ahoy hoy

Whoa, it's been a while, hasn't it? Yeah, I haven't been around here much. Life happened, but I'm feeling much better now, thanks. It's a new year, so let's kick things off in an optimistic fashion to all of those who would stand in my way in 2011:

Final Watchmen post, really

More Watchmen fun! Lucky you! My rundown on the film can be found here at BootCamp Comics.

In a sad attempt to jazz this entry up, I offer a pitiful sketch I drew of The Question meeting his Watchmen counterpart. Between The Question and Spider-Man I get the impression Ditko didn't like drawing faces much...


For some better art, try Inkblot Confronts the Black Heart of Humanity!

Watchmen fun roundup

In honour of the release of the film adaptation of Watchmen I thought I'd share some of the best Watchmen-related humour and curios I've come across in recent months.

My favourite is Saturday Morning Watchmen, which gives us an idea of how the gang would look if they were transposed to a Saturday morning cartoon from the '70s and '80s. Pure genius.

I wanted to share a brilliant Watchmen: The Condensed Version which told the story in LOLcat/4chan style, but sadly it was posted on the now-defunct Scans_Daily and I can no longer find it online. Wait, it's back! Bask in its glory.

As an alternate to the Condensed Version I recommend Watchmen in 30 Seconds from the ISB's 30-second recap contest.

Slate wonders what would happen if other directors took a swing at adapting the comic?

Sure, the Watchmen Babies have already made an appearance on The Simpsons, but Springfield Punx shows what the real things would look like if Simpson-ized.

One of the most sadly ironic things about the Watchmen movie is all the frickin' merchandise! Here's a roundup on some of the most terrifying examples. But I need to know: where's my Bubastis action figure?

Speaking of merchandise, there's nothing geekier than wearing an obscure in-joke to your favourite comic on a t-shirt. So if the smiley face logo is too obvious a choice for you, perhaps you'd prefer a HURM or a Gunga Diner t-shirt? And Threadless has a clever Watchmen as, uh, watches shirt.

Finally, there's Gizmodo's Photoshop contest 104 Ways to Hilariously Ruin Watchmen. It's wonderful, and has given me my most recent desktop background: a googly-eyed Owlship.

the Golden Age of Comics

(Once again, this is cross-posted from BootCamp Comics blog.)

I want to share with everyone a quote I read on the comics blogosphere recently. Although I can't remember the exact wording, it goes something like this: "There are two Golden Ages in comics: one was from 1938 to 1950, the other is from the time you were 8 years old to the end of middle school."

Hmm, pretty good, no? It sums up both the thrill of childhood, but also how nostalgia can colour your perception and taste in comics as an adult. Face it, when you were a kid, chances are you didn't care about what happened in comics decades before you were born. If you were like me, you just wanted something brand new! Because if it's new, it's gotta be good, right? Certainly, I was no great connoisseur of storytelling or artwork. But I don't think 10-year-olds are expected to be. It's only when you reach your teens that you start to develop that "us versus them" elitist attitude towards others.

But even though I loved comics, I drifted away from them in my mid-teens. A good part of this had to do with a growing interest in music, but I also found comic books less exciting. To give a rough approximation of the timeline I'm talking about, this would have been in the mid '90s, right after the initial Image explosion. I found the stories of some of the newer books lacking, I didn't like the changes being made to my old favourites, and I was also questioning why every other female character had to have a gravity-defying rack and ninja training. Some might say these were symptomatic of the worst excesses of the comic book industry in the '90s. But I honestly think I would have felt the same, whether it had been 1975 or 1995. I was simply growing up.

The more interesting question is, why did I return to comic books? There are lots of people out there who read comics as children, and never pick up another issue once they've finished adolescence. What drives people like me, and the other creators on this site, to stick with the medium?

For me, I think it's the promise of adventure that a comic book holds. In just 22 pages, a comic book can whisk me on a brightly-coloured journey; taking me from the streets of New York, to the dark side of the moon, with a possible stop in the Negative Zone for good measure. I'll admit, now that I'm pushing 30 I'm not as easily impressed by the umpteenth "secret identity in peril" storyline. But there are lots of fantastic writers and artists working today who can take characters others have long left for dead and breathe new life into them. And when make me say "cool!" out loud while reading one of their books, then they're doing their job right.

It seems this entry has turned into my "why I love comics" routine. But it's also why I enjoy creating comics. Hanging with Ty and the BootCamp gang has shown me that I don't have to sit back and read the adventures other people have written. I just need to unlock the crazy ideas bouncing around in my brain and, with a little help from my friends, those stories can be unleashed on the world for all to share. My own personal Golden Age of comics may have passed, but the BootCamp Age is well underway.

Bring on the bad guys!

(This is cross-posted from the BootCamp Comics blog!)

This week I thought I'd discuss something which all longer-form stories need (along with sex, violence, wickedness and suffering, of course): a quality villain. As much as we enjoy rooting for the good guys, we can only do that if they face a challenge to overcome. Now, this can be done by having your protagonist go up against an obstacle without sentience (think the man vs. nature stories), but I like it best when the hero faces a brilliant mind they need to outfox.

