Comical Musings

Cut-and-paste comics are a difficult beast. On one end of the range, you have cartoonists playing around with recolored video game sprites (and in some cases not even recolored). On the other end of the range, you have comics that are painstakingly assembled from massive indices of gestures, postures, facial expressions, and backdrops. There are various gradations in the middle, each with their advantages (most often convenience) and foibles (usually monotony); as a result, unless the art is patently terrible, what really makes the comic sink or swim is the quality of the writing.

This brings us to The System, a cut-and-paste comic by Ross Nover. The System makes use of the generic figures that you see on mass-produced safety signs everywhere: the Man, the Woman, the Cyclist, the Walker, and so on. (This would be a good time to point out that the archives are a pain in the neck to try to find your place in. It’s not until Comic 268 that they get titles instead of numbers; before that, you’re stuck clicking and hoping.)

The comics where Nover does his best (in my opinion) are the ones where he plays with what the symbols mean. I’m also partial to some of his pun comics. However, those don’t happen all that often. Most of what you’ll find in The System is a lot of awkward pseudo–punchlines, visits from Jimmy the Murderdog, comics that aren’t comics so much as fourth-wall-breaking excuses for a lack of comic, and scatology. Lots and lots of scatology.

There’s also the dictionary comics, wherein portmanteau words are set up for a quick attempt at a few puns. Or another poop joke. To be honest, sometimes looking for the satire or the memetic repetition is like searching for a needle in a septic tank.

The slogan for The System is, “Comics will be posted until morale improves.” The saying this is based on starts with “Beatings will continue until …” and, well, even Nover admits that the comic is something of a dead horse. And with the hundred-post review comics . . . it feels like a cut-and-paste comic with cut-and-paste jokes.

I still like this one, though.

Comic Rating: Four rounded panels and a load of snark.

In pretty much every variation on the written and spoken word that hasn’t been touched by Tom Clancy, there is a deep, deep mistrust for big institutions (be it Wal*Mart, the government, the military, or organized religion). In just about every story, movie, or video game nowadays, these entities are enormous well-oiled conspiracies out to enslave or destroy humanity, often using large chunks of said humanity as tools of their own enslavement. For example, Final Fantasy X‘s storyline can be boiled down to “You can only be free of Sin by destroying all the Fayth in the world.” The upcoming Final Fantasy XIII goes so far as to have their gods known as the fal’Cie (pronounced “fallacy”). Real subtle there, Square-Enix. Real subtle.

So in reviewing Paradigm Shift, by Dirk I. Tiede, I find myself rather disappointed that the paradigm above does not, in fact, shift. About the only thing more frustrating is the fact that Tiede lays each “scene” out in its entirety on one page; this means I won’t be able to link to examples of what I’m going to say, because each reference will be buried somewhere down in the middle and those of my readers on dial-up will cry themselves to sleep. The infinite canvas is at once a beautiful thing and reason for dread.

Setting the story aside, let me take a moment to gush over the art. Like with Multiplex, PS is set in Chicago (imagine the cross-over potential!), and Tiede fills every panel with highly accurate and detailed renditions of local landmarks. This detail isn’t limited to the backgrounds, either. Character outfits and props have every line and wrinkle carefully delineated, and Tiede makes sure to ink in every last hair of every last lycanthropic transformation (of which there are ever so many). It’s little wonder that the comic only updates once a week; he must need half of that just to work out the cramps in his hand.

His proportions are likewise generally spot-on. It’s faces where any sort of problem arises for me, and that’s mostly because the way Tiede outlines shadows makes everyone appear to have kitty-noses. And after a while, main character Kate’s self-satisfied manic grin seems more and more inappropriate to the situations she’s in. But then, given the number of scenes where that smile is the only thing she’s wearing, maybe she’s justified in clinging to it.

A certain amount of the plot is werewolf boilerplate: mysterious deaths around town, could be an animal but it’s too intelligent, someone’s recovering way too fast from deadly wounds, disturbing dreams and irrational behavior point at something being seriously wrong, and oh by the way the spunky girl’s a werewolf. I actually get more entertainment from the characters’ interactions and the detective aspect of the story (a strange admission from someone who’s usually put off by forensic drama), and this dichotomy is only compounded when the spectacularly unsubtle Werewolves In Black show up to drag away or neutralize everyone who’s been even remotely sympathetic to the story.

Speaking as a Christian who has worked in a government job before, with relatives who have been in the military, police, and other government positions, I have to say that I’m particularly irked by all these accusations of religion and governments being massive, well-oiled machines of evil, out to crush the little guy. I’ve sat through one too many lectures from people about how organized religion inspires bigotry and hatred … the day before going to a local church to help with a blood drive, a food bank event, or a community clean-up deal. And after working for the State Parks department … let’s just say that the government isn’t evil. Just inefficient.

Comic Rating: Four outfits a week that girl must have to go through.

If you’re around my age or so (which I’m sure at least one or two of you are), you probably remember the Choose Your Own Adventure series. For those of you either too young or too old to know what this fogey/whippersnapper (your choice) is talking about, here’s a quick description: imagine, if you will, a novel that follows every possible outcome of every choice the protagonist makes. The reader is set up as the protagonist and sent off to make choices that will catapult the main character either to a fabulously happy ending with riches and splendor . . . or to a spectacularly gruesome death . . . with plenty of truly illogical intermediate steps that the reader forgave on account of being about eight years old and not realizing that the universe didn’t work that way.

