Graphic: My favourite comics/manga

Disclaimer: These graphic novels are intended to be read by young adults and older. As they contain mature themes and imagery, I would not recommend them to anyone under the age of sixteen.

Akira - Katsuhiro Otomo

Epic doesn't really do justice to the six thick volumes that make up this Japanese classic. Set in the post-apocalyptic city of Neo-Tokyo, the series follows the adventures of juvenile delinquents Kaneda and Tetsuo, members of a biker gang who stumble upon a secret government programme involving individuals gifted with terrible psychic powers. After an encounter with Takeshi, a member of the government experiement, Tetsuo's psychic potential is unharnessed, transforming him into a power-hungry maniac with the goal of reawakening Akira - the source of the explosion that destroyed Tokyo thirty years earlier. The only person who can stop him is Kaneda. Headstrong and cocky, Kaneda has always made Tetsuo feel inferior, which drives him to strive even harder for more and more power.

Akira has everything a great graphic needs. Amazing artwork, some of which is so detailed it could be lifted straight from a technical illustration in some complex machinery blueprint. A vast array of colourful characters populate the world of the story, from the world-weary and resilient Colonel Shikishima to the enigmatic young terrorist Kei, also Kaneda's love interest. The plot mixes the grand themes of political intrigue and natural/man-made disaster with simpler tales of friendship, rivalry and loneliness. As well as being a very serious series, carrying heavy messages about Japan's experiences of nuclear war and natural disasters, Akira has many humourous asides, providing an effective contrast with the serious subject matter and sometimes dense scientific jargon. All in all, probably the best graphic novel I've ever had the pleasure of reading.

Watchmen - Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons

Still on the subject of nuclear war, but this time across the pond in the United States of America, Watchmen is set in an alternative 1980s, where the existence of superheroes has changed the course of history. America has won the Vietnam War with the help of the seemingly omnipotent 'Dr Manhattan', but as a result the Cold War has escalated to brink of nuclear disaster. The once-loved 'masked heroes' have been forced underground, vilified as common vigilantes. However, the death of Edward Blake, aka costumed crime fighter 'The Comedian', leads his one-time allies to uncover a sinister plot with far-reaching consequences.

Watchmen is similar to Akira in that the novel has a massive scope, its narrative stretching far beyond the realms of a simple superhero story. The structure of the book is interspersed with faux novel entries, news articles and psych profiles, as well as a metafictional 'comic-within-a-comic', 'Tales of the Black Freighter'. Although these elements may initially confuse the reader, may wish to skip on to the next scene in the main story, they serve to flesh out the main narrative, drawing you further and further into the world of the Watchmen. There are some great original characters to enjoy here, such as the unhinged and brutal 'Rorschach', whose ink-blot mask as become an iconic symbol, along with the 'smiley' pin flecked with a drop of blood. Although the story of Watchmen is one that covers world-altering events, it doesn't ignore the importance of the minute human interactions that shape the planet as dramatically as the power of nuclear bombs. Love, friendship, isolation and morality all play a part in this story, making it a serious tale with interesting lessons to impart.

Scott Pilgrim - Bryan Lee O'Malley

Time for something a little less serious. But then again, what could be more serious than winning the heart of the most amazing girl in the world? Even if you have to defeat her seven evil ex's in deadly hand-to-hand combat? This is the challenge that Scott Pilgrim, 23 year-old Canadian loser/martial arts genius, must complete to ensure that the enigmatic and beautiful Ramona Flowers will be his girlfriend. Scott also has his plate full with trying to find and hold down a job, dealing with his vengeful former loves, and playing some awesome bass riffs in grunge/rock band 'Sex Bob-omb'.

As I said earlier, Scott Pilgrim doesn't exactly tackle the big issues raised by Akira and Watchmen, but this doesn't make it any less enjoyable. This comic takes an interesting post-modern approach to story-telling, never really addressing whether Scott's fantastical battles are a figment of his imagination, an allegory/metaphor for his internal emotional struggles, or just actually happening. My guess is that all three are true. In terms of artwork, this comic once again takes a simplistic approach, but in a really lovable and clever way. O'Malley's characters and backgrounds may invoke an 'I could do that' reaction in some, but I'm sure this isn't true in most cases. The real stars of Scott Pilgrim are the characters, who embody all the comedy, confusion and desire that life has to offer - whilst kicking ass across a variety of dimensions. 

