Thanks to Hamada for helping with edits.
Capcom’s Ace Attorney series began with a humble, Japan-exclusive Game Boy Advance game in 2001. It was an unexpected success and inspired two sequels, with the impromptu trilogy later getting internationally re-released on the Nintendo DS. Always eager to keep a successful thing going, Capcom greenlit a fourth game. Series protagonist Phoenix Wright would return for it, allowing him to make several new friends and enemies.
After the third game, Trials and Tribulations, there was a question of where to take Phoenix’s character. His story saw a satisfying conclusion, so what else is there to do with him? Quite a lot, evidently; Apollo Justice swerved Phoenix’s journey in an unexpected – and to many, undesirable – way. As we’d discover, one of Phoenix’s closest pals was responsible for upending his life…
Kristoph Gavin’s History
When creating the new cast for Apollo Justice, the development team strived to ensure they wouldn’t overlap with their older counterparts. Consequently, difficulties arose when designing the Gavin brothers, prosecutor Klavier and defense attorney Kristoph. Several rough drafts were drawn of the latter, though producer Minae Matsukawa admitted Kristoph failed to “come together” until the former’s rock star motif was decided upon. Ace Attorney brainchild Shū Takumi wanted the jovial prosecutor to have a “shadow,” informing Kristoph’s identity. Character designer Kazuya Nuri, in his The Art of Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney commentary, notes how Kristoph was modeled after a “traditional gentleman” to contrast his boisterous sibling. Originally, the Gavins’ hair bore “two pointy twists each,” resembling ancient Egyptian pharaohs. Takumi claims Klaiver’s hairdo was finalized first and then folded into Kristoph.
Kristoph Gavin debuts in Apollo Justice’s opening case, “Turnabout Trump.” Dubbed “the coolest defense in the West,” Kristoph’s a venerated attorney and longtime friend of Phoenix Wright (who was disbarred shortly after the events of the preceding game). Accused of murdering a traveller named Shadi Smith, Phoenix hired Apollo, Kristoph’s understudy, to defend him. In court, Kristoph assists his pupil by explaining the courtroom procedures and advancing their case while Apollo familiarizes himself with them. Olga Orly, the prosecution’s witness, swiftly becomes Kristoph’s target, who contests that only she could have killed Shadi. Shockingly, Phoenix slyly laughs and shares his theory: the true killer was Kristoph, who had hidden himself at the crime scene. Everyone was taken aback by Phoenix’s outrageous suggestion except Kristoph, who starts pushing Apollo to discredit their client. Nevertheless, Phoenix guides Apollo towards the truth, ultimately getting Kristoph a “guilty” verdict. Consequently, Kristoph doesn’t appear in Apollo’s next two episodes, though Apollo periodically references him (curiously, the greenhorn didn’t know Kristoph had a brother).
Apollo’s fourth and final episode, “Turnabout Succession,” shifts between the past and present. Seven years ago, magician Zak Gramarye was indicted of shooting his mentor and hired Kristoph to represent him. Because this case was garnering national attention, Kristoph commissioned artist Drew Misham to create “evidence,” a diary page, to secure his victory. However, Zak sensed his attorney’s amoral attitude and fired him in favor of Phoenix. A humiliated Kristoph then repurposed the scrap into a trap. He told Klavier, the prosecutor working the case, that Phoenix would use a forgery during the trial. Shortly before it started, Kristoph indirectly delivered the paper to Phoenix. Klavier, though suspicious of Kristoph, pressured Phoenix into presenting the page, costing the lawyer his badge. Zak fled, and Kristoph, desperate to prevent his involvement from becoming known, started monitoring everyone else related to the case.
“Succession,” however, opens with recluse Vera accused of poisoning Drew, her father. Now employing Apollo, Phoenix ropes him into defending her. Meanwhile, Phoenix continues his own investigation, meeting with Kristoph twice. During his first visit, Phoenix asks his incarcerated colleague why he killed Zak (who assumed the “Shadi” identity). Kristoph refuses to answer, which triggers Phoenix’s Magatama and reveals five black Psyche-Locks. Later, Phoenix returns to pilfer a letter Drew sent Kristoph, and though he’s prevented from doing so, he records its contents with a hidden camera (which also recorded their conversations). Once Vera’s trial resumes, Apollo summons Kristoph as a special witness. Under ordinary circumstances, Kristoph couldn’t have been convicted. However, this trial was a test run of Phoenix’s jurist system, the MASON System. After a unanimous guilty verdict, Kristoph begins laughing, maniacally doing so “for what seemed like hours.”