The ability to control the main character (within bounded guidelines) is something of the driving force behind What Do You Do. Taking a bit of an example from MSPaint Adventures, WDYD relies on a certain amount of reader input to influence where the artist takes the main character (and, in one instance, a side character narrating a flashback). The artist is just as likely to take serious suggestions as daft ones, although immature ones will be mutilated as he sees fit.

The site design is fun and frustrating at the same time. It’s fun because the pixellated art lends a nice “late 80’s/early 90’s computer game” feel to things, but frustrating in that the sidebars cram in over the main text and comic. It turns out that you can deal with that problem by zooming out on “really low resolutions.”* The site programmer also provides you with plenty of resource screens, in case you forget how things work (which you will).

Now, while I mentioned that openly dirty suggestions won’t be tolerated, this isn’t to say that the artist won’t have his fun when he feels like it. And oh, what fun he has (warning: sound, plus reference to both Benny Hill and the Keystone Kops).

The art itself manages to look both hurried and polished, with the occasional animated moment adding to the charm. And for some reason, I’m occasionally reminded of Charlie Brown (y’know, other than the language).

As you can see, I had a lot of fun reading through What Do You Do. Once the layout issue was taken care of, it was an enjoyable reminder of all the ways that Dungeons & Dragons and similar games can be hilariously abused.** Read it if you enjoy fantasy, comedy, or just messing with the guy in charge.

Comic Rating: Four party members of variable competence.

*Boy, does that ever sting, given that my current monitor is running at 1024×768. I’m old enough to remember when 800×600 started falling out of favor, and I was just as stung to be called out-of-touch back then.
**Yes, I’m looking at you, Alan and Tom.

So lately, a lot of the comics I’ve reviewed have been fairly well established. Whether they’re popular or obscure, the comics have been around long enough to garner a dedicated fan base and gain a certain momentum that keeps them going. There’s something about having several hundred comics in the archive that keeps a cartoonist willing to keep making them until the plot ends or the ideas dry up completely. With the younger comics, though, there’s a certain temptation to skip an update if things are a little busier than usual, or you just don’t quite feel the urge to finish a comic. Sometimes, the cartoonist has to scale back the updates while things get hectic.

Such is also the case for the nascent Guardians: Land of Legends, by Kaitlin Callahan. As she posted recently, the demands of the school year are cutting into her comic time. I can sort of relate, having had to post similar messages once or twice on my own comics. Of course, those posts usually signaled that either a hiatus or the abrupt end of the comic was near, and in the case with Guardians, that would be rather a pity.

Callahan seems to have more than a decade’s worth of work into developing the story, if the dates on that notice are correct, so she at least has the motivation to continue the comic and complete the story. As it stands so far, the story has a sort of “The Olden Days have lost their magic . . . or have they?” feel to it, although as is often the case with such stories, the sense of mysticality is quickly pushed aside for mundanity, although by genre laws, I assume that this is only for the first chapter.

The focus of the story seems geared more toward lovable spaz Vincent than on vaguely magical Kate, however. There’s also queen bee Fleur, who’s likely to wind up tangled up in the plot, if not the outright antagonist. A few wacky minor characters round out the ensemble for now.

I have to admit that I dig the art style. Lines are very fluid, progression shots are done rather nicely, and you can tell when characters are related. I’ll admit that Mr. G. seems a lot more like a caricature than the other characters, and occasionally people say an awful lot without opening their mouths. (That last panel also has a certain “Hey, Macarena!” vibe to it, but I digress.)

So far, Guardians looks pretty promising. The plot may have a slight potboiler fantasy feel to it, but the characters are entertaining. And it doesn’t hurt that it’s very, very pretty.

Comic Rating: Four sparkly streaming sunbeams.

A bit of good news and a small amount of bad news come hand in hand this week: I’m once again employed part-time, as a writer for a local nonprofit organization. While the opportunity to work and earn a bit of a living is nice, the training this past week took more time than expected . . . so it’s a bit of good luck to have some of my old favorites still available to review.

Among these favorites is Girl Genius, a production by the husband-and-wife team of Phil and Kaja Foglio. Set in a Victorian-era steampunk Europe that’s at once charming and terrifying. Mad scientists rule over the land much like warring nobles, if said nobles had had airships and giant holographic displays. (Check out the alternate image for that one, by the way; it’s a hoot.) The current top of the heap is Baron Klaus Wulfenbach, but he and his son Gilgamesh are minor protagonists. The titular genius is one Agatha Clay, who is hinted (and later proven) to be the heir to the legendary Heterodyne family.

The writing style is spectacularly tongue-in-cheek. The mad scientists are all individually wacky, and the co-stars have their own interesting little quirks. The awkward moments are hilariously well scripted, and even the thick of combat is filled with moments of sheer lunacy. Trying to count the hidden references to other people’s work becomes as much part of the fun as trying to piece together who’s betraying whom (and the plot goes everywhere, let me warn you).

The art is rather often beautiful. Both Foglios are accomplished fantasy artists (Kaja, for example, has at least a handful of Magic cards to her name, and Phil has done a number of other comics as well), and they certainly seem to have fun with their work. I dare you to find a more adorable engineer, a more spectacular caffeine rush, more disturbing use of pictograms. And the blood. Can’t forget the blood. Oh, my heavens, the ichor. Between that and the tendency for the women to wind up less than dressed, it’s apparent that Phil does the artwork.

Be sure to catch the side stories as well; while they tend to hit right when the action’s getting good in the main plot, they’ve got their own entertaining charm.

As you can tell, Girl Genius is a comic that I enjoy nearly without reservation. It’s whimsical, complex, by turns serious and hilarious. And fructivorous.

Comic Rating: Five hours before you even notice you’re archive-binging.