Cowboy Bebop - Hajime Yatate and Yutaka Nanten/Cain Kuga

As we return to Japan again, we take a giant step into a future where hyperspace travel has led to humanity colonising the far reaches of the galaxy, with crime springing up at every turn. Step in the crew members of the spaceship Bebop, a group of down-on-their-luck bounty hunters seeking to scratch a living from searching out the criminals the authorities are too busy to apprehend. Led by the distant and carefree former syndicate member Spike Spiegel, the hunters bumble their way through each assignment, mixing danger and comedy in fairly equal measures, making many enemies but also finding a few allies. Jet, a gruff former police officer, Faye, a luscious femme-fatale with an addictive streak, and Ed, an androgynous and youthful computer hacker, make up the crew, each adding another element of madness to this intergalactic journey.

Unlike the previous three entries, the Cowboy Bebop series only has a loose main narrative throughout, with each story working in isolation as well as part of an overall collection. The artwork in both sections of the five books has a fantastic manga sci-fi look, feeling simultaneously recognisable and original. In particular, the character of Spike has a great design, with his epically large hair and trademark scruffy suit, incomplete without the obligatory firearm. Like Scott Pilgrim, this series shies away from the heavy issues, opting for action and laughs - both of which it does well. However, their is an undeniable noir feel to this comic, hinting at the more serious and dark motivating forces beneath the characters' bright and flashy exteriors.

Batman: The Killing Joke - Alan Moore and Brian Bolland

Everyone knows the origins of The Dark Knight, how young Bruce Wayne watched his parents gunned down in front of him, that moment defining him as the iconic caped crusader of Gotham City. But what about his purple-suited grinning nemesis? How did he become the crazed master criminal that taunts Batman at every turn? This novel offers one version of the events in The Joker's backstory that twisted his mind as well as his features. In contrast to this tale from the past, Batman must embark on a new diabolical mission; to save Commissioner Gordon from The Joker's clutches, facing a deadly labyrinth of challenges all designed to break Wayne's sanity, with the aim of reducing him to the level of his mischievous and amoral enemy.

Another contrast to place alongside the previous graphic novels and series, this story is only one short story in the Batman canon. The reason I wanted to read this story in particular was that it was cited as one of the influences for Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight. Anything that helped produce the best Batman movie, possibly the best superhero movie, is definitely worth a read. This story is very dark, delving into The Joker's twisted mind. The artwork follows the classic Batman palette, with The Dark Knight in grey and black and The Joker in his vibrant purple suit and shocking green hair, which gives the book a timeless feel. Probably the biggest achievement of this story is to show that superhero narratives and comic books can deal with deep and heavy issues, commenting on sociopathic behaviour as apposed with societies norms and values.

Software Malfunction - Short Story

Desk waited, but not patiently. The screen displayed the 'connecting' image, a picture of a tranquil mountainside with a mirror-like lake reflecting snowy peaks and emerald pines. It did nothing to calm him.

“Come on, come on,” he growled.

The image stubbornly remained present, the spinning arrow icon informing him to wait his turn. Eventually the connection was established, the image transforming into the view of a customer service cubicle, staffed by the obligatory pretty blonde, dressed in casual clothes, her t-shirt emblazoned with the Coresoft logo. The girl smiled sweetly at Desk, ignoring his obvious frustration.

“Hi, welcome to Coresoft customer service, my name's Sandy. Can I take your customer reference number?” she reeled off in an enthusiastic tone.

“3526060,” Desk said through gritted teeth. He knew the number off by heart; he'd had to relay it to four different people already.

“Thank you very much,” sang the blonde girl, her Handroid limb replacements plugging into her computer console, the soft outer shell breaking open, miniscule tendrils leaping out of her fingers, connecting with computer. “What seems to be the problem Mister Tenth?”

At last, Desk thought.

“My Handroids have broken and I need an emergency repair.”

“Could you detail the nature of the accident to me?”

“It wasn't an accident, it was a product malfunction,” Desk snapped.

“Mister Tenth, I must remind you that I can block you from contacting Coresoft customer service if you are in any way insulting or aggressive,” retorted the girl patronisingly.

“OK, OK. I'm sorry,” said Desk with frustration.

