What Is Webcomics?
The obvious answer is “comics on the internet”, but...
Sooooo... like this?
...No, not like that.
When some comics are distributed via the internet, we call them “digital” comics, but others are “webcomics”. Even if we aren’t sure how to explain the distinction, we can tell the difference!
And this is despite the fact that some of the creators of successful long-running webcomics, like Ryan North and Chris Hastings, have moved very successfully into the world of comic books, and at least one creator of a popular long-running webcomic (Phil Foglio) came from that world, without this ever really blurring that line. So we can conclude that the difference isn’t just in who makes them
Webcomics Is Free
An obvious difference is in the business model. There are comics that fall on the “digital” side of that imaginary line that use a “pay what you choose” type of model, but generally there is some expectation that each member of the audience pay for the content directly
Contrariwise, the usual business model of webcomics is for the content itself to be available free, while the artist is supported by ad revenue, or by selling merch, or by the generosity of fans.
In many ways, it’s similar to the distinction between movies and television
Webcomics Is Crude
Another common distinction between webcomics and comics that happen to be on the web is an obsession going back to the early roots of the form with using shortcuts to allow a visual story to be told without, in many cases, much in the way of drawing ability. This ranges from pixel sprites, to clip art, to stick figures.
Previously mentioned webcomic superstar, Ryan North, took this tendency to the formalist limit by creating a single page of simplistic pixel art for his Dinosaur Comics and then, for going-on 20 years and 4000 pages, only changing the words every day. Below is my favorite page of Dinosaur Comics, but they’re all the same. Except for having different words.
(When I was thinking about this tendency of webcomics, it reminded me of a comic I loved back in the early 2000s, that I was going to describe as a “webcomic except in print”. But upon further investigation, I discovered that Get Your War On had been a webcomic all along, just one that happened to also be printed in a few US cities’ leftist newspapers. Below is an early one, probably the first that I saw, and a perfect representation of why it was such a vital outlet for those few of us not caught up in the war fever in those dark Bush years...)
Even those webcartoonists not trying to avoid drawing don’t necessarily have the patience to actually learn to draw before beginning to publish. Webcomics are well known for sometimes stark evolution in their art, and possibly none moreso than my personal favorite webcomic, El Goonish Shive:
There are definitely major exceptions to this tendency. Many webcomics are gorgeously, lushly illustrated (even from the beginning.) Below is half of a particularly lovely page of a webcomic ode to transhumanism titled Dresden Codak:
The thing that ties these disparate works together, from those with art that’s crudely sketched, to cleverly sidestepped, to beautifully fully realized, is each has a singular creative vision. In stark contrast with their big bro the comic books, webcomics are distinguished by relatively little collaboration and practically zero editorial meddling. These are the works of passionate amateurs who (sometimes) gradually found ways to make a livelihood from their passion
Webcomics Is Bite-Sized
But beyond the business side of it, and even the low entry barriers and amateurist zeal, the thing that really sets webcomics apart from the comic books to the point of seeming almost a different medium and linking them more closely to even-older sibling the newspaper comics, is the different pacing and structure caused by being released in tiny, tiny chunks
But that’s enough for now, we can talk about the impact on the form of coming out in bite-size installments.... next time!
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Kote’s House
Kote’s first house is a pathetic thing, and he is incurably proud of it. The twi’lek he purchased it from very evidently could not make up his mind what to do with a man that grinned while he haggled, but it was the first time Kote had haggled over a purchase of his very own. He had thoroughly enjoyed it.
The house is built for one being, and a compact being at that, but Kote doesn’t have much. Moving in is quick, and most of his efforts during the next few days after go into attempting ambitious repairs for things he doesn’t know the first thing about.
His plumbing is an issue, he knows. Something is getting blocked up. Somehow while trying to fix the kitchen tumbler, his fresher spout explodes.
He hadn’t kept his new house a secret from anyone by any means, but it is still surprising when Fox barges in through his jamming front door. He finds Kote on the floor in his cramped kitchen while the fresher rains water in the adjacent room, laughing so hard and so crippled with delight that he can’t get up.
He tries to explain how wonderful it is —
“I-I have to fix my plumbing on my own, vod—”
—but judging by Fox’s single raised eyebrow he knows it doesn’t translate.
Fox, it turns out, is moving into the neighborhood. Kote doesn’t ask about the house Fox already has — the house he has visited, which is very nice and fancy — or point out that Fox’s contract there cannot possibly be up, which begs the question of why he’s here in Kote’s neighborhood — except that Kote already knows the answer to that question. So he doesn’t ask.
Fox doesn’t show him any grace or forbearance, though.
“Don’t even know how to fix a damn pipe, front lining show-off—” His brother snarls, but it is muffled; his top half had to go down beneath the floor they’d pried up to get at the plumbing issue.
“So that’s what they had you doing all these years.” Kote says, because he really is in a criminally good mood. He barely ducks the foot-long pipe Fox throws at his head, feeling giddy.
He makes dinner that night in thanks. Fox stays, ostensibly because now that he’s fixed the fresher he intends to use it, because his new house isn’t hooked up properly yet to all the supply lines and power grids.
They choke on homemade tiingilar (vode-style; Kote can’t pretend at the real thing yet) so heavily spiced it’s got grit to it that sticks between the teeth. It’s disgusting, but Cody had bought fifteen different spices and while usually he likes to keep his approach to the unknown more cautious, more methodical, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more than use them all at once for the first time.
