Real talk, Frankie is my fav character but Cleo is my fav to drawwww she is literally the queen
I think she is head of the events scare-mmittee (committee haha I don’t know if that’s canon lingo or the way I talk now) so she’s planning all the parties and dances like in the song! I love that she talked bout the ghoul dance n turned it into a party literally just for them to dance in new outfits
And now we come to what is probably my most interesting take: a study into Barnham is a study into Franziska, only executed poorly instead of well.
Your mileage may vary on this one, but I find it rather interesting that both Barnham and Franziska only have two cases each to say their piece in their debut games. But while Franziska gets to use that time extremely well and to her advantage, even being a big part of the final case (2-4) despite not being the prosecutor we face in that one, Barnham gets underutilised and shoved off to the side without any proper payoff.
Which sucks!! Because I know for a fact I would like him if we got just one more case with him!
I had to consult my sister on Barnham because she liked him (a lot of people do, I've found!), but I actually can't stand him as he's presented to us at first. Which is the writing doing its job proper!! Maybe not for the reasons they want, but he is our prosecutorial rival and thus we aren't meant to like him until his face is revealed to us in more nuance.
The entire second trial of PL vs PW is, however, an absolute trainwreck.
Phoenix is floundering because most of his usual assets are unavailable to him here. No autopsy reports, no forensic science, no science in general. Just mob mentality and a lack of any real and clear logic to what these people believe. They say that Espella is a witch, so it must be so!! Who cares what evidence or counterarguments you present? You're wrong and Barnham is right!!
This case also does the (in my opinion) SUPER annoying thing of the gallery chanting in favour of the prosecution. Spirit of Justice did this, too, and it wasn't any less annoying to me there. It's a good way to demonstrate that you have no standing here, that Phoenix is properly screwed were it not for Layton swooping in to save us, but gosh does it just irk on my nerves. It's so annoying and self-aggrandising for the prosecution, which only serves to make me hate him further.
But after all that, you'd think this case would at least showcase Barnham's deadly sharpness in the trial, right? Well, unfortunately, no. That part is also mishandled, in my opinion.
This trial does the cardinal sin of the prosecution blocking us from making an argument with what evidence we have, then blowing right past what we proved in order to make the same sort of logic argument which they then get away with. I have actually ranted about this issue in this trial elsewhere, so I'll keep this as truncated as I can:
Barnham shoots down our arguments (despite the fact that we prove Espella couldn't have held the Talea Magica, everyone just glosses right over it) and then makes his own in a very hypocritical fashion, which Layton and Phoenix don't argue because narrative convenience. It's no less frustrating to me on a second run through and even worse the more I think about it in hindsight. This trial is a mess, so it's a good thing the next one is straight fire.
Speaking of, however, we do get a better picture of Barnham in the third trial of the game. (I don't really count what we see of him in-between the trials because he is just. Odd. It's a dissonance of he is going to cut off Phoenix's head and then oh nevermind, he'll tell us where we need to go. Very off putting and thus more of a blip than any real characterisation in my eyes.) (Also he isn't really cutting off Phoenix's head, it's just the awkward blocking from their talk sprites. It is very funny for him to hold his sword unintentionally at Phoenix's neck though.) (Also also hey Barnham you're a bad dog owner. Constantine runs around the town biting people, get your dog under control!!!) This whole trial is excellent due to the high stakes, but Barnham is a lot less aggravating in this trial, even if his refusal to stick with one single epithet drove me insane. I fully admit that is a me issue, though. His willingness to let us cross-examine Cracker with Luke's help and his refusal to let Emeer get away with what he did is great. Good moments from him there.
But then it's still an issue that he's so cruel to Maya, telling her to stop talking or they'll cut the trial short. It reminds you again and again that, in his eyes, witches are not people. It reminds you of the end of the previous trial and how he didn't even flinch when Kira was sent into the flames.
His regret for what happens to Maya is also, if I may say, a bit under pronounced. This moment is for Phoenix, really, where he might throw a punch at the man who contributed to Maya's seeming demise, and though Phoenix doesn't punch the man out, it definitely doesn't help us to like Barnham any more. There's an intriguing line between Barnham and the Tavern owner which goes nowhere (I thought it was going to turn out that she was his sister) because it's a point of convenience more than it is for character. Barnham going to her tavern every so often for a drink would be more interesting if it wasn't glossed over by the end.
