The essence of control rings out

In some ways, the Control Ring (level Two) of the city is the most obvious of settings and, in turn, the most aptly named. Government of any kind is essentially about control: controlling who is considered a citizen, what the borders are, and how the rule of law (if any) is implemented. There are certainly differences among the various types of government and those that are nominally about “the people” are often the most insidious in the form of control which is exerted. Our own United States, once again about to be the plaything of Bronzo the Clown and his cohort of fascists, has long trended toward the type of control which is far more subtle than simply that of a monarch dictating what is good or isn’t according to their personal whims. In the US, the concept of the nation-state as religion (the flag not being allowed to touch the ground, being required to recite a pledge of allegiance in school, etc.) is the most obvious form of that control. Treating inanimate objects and vague concepts like “democracy” and “patriotism” as untouchable foundations of this society played heavily into the conceptualization of the Tribunal, which is the dominant element of level Two.

Likewise, organized religion has been an element of control in human society for as long as the latter has existed. Being able to refer to otherworldly and largely unknowable beings as the enforcers of societal law that was, of course, usually dictated by a priesthood in close alliance with the rulers of that society, has been an essential facet of almost every major religion created throughout human history. “Don’t do that because God said so” is a direct form of that control. Writing those religious laws down and then reinterpreting them to serve whatever present interest was most advantageous to those doing the interpretation is a more oblique but just as widespread method. Religion establishes a code that must be heeded if one is to be accepted within the society where the majority of people have decided that said code is the best way for society to function. Again, American democracy was largely created as a replacement for that kind of religion. When it’s combined with that outlook is when it becomes the most pernicious as, again, we are about to see with Project 2025 and so forth. This, too, was a major aspect to my imagining of the Tribunal.

Brave New World | Occult & Obscure Clothing | Night Channels White / 5X-Large

But then when it is simply all of the worst aspects of humanity that those two things- government and religion -allow to be used as weapons is where it all comes together. That, in truth, is fascism and it usually centers around promoting the interests of a small group against the interests of all other groups and is almost always rooted in fear: fear of The Other; fear of change; fear of differing perspectives. All of those things must be repelled or abolished in order to preserve the sanctity (and control) of the society that functions on that fear. The Tribunal, as masters of the second level of the City (and, really, the first, since it’s the one that doesn’t have regular, direct contact with the outside world, like the Rim) is a structure of government that is expressly about control. It wants to control who or what enters its territory (and, thus, enters or leaves the city.) It wants control over the genetic makeup of its citizenry (the Midwife project.) It wants control over what its citizens do, think, and feel as it arcs toward its collective vision of “the perfect society”; E pluribus unum, indeed. That kind of exacting control over mass bodies of people is nearly impossible if history is any indication, but many attempts have come close, usually in fiction but not always. The Tribunal is Orwell’s 1984. It is Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. It is George Lucas’ THX-1138. But it is also Joseph Stalin’s Soviet Union. And along with those, it’s also markedly interested in eugenics, cybernetics, and psionics as methods to implement that perfect society and extend it as far as it can.

I usually refer to the Tribunal as an “it” because, while it is controlled at the top by a council known as The Trust, the whole entity is something of a unitary existence. The control within that society is so absolute that almost everything tends to function like a centralized machine; from the Tribunal Protectors (aka Thought Police) to the Midwives to the Counselors, all of which are meant to curb the potential excesses of humanity (like, say, free will) and instead shape it into a tool to be used to, again, create that perfect society. That’s why the eugenicist program of the Midwives is so important to it. Finding the right genetic makeup to not only create “super-beings” but expressly obedient, dedicated super-beings is important to the whole mission of the Tribunal. This, of course, all rings true to the basic ideas behind the Nazi regime of Germany and, likewise, rings true to the aspirations of any number of Americans, both now and in the past. Genetic purity has been a hallmark of American society since its founding on the backs of those considered a “lesser race.” Racism has been an essential part of American politics ever since. The Tribunal takes a different tack on it, in that no ethnicity is considered superior to any other, but the object of the Tribunal is to create such a race that will be superior and, therefore, in turn create the superior (or perfect) society.