“That's fine Mister Tenth,” replied the girl with saccharine sweetness. “So, what happened to your Handroids?”

“I was working online and a cancer cell infiltrated my computer. I tried to stop it but the cell had already infected most of my system.”

“I'm afraid Coresoft can't refund or repair any damage caused by a third-party – ”

“No, that's not the problem,” interrupted Desk. “When I realised the system was overrun I tried to disconnect before the cancer cell made its way into my Handroids, but they wouldn't disconnect. I literally had to rip myself away.” He raises his arms into view, showing the girl the buzzing stumps where his cyborg-hands had once been. The girl's face turned an ugly pale shade.

“Mister Tenth, are you sure you're alright?'

“Yeah, I turned the pain receptors off before I did it,” Desk said impatiently. “How quickly can you send someone with a new pair?”

The girl regained her composure. She studied her computer screen. Desk waited, tapping one of his stumps on the surface of his workstation.

“I'm sorry but because the problem was caused by a software malfunction, your warranty doesn't cover a free replacement.”

“Excuse me?”

“The disconnection program that syncs the Handroids is out-sourced from Delitech. The warranty you took out only covers issues pertaining to Coresoft products. I can reconnect you to Delitech customer service if you want, but to be honest, I don't think they will – ”

“You have got to be joking,” Desk said incredulously.

“No Mister Tenth,” the girl replied seriously. “My contract strictly states that I am not allowed to joke.”

“I was never made aware that I wouldn't be covered in this type of situation,” shouted Desk.

“Did you sign the terms and conditions?” asked the girl.

“Well yes, but – ”

“Did you read them?”

“I probably skimmed over them, but – ”

“I'm sorry Mister Tenth but section three point two, paragraph six of the silver class warranty terms and conditions clearly states – ”

“Alright, alright,” spat Desk.

“Mister Tenth, I don't want to block you but if you continue to behave in this manner, I'll have no choice.”

“OK. I apologise,” replied Desk in defeat.

“Thank you. Would you like me to put you through to your local store so you can purchase a replacement?”

Desk shrugged.

“Doesn't look like I have much of a choice,” he said, looking gloomily down at his broken stumps. “Can't do much without any hands, can I?”

“I'll just reconnect you Mister Tenth,” smiled the girl. The mountainside reappeared on the screen and Desk prepared himself for another long wait.

Underrated: My cult classics

Equilibrium (2002)

I'm a real sucker for dystopian narratives, so it comes as no surprise that this Orwell-inspired sci-fi action flick ticked all the boxes for me. I'm not going to deny that this movie isn't flawed; it wouldn't be a cult classic otherwise. 

There are issues with Equilibrium's plot at points, and the some of the concepts require the viewer to fill in a few gaps to sustain believability. However, I think this film suffered from some poor marketing during its cinematic and dvd release (the tagline didn't relate to the movie at all), and it didn't help that it was seen as a copy of the already popular Matrix movies, due to its similar visuals and themes.

Why do I love this film? The totalitarian imagery throughout is spot-on; you really feel the oppression of the futuristic society, depicted through the drab blocky buildings, the ruthless visored security forces and the quasi-religious iconography. The film's score is a perfect mixture of pumping techno-classical and soft synth-led themes, driving the action and pulling on your emotions. Christian Bale does a fantastic job as John Preston, the troubled cleric struggling to deal with the effect of outlawed emotions whilst carrying out his brutally repressive tasks for the Tetragrammaton. 

And possibly my favourite aspect of the film - the 'gun kata' martial art. Created by the director Kurt Wimmer specifically for this movie, the gun kata combines Western firepower with Eastern skill, leading to some fantastic action set-pieces and setting this movie apart from The Matrix with its drastically different approach to cinematic gunslinging.

30 Days of Night (2007)

At this moment in time we are drowning in vampire-related films, television programmes and literature, explaining why a movie like 30 Days of Night could very easily get lost in the deluge of blood-sucking and pointy teeth. 

Let's start with the issues plaguing this film. Yes, there are some continuity problems (Josh Hartnett's ability to grow stubble whilst no-one else does) and the ending may seem like a bit of a cop-out to some. Also the plot does feel quite jagged at points, jumping forwards quite abruptly.

