The problems with Ace Attorney

Okay. Let's do this.

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I want to preface this by saying I'm still a fan of Ace Attorney, and am really glad it's doing well. It's got great characters, an enjoyable plot, and a fun logic system. I'm about to talk a lot of crap about the series, however, so just keep this in mind... I love Ace Attorney, and still highly recommend all the games.

That being said. Over the course of the last 2 years or so I've finally worked my way through what's generally considered "The Big 3" visual novels, at least in western countries. Ace Attorney, Zero Escape, and Danganronpa. They're all brilliant games, and I enjoyed my time with each. However, after careful consideration, I have to come to a conclusion. Ace Attorney is definitely the weakest link.

I say this because after playing Danganronpa and Zero Escape, I've noticed things they do that were really clever, and then I look back at Ace Attorney, and it just feels... devoid of said elements. Oftentimes it's just a lot of small things, but those small things really, really add up over time. There's no better way to show this than by side-by-siding these games, so let's get right into it!

Yes this is the 2^nd article in a row where I compare AA to Danganronpa #noshame

So let's start with the gameplay differences, the more direct comparison. I've already outlined how Ace Attorney and Danganronpa do things differently. Let's talk about what Danganronpa just flat does better.

Primarily what Danganronpa does better is in the logical puzzles and challenges it lays out for the player. Ace Attorney's logic makes sense and is very well paced if you're following the order of deduction. However, if you get one too many steps ahead you're not able to skip to that, and must slog through the deductions you already solved.

This kills pacing completely. When the entire pace depends on your deduction skills, breaking away from it has the unfortunate effect of breaking the pace itself. You get brought to a screeching halt and have to bring the other characters up to speed, when realistically, you could just tell them.

Danganronpa is a lot more careful in its execution of working through arguments. The gameplay is the same, but it frames it in a much better way. This isn't a courtroom, where a logical argument will shut everyone up. You need to punch through the emotions and biases of the other characters, piece by piece, to get to the truth of the matter. You'll take part in minigames where characters won't listen to reason until you throw it right in their face. You'll have to frame answers in a manner that everyone can get.

It's not a matter of finding something that feels off, it's the matter of convincing everyone else it is off. You can push trials forward in Ace Attorney through vague ideas of not feeling right, which will often result in the characters hemming and hawing when you know exactly what's up. The other characters in Danagnronpa are active blocks at all times, so even if you know the answer there's a good, solid reason that feels right as to why you can't just out and say it.

Surrounding all this is the tone of the games. Now, Ace Attorney's tone isn't bad per se. It's a well established fact that it's a larger than life and goofy version of court, one with shouting and dramatic reveals. My question is, well, why?

Look, I get the tone doesn't need to be established, and I understand that consistency is what makes a world tick, not why it's that way. But after playing the other 2 games, Ace Attorney feels rather... empty in its tone. There's just no reason for it, and the craziness is just a thing that kinda.. exists in this world.

The other 2 games justify their tones quite nicely, on the other hand. Danganronpa's trials are tense and very volatile, much like Ace Attorney, but this is justified because, y'know. Murder school. There's a good reason for everyone to be shouting, a good reason for crazy theories to fly left and right, and a very good reason for things to be tense every step of the way.

Zero Escape's tone isn't quite as directly comparable, but for what it is it's done well. The atmosphere is oppressive and claustrophobic. Suspicion runs deep. Everything has this sense of danger and mistrust, and the deadly games played are the only reason the game needs. All the fear and suspicion flows naturally from that. The game knows damn well that it doesn't need to say why everyone's acting this way, because the backdrop has set that from square one. That's where Ace Attorney fails. The backdrop is a law procedural, and it just... is wacky, I guess.

Alright, there's one more point I want to bring up. Bringing continuity between games. This is by no means an aspect that Ace Attorney has failed at. It's more that it just gives it no thought. What I mean when I say that is a character or object from a previous game being brought into the new one. This can be a cool story point, or a fun callback, but it can just as easily be a lazy last minute addition.

I'm going to bring forward that by a lack of looking closely at the why, in and out of universe, Ace Attorney sometimes falls into this trap. Let's take Edgeworth's introduction in the last case. Why is he here? He's never been mentioned or important in this game before. This situation doesn't call for Edgeworth specifically. So why is he here? Outside of the game universe, it's not like Edgeworth achieves anything thematically or similar. There's nothing he does that another prosecutor couldn't do. So why does this situation call for this character from its mythology?