Religion and Control | Catholic Answers Podcasts

That endeavor is, like many things throughout history, a direct response to the circumstances around them. The Collapse was enough of a shock to create the idea in the most outlying portion of the city (but still inside the city, unlike the “lawless” Rim where those “others” live…) that a government/religion like the Tribunal is the only proper response to this disaster. And there are a couple elements external to the state that contribute to that idea. Back in the early 90s, it was common knowledge that the older portion of the population were more likely to be conservative voters, which made the idea of the Dawn Patrol- a group of pharmacologically-enhanced, elderly men, longing for “the good old days” -an easy one to countenance as one of the few manifestations of the “gang” phenomenon on the second level. Another one of those groups is the Anarchrists, who take the religion example to an extreme; each one of them believing that they could be the promised messiah if they can only sacrifice themself in the fury of conflict against the control enforced by the Tribunal. We’ll run into a few of them in one of our upcoming stories.

But I also don’t want to neglect the religious angle in all of this talk about government control. That’s a deep-rooted aspect of the Tribunal’s makeup. As a Marxist and classical Stoic, I’ve always been fascinated by those who are devoted to this or that religion and the extremes that they’ve been driven to throughout history in the name of “God.” Much of the technology involved in the makeup of the Midwives, as well as the very network that the Tribunal maintains independent of the ShadowNet- TrinityNet -is rooted in that religious perspective. Entities on TrinityNet and within the very structure of the society carry names from religious texts like ophan and nefeshim. The iron fist of that society is inherently portrayed as something extending from the heavens and rooted in imagery of much greater significance than one gated neighborhood on the edge of a former metropolis. Also, one of the interesting things about the Tribunal that sits in the deep background is how similar much of its approach and essential makeup mirrors the society of the Walkers, much deeper in the city and much farther in our future than any tales about the second level…

Anyway, again, that’s for the future. For the next couple months, we’re still on the Rim and perfection is a distant vision. But we can still see the Tribunal Protectors lining the wall. They’re right there, hiding in plain sight. 

The tribal mentality

Gang - Wikipedia

As I mentioned in the historical publication piece, the gangs have almost always been a fascinating topic for whomever has read the bible. When I started listing them off on that day that I dumped the majority of this whole concept onto a keyboard, a lot of them had come from the fabled notebook but in various stages of creation. Some of them were almost fully realized, like the Knightshift, and some of them were just names, like the Gorekings. Some of them had an identity firmly established, like Jerry’s Kids, and some of them had one that was only a wisp of an idea, like the Catclaws. And, certainly, some of them have been updated down through the years, as I’ve thought about stories that involved them and realized that there was a better concept that I hadn’t even considered when first naming and imagining them. I’m still doing that as I continue to write about the place. The Anarchrists of my current mindset aren’t the Anarchrists of the moment I first set them to paper, electronic or actual, in 1991. But I think the lure that their overall presence creates is that tribal mentality that most humans have to one degree or another. People want to belong to something and the gangs of Dystopia are like their own little nation-states unto themselves. Indeed, many of them are formed around actual genetic or other identities, like Bloodpulse and the Posh Street Flaming Screamers.

Mafia of the Poor: Gang Violence and Extortion in Central America | Crisis Group

Tribalism is hardwired into the human condition and manifests itself in any number of ways. The idea of Us vs Them is very much a part of the human condition, even if it wasn’t already encouraged by public institutions, like governments with their national borders, or cultural training, like racism. It also manifests itself in different ways, even when one discards one type of tribalism for another. I detest nationalism, as I think it divides people that would otherwise be working together (aka “They got you distracted with the national war so you don’t think about the only war that matters: the class war.”) It’s that disdain for nationalism that largely makes me indifferent to international football. Of course, I’m also a lifelong Liverpool fan, so my football tribalism expresses itself in another fashion. But it also depends on how you let it shape your thinking. I have good friends who are Manchester United, Manchester City, Real Madrid, and Chelsea fans and it doesn’t affect our friendship, even during matches. (Can’t say I know any Everton fans, though. I have limits.) The difference being that I am me first and Liverpool fan/club member, second. But a lot of people wrap themselves up in an identity that often defines how they interact with others. They’ll frame interactions in the context of being this or that identity, rather than simply a unique human with unique reactions to and interpretations of everything and everyone around them.