What makes a solid, quality villain? Obviously, the answer will vary depending on your tastes. But I think some kind of ironic juxtaposition to the hero is a good place to start. I've met people who think it's lame that the arch-enemy for someone as powerful as Superman is the powerless Lex Luthor. These people Are. Missing. The. Point. For me, it's much more interesting to watch a guy who only has his wits face off against Superman than it is to see a mindless slugfest with Doomsday. Another example of two polar opposites who share an unhealthy symbiotic relationship are Batman and the Joker.

A personal history with the hero is also good, because it sets up layers of character interaction and motivation. Dr. Doom has never been able to get over his college rivalry with Reed Richards. Magneto was always the X-Men's number one foe, but it wasn't until Chris Claremont filled in his backstory as a close friend of Professor X that things really gelled for the character. (At least, I think it was Claremont who filled in these blanks. Correct me if I'm wrong, fanboys!)

Claremont also introduced another famous aspect of Magneto: Holocaust survivor. This had the potential for coming off as tacky, but it ended up working perfectly in the context of mutant-human politics, and it's something that's been integral to the character ever since. It gave a credible motivation to why he hated humans, and why he would reject Professor X's philosophy. So let's add "pertinent backstory" to our list as well. Mind you, a little backstory can go a long way. I think everyone preferred Darth Vader when he had the simple origin of "ex-Jedi who went over to the Dark Side." Three prequels worth of Anakin's whining and angsting effectively extinguished any sympathy or respect I had for that character.

Then there are villains who are so imposing, so grand in scale they may as well be considered "forces of nature." Guys like Darkseid, Galactus and Thanos. At their best, these kinds of villains make the reader stop and think about how we define evil. Is it something in our nature, or can we rise above our station? Galactus has always been particularly terrifying for me. He's the physical embodiment of the apocalypse; beyond petty matters like our concepts of good and evil. He does what he needs to survive, like an anteater devouring the anthill.

But Galactus leads me to ask another question: are quality villains always doomed to become pale imitations of themselves through repeated use? Galactus is pretty much Exhibit A in the rule of diminishing returns. There are only so many times he can threaten to eat the world, before it gets old. And a lot of fans feel the Batman's inability to stop the Joker's homicidal rampages make him look at best foolish, and at worst, criminally irresponsible.

But perhaps the cruelest fate is watching a formerly mighty villain suffer a humiliating defeat at the hands of a much lesser hero. Some people would point to the time Squirrel Girl defeated Dr. Doom as one of these examples. But those people are fools, because we all know Squirrel Girl rocks.

So what do you think? Who are some of your favourite villains and why? Are there any villains who you loved when they first appeared, but lost their impact due to overexposure and mis-management? (*cough* Venom *cough*)

Ctrl + Alt + V: Why I'm sick of identical panels in comics

Note: This was originally posted at the BootCamp Comics Blog but the server seems to be on the fritz, so I thought I'd cross-post it here.

I thought I'd kick off my weekly blogging stint by discussing a stylistic trick that a lot of comic artists have been using in the past few years: The use of repeated, identical panels. You know the type of page I'm referring to. Usually there are two or more people having a conversation, and the panels are pretty much identical. Sometimes the artist has clearly copied and then pasted the same image. Here's an example from The Pulse #12, written by Brian Michael Bendis with art by Michael Gaydos:



I've purposely sized the image so it was too small to read the text. That's because, without the context of the story, it's a boring page from a storytelling standpoint. Sure, there are some slight variations in the three images (mainly in Dr. Strange's eyes in the second panel) but I really had to play "spot the difference" to notice it.

Of course, there are many reasons why an artist would choose to lay out a page in this way apart from the usual knee-jerk reaction of "oh, they were strapped for time." In most cases I suspect it's a deliberate attempt to control the pacing of the story. It also gives the story a more cinematic type feel, especially when artists choose to make slight adjustments from panel to panel. But whether the decision to use this style comes from a specific request from the writer, or it's the artist's choice, I can't say.

But while I understand its purpose, I find the repetitive, identical panels trope really played out in mainstream comics. It's not so much that I think it's lazy, as I feel it's a missed opportunity for the art. Comics are a dynamic medium, which work best when the art makes your eye travel around the page. I'm not saying every page needs explosions and car chases. However, I don't think static, repetitive panels are the best way to tell a story. Scripts featuring heavy dialogue can be challenging for an artist, but I do think it can be handled well in the right hands. Here's a page from Amazing Spider-Man #569, written by Dan Slott, and pencils by John Romita Jr.:



The page is nothing but Norman Osborn talking to Harry, but the panels are still composed so that the eye moves around the page, even in the absence of the dialogue bubbles. And while Harry has a similar pose in panels 3-5, they're not exact duplicates. It accurately paces the scene for us, without stopping the action short with identical panels.

So, what do you think? Do you like repetitive panels, or hate 'em? If you're an artist, I've love to hear your thoughts as to why you would opt to use this narrative device.

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