Massive Virtue's Last Reward Spoilers in next paragraphConversely, let's take a look at why Junpei was brought back for the sequel to 999. He, as a character, has a very clear motive: Akane. It was such a big deal for him in the last game, and it's not a surprise it'd continue to be a motivation here. Outside forces gave him this opportunity here, so it's not like it's random chance either. The thing is that here is that there's a clear and pointed reason for bringing a previous character back in Zero Escape, whereas Ace Attorney lacks that clarity much of the time when it does things like this.

It's not as though this is the worst thing in the world, and I'm not trying to say any of this stuff ruins Ace Attorney, not even close. Like I said, it's still great. And it's not like Zero Escape or Danganronpa are immune from their flaws, either. Zero Escape trips up in bringing back Clover from 999, and Danganronpa's character blocking approach backfires sometimes (I.E everything Yasuhiro "contributes" to the discussion).

What I am trying to bring up here is that Ace Attorney could learn a lot from these games. It's still got a strong base, great characters, awesome music, and fun trials. I just wish that it was all a little tighter.

Dammit, Komaeda

What the hell. Let's make this a 2 parter.

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Spoilers. Obviously.

So previously, I wrote one thousand, four hundred, and fifty-nine words on one single element of the original Danganronpa. Today, I'm gonna examine one character in the game: professional crazy person Nagito Komaeda. Nagito is, in a word, really really interesting. There's a tone and way to his words and actions that really sets him apart from almost every character in the series, a kind of unsettling effect, like he's in the wrong story, reading from an entirely different script, one sort of aware of the story themes, rejecting the ideas of hope and despair yet at the same time embracing them like nobody else does. He almost actively refuses to take any roles in the story or group, up until a point. It's almost impossible to form a coherent picture of this guy, but I'm gonna damn well try to. Let's hope for the best, shall we?

Nagito the Hope

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This was a character expressly written for those who have played the first game. The whole game sort of assumes this anyway, but Nagito sticks out as some sort of parody or critique of the first game's themes and ending. If you've played the first game, the first thing you're going to think when you see him is "Makoto". It's written all over him. Similar design besides the hair, same Ultimate talent, trusts in the group wholeheartedly, hell, the same person even voices him.

Nagito is most certainly not Makoto, however, and the way in which the game starts to hint at and reveal this is instrumental to how you view his character. What may be the most vital element to his character, one you'll see reflected in every part and aspect of this analysis, is the disconnect between his ideals and his words and actions. Nagito talks a lot about hope, and I do mean A LOT. It's as if someone took Makoto's speech at the end of the first game about hope, and how it can overcome any despair, and built the foundation for a character on top of that. Nagito's principle motivations will often well and truly be this simple: he genuinely appears to want hope to prevail. The most striking element I can see is that when he tells you about what he wants, there's no bullshit in those words.

What's interesting about this is that the motivation is the first thing you really learn about the guy. There's none of his actions that will occur later in the way, and because it's shown so soon into the game it's easy to forget how benign Nagito appeared at first. It's also important to remember how little conflict or thought had honestly gone into the series about hope and despair. Hope and Despair were basically fancy names for good an evil in the first game, with good being resolved as the eventual victor as is expected. Of course, this worked fine for a murder mystery focus, with the overall themes and plot being more window dressing and backstory than anything else.

So the second game comes into the mix wanting to get more in depth about these themes and the world, wanting to break free of that simplicity. In essence it breaks free by tying the simplicity to Makoto and Junko, positioning them as forces of nature of Hope and Despair. Nagito pretty much exists as a character to mess with the perception the player likely has going into this game. I really do think that his character is "hope and despair", as in that is how he was written. It's what would happen if these 2 very different ideals were forced into coexisting within a character.

With that all in mind, let's look at our first look at him as a character: hope. Nagito is the first person to help you in the game, and he's the first person you can have a frank, proper discussion with. He's positioned as your partner right out the gate, or at the very least somebody you can trust. He's very much in support of the game of hope, as he should be, and appears to be very thoughtful and easygoing. His statements can be a bit grandiose and odd, but he seems to be a good guy.

What's really cool about this part of the game is how consistent his character remains. He's all about that hope, and when the objective is to be friendly and garner trust to gain hope, he's a pretty nice guy. But the circumstances change, and, well...