The Warriors movie review & film summary (1979) | Roger Ebert

Many of the gangs are of the former perspective, where their gang membership and the identity that allows or encourages them to be part of that gang, is like their armor against those not like them. In the city, of course, being part of a group that is closely-bonded is often a matter of literal survival, as opposed to social advancement or comfort that often defines gang membership in the current era (which can also be about survival in some cities, I am fully aware.) If you aren’t part of something like the Phalanx or the Shadow Dragons on Six, you may not live to see the next day. In contrast, your membership in something like Jerry’s Kids may not only be a matter of your physical makeup, but also might risk your life more than simply living on Three would ever do, which is a pretty high bar to clear in most parts of Dystopia. But in some cases, it’s not even a question of identity. The only thing that keeps the Phalanx tied together is the presence of the Warlord. It’s a cult of personality just like the modern Republican party, which is centered solely around Bronzo the Clown. Again, the fact that political parties throughout history were often just better organized and better funded street gangs (occasionally oriented around sports teams, like the Blues and Greens of Constantinople) makes those kinds of associations and personality cults that much easier. Again, many nations are essentially “gangs” of people who share an identity and often point that identity at other nations to announce: “They not like us.” That erroneous outlook of our modern era is often a side note in the identities of Dystopia’s gangs and that’s part of what science fiction is for: an extrapolation of what we see today into what we could see tomorrow.

Juggalos vs. the FBI: The fight for identity beyond the gang label - Sqauk

Canis Majoris, for example, is made up of lycanthropes on Four, both human and Morlock. Similarly, the Cyberrats on Seven are only made up of the cybernetically-enhanced and genetically-mutated servants of Hakker, which is still a cult of personality, to some degree. Both of their identities are also shaped by the level they inhabit, which was also part of the overall concept. I wanted to be able to do multi-genre stories in the same location, so the fact that werewolves exist on Four is entirely in keeping with the “horror” theme of that level. But I also wanted to do a different kind of SF/horror on Seven (about which I can’t really say that much until we get there…), which is why the Cyberrats (and Hakker) are what they are. But, again, sometimes it’s just a matter of self-interest. One could easily see any of the Rogue Corps on Three as “gangs.” For that matter, it’s easy to look at Macabre’s mob on Four, the Iron Wizards on Three, and The Morgue Lords and The Deathless across the city as different forms of “gangs”, even if they’re not identified as such in the bible. Human tribalism infects most aspects of modern society. Few people want to be alone all the time, so you find other people that are like you or think like you do or are fans of the same thing you are and you join them. That social animal characteristic, while not unique to humans, is far more refined and often esoteric than it is among other mammals. Elephants don’t band together because they like the same singer, but humans do and it means that even the most exotic motivations of any of the gangs in Dystopia still make sense at some level. That instinct to band together becomes even more prominent when you’re in the midst of a metropolis that just collapsed in on itself and it’s hang together or get hanged together. (The Hanged Man, however, remains one of the distinct loners in the city…)

So that’s some of the background thinking on the gangs and their presence in the setting. We’ll be running into one of them in the second story and the fourth story in the serial novel basically revolves around the activities of both the Knighshift and Control/Alt/Delete, so there will be plenty of gang action to come. One of these days, I might get back to that Bloodpulse story from the original digest-sized comic, too. Meanwhile, next time I might get back to the survey and explore the Control Ring, but no guarantees.