Apollo Justice marks the end of Kristoph’s career, though he did influence its sequel, Dual Destinies. Just like how Manfred von Karma (another venerated, perfection-obsessed attorney) affected the lives of many through his actions in the past, Kristoph’s helped inform “the dark age of the law” plaguing Dual Destinies. Someone else in Dual Destinies bears black Psyche-Locks, and they’re given an explanation: they represent a subconsciously held secret. Whatever they meant in Apollo, it wasn’t exactly that, since its script never implies Kristoph’s repressing anything. Nevertheless, Dual Destinies adds that improperly breaking black locks incurs emotional damage onto those burdened by them, something Kristoph’s psychotic convulsions retroactively demonstrates. And though nuance wasn’t among Dual Destinies’ strengths, it cleverly calls back to Kristoph when a smug Apollo seemingly adopts his mannerisms:
So, what’re my thoughts on Kristoph?
Ace Attorney titles host four or five episodes each, distinct mysteries that tie together through an overarching theme or story. The first episode in every installment is arguably its most important, as it must sample the game’s greater narrative while being an approachable tutorial for series newcomers. Generally, they’re short, the prosecutor’s witness is guilty, and they’ll introduce and portray attorneys as virtuous paragons fighting for the little guy. A cynical interpretation of its series, Apollo Justice subverts those tropes with wild abandon: it’s relatively lengthy, Olga’s a red herring, the disheveled Phoenix is barely recognizable, and the murderer is Kristoph, Apollo’s own mentor. Issues did arise out of that latter twist, however. Although Kristoph’s deeds clearly hurt Apollo, that impact is lost on players, as we haven’t yet had enough time to connect with either character. It also lessens the tension in “Turnabout Succession;” after all, Kristoph’s already been bested once, and even if he’s found innocent there, he’s returning to jail regardless. Nevertheless, Kristoph’s outing at Apollo’s onset not only helps service its themes, it helps cement “Turnabout Trump” as the best opening case in all of Ace Attorney.
Among the many criminals haunting “Japanifornia,” Kristoph ranks among the most formidable and – considering Phoenix’s disbarment – successful. A recurring motif in Apollo is how “evidence is everything,” that some testimonies are airtight and must be tackled in unorthodox ways (Apollo’s “Perceive” ability often resolves these). Well-versed in the law and its limitations, this is Kristoph’s mantra; he lies effectively and meticulously disposes of incriminating evidence. Apollo convicts him in “Trump” because Phoenix adapted Kristoph’s practices, namely manipulating the crime scene and embracing forged evidence. Likewise, Kristoph loses in “Succession” again because of Phoenix, whose jurist system was tailored around that very purpose.
Through several testimonies, murder acquations, and even his own incarceration, the elder Gavin religiously maintains his composure. Kristoph doesn’t sweat or panic, a rarity for lawyers. When surprised or disgruntled, he’ll glare slightly, if that. Even Kristoph’s first breakdown can barely be called such, with him merely slamming his fist on the witness stand. This all masks his paranoia, vanity, ego, jealousy, and desire for control. Some of those are speculated to be rooted in disdain for his multi-talented little brother (who’s terrified of Kristoph in a Gyakuten Saiban 4 Anthology gag manga), but Kristoph’s true anathema is Phoenix. Not only did Kristoph lose a big client, he lost him to a man whose methods he viewed as prosaic and cheap. Their subsequent “friendship” was an interesting dynamic, one Ace Attorney hadn’t seen before. Untrusting of each other yet forced to act otherwise, their cat-and-mouse game is reminiscent of Death Note‘s Light-L rivalry. Cracks in Kristoph’s facade form near the end of “Succession” – irritated and twitching, he demeans jurors as “mindless” – but it only truly breaks when he learns Phoenix outplayed him. Gameplay-wise, the jurist system’s an anticlimax; you don’t present one final, decisive piece of evidence, you’re given a guilty-not guilty choice (the latter, unsurprisingly, yields a bad ending). But Kristoph’s breakdown more than compensates, fully exhibiting him as the depraved, broken soul that he is.
Apollo Justice was a polarizing Ace Attorney, understandably so – its execution was messy, and many felt it was a repudiation of Trials and Tribulations‘ conclusive ending. It’s one of my favorite entries in the series regardless, and Kristoph’s a compelling component of it. He may never formally return, a disappointment to those who want to see his locks properly broken or his implicitly abusive relationship with Klavier explored. However, as vile as Kristoph was, he did leave a positive impact on his world through his former pupil, who continues to ensure justice is served.
Congratulations, Kristoph! I’m glad we could have this little tête-à-tête.
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