Onto the good - the film's depiction of vampires. Compared to the grumpy, sparkly undead of Twilight or the CGI zombie-goons of I Am Legend, this movie does a fantastic job of actually making vampires scary. By ultilising effective prosthetics and believable performances, these ghouls actually put a chill down your spine as they hunt their human prey, lusting after their fear as much as their claret. In particular, Danny Huston does a great job as Marlow, the leader of the brood, seeming to almost pity the poor feeble creatures he seeks to ravage.

Although the movie's concepts obviously come from the graphic novel it is based on, these concepts still make the movie worthy of praise. The idea of vampires attacking during a month of darkness is a great approach to the genre, despite being slightly tenuous. Add some really effective music into the mix, and also some great colour-drained snowy settings to splash blood over, and you've got yourself a vampire film that shouldn't be left to sleep in its coffin.

eXistenZ (1999)

David Cronenburg isn't known for creating anything other than controversial cult classics, and this sci-fi thriller doesn't stray away from his track record.

I would personally say that it's the performances that let this movie down for the main part - but then again, maybe certain actors gave bad performances purposefully to demonstrate that the video game at the centre of the film's plot isn't complete? Therein lies the issue; in a movie as metafictional as this, any flaw can be argued to be intentional, making it difficult to assess its worth.

Once you get over the glaring issue above, there is a fantastic plot to be enjoyed here, discussing virtual reality and the increasingly blurred line between mechanisms and organisms in our world today. The bizarre 'organic' gaming pods add an effective 'yuck' factor to the plot, where a computer virus could actually transfer into your own body.

The film's conclusion is its greatest feature. As I'm sure I've said before, I love an unresolved ending. I think this may be why so many people didn't get on with this movie, because it can be difficult when a story doesn't end in neat 'tied-up with a ribbon' Hollywood fashion. I don't want to give anything away, but this movie's ending will either make you laugh out loud at its audacity, or start punching things with annoyance.

If you like cyberpunk, body-horror or role-playing games - ignore what you've heard about this film and give it a chance.

Post your opinions on these movies below or on my twitter/facebook page, and tell me your favourite cult classics.

Beyond Thought - Short Story

Image from humansfuture.org

It was a dull wispy morning, the gantries of Neo London draped with fog. The towering angular structures grew out of the misty depths below and disappeared into the clouds above. Kale scuffed her way along the suspended pathway, fiddling with her burgundy blazer, her short brown hair still wet from her hasty shower. Although the gantries were full of people on their way to work or school, she walked alone, like every morning. Her younger brother and sister would dart off in a different direction once the children had left the apartment building. They didn't want to be seen with their reject sibling, their leprous relative.

Kale stood patiently at the crossing bridge, waiting for the air traffic to divert and the platforms to link. She didn't want to arrive at school any quicker than she needed to. She noticed a business man in a formal grey suit also waiting at the crossing. He stood as far away from the girl as he possibly could, pretending she wasn't there and yet simultaneously very aware of her presence. As the platforms hovered together and bridged the immeasurable drop with a magnetic click, he strode away as quickly as he could. She could tell he was afraid, repulsed by her emptiness. You didn't need to be a psychic to work that out.

. . .

“How are you progressing with the task, Kale?” 

Miss Warner smiled as she made the enquiry, but that only made her appear more patronising.

“Um...OK I guess.” 

Kale turned her work book around for the youthful blonde teacher to see. The young girl was one of the two children seated in the non-psi area at the back of the classroom. The 'normal' children sometimes got spooked by the 'dead-heads' as they were known. The empty psychic space where thoughts and feelings should flow made them nervous, especially the chipped kids, afraid their implants would break if they got too close, sending them back into the mental darkness that Kale experienced daily. She didn't know why she and the others whose minds had rejected the chip didn't just work in different rooms, or go to a different school altogether. Probably because that would be too much like segregation, and this, well, this was nothing like segregation at all.

“I have identified some mistakes,” said Miss Warner, overly formal. The spoken language that teachers like her had to learn was so rigid, so lifeless and cold. “I have marked them with a circle. Please try to identify and rectify the errors.”

Kale nodded. Miss Warner turned and walked back to the front of the class, soundlessly communicating with the psychic majority. Kale could tell when they were talking psychically. The movement of their eyes, the turn of their heads, lots of little clues they probably thought she didn't notice.