Shadows on (and off) the ‘Net

The opening story, Into Darkness, is primarily concerned with what’s happening in “the Real” as the city expression goes. We’re presented with Force Command, which is the main route of interaction with the outside world, which is almost always only part of the Real. We’re also primarily concerned with the manifestation of the Netwights and how they are a constant presence in many areas of the city; most often on The Spill, which is the section of the city that didn’t fall relatively cleanly in concentric rings. That section collapsed entirely and left a path of rubble from the Rim all the way down to Tarterus, which is the seventh level and one of the key lynchpins of the ShadowNet, the city-wide network that forms “the Now.” Unlike the other two levels that form that tripod of ‘Net structure, the fifth with the Black Market and the third with the Rogue Corps, the nature of the ‘Net on Seven is less technical and more mystical, for lack of a better term. In some ways, it’s the very root of the ‘Net and some of the phenomena that appear on it. There are other forces at work on Tarterus and those elements shape the character of everything that comes into contact with it and them. Among them are things like Hakker and his Cyberrats (just cybernetically altered or something more?), the gangs like the Azurademons, the TarBabies, and the Psycho Derelicts, and the regular presence of the Tech Walkers, which are more present on this level and Six than anywhere else in the city.

As I mentioned before, the concept of the ShadowNet is rooted partially in William Gibson’s concept of cyberspace, but it was always intended to be more than that. Whether you’re online or not, you can regularly feel the presence of the ‘Net in the city. It’s both “online” in terms of being an electronic communication network, but also physically and psychically present within the city. If you’re “in tune” with it, then you can recognize its effect on the physical world. Rare, indeed, are those who can be effectively online in both the Real and the Now, but one of them, Satori, is a regular resident of Seven, which speaks to one of those dual identities that that level holds. And, of course, “dual nature” is one of the main elements of the ‘Net as a story element, which our first story will get into. The fact that we’re beginning at the top of the Spill and its endpoint is on Tarterus is another nice coincidence. It’s almost like I’ve had this thing mapped out in my head for 33 years. But that “feel” of the presence of the ‘Net is also evident if you happen to run into those denizens of the city which, like Satori, have a connection to the Real and the Now as part of their own dual nature. Those are the Netwights and the Jackwraiths.

The latter is the screen name I’ve had for some 40 years, going back to the earliest elements of the Internet in places like local BBSs and some more well-known nodes like The WELL (yes, just like the Ninth level. Inspiration comes from many places, but that wasn’t an intentional naming match.) Of course, back then it had to be “jackwrth” (8-character names) but I could type it out in full in messages and posts. The original idea was a take I had on Gibson’s work, wherein his characters had to jack in, mentally, to his network and basically fully upload their consciousness. My thought was: What would happen if you died while you were jacked in? You’d leave behind a ghost. Or a wraith. Hence, jackwraith, since I was terminally online back in the day. In old school D&D, two of the most feared types of undead were wraiths and wights, since the former would drain your strength until you just died from being near them and the latter, even worse, would drain you of experience levels; meaning that all the work you’d done to become an 8th-level fighter might be lost when a couple hits from a wight reduced you to a 6th-level fighter. So, it was natural that if I had jackwraiths in the Now, I’d also have netwights in the Real and the residents of the city would have to deal with them, no matter where they were in the two worlds. I have a story in the queue that involves the Iron Wizards and a programmer named Kahina that orbits that concepts about the wraiths/wights and what spawns them and why. But that’s probably a ways out.

Anyway, that’s a bit more background on one of the most important elements of the setting. It has a presence in this first story and the Tribunal’s version of it- TrinityNet -will be part of the second story. The Tech Walkers also have an exclusive network of their own down on the eighth level, the Wasteland, so there’s no place that isn’t connected to some version of the Now, even as close as the Wasteland is to The Well, which tends to restrict that kind of communication and presence, which is kind of a clue to the essential nature of that aspect to the city and its origin. But we’ll get into that at some point in the future, either through Jeff’s art or me rambling away in some other fashion. Next time, I might talk a bit more about Force Command or perhaps resume the survey down to Two, the Control Ring.