Wolffe joins them not long after; brings a few others along by recommending the apartment he picks out, so that soon most of the complex is taken up by vode, Kote hears, but he doesn’t visit yet. Everyone’s too busy coming over to his house, it seems; filling up his kitchen and asking why he hasn’t fixed the trash disposal yet, why he doesn’t have a couch, doesn’t he know they’re all the rage among civilized folk?
Kote fixes the trash disposal with Rex, who is better at it than he is but says it’s only due to Skywalker’s influence on managing all things mechanical.
“How is Skywalker?” Kote asks, and gets more than he bargained for over the next hour. At first he’s a bit off-put, because he’s trying to get dinner sorted again and he’s not been very fond of Skywalker at the best of times, but Rex is snorting out a story and laughing and it’s contagious, so Kote just resigns himself and settles in to enjoy.
Skywalker has little ones, now. Obi-Wan is the only one that can get them to sleep. Ahsoka is distressed; she knows better, but every instinct in her is apparently in agony over the little ones’ inability to eat meat yet. She obsesses over nutrients in their diet — which, given what tiny natborn humans primarily ingest in the early stages, makes for some slightly awkward conversations.
Rex helps with dinner afterward, and they take turns being incredulous over natborn baby facts, shoving around one another in the tiny, uncomfortable kitchen.
“What’s your next project?” Rex asks at one point, glancing sidelong with a cheeky look, and Kote levels his vegetable knife at him (he’s got a vegetable knife. Specifically for vegetables. It’s a very new concept).
“I make everyone’s dinner on Tuangsdays.” He says. “I’m productive.”
Rex’s sharp-toothed grin turns thoughtful. “Yeah” He says. “Everyone loves coming here, you know. You could be the new 79’s.”
Kote knows. He plans and plots, and puts more work into researching recipes than he’s put into any research whatsoever in months. It feels a bit like coming out of a shore leave; his thoughts quicken and his excitement grows. He hunts down a market. He brings a bag. He shops, bargains, and returns victorious.
He sends out a few comms., and can’t help but shake his head and grin at how different the responses are.
What a marvelous idea, Cody. His general — ex-general — says.
Yus pls, Ahsoka sends back, with some sort of strange tooka vidclip that dances with wiggly gyrations Kote can only assume indicate excitement.
Where is your house, Anakin says, blunt and to the point, and Kote can appreciate that.
He sends the address. He cooks all day. The sun sets, and Fox and Wolffe arrive, already bickering, Rex trailing behind with a long-suffering look sent to Kote, begging commiseration.
“Ugh, don’t you ever stop smiling, now?” He gripes when Kote just grins at him.
“Nope,” Kote says, unrepentantly.
He leaves the soup on the stove, simmering, and takes his cup of caf to the window. He leans on it, breathing in cool air, and just listens — listens to the squabbling as Wolffe gets on Fox’s case for not washing Kote’s dishes correctly the last time they visited. Hears the soft thumps of Rex sneaking into the cramped room Kote has set aside for plants and the sole pet he has; a pastel goullian, fins swaying ever so gently, permanent scowl in place. Thinks he catches, distantly, the sound of his remaining three guests (Padme couldn’t attend, and had made him feel very awkward by how thoughtfully she apologized for it) plodding up the hill.
“Cody!” Ahsoka cries, coming into view and waving.
Kote’s cheeks have stopped aching from all the smiling he’s gotten used to, so it’s easy to let another through.
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I just saw a really stupid take from a Star Wars fan (I know, absolutely unheard of! (heavy sarcasm)) so here is a reminder:
People who ship clones with Jedi are more than aware of the power dynamic. That’s a huge part of what makes them interesting. If we were to to ship Cody with basically anyone else other than Obi Wan, it probably wouldn’t work as well because Obi Wan is precisely the last person who would ever want to pressure him or cross his boundaries.
The Jedi were totally screwed over and backed into a war that goes against so much of what they stand for and on top of that, now they have an entire army of brand new humans to lead. All of those brand new humans are totally unique and just experiencing the world for the first time, even though they’re all mature adults too. It’s a totally screwed up situation which puts so much added pressure onto the Order, so we throw romantic feelings on top of that and we’re not supposed to find that absurdly compelling?
Obi Wan is literally defined by his empathy and his kindness. The reason shipping him with Cody works so well is because there is no one who represents what the Jedi are meant to be better than him. Goodness is at the core of his character. There would never be a day that he didn’t value Cody’s wellbeing over his own feelings. Not to mention that they’re both so dedicated to their beliefs and responsibilities that a relationship is never even realistically an option while the war is going on.
Codywan is about the yearning. It’s about them both knowing they have feelings for each other and not being able to do anything about it because they are fighting for something much bigger than themselves. It’s about the infamous “after the war” conversation that they never got to have. It’s about them meeting again on Tatooine years later, finally on equal footing and completely alone in the galaxy, bonded together by their grief.
That’s why people love Codywan. The suggestion of anything otherwise is just an insult to the hard work all the artists and writers have put into making some of the most incredible fanfiction and fanart and fanon lore I’ve ever seen in any fandom ever.
P.S.— the portrayal of something in a piece of media doesn’t equal the condoning or promoting of that sort of behaviour. I thought we’d long since established that. Let’s use our brains here.
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