Nagito the Despair

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See, the groundwork for his character is that of hope, but he's not quite so simple as that. Nagito is a character obsessed with hope, and that's led him down some dark paths. He only cares about the result of hope, and believes that testing it and the resolve of people is a fantastic way to unlock true hope. He's cautious, never trusting that those around him are truly the hope, always needing to test that hope against despair first.

Nagito as a character spreads much more despair than hope, really. It's that sharp contrast between what he wants in the end and what he will do in the moment that makes him such a controversial person in-universe (Not out of universe, though. We love the guy).

Nagito is there to tear down all your preconceptions about hope being good and despair being evil. Hope is fine and dandy, but what if you'd induce hopeless despair to get to it? Is it worth pushing through despair? Those sorts of questions are at the forefront of Nagito's character, and it's not my position to say one side or another is wholly right. However, the fact is that Nagito's role in the story is these questions, and changing one's perspective is what he was put in there for.

Finally, I want to discuss Nagito's place in the actual plot. The themes are what I wanted to make up the meat but Nagito as a character serves the purpose of a rogue element. What's notable about this is how it changes the dynamic of suspicion compared to the first game.

The most comparable role in the first game would be Byakuya Togami. The difference between Byakuya and Nagito is that Byakuya never actually takes murderous action. He talks a good game but never acts on it, always planning but never moving. Compare that to Nagito, who tries to kill within the first few days.

This is the slow grind of suspicion versus the heated action of suspicion. It's certainly something I want to talk about in more detail in the future, but for now let's stick to a quick overview. In every other case in both games, there is only one person open in their intent to do harm, but only one of them ever actually acts upon it. There are no other characters in their separate games that kill or attempt to who aren't then immediately executed.

What Nagito does for the game as a whole is make it more frantic. He allows alliances against himself to form. He actually lets the remaining participants feel closer, as they all feel united against his obvious malice. What Nagito does for the game as a whole is subtle, but very important, and the closer you look the more impact he actually has.

...And that's a good place to stop this overview of sorts, I believe. I could go on for a lot longer about this guy's impact, but I'd just be rambling at that point and I need to cut this off somewhere. Nagito's one hell of an interesting character, and I love him to death for what he does. Never stop being crazy, you beautiful, hope obsessed person.

Danganronpa and Misdirection

Writing a good mystery is very hard.

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It's commonly said that comedy is the hardest genre to write, and honestly I'd have to agree with that. However, if you asked me what the 2^nd hardest genre to write is, I'd undoubtedly say mystery. This stems from a variety of things, but foremost in this is the sheer number of mystery stories that have been told. A mystery isn't mysterious if the audience knows what is going to happen, of course. It was a heck of a lot easier to write an engaging mystery even 100 years ago simply because less stories had been told and as a result, more new ideas. This is only exacerbated by the era we live in of information, where anyone can write a story and have hundreds of people read it easier than ever.

So what if you do want to write a mystery now? One way to do that is the most obvious: come up with something never done before. With your enemy being thousands of years worth of human thought, though, you're probably fighting a losing battle. So this leaves aspiring writers to pull on a variety of other methods to make their stories effective. My favourite technique out off all the ones I've seen is misdirection.

It's so simple at it's very core. What it entails is basically pulling the audience's attention away from what has truly happened. Now, you can do this in a variety of ways, with a wide range of fairness. You can gloss over all the important details. You could pull the audience in one manner of thinking, when in actuality that mindset was wrong from the start. You could even (rather unfairly) just never show what the important details are. Bur regardless, the common thread, the one that must be followed to successfully pull of this trick, is leaving the true solution out there while making sure the audience pays no mind to it. I love it when a story does this, and the absolute best execution I have ever seen of misdirection comes from Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc.

Spoilers follow, obviously. Seriously, don't spoil this masterwork of a mystery for yourself. I'm also assuming you've played it so it won't make much sense otherwise.

So Danganronpa is the sort of premise that if I was a fiction writer I'd be terrified of. A story where there are 5 separate murder mystery arcs AND an overreaching mystery to solve? A single mystery is already hard enough! Of course, as you know if you've played it (RIGHT?) the game somehow manages this feat, and manages to do it splendidly. I'm not here to gush about this, however. Today I want to take a comprehensive look through the first case of Danganronpa and look at how it plays with player expectations, tropes of the genre, and of course, how it misdirects you.