Plans for the moment

When Jeff suggested that we try to get back into comics (him drawing and me writing), he immediately suggested the Dystopia material that I’ve been regaling you with in these first few posts. When he did that, he asked me to send him everything: the “bible”, the scripts, future story notes, and so on, as he hadn’t read any of it in years. What I also sent were a few short stories that I’d been writing in more recent years on the suggestion of my friend, Margot, that Jeff had never seen. Years ago, Margot had read the bible and a bit of the other material and reasoned that, if I couldn’t find an artist to do it in comic format, I should just write (or rewrite) the stories that I had and do everything in prose. That way, I wouldn’t have to rely on anyone to enable their seeing the light of day other than me. I’d become so fixated on the material in a visual sense that I’d never considered trying to change format and approach them from another angle. Some of that fixation remains, since we used to do everything in black-and-white at Fifth Panel because color printing was yet another expense that we (meaning: Jeff) couldn’t really afford. Consequently, I imagined almost every concept and character for Dystopia in black-and-white and that perspective remains to this day. Jeff has talked about adding color to the finished panels for the first story, which is based on one of those short stories that Margot suggested- written over a decade after the studio had ceased operation -and I find myself still imagining everything in black-and-white, such that adding color to anything feels foreign. I think Into Darkness could probably remain black-and-white, although I understand that adding color to it will attract more eyes and allow us to reveal some more details about things like the Netwights and so forth. The next story, though, will definitely benefit from a little chromatic accessorizing…

Into Darkness was intended as the opening segment of a serial novel. Even doing prose, I couldn’t escape the comic roots of the concept. What I wanted to do was a series of connected short stories- nine of them, in fact -that could stand on their own but still be a part of a continuing presentation; kind of a serial novel, with each segment taking place on one of the city’s nine levels. I realized in thinking about the whole concept that the later stories would more clearly be really long chapters in an actual novel, since the characters would be reflecting on previous events and interacting in a manner that involved that continuing story. But the first three or four or five could easily just be “days in the life of Dystopia” that spoke to one corner of the differing nature of each level. The central plot of the novel was an eruption by the Netwights/Jackwraiths in both the Real and the Now, respectively. You’ll see me regularly using that little catchphrase that is commonly wielded by the inhabitants of the city to talk about the outer world (the “real”) and the inner world (the ShadowNet or the “now.”) It was something I thought about when developing the concept of the city as I noticed how quickly news traveled on the then-nascent Internet, compared to the everyday world which still depended on newspapers, TV networks, and word-of-mouth. That phenomenon expanded beyond anything I was considering 30 years ago, such that, on today’s date that I’m writing this, the current president of the United States announced that he was not running for reelection not via press conference or delivering a letter to the New York Times, but on the social media platform formerly known as Twitter. That was inconceivable 30 years ago. There was the real and today there is the now. The entities that are the wights and the wraiths exist in those domains, respectively, but they’re just one of the most outward examples of how intertwined those domains are, which is why the catchphrase exists.

All of that said, Into Darkness is about just one aspect of The Rim, which is Force Command. The previous post talked about a few others, so there are still many directions that we could go if we decided to venture back to the top level. It is, of course, also only the first half of that story and we will finish it, but we’re going to sail down to the second level for the second one: Midwife, aborted which is, again, one of those short stories of the serial novel but involves a concept that’s been with me from the very first imaginings of the setting, which is The Tribunal, the dominant presence on the second level, and the Midwife program, which is a key element of the Tribunal’s genetic purity efforts. I’ll do a post about level Two as I mentioned at the end of my post about The Rim, so I won’t go into too much detail here. But there’s no hiding the fact that one of my favorite concepts within the setting is that of the fanatical, fascist, ultra-religious, Kafkaesque Tribunal and its various manifestations, including its own network, known as TrinityNet. So we decided to switch off from completing the full story of Bradson and Frazier up on Point and figured we’d engage at least the first part of how that surge of wights and wraiths is impacting at least one of the other levels of the city. I’m not sure if we’ll follow through the entire plot of the novel just yet; mostly because I never finished it. I completed the first three stories (although there’s room for them to be expanded) and got about halfway through the fourth (Stake and the Knightshift on Four, key characters in that story, are among my favorites of the gangs that are everywhere in the city) before losing the flame for it. Now that Jeff and I are back at it, this may turn out to be the compelling factor in its completion; not least because it’s a solid look at every level of the city all the way down to the Well. (Just as an editorial aside, I’m still debating about constantly capitalizing the articles before proper names that are major elements, rather than personal names. In other words, I’m questioning whether I should keep writing things as “The Tribunal” or “the Tribunal.” It may just be a question of me saving one keystroke (e.g. not pressing Shift more than once when writing those names.))