Barnham sneaking outside of Labyrinthia to tail Darklaw is, actually, another point in his favour! It shows him starting to question his orders, if what he's doing truly fits his sense of justice! But we see too little of him in the Shade's village to get much more than that inkling. He's whisked away yet again before anything really interesting can happen with his discovering this whole ecosystem outside of what he thinks of as his home. He's not allowed to deviate from the script…
…which is why Darklaw simply writes him out. Barnham is sent to prison in the end, shutting him off from any sort of satisfying conclusion. That's it for his character! He sends Constantine to help Layton and Luke for a minute, but we literally don't see Barnham again until the ending cutscene! And I mean the one where Layton and Phoenix are headed back to London! Barnham doesn't get a single line of dialogue after he's written out!!! And this sucks, because I know we could have gotten really into his whole flawed mindset of protecting Labyrinthia even if it means shutting his sympathies off from those who would be human. His dehumanising of witches gets questioned in the third trial, but never fully deconstructed. So he ends up feeling like his arc wasn't completed and thus I never actually made it up to the point of liking him.
Because what we're stuck with is frustration and the hints of something deeper. Would have been nice to see those depths, just saying!!
But, since Barnham's arc is woefully incomplete, allow me now to delve into Darklaw and Layton's brief stints as prosecutors.
Darklaw is the exact type of character I love, actually. Girl who destroys herself for the sake of vengeance. It's misplaced vengeance in this case and we're actually able to save her, but this core to a character all ready makes me like her more than I did Barnham.
She's twice as frustrating when facing her in this final trial, however. Her clear leading Espella along makes you really want to dig your claws in and pull the truth away from her. Phoenix does his best, but he's kinda been declawed in this game so we're working with what we can.
Her animations are all excellent. She's cool and composed, but ruthless. Her appearances beforehand make her seem stoic, manipulative, and willing to throw anyone in her way down to the ground as she climbs over their bodies. She's twisting the story as the Storyteller tries to present it, making use of his hands off approach to further her own agenda. All of this comes through really well in the brief snippets we see of her, so it's awesome and makes me like and hate her at the same time.
You know she's involved somehow. You suspect she's behind this whole thing. All you need to do is work your way up to proving it.
Which you do once you manage to get her on the stand.
She's a lot less controlling on the witness stand, surprisingly. She's in damage control mode, morose almost as if she knows it's useless to keep fighting against this truth coming to light. If Phoenix has made it this far, then he's sure to figure out all the rest. It works as she can act as if this is all a waste of time, but the underlying emotion there is exhaustion. She's tired of how long this has been going on; she's been living with this vengeance in her breast for a good while and she can see it crumbling down around her. She doesn't give up fighting until the very end, until her driving motivation is shattered right before her eyes, but she knows the end is coming. I am such a huge sucker for that sort of resigned acceptance, of knowing there's no way to halt this boulder you began rolling down the mountain long ago.
And then, enter Layton as our final opponent.
Layton as prosecutor is so HELLA. He has such a delicate tightrope walk to perform, pushing us just enough so as not to raise suspicion from Darklaw or the Judge but also giving us enough hints to keep us clawing out the truth. He's got it all figured out, but he isn't like Klavier and will lead us there by the hand. No, he's more like a controlled and cool headed Edgeworth, challenging us to figure out what he knows and waiting for us to lead the charge.
His performance is immaculate. I really adore Layton in this bit of the trial, pulling out some of his harsher faces and then being soft and unassuming when it suits him. He really is masterful in this whole thing, I am enamoured with this lego Mii faced man. XD
It is a bit jarring to suddenly have his inventory and present the final pieces of evidence and arguments we need, however. Layton just decided to take over right at the end and it's a little sad he didn't give Phoenix the spotlight then, but such is the manner of this theatre kid spirit in Layton. He has to be the one to do his dramatic point and explain how it was all done, I get that. At least he invites Phoenix along with him, even if it feels very much like he's just doing it out of courtesy. Moreso once Darklaw reveals that Phoenix was never supposed to be here. (Then why did she kidnap us???)
It is also very weird how Luke is just absent from this whole final trial. There was a similar problem in the second trial with Maya getting sidelined once Layton and Luke showed up, so I have to assume it's an economy of characters issue. What I would have given to see Luke as Layton's prosecutor assistant, though…..
It also makes Luke's sudden appearance in the cutscene with Espella and Eve a bit jarring. Like oh hi when did you get here??? And then he's suddenly next operating some heavy machinery??? Luke teleporting over the place here in this final bit, this is a tangent sorry
Anyway!! Very sad about Barnham's lack of closure to his arc. We got great Darklaw and Layton moments out of it, but I feel we should have gotten a cap to Barnham's character instead. Would be much more satisfying for him and maybe I would have actually liked him. Alas.
Alright! Merry belated Christmas to this year’s lovely Wordgirl Secret Santa, @hibiscusangel15! The prompt was “Tobecky”, and I hope it’s as sweet a peppermint romance as all can be!
Proofread and edited by a very tired brother who wouldn’t get out of bed this morning and was thus subjected to listening to the live reading of all my fanfiction. Enjoy, and happy holidays!