OK, so first we should look at the relevant elements before this case even begins. First and foremost is the setting, or rather the important part of it: the killing game. For our purposes, we'll hold the game here as the motive. Fairly self explanatory. Next, of course, is the eventual victim of the case, Sayaka Maizono.

Sayaka is an interesting element for many reasons, but let's just stick with her before her eventual death. To the player, Sayaka is initially presented as an ally, but more importantly someone the protagonist has a prior connection to. What she serves as is an element of stability and relief.

Following Sayaka is of course the 13 other students, ones that at this point we know very little about. A glimpse here or there, perhaps, but in the end our knowledge of them this early on is limited at the best. They're rogue elements.

Finally, there are 2 key events I want to examine as well. These are the CD reveals and Makoto and Sayaka swapping rooms. I'll call these the catalysts.

Seriously this is your last chance before major spoilers if you didn't listen to me before

So we'll fast forward to the events right before the investigation. Sayaka and Makoto swapped rooms for the night, and the next day Sayaka shows up in Makoto's room, murdered by the hand of someone in the group.

Now, this basic setup is great for a few reasons. First, it gives the other characters a reason to totally think on the wrong path in-universe. Obviously, if you're not Makoto, the primary suspect is him since the victim showed up in his room. This is the first way the game misdirects you, by having the actual characters be misdirected, giving a believable reason for it, and most most importantly, disallowing you yourself from thinking that line of reasoning is correct.

That last point is the most important because all the discussion around the case is going to be focused on that line of thinking, meaning you know it's wrong but the game isn't letting you develop other lines of thought. It's intentionally steering you away from the truth, and it's not doing it with any obvious roadblocks either. It's also a nice bonus to raise the stakes.

Another thing the game does that I really like is that it takes full advantage of the point of the story it's at. I can very easily see a scenario where a case similar to this happened later on in the game, but there is no way it would work as well because by that point you'd know more about your fellow students. At the start of the game, however, you've got 2 basic relationships in the game: you know nothing about the others, and you likely trust Sayaka. And then Sayaka is murdered. So you're left in a position where you can't trust anyone but the dead person lying on the floor.

Until you can't even do that.

I'm skipping ahead a bit, but eventually it comes to light Sayaka was the initial aggressor, and in all likelihood was just being friendly and open to Makoto to use him for said purpose. This is great, and I was absolutely freaking out at this revelation because it's brilliant storytelling for so many reasons. Primarily because you probably didn't think of this possibility, right? Everything thus far has been presented as fairly straightforward: Sakaya is trustworthy, nobody else is. But as it turns out, that's exactly what you were supposed to think, and as a result you never even thought of the possibility of her being the true aggressor in this situation. It's also brilliant at a few other things like making you trust nobody and letting you know the usual tropes are not in effect, but that's not what this article's about really. The misdirection is so prevalent not only in this case, but throughout the entire game.

That's Danganronpa's M.O. It's so simple but it works so well. You see it crop up with the Sakura's "Locked room" murder and even intentionally invoked with Byakuya's Genocide Jack troll(for lack of a better term). It's most clearly set and seen in this first case, however, which is why I chose to examine how it uses misdirection. The usage of this little trick isn't braindead, either. They carefully develop it each time (See Genocide Jack reveal) or cleverly bury the important details in the evidence (See Sayaka's motives).

It sees use in many ways, but again, the game is essentially at it's core always trying to get you to look and think in the wrong directions. There aren't many cases where the facts are all there and you simply need to piece them together. There is always some active effort to prevent you from doing so on the part of other characters or the plot itself. You'll notice if you look a little deeper how the actual mysteries wouldn't be that mysterious on their own. "Girl tries to kill man but in struggle man kills her" or "Person commits suicide alone in room" aren't exactly original twists nowadays. However, muddling the story with previous relationships or having actual attacks before the suicide contribute to you not going down the right path and getting sidetracked or interpreting things entirely wrong.

So I hope I've helped you see misdirection in action and how it can immensely help a story. Danganronpa makes liberal use of it and the second I finished it I immediately started to use it as an example here, I don't think I've ever seen a story use it quite so much. I could seriously go on and on about how Danganronpa uses storytelling tricks and gameplay elements for a long time, but I'll cut myself off now. I hope you enjoyed reading, and have a great day!