I kind of detest doing survey work, which is what I feel like “introducing” people to the concept is. I don’t want to be writing a guidebook. I want to be writing stories. But the serial novel was intended to be both an introduction to the overall concept AND a solid story, so beginning where we do is a convenient opening, but I’m not really concerned about holding people’s hands on the way down, either. One of my all-time favorite comic writers is Howard Chaykin, who basically never stops to give people any kind of introduction to plot or setting or characters. He just dives right into whatever story he’s writing and assumes that you’ll catch up as he moves along. There are pros and cons to that approach (Howard has never really been a “hit” comic writer) but it’s always felt more “honest” to me and I want (need, really) this project to be compelling, rather than seem like a chore, since it will end up producing better material from my end if I’m enthusiastic about what I’m doing, rather than feeling like I’m writing yet another guidebook to all of the amusement parks in my head. I’m not trying to imply that Into Darkness isn’t compelling. On the contrary, I hope people find it to be a great springboard into everything else that we’re doing. But I just don’t want to feel, again, like I’m letting people in easy. There’s nothing easy here, in the real or the now. So, next time, level Two. Maybe.

Edge of the known world

Dystopia was originally envisioned as a multi-genre project. Early in the lifetime of Fifth Panel, we didn’t have a ton of variety in our genres (e.g. it was still mainly superheroes), but there were at least some variations in approach, in that some characters were more sci-fi-oriented and others more horror-oriented and so forth. My original projects that I’d had in hand when Jeff and I met (Doomsayer and Therapy) were both more horror-oriented than your average superhero fare. While I’m not a huge horror fan (I tend to avoid horror films because most of them aren’t great sources of actual story, which is typically my pinnacle perspective on most forms of entertainment; in other words, tell me a good story, first and foremost), I’m a pretty sizable fan of things like H. P. Lovecraft and the weirder edges of horror like the film, Audition. So, I knew that was going to embody a fair amount of the work that I put into things, but not everyone in the studio was on that same page and I wanted to cover as much ground as possible and enable as many people to play in the playground as I could. The Rim ended up, appropriately, being the most distant of the environments from that superhero/adventure path; closest to “modern America” and yet one of the more chaotic levels of the city because of that exposure to the “outside world.” It’s honestly where I wanted to tell a modern Western story, if I could make it work.

The Magnificent 20: The greatest Westerns of all time | The Independent

The Western in modern media is filled with a variety of influences and perspectives; from the Wild West to a look back at the frontier society which somehow made things purer than they are today. Speaking of HPL, you can see that element in the stories of his friend, Robert E. Howard who presented his most famous hero (or, often, antihero in modern terminology) Conan the Barbarian as the embodiment of society in its less civilized and, thus, purer form. If only everyone would return to Conan’s direct, brutal, murderous, misogynistic, and simple ways, everything would be better(!) And that perspective is shared to some degree by one of the more prominent entities on the Rim, which is FedGov’s mercenary army: Force Command. The United States in the era of Dystopia is no longer so united and the nominal federal government is trying to enforce its rule at gunpoint, which has much less to do with enforcing or protecting the principles of any piece of sheepskin and more to do with the raw question of who gets to control the territory between the world’s two largest oceans. Unlike the former US Army, FC isn’t bound by any oath of duty. It’s just about enforcing FedGov’s will in the name of presumed pragmatism and everyone has accepted that. Its primary mission, just like the US Army of that same Wild West, late 19th-century period, is the “protection” of the local citizenry and the enforcement of federal (and often mercantile) interests. In that respect, the city of Dystopia is “the other” that was the native population in America of the 1800s that FC is here to contain and control.

