaaargh! Someone, please! Tell me this is just a bad dream!” It’s telling that, when Phoenix is stripped of his memories and all their inherent emotional baggage, he thinks his own actions are reckless and unbelievable. I wonder what he’d say right now if someone were around to tell him he went to law school just to confront his boyfriend over screening his calls.
The court looks exactly as it did in the last game, sparing me the need to describe the crown molding that hides Phoenix’s constant erection. The judge, thankfully also looking like his normal self and not like an evil demon, convenes the trial of Maggey Byrde. Byrde! And she has feathers all over her clothes! The subtlety is killing me, so I guess Maggey really is a murderer. The prosecutor in this case is, of course, Winston Payne, and he and his sad posture and bad toupée are ready to begin. When the camera shifts over to Phoenix in anticipation of him saying he is ready, he just stands there looking stupid. I know! This is so different! It takes the judge glaring at him for Phoenix to realize he is supposed to speak up, and even though he has by now figured out his name and that he is a defense attorney, he still blankly stares at the judge’s mention of these two things. This is going to be a long day.
I get to choose whether or not Phoenix is ready, and because I am already sick of him looking like a chump, I say he is. Of course, Phoenix immediately decides I’m an asshole, and that he should back out of this whole thing so it can be someone else’s fault Ms. Byrde goes to the chair. “Actually, you see, Your Honor…” he says with a nervous creeper smile, “My memory is kind of…” But the judge is not having it. Bad luck for Phoenix that somehow nobody witnessed his assault, not even the two guards who are so omnipresent in the courthouse lobby that they’re painted into the background. Maybe they’re mannequins. Goddamn government cost-cutting measures.
“Because the defendant is a member of the police,” the judge says over Phoenix’s sputtering, “this case is under great scrutiny. Therefore, we must make this trial fair but swift.” Again, not exactly canon at this point, but this series has not exactly set a great precedent for swift trials involving the police department. The judge goes on, seemingly just to annoy me, “I believe I told you this before. I hope you’re not telling me you’ve forgotten!” Nothing suggests this isn’t the first day of this trial, so I’d love to know when the judge and Phoenix had this conversation. Phoenix whines to himself that of course he did forget–as if that isn’t the only reason the judge even said this–but this trial is going on whether he’s prepared or not, starting with the opening statement from Prosecutor Payne.
‘The defense requests that the prosecution never use that word again.’
Payne tells the court that Maggey here is accused of killing her “lover,” who was also a police officer. And a dude! I know, I figured it’d be her teenage, bikini-wearing cousin. Phoenix freaks at Maggey, “A policeman? You did WHAT to a policeman!?” This is going great. Maggey actually has to yell at her own attorney in the middle of the courtroom that she didn’t kill anybody. “And besides, Dustin and I…” she adds. “We weren’t ‘lovers’ like that!” Called it.
Before Payne gets to calling his witness, though, he taps his forehead in a poor imitation of Edgeworth and mutters, “Hee, hee, hee. It’s been a while, Mr. Wright.” I’m worried this might take a left turn into a Saw movie. “Let’s see what you’ve learned since last time. I won’t show you any mercy this time, rookie!” Okay, first of all, he is not a rookie anymore…except in spirit, so I’ll actually allow that one. But second, do you get it? Phoenix doesn’t know how to do anything in court! Because of the world’s most inconvenient head trauma! God, this is dumb. Phoenix blue-fonts, “Nowhere to hide…I’m sooo dead…” as Maggey fixes him with her most intense-but-pathetic stare.
The first witness, of course, is Detective Dick Gumshoe, who still is a giant hunk of sad sack in an even sadder drab olive trenchcoat. He shows up on the stand looking glum, which I figure is either because this case involving his coworkers is bumming him out, or because he can’t get it up for the Penetrating Bond of Trust when the prosecutor in question is Winston Payne. The judge immediately notices that Gumshoe looks even more morose than usual, and Gumshoe sighs, “Well, sir, the defendant… She works under me, so, you know…” Maggey also explains to Phoenix, since everything is now news to him, that ol’ Dick mentored her when she was a trainee. I refuse to believe that anyone at the precinct gave Dick Gumshoe responsibility over other officers. How could any of his underlings respect him when his paycheck has been docked down to paperboy levels? Maggey insists, though, “He’s such a wonderful guy, sir! I’ll never forget what he’s done for me!” Starting to think she says that about literally every single person in her life.
Just what are you implying, Phoenix?
So, the murder. Gumshoe testifies, “It happened at the park near headquarters, ‘Exposé Park‘.” Seriously? That’s the name? I mean, I guess it could be worse, and the victim could have been Lotta Hart, just to bring this wackiness full circle. Then again: THE VICTIM COULD HAVE BEEN LOTTA HART. I feel robbed. Over some porno music and a black-and-white photo of the victim (a handsome, dark-haired young man in a police uniform) lying dead in front of a phone booth, Gumshoe says, “The victim was one of the local cops, Dustin Prince.” Siiiiiiiiiiigh. I feel the need to jump ahead and point out that fingerprints will not at all figure into this case, so the wacky pun name doesn’t even work. “He was pushed down from the benches on the upper path, sir,” Gumshoe goes on. “The landing beat his body up bad and snapped his neck.” Payne and the judge peruse the autopsy report–er, autopsy report–which Phoenix is sure he must not have received a copy of since he doesn’t remember it, except he totally did and it’s in the court record. If nothing else, I wish Phoenix would stop acting all shocked when he doesn’t remember things. He is aware he has amnesia! Anyway, the time of death per the report was 6:28 p.m. The judge notes the precision here, and Gumshoe explains, “The victim’s watch stopped from the impact of the landing, sir.” So the narrative here is that Dustin Prince died instantly from the impact, which, judging from the crime photo, was not even close to a lethal fall distance. Let’s just file that away for now.
Oh no! Eight whole feet!
Once the judge has accepted the photo of Prince into evidence, he notes, “Now then, I recall at yesterday’s preliminary hearing, a very important piece of evidence was brought to our attention.” Preliminary hearing? Since fucking when are those a thing? Oh, since Phoenix got bonked on the head so there’d be one more way to make him look stupid? Since then? Okay. All Phoenix has to do is nod along the way Payne and Gumshoe are doing, but that fire extinguisher also made him forget how to bullshit, apparently, so he’s all, “Yes…I guess?” The judge asks if Phoenix’s head is “on right today,” and you’d think Phoenix would seize this opportunity and be like “NO, ACTUALLY IT’S NOT,” but he just stands there as the judge tells him there was something discovered under Prince’s body. “Um, was there?” Phoenix asks Maggey. “Have you lost your mind!?” Maggey screams at him. Look, another opening, Nick! Squeeze on in there! “Well, actually…” he begins. That’s it, boy! Just a little further! “Um, it’s just nerves. Give me a second.” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH.