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CHARACTER NAME: Miles Edgeworth
SERIES: Ace Attorney: Phoenix Wright
CANON POINT: In the Middle of 'Justice For All,' immediately after his return from 'death,' and after having revealed himself to Franziska and Phoenix Wright.

LOSS: Triple whammy: Memories of his father, Gregory Edgeworth, the famed defense attorney of whom young Miles idolized and based his dreams of becoming an attorney upon. To further the loss, Miles will retain all the trauma associated with losing his father, such as his claustrophobia and fear of earthquakes, yet devoid of his happy memories. By default of coming to Cair Paradisa, he will also lose the companionship of his beloved pet, Pesu, leaving him behind but retaining his memory. He will also lose memory of his adopted sister, Franziska Von Karma.

ABOUT THE CHARACTER: He was once known as the 'Demon Prosecutor.' He is a prim perfectionist, a tea-drinking strategist, and was at least once awarded, "King of Prosecutors." Miles Edgeworth is arguably one of the most well-known attorneys in his district, if not the state or beyond. He consistently exudes an air of definiteness and a confidence that most easily translates as conceit. Among his strengths are smattering smarts, smacking tables and smug smirks. His weaknesses include smiling, small talk, and...uh, smearthquakes. Logical with a relative lack of tact, Edgeworth will not spare sentiments in getting his point across. Once priding himself on his perfect win record, his character shifted noticeably from the demon attorney with his own ego-driven goal to win a guilty verdict at any cost, to seeking truth, regardless of the cost. This was mainly exacerbated by his reunion with Phoenix Wright, who proved to be his most worthy adversary in the courtroom, and the only defense attorney he found impossible to defeat.

He was indubitably affected by the loss of his father as a child, possibly the most climactic event in his life. His father, Gregory Edgeworth, was a famed defense attorney in his time, and young Miles held him in the highest esteem. Miles had aspired to become a defense attorney in the shadow of his father, even citing him as his inspiration when he came to the defense of his childhood acquaintance, Phoenix Wright, then accused by the entire class of the theft of Miles' lunch money in a mock class trial. Miles' defense of Phoenix as children, in turn, would inspire Phoenix's own desire to become a defense attorney many years later. For 15 years, Miles would be under the impression that he was the cause of his father's death, a misconception fed by his adopted mentor, Manfred Von Karma (who, in truth, was the actual murderer), and under Von Karma's apprenticeship, Miles became increasingly obdurate, seeking perfection at all costs, . The incident of his father's death also instilled within his a fear of closed spaces, such as elevators, and earthquakes, and years of nightmares. With the help of Phoenix, he and his conscience was absolved of his father's murder.

As a highly gifted attorney who began prosecuting at age 20, Edgeworth is extremely wealthy, and as thus more of his personality is reflected in his expensive tastes. Such is reflected in his manner of dress, the car he drives (a bright, flashy, red sports car) a highly decorated office and expensive tea sets.

Even though Miles normally appears to be consistently stoic, he is definitely not without sentiment. Though he is normally remarkably calm and collected and prefers to keep his feelings concealed, Miles is known to become exceedingly defensive and sensitive to attacks upon his competence. Phoenix, who claims to know the 'true' Edgeworth, has alluded to the possibility of Edgeworth 'burst[ing] into tears' on at least two occasions. He is also shown to be easily annoyed, and relatively oblivious to the amount of female attention he receives brought upon by his good looks and acclaim. He is introverted yet polite when necessary, relatively socially inept and has expressed a disdain for small talk. However, although he is not terribly expressive of such, he holds those close to him dear and will go to great lengths to be of assistance to them. Such was evident, for example, when at the behest of his mutual childhood friend, Larry Butz, Edgeworth chartered a private jet overnight to come to the aid of his friend, Phoenix. He also has a pet dog, Pesu, that he dotes upon, and is a closeted fan of the popular children's show, The Steel Samurai.

ABILITIES: Using his brain, because God knows that's a superpower for many people nowadays. Other than an acerbic wit and alarming intellectual prowess, Edgeworth is fully human and devoid of any sort of supernatural powers.