But the Rim is basically a doorway and all doorways go both ways (or, at least, most of them do.) FC is there to protect the surrounding population from what might emerge from the Pit, but it’s also there to keep people from going into it. That’s one of the more contextual things about levels like Corporate City (level Three), which is still kind of operating like a “normal” American city would and is interested in trading with the outside world. But that’s a threat to FedGov’s power and is also seen as suspicious by many Americans, now trained to think of anyone inside as “the other” in the same way many modern Americans think of immigrants, i.e. they not like us. What I wanted the Rim to be was not only an almost-literal jumping off point into the weirdness that is the rest of the city, but also an example of the mix of cultures and influences that is any “borderland” of most nations throughout history and which most fictional settings don’t really examine at all or keep in weirdly accessible geographic locations, like Greyhawk’s Wild Coast. There’s a lot of traffic there, even if FC does try to control it and, for that matter, anyone trying to venture out of the city in the first place has to get past the Control Ring (level Two) and the Tribunal or venture up the Spill, with all of the hazards (moving and non-) that that entails, as we’ll see in our first story, Into Darkness.

But, again, a lot of people are interested in getting into the city, which means that there are a fair number of mercenary types aside from FC, like bodyguards, bounty hunters, and tour guides. One of my favorite characters is one that I’ve actually never scripted: Skip Tracer. He’s a bounty hunter who has slicked back, perfect blond hair, usually wears shades (even at night), and dresses in polo shirts, sweaters tied over his shoulders, with perfect loafers on his feet, and often an old school wooden tennis racket in his hand. Nothing really bothers Skip and his name and attire both reflect that. I have a story idea in mind for him that contrasts him with many of the other inhabitants of the Rim, like Jekyll and Hyde (two mercenaries, one of which is a Morlock, the other an exiled Texas Ranger) and groups like the Eden Community, the Deliverance Club led by the esteemed Jimmy “the Grin” Dallas, and the Burger Clown Commandos. If that sounds like kind of a panoply of directions and interests, that’s exactly the intent because that’s The Rim. Anyone could come drifting into town and the whole story might change, but there are an awful lot of good ones already there. I have a group of characters sitting around that are a pointed reference to the idea of a “Western”, called The Wild Bunch, but I’m not quite sure that that one has been in the oven long enough, even if it has been 30 years. It’s also been a lot of years since I seriously looked at them and asked myself the most important question: OK, but what’s the story?

The Eden Community (the Garden), on the other hand, is one of the most important locations in the city and plays an important role in the Odyssey story that I referenced in my last post. Epicurus and the Adept and Alastor and Original Synn are a quartet of philosophy and perspective that also have huge impact on the ShadowNet and how it operates. It’s not obvious, but it’s present and the smart traveler consults them before making any big decisions that involve the Now (and sometimes the Real, too.) Anyway, that’s the briefest of looks at the first level of the city. I might look at level Two next or I might jump around a bit. It’s a huge world and I don’t want everyone to wait until we can get out as many stories as we’d like to tell the whole picture, so I thought doing these as kind of a survey course might be helpful and mildly entertaining.

 

The origin story

The most basic identity of the Dystopia setting was two-fold: 1. It was a place that everyone at Fifth Panel Comics could play around in. 2. It was a way to compile a ton of random ideas that I’d built up over the years and do something interesting with them. That’s pretty much it. I didn’t really come to it with any kind of grand vision. In fact, I didn’t have any vision until one moment while I was sitting on a couch in my mother’s place in Arizona after returning from the San Diego Comic Con.

Jeff and I had met at the Chicago Comicon in 1991. He had Fifth Panel Comics, a small indie studio, up and running by then, having rounded up a passel of interested artists on the old Prodigy network. Having failed to get any attention from the major companies (Marvel, DC, Dark Horse, etc.) with either my stories about their characters or with the two major projects I’d been working on (a couple books called Doomsayer and Therapy, which I might talk about somewhere down the road), I started moving through the small press area at the Rosemont Convention center, seeing if I could find other people of like mind who might be interested in ideas that I was pitching. Jeff and artist Dave Witt were those people. I was attending the con with my friend, artist Will Kliber, and Jeff said: “Pitch me a story.” Will and I had been working on a couple horror story ideas; one of them centered around the character that would later become The Gargoyle, so we decided to offer that one up and Jeff suggested a deadline for the finished pencils and we agreed. That was the beginning.

A few weeks later, I was in San Diego, again trying to pitch my “big” story ideas and again meeting with no luck. At one point, Jim Shooter told me that I was wasting my time without an artist walking around with me (despite Jim having started in a similar fashion to what I was attempting, at the age of 14.) So, I left the con still frustrated that I couldn’t get anyone to listen, but was communicating with Will about progress on the work we were doing for Fifth Panel. I had brought my “ideas” notebook with me to San Diego, because at that time barely a couple hours could pass without me jotting down a story, character, or premise that could be something I’d want to pursue at some later date. I was listening to The Doors’ L. A. Woman album, when this song came on:

That was the trigger moment. I started imagining the concept of American urban decay taken to the nth degree; where societal collapse had become so advanced that a city had, in fact, physically collapsed and become a kind of Dante’s Inferno, with different levels having a different atmosphere or identity, which would be different genres of story. That way, not only could it incorporate a number of the ideas in that notebook, but it would also invite the other creators at Fifth Panel to participate with their own stories so that we could generate something of an esprit de corps at the studio. Socialist that I am, I wanted something on which everyone would work together. I jotted down the general premise, adding to it a couple characters that I’d had sitting around, like The Mime, and then just let it sit.

A week later, I was at the studio talking to Jeff and suggested the idea to him. He looked at me with an expression of mild disconcern and said: “Write me a proposal.” He later told me that he’d expected me to come back to him with a single-page proposal that would talk about the grand scheme, but leave the future details kind of hazy, as something to be filled in later, almost literally. Instead, I went home and sat down for a couple hours and churned out the first version of the “bible”, which was 20+ pages of setting, character details, and notes about the environment. I brought that back to him the following week and he started reading it. He stopped to call one of our local artists and said: “Hey. You should stop by and check out this cool thing that Marc just handed me.” He read some more and called someone else: “You should really come by and check out this awesome thing that Marc did for that shared world idea.” He read more and called a third person: “Hey. You really need to come see this amazing thing that Marc wrote-!”

Of course, the funny thing was that I considered the whole setting to be just a side effort. My main efforts were still to try to sell Doomsayer and Therapy, but I wanted to contribute something to 5th Panel so that, when I made my main sales and went off to hit it big as the next Neil Gaiman, there’d be something that I’d given to Jeff and the studio that could last and grow into something. In the end, I’ve written vastly more material for Dystopia than I ever have for the other two projects, both of which I had fully scripted for their first six issues. And, of course, Dystopia has actually had artwork created and books published. I later realized that, in the end, it was probably a better idea overall than either of the other two, anyway. And, of course, here we are trying to push it forward again.

Welcome to Dystopia

A wonderful aspect of life is that nothing is ever “done” and Dystopia as a concept and a project is no different. Originally, Marc had built this world based on concepts that piqued his interest and, over time, that idea grew to something that would allow us (and others) to utilize the various levels of the city to delve into different genres that would be uniquely fun to create and to read.

The two of us approach what we are doing here on the Dystopia site with a desire to freely share what we create. When I use the “create” word, there are two aspects of the word that are central to our philosophy:

  1. The primary focus is to write stories, create comics, and produce artwork that we can share with you – everything here is free
  2. A supporting aspect of the creation is to invite you to share in the creative process- to walk with us in everything that we do -from the creation of the characters and world to the behind the scenes details of how we collaborate in the process of creating and producing the final comics

Marc and I welcome you. We encourage you to act on your curiosity, share your thoughts, and join in the fun of creating Dystopia.