Editing Supreme Part 2 and The Tipping Point

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Before getting into Supreme pages 6-9, I wanted to thank Sean Fahey and the rest of the guys over at Chud.com for giving Elk’s Run five out five Vikings in this review. Much obliged. Also, we put up pictures from our last DCC event. Since I was the guy with the camera, I’m in none of them, so if you want to look at my sexy-ass you’re out of luck. But there are plenty of pictures on this site, so don’t despair. This Sunday we’re having an honest to God jam session. Everyone’s bringing their pencils, pens and ideas and we’re going to create some good shit.

Ok...Yesterdays notes on 1-5.



Page 6 and 7
I don’t know where to begin. This is where we should be getting to the meat of the story following a 5 page set-up. Ok. So. We already had two one-page splashes; we’re now treated to a two page splash. That’s 4 pages of splash out of 7 total pages. That’s lazy, I’m sorry. But that’s not the only thing wrong with this. Where to begin?

Let’s start with logistics, how did Youngblood get up in space so damn fast? Supreme was descending at mach 4, the government guy puts his hand on a button and ta-da, Youngblood is suited up for space-duty and in the earth’s atmosphere. But, space fights are cool.

Secondly, it’s nice that the characters are trying to talk in space, but Supreme can’t hear you. Not even with his super-hearing. Maybe he can read lips, maybe not. I know some people get on the whole, “You need to suspend disbelief when you’re reading comics.” True. Men can’t fly, women can’t control the weather, etc. But the suspension of disbelief clause is really only in there for the sake of defining and developing the character, not because you want to have a cool thing happen in a cool place. That’s just laziness.

Badrock can’t fly on earth, he can’t fly in space.

Dialog is stiff and ripped right of a bad action movie. I’m not going to make that note anymore.

Artwise, Supreme has sprouted spikes on his wrist. The Photon guy is apparently a midget or Badrock’s fist is 6-feet tall. Despite the fact that Combat’s right leg appears to be dropped back, it’s in the same plane as his left one. I could honestly go on but I won’t because, at this point, I call Josh and tell him we’re dropping this “Supreme” book and we need to face up to the fact that we really misjudged the talent.

Page 8
Waste. Of. Space. Sentinel got it right when he said “So?” (which should have a question mark. Without the question mark it’s “So…you come around here often?”) But when I read the “I am Supreme” and saw this ¾ page panel of some old guy holding his hand out, after being treated to 4 out of 7 pages of splashes, I said “So?” At this point, you have to give your audience something more.

In the second panel. Let’s go through each piece of dialog. Sentinal says “So” with no question mark, makes no sense really. Badrock says “what” which makes me think he simply didn’t hear Supreme; it’s not a typical response. Photon says “who”. That’s ok. Combat, who’s on a different hover-board, mind you, is apparently the only one who knows Supreme. And Die Hard says “bah” which is just a bad word, it doesn’t convey what the character is feeling or what, exactly, he’s bahing over. So, they all sound like monosyllabic chimps and none of them really respond to the situation that well. If I could offer a suggestion, how about having someone reiterate the original request, mainly, “state the nature of your presence”, since Supreme ignored it and it’s kind of important. Nice delegation.

Also, Diehard completely changed position, Badrock apparently doesn’t move at all and the Photon guy just came from beneath all of the characters when a panel earlier he was higher than them all. Reference, you gotta keep your reader oriented.

Now, a plot point. The story here is Supreme is returning to Earth after 50 years, a bunch of people remember him. I’m sorry, but Youngblood being a super-secret government agency – they should all know this guy. Everyone on earth should know this guy. When the guy pressed the button for Youngblood, he should have said, “Yo, Supreme’s back. Send up Youngblood, bring him a fruit-basket.” Two thousand years after Jesus’s death and everyone on the planet knows who he is - a guy that performed a couple of miracles but mainly lived a pretty short life before getting crucified. And he’s remembered after two-thousand years. You’re telling me that fifty years after Supreme leaves earth, the most powerful super-hero to ever exist, no-one remembers him or knows exactly what he looks like? Not even other fucking super-heroes? They don’t sit around and say, “Hey, you know who was awesome? Supreme was awesome.” The only guy that remembers him, Combat, knows him from another planet, not even Earth. As Die Hard would say, “Bah!”

Page 9
Panel one lettering doesn’t flow right. It leads the eye across the top and then back down to Diehard’s second piece of dialog. As I’ve said yesterday, letterer should be fired. Also, while we’re firing people, “we represent the law on this rock” – whoever came up with that line should be fired as well. But, I’m done noting stiff dialog. Good to see all of the characters are back to the positions they were in on page 7, however. Quasi-consistency.

In panel two I love how Sentinel is apparently mixing it up on the space-turntables, complete with an “Ah, shit son!” look on his face.