Sitting a couple of desks away from Kale was Derek Middler, a spotty little boy, the only other non-psi student in the classroom. Despite their shared affliction, she always kept her distance from the scowling youth. He was a troubled, volatile child, like many non-psi children could be, feeling paranoid and threatened. Not someone you wanted to be associated with.

“They're talking about us,” Middler muttered.

Heads turned. Kale wished she could sink through the floor with embarrassment. Why did she always get put with the crazy ones?

“You got something to say?” Derek challenged. He jumped up from his seat aggressively. Some of the students shrank back. Others grinned mockingly.

“Don't laugh at me!”

“Please calm down, Derek,” said Miss Warner evenly.

She'll be summoning the hall attendants now, thought Kale. Derek wasn't going to calm down.

“Shut up!” 

The wiry boy pushed his desk over, his books and pens clattering to the ground. Two hall attendants entered the room. They walked straight up to Derek, faces emotionless, and grabbed the boy, who struggled against them, yelling and screaming. They dragged him out of the room, his rage echoing away down the corridor.

Kale looked down at her book, her face flushed with shame, knowing that all the remaining occupants of the room were scrutinising her. If not with their eyes, then with their minds.

When are you going to snap? they questioned.

When are you going lose it?

. . .

The family sat around the table, plates of hearty home-cooked food in front of each member. Kale ate slowly, chewing each mouthful with a deliberately sluggish pace. They might not try to converse with her if they think her mouth is full. She assumed her mother, father and siblings were talking together; her mother hadn't awkwardly broken the silence for a few minutes.

“Molly was just saying she might apply for kinetics next semester,” said Kale's mother out of the blue.

“Oh, OK,” replied Kale, thinking about how fun it would be avoid the objects her younger sister would send flying at her with the power of her mind. Her mother often did this, tried to act as interpretor; a guilty attempt to make her other child feel included. She only saw pity when she looked into her mother's eyes, a pity that outweighed love.

“Your father is taking the day off on Friday. We are all going to the holo-pool together.”

“That sounds cool,” the young girl replied unconvincingly. Her mother frowned.

“I think they have adequate heating.”

“No, I mean...forget it.” None of them were used to speaking, they'd lost the natural ability. Kale had learnt from old films and songs, conversing with herself, re-enacting scenes, playing all the characters.

Molly laughed. Kale knew this was aimed at her. Whenever her brother or sister poked fun at her, they always laughed out loud so she would know they were laughing at her. Their father gave them a stern look. Kale ignored them. She had risen to their baiting in the past, responding to their hollow chuckles with white hot anger. Over time, however, she had learnt to block it out.

. . .

“Goodnight Kale.” Her mother turned out the light. She didn't kiss her daughter at bedtime anymore. She didn't need to with her other children, they could feel her love in their minds. She had forgotten, trying so hard to stop Kale from feeling different. As the young girl rolled over under the covers she longed for her mother's touch, those soft arms encircling her in a simple hug. She began to cry, sobbing as quietly as she could. The loneliness didn't always sting this badly, but some days she couldn't help but feel crushed under the weight of the isolation, feeling like the only person who hadn't been told a secret. She reached over to her bedside table and removed her ear pieces, slotting them in comfortably. 

Ray Charles, 'I Can't Stop Loving You'.

The voices surrounded her, soothing her. She imagined she was part of the ensemble, singing the refrain in perfect harmony.

To be a part of something.

That was all she desired.

Assimilated

"Seriously guys, you've gotta sign up,” Will enthused. The young dark-haired student sat with his two companions in the university coffee shop, other groups sitting at the surrounding tables, the warm cosy room filled with conversation and laughter.

“I dunno,” remarked Emma, absentmindedly playing with her long blonde hair. “I've already got profiles on three or four sites and I used them all for about a month before getting bored of it.”

“Absolute.Network is different,” replied Will, sipping his coffee. “You don't have to do anything accept create a profile. The programme assimilates all your information for you.”

“How does that work?” questioned Henry, adjusting his glasses.

“Well it uses your web cam to get your picture – ”

“That's fairly obvious,” interrupted Emma, making Henry chuckle.

“ – but it also scans your surroundings and gathers the information needed to fill out your profile,” Will continued, ignoring her joke. “For example, I was doing some reading for my course last night, and when I checked my profile the programme had added my degree course to my personal info and had made a post about the exact book I was reading.”