In room 1202, the High Prosecutor's office, Miles Edgeworth thumbed through the evidence listings of one particularly complex case from the week prior. As he clicked the file cabinet shut, he was caught off-guard by the bizarre ringing of his cellular phone. It was a chilling melody, a ringtone that he had never heard before, let alone selected. An unidentified caller with the number, '000-123-4567' appeared on the display. Surely it was a sign to ignore the call - a telemarketer or a prank caller, perhaps.

However, a full minute had passed and the phone did not cease to ring. Tried as he may, tapping 'Ignore Call' did not seem to have any effect. Finally, growing impatient enough, he resigned to taking the call.

"This is a recording," spoke the voice on the other end. Normally, Edgeworth would immediately disregard the call and hang up right away, but this voice was decidedly ominous and rather...inhuman? "Miles Edgeworth," A personalized message to boot, "We have what you have lost. You may come and seek it, but you will never retrieve it. Until then, make yourself at home. Sincerely, Paradise." 

His eyebrows furrowed as he swiped the 'End Call' function on his touchscreen. Just what was that supposed to mean? He gathered his case files that was strewn across his desk in a fit of frustration and slipped them into a thick, inches-wide folder. Placing all relevant items into his briefcase, he spotted a hotel brochure at the edge of the desk. Curious, that wasn't there before. Attached to the brochure was a sticky note decorated in a familiar, unforgiving scrawl that read, "Here's the information you requested. -D. Gumshoe."

He located his bright-red vehicle in the parking lot and set off. It was roughly a 45-minute drive to his destination. When he arrived, the hotel was as depicted, and in some part of town he had never heard of before. When he entered the hotel, however, the sight was nothing he had ever expected.

The inside was a sight to behold, as if he had been transported to another place upon entering. Before him were grand hallways with a practically mile-high ceiling resembling nothing like the brochure's. How was this possible? Surely, the hotel he saw on the outside was not grand enough to accommodate the immensity of the structure inside? Edgeworth halted forth of an engraved sign that read:

Welcome to Cair Paradisa

It was all that was written. And it was enough for Edgeworth to know that he definitely was not where he had expected to be.

He planted himself at a vacant table in a nearby, indoor cafe. There was a barista nearby, then drying teacups, and she merely smiled approvingly when Edgeworth noticed that there mysteriously appeared a cup of tea at his table. Edgeworth hesitated before holding up the teacup and nodding at the barista in gratitude for the gesture. It was puzzling how she knew what he would have wanted, but at least the tea was top-notch. Funny, there was never usually a haven such as this for the discerning tea-drinker in Los Angeles. Once he had downed the entire cup, he broke the silence.

"Excuse me, I believe I've lost my way. Would you mind telling me how I can get out of here?"

"You can't."

"I...beg your pardon?"

"You can't get out here. You are stuck here for a while," she smiled, "Enjoy your stay, Miles Edgeworth."

Taken aback, Miles began, "Just how did you know my n-..."

And with that, the barista had seemingly disappeared. Miles had it in mind to bring the teacup he was holding to the precinct to have it tested for odd substances.


I have ended up in the wrong location. Again. 

Detective Gumshoe. Though I grow with each revolution of the planet around the sun, I have the distinct impression he continues to madly spin in place. To note that I am relatively unfazed by this is to show that I have grown frighteningly accustomed to his incompetence. This is a nightmare that could not be any more lucid. I am at a complete loss as to where I am an how I ended up here, and I am nearly expecting the ground to fall from beneath me. I am convinced the tea that I was given was somehow tainted.

I am starting to distrust my own grasp of rationality. Perhaps luck would serve me best were I to employ a reckless, Wright-like approach to conducting investigations - act now, ruminate later. Perhaps if I were to rely upon sheer, dumb-luck, I could also miraculously arrive at the correct answers as to what is going on around me. 

If I cannot make sense of this as soon as possible, I will make it so that our absent-minded detective will have to forage food in the trashcans of the prosecutor's office.

INTENT: I'd like to think that the character of Miles Edgeworth bears numerous and strikingly similar characteristics to my own, and as such, I intend to partly exhibit Miles as an extension of my own character while having the opportunity to further my skills as a writer with a character that I love.
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