In panel 3 Combat’s hoverboard is round again. “You dare insult his honor?” is a question, regardless of how loud it’s yelled. Badrock is just kind of floating around in a position that makes no sense. Also, I’ll say it again, worst delegation ever. But, at least we’re getting to some action, right? Um, well, about that action…

Panel 4. You had a really good chance at a cool shot. Assuming we will once again defy the laws of physics and allow for fire in space (or, assuming Combat’s staff emits oxygen and that oxygen gather’s around Supreme’s chest) - you pull out a bit, or down a bit, and you can really show the chest burning up (or, I assume his clothes, since I have a hard time imagining Supreme’s flesh catching fire) and still show his smile as if it’s not affecting him. But instead we get a really awkward shot. I don’t know why, I just kid of feel dirty looking at it, I feel like Supreme is giving me bedroom eyes and his plans for me are making him “sizzle” which, by the way, is a really bad sound effect.

Ok, so after the awkward fourth panel we finally get some action, right? No, we skip it again, for a picture of something happening that I have to a) assume was someone getting rocked and b) assume it was Combat. Show it. Show it, show it, show it. (And, while you’re at it, the distance this guy is apparently traveling is comical, especially when you consider he probably lost his hoverboard and has no-way of getting back…but he does, mind you). We made it through 9 pages of sloppy art and bad dialog, give us something. And I think that’s my final note for these 4 pages. They expand the nonsense we saw in the first 5 but now with Youngblood. I left off my notes on pages 1-5 saying that the big action pay-off is coming up. Well, maybe tomorrow. Pages 10-14

____________________

As I said, trying to skew the Orgo test didn’t work. Only D I’ve ever gotten in college.

The semester just sucked, between alien invasions, no motivation, shitty grades, trouble with R and a girl from my dream visiting me, I think one can say I was in a bit of a fragile state. Combined with the lack of sleep I was pretty much dangerous.

I was in R’s room with a couple of other people when we phone in to get our organic chemistry grades. None of us got above a C. Everyone started bitching about the class and the teacher and how unfair it all was to which I interjected and let them know, admittedly unwisely, that our grades where our own fault and we never went to class, never studied and just didn’t do anything for the class.

R got pretty quite. And she remained quite as we walked back to my place where we meeting with our study group for our next final we were going to fail. Being the kind of guy that really needs to know what’s going in people’s heads, even when I know it’s not good, I keep pressing R to tell me what’s wrong. She won’t answer.

Finally she turns around and tells me, “You don’t want to hear what I have to say.”

Now. A lot of people would leave it at that because they really don’t want to hear what the other person has to say. But not me. I’m masochistic and mildly retarded. R’s response was a fucking challenge. I kept going.

And going.

And going.

Until she turns to me, in the middle of a crowded street, and screams, “You’re right, I should have went to class instead of staying home and fucking you all day.”

Do you know how a person snaps sometimes? I’ve snapped three times in my life, I mean snapped – really lost control. The first time was at Steven’s funeral. The second time was when I got into a fight with my dad and took a swing at him. The third time was at this exact moment.

I stared at her for about five seconds before she started walking away. Luckily I was in shock or else, and I hate to say this, I really think I would of hit her. I let her walk away before going on my rampage. I know this is kind of fucked up and it was only one little sentence she said which, if you look at it positively, I could use to brag about how much ass I got in college, but you have to look at the circumstances – I wasn’t all there in the head at this point.

But, I also didn’t know how to release my anger. So I started running.

Really, really, fucking fast. While pushing people out of the way and stopping to kick shit.

I was like the fucking Hulk. I compared myself to the Hulk before, humorously, this time it was for real. I was rampaging through the streets and people were running away from me. And then I got to my room.

And I tore it apart. Like a fucking rock star except I wasn’t having fun. It was a certifiable testosterone amplified hissy fit. People started gathering outside my door, I was the fucking RA at this point and the RA was obviously breaking shit in his room. Finally R came to the door, asked to come in. To which I politely responded, “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.”

She eventually came in and calmed me down. I was a mess; I was shaking, crying…I mean, life just caught up with me. And it’s not even like all of the shit was absolutely horrible but at the same time it just looked like everything was sort of coming apart, you can see it happening.

It’s funny, I talk about the 423 thing, about what actually happened on April 23rd and what I thought was going to happen. I got this thing, you know, where I kind of feel like the magical shit’s going to happen to me. My whole life I always sort of felt like there was somebody or something looking out for me, whether you call it God or an angel or just luck. But shit just always worked out, you know? I never had to try hard and if I usually went for something I found a way to get it. It made me lazy.

It wasn’t happening like that at this point. I was really being challenged, and the shit just wasn’t falling in my favor. But I kept waiting for it to get better, just thinking that’s the way shit goes with me. Everything works out. And then I had the dream. And as scared as I was and as out of my mind I was going I kept telling myself, “This is it. Something amazing is going to happen to me now.” As if all of the bad luck up until this point, the grades, the friends, the girlfriend, the stress, the drugs, the family…everything was all just sort of moot because on April 23rd, something was going to fucking happen.

And nothing happened, after spending a month getting myself prepared. After a month of going out my head thinking that God was about to hit a big fucking reset button. Nothing happened.

And it fucked me up. And I cracked.

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