Henry frowned.

“That sounds a bit invasive.”

“No, it's cool. There's loads of stuff in the regulations and rules that stops anyone from stealing your identity.”

“Yeah, if you trust that stuff,” retorted his friend.

“You're just too paranoid, Mister 'I change my email account every month',” said Will playfully, flicking a biscuit crumb at Henry, who dramatically pretended to be shot as it hit him, the trio laughing.

“Maybe I'll give it a try,” said Emma thoughtfully.

“Well, don't say I didn't warn you,” Henry said aloofly. “These things will take over your life.”

Entering his bedroom, Will took off his backpack and tossed it onto his unmade bed, sitting down at his desk with a sigh of relief. It felt good to get home. Surprising how three hours of lectures can really take it out of you. Almost like a really day's work. He turned on the monitor of his computer, the screen flickering into life. His Absolute.Network profile was gradually filling up with information, the 'hobbies and interests' area brimming with all the films, books and music he liked. Will smiled. So much easier than doing it all himself.

As he glanced at himself in the mirror something caught his eye. He stared at the reflective surface, confused. He was missing a freckle. He touched his face, his fingers passing over the place where the brown dot once was. Well, where he assumed it once was. Had it always been there? He turned back to the computer, scrutinising the image of his face on his profile page. There it was, just below his left eye. Maybe it was just a bit of dirt or a pimple, he thought, but in the back of his mind he knew it had been there for as long as he could remember.

A knock at the door startled him.

“Hey Will, you there?”

“Yeah, come in.”

The tousled curly-haired head of his house-mate Alex poked around the door.

“We're going out for a curry, you wanna come?”

“Um...yeah, alright,” replied Will, grabbing his jacket and following Alex out of the room, the missing freckle pushed to the dusty recesses of his mind.

Will climbed sluggishly back into bed, pulling the covers tightly around him. He felt terrible, completely drained. His house-mates had all made remarks about his colourless complexion when he had ventured downstairs for a slice of toast, urging him with concern to visit the doctor. He waved their anxiety away, asserting that he'd be fine in a day or two. It had already been three days since the illness had started however, and he couldn't even fool himself into thinking that he felt any better. He sank in and out of sleep, all the while his computer humming away in the background, a soothing electronic buzz.

He awoke, his bedroom shrouded in darkness, a shaft of streetlight dissecting the black space from between the parted curtains. An uncomfortable itching sensation covered his entire body, running from his head to his toes, like a thousand ants prickling his flesh. In the dimness he forced himself into a sitting position. He felt so weak. So tired. His head ached, his eyes dry and irritated. He scratched at his arms, the itch burning his skin. Something wasn't right. His skin felt...different, taut and cold. He laboriously swung his legs out of the bed and stood up, inspecting his body in the mirror.

The breath left his body as he caught sight of himself. His skin was completely featureless. No hair, no freckles, not a wrinkle or crease in sight, his body like a grotesque porcelain doll. A cry of fear escaped him as he saw his face. It looked like it had been sanded down to an almost faultless sphere, his nose reduced to a small lump, his mouth a smooth line, his eyes sinking into their sockets. His breath was shallow and fast, as if his lungs were being slowly crushed within him.

Then he saw the computer screen. Glowing in the black, it displayed his Absolute.Network profile picture. Not just a good match or a high-resolution digital copy, the image was perfect. His hair, his face, his imperfections and freckles; everything that was missing from his current mutated form. It was him.

Panic rushing over him, he stumbled towards the computer. He had to shut it down. He fell to his knees, his strength waning, head swimming, vision blurring. He reached out his hand, inching closer and closer, his finger brushing against the power button. Darkness enveloped him, wrapping him in unconsciousness. His body fell limply to the ground, motionless on the carpeted floor.

Emma and Henry sat in the coffee shop, mugs in front of them, a third mug in front of the empty place at the circular table. Henry checked his watch.

“He's never this late,” he remarked.

“You'd think he'd have told us if he wasn't coming,” Emma said, taking out her phone. She placed it against her ear, listening for a few seconds, then removing it. “No answer. I'll see if he's sent me anything on my profile.” She tapped the screen of her touch-phone, cycling through the menus and gadgets. “Nothing. I'll send him a message, he's always online.”

The End