Ever notice how a large percentage of webcomic blogs consist of excuses for missing deadlines? I never wanted to fall into that trap, which is why I started recommending other webcomics instead. I owe you a few, loyal readers and true - for your saintly patience with the Med Check sequence, if nothing else - and I’ll get to them shortly.
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Lately I’ve been pondering this whole “building a community” thing. The going advice for webcomics, you see, is that we’re supposed to use forums and whatnot to transform our casual readers into a social network of fans, to increase investment in the site. It’s all very collaborative and monetizing or whatever the cutting-edgers are buzzwording this quarter. I don’t really keep up.
I’ve got a few problems with this idea, though. One is spam. I turned off comments in WordPress because I don’t want to deal with increasingly-sentient spambots. Forums? Sheesh. (Though admittedly I’ve considered throwing a chatbox on the top page. Would that be worthwhile, do you think?)
Also, frankly, I’m a stiff-necked old geezebag who doesn’t grok social networking. I’m not judging here - spin your web, dear reader, like no one’s watching - but personally I can’t juggle half a dozen web pages, ten voice chats, twenty-five logins and thousands of “friend requests” or whatever you kids get up to with your consarned Web 2.0. People are texting Twitter while I don’t have a cell phone. My geek cred faded in the rear-view mirror long ago.
However, if I’m to believe the buzz, most of you are social networking like germs at an orgy. And worthy readers, this site is all about you. So I’m asking for your uncensored opinions: Would it make a difference to you, personally, if I turned on comments or added a chatbox? Would it help your enjoyment of the site? Don’t worry, I’m not looking to sell Dr. Singh plushes or anything. (I wouldn’t know how to make the heads float.) I’d just like to know if you want more than I’m giving. My creaky old email link is up there in the corner, under “Contact.”
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So anyway, webcomics. Today I’m going to pitch two surreal ones. The first is a sort of tradition in the webcomic community. Eventually everyone recommends Minus on the chance that a reader hasn’t seen it yet. The strip is a whimsical watercolor version of modern life, with the addition of an omnipotent girl named Minus. She’s a misfit who doesn’t say much, but the comic isn’t about social comedy or cosmic struggles or anything so predictable. It’s about a spacey, imaginative little girl who, possessing infinite power, behaves like a spacey, imaginative little girl with infinite power. Minus is a rare and oddly engaging character, an echo of genuine childhood whimsy. Her stories are always pleasant and often sweet and occasionally dark as hell. Because she has no limits, the ongoing narrative meanders the oddest path through life and death and dreams. Not that it’s difficult to start reading in the middle but the beginning is the best entry point, unless you need no explanation why Minus is suddenly dead or an elephant or alien. Click through the archive, friends, and enjoy the watercolor reverie.
The second webcomic is affiliated with Minus through the Koala Wallop site. The comic’s name is Rice Boy, a title which barely hints at how strange it is. Where Minus flits and flutters on a breeze of surreality, Rice Boy carves through jungles of the stuff. In structure it’s a boilerplate epic quest fantasy, sort of Lord of the Rings meets Yellow Submarine. But this is no Euromyth pastiche. Rice Boy is… hard to describe. Or maybe not: it’s a feast of visual design, ultimately, a delicious spread of shapes and colors and outlandish cartoon beings. Each new chapter delivers another set of charming motifs, even when the story turns grim. Hats off to creator Evan Dahm for a solid achievement. The epic recently finished, and epic it is - forty chapters divided into five “books” - but it’s an easy read, and rewarding. Dive in at the start and tell me it’s not a page-turner.
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