Soft piano music played from the radio perched on the McCallister coffee table, a well-worn book with pages held by a bookmark emblazoned with a gear design and embellished with ribbon beside it. Claire hummed softly in the kitchen, stirring cinnamon and nutmeg into steaming hot cocoa. In the living room, perched precariously on several dictionaries and a chair on wheels, a young boy stretched on his toes to place the gleaming star on top of the tree....just a few inches, now.....
“Tobey, love, do be careful!” Claire scolded softly, bringing in the silver tea tray to rest on the table. Reluctantly, he brought the star to his side again, only to note the tray’s impedimenta with bafflement.
“Mother, last I checked, there were merely the two of us, yet you’ve prepared three mugs of cocoa here. Who, may I ask, is the third for?” he asked, though the confusion did not inhibit his immediate claim of one of the black-and-white biscuits from the tea tray.
“Sirius, a bit of reason never hurts. Last I checked, Mr. Starsoldier doesn’t quite share your predilection for cocoa, does he?”
The blonde’s face flushed cherry-blossom pink as he quickly pushed his plushie robut companion behind one of the throw pillows with his geometry-socked foot and sipped his steaming cocoa with as much refined dignity as a fourteen-year-old possibly could have, burning his tongue and dotting his nose with butterscotch syrup and whipped cream all within about fifteen seconds of each other. She shouldn’t have, but Claire couldn’t help but giggle.
“His name is Mr. Starslayer, and he--I mean, it!--couldn’t possibly, because his internal circuits aren’t coated, his joints aren’t hydraulic, and hot fluid stains aren’t machine-washable. So, no.”
“Hmmmm...” she said playfully, tapping the candy cane hooked the rim of her mug against it in thought, “Then perhaps it could be for Nova?”
The mechanical cat purred from the hearth and arced her paws towards the warmth from the tray--a clever trick, to be sure, but one that had been programmed in the long wait after midterms before the rest of the class period was over. Nimbly, she lept to the davenport and settled on Claire’s lap in response to the name recognition, settling happily into sleep mode once his mother laid a hand on her back.
“She’s a cat, mother, she’s far too fussy. Now, pray tell, who is arriving so suddenly?”
There was a tap at the window behind the boy as a familiar countenance appeared with a grin.
“Hello, common folk!” chirped none other than Becky Botsford.
The boy’s heart froze in his chest, the dictionaries he was sitting on unfortunately taking that very moment to fall off-kilter, toppling the chair, the volumes, and the lanky but still hopelessly inept Tobey McCallister III.
“I couldn’t resist!” Tobey’s beloathed classmate giggled, giving a thankful curtsy as Mrs. McCallister took her coat, “Thank you so much for having me over--is, is Tobey okay?”
“Peaches and cream, my dear.” grumbled the coffee table, a bruised arm appearing just far enough to retrieve the steampunk mug of cocoa as Becky laughed and stepped over on light feet to the tea tray.
“Ah, make yourself comfortable, love--there are marshmallows in the sugar bowl, cream, and, ah, you can’t have seen Chez McCallister until you have one of these biscuits--Tobey and I made just about all of these, he absolutely insisted only perfection.” the woman said, beaming with a perfect knowledge of how much the comment would embarrass her son.
“Thank you! And these are positively ambrosial....why, Tobey, I’d save some for you, but I’m afraid these rose spritz ice cream cookies are going to melt...” she retorted playfully as the boy genius finally sighed and sat up opposite her on the rug.
“Well, then, Miss Becky Botsford, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he said, nabbing one of the aforementioned sweets.
“Tobey,” his mother cut in with a soft glare, “Your friend here has found herself with an excess of activity and few places to carry out such.”
“But your brother made the cut, I presume?”
“He’s at his friend’s house.” she said, smile unfaultering, “My parents needed time to wrap and hide Christmas presents for our treasure hunt tomorrow, and we usually go to the Heaslip’s together, but the most coincidental thing is, as soon as Violet found out that you were mostly by yourself for Christmas Eve too, she caught a cold! A really super-contagious one! That Johnson, thankfully, hasn’t caught yet and isn’t transferable to either the homemade cookies or fluffy unicorn mittens she gave me. That’s funny, huh?”
“As ignominious it is that your mate has clearly thrown you for a foxglove, I suppose I could appreciate the company.” he said softly.
“Perfect!” she said, resting her cocoa on the table, “It took me a little while--an “absolutely last minute” sort of little while, but I brought some ideas for games that I think everyone here will enjoy and are entirely compatible with the unconventional three players, and of course I’d always listen to any of your ideas!”
Claire McCallister rested her empty mug on the coffee table and stood up wearily, buttoning her jacket and snagging her briefcase from the door.
“Ah, these shall have to be two-players, I’m afraid.” she said, ruffling her son’s hair and stepping to the door, “It’s rather last-minute, but some people really can’t keep themselves out of trouble on Christmas Eve, and the office called. Absolutely no stealing snogs while I’m gone, you both hear?”
The scarlet mess of what had once been Tobey McCallister stuttered as the door fell shut and his classmate merely looked over the book’s description from the coffee table.
“Awww, hey, is this The Wild Robot? I think TJ was reading that a little while ago...”
“And what of it, Botsford?” he said, sipping his cocoa.
She looked up with soft sparkling brown eyes and giggled. Not that Tobey cared, that is. “Hey, no need to be embarrassed! It’s always the story that really matters, anyhow. Speaking of which.....” she said, shaking her bookbag.
“Ah, yes, the games!” he said with a poorly disguised lilt of enthusiasm, “What is it, now, Ticket to Ride? Scrabble? Mouse Trap? It’s only sporting to warn you, though, ‘tis an honor fine to lose to a McCallister!”
She cuffed him on the shoulder playfully, laying out game sets on the table one by one, none of which were recognizable, or, for that matter, branded.
“Prepare to eat crow, my good sir, for ‘tis an honor perhaps finer to lose to a Botsford!” she retorted in perfect Elizabethan English and with a loose imitation of her friend’s accent to boot. “This one, I thought would be a fun one to start with--I mean, if you’d like? I made it ages ago, but I’ve never had a proper opponent. It’s called Curiosity’s Cat, and it goes like this....”
The game should not have been nearly as fun as it was, the two had to admit, once the puzzles were solved, the cards shuffled, the case finished, and, of course, the laurels of candy wreaths and good cheer bestowed.
“Now, I have to wonder,” Tobey mused, his wreath perched rather like a flower crown, “Did you make these yourself as well, Miss Botsford? They are absolutely resplendent.” His delighted gentle grin could warm even Rhyme’s frozen heart--not that our now-speechless heroine noticed or cared in the slightest of course.
After a flustered few seconds (”What’s the matter?”, Tobey teased, “Curiosity’s Cat got your tongue?”), Becky’s nerves defrosted enough to respond, “Yes, but satisfaction brought it back.”
“Ah, shame, I was hoping I’d finally found the compliment to silence a rather loquacious blatherskite.”
“That simply wouldn’t do, Mr. McCallister, you’d have to talk only half as much as usual to fill the room with two people’s worth of conversation. To answer your question, yes, actually, I did!”
“In a last-minute’s sort of little while, I presume?” he hummed, turning it over, “Ooh, are these candied hibiscus really edible? I haven’t had the sort of thing since Bristol!”
“You’ve never been to Bristol.” she said flatly.
“Exactly.” he said, pulling one of them off the tightly-woven bands and letting the light saccharine taste dissolve on his tongue, “So it only serves I’d miss them all the more. And I must say, my dear, these are absolutely ambrosial--that is to say, heavenly, scrumptious, and practically perfect in every way.”
He laughed softly, tapping her on the shoulder and leading her to the kitchens, “So it’s only fair that deserves at least a cup of tea, wouldn’t you say? Best vanilla-jasmine blend you’ll find here or anywhere, a la McCallister.”
“Tea? I call a perfidy.” she responded, starting a round of a silly and longer-running game of wits between the two as the kettle began to heat and the boy started to look through a variety of spices and blends in the cabinet.
“You speak with intellectuali-tea, though it’s surely with a malady.”
“That’s with respectibili-tea, though only in a rhapso-tea.”
“Well, that, love, is a tragi-tea, for our anfractuosi-tea.”
“To that we have a reme-tea.”
“And so ends”, he said, pressing a hot cup of fragrant tea into her hands, “Our proso-tea.”
At last, the door opened and the very exasperated Mrs. McCallister hung up her coat. “Hello again, my darlings--ah, that tea is for me, I presume?” she said, playfully giving an attempt at lifting Becky’s teacup to which the girl giggled and gently tugged hers back.
“Mother, Becky doesn’t have to go so soon, does she?” the boy protested, noting the extra car outside as she poured herself a cup with cream and sugar.
“Ah, I don’t suppose you accidentally enjoyed yourself, did you? Don’t worry, your friend will be over again soon enough.”
The girl curtsied as she packed her bags again and set her teacup in the sink. “Thank you for having me--I accidentally had fun, too. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas to you as well, Becky Botsford.” he said as he walked her to the door, stopping short just a few centimeters from the step as she tapped his shoulder and looked up to the top of the doorframe.
“Technically, your mother is here now...” she whispered at a pitch a mouse would need to be quiet to hear.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
And, bouncing lightly to the tip of her toes, she silenced him with a kiss on the cheek.
