Doing a little mini-story arc here where I try out different kinds of webcomic styles. Second, the College Comic, created when the artist is in college and right in the middle of his “geeky plagiarism” phase, where he rips off everything he’s currently interested in, and spews out melodramatic crap and pop culture references like his name was Daniel Tosh. Also, constant lapses in updates as the artist desperatly tries to keep up with schoolwork he’s not all that suited for. Will most likely contain complaints about calculus
The situation is just intolerable.
There have been a lot of really insightful write-ups recently. A broader perspective—and I almost cringe to say—catch-all by Molly Crabapple left me gasping for breath. This write up, by Elizabeth Sampat giving her thoughts on an industry that’s very dear to me, delivered the final blow and left me in tears.
It’s really rare that I create from a place of grief. It’s just not how I operate. But it’s largely what I have openly felt for the last few days, and reflecting on it, it’s been there for far longer.
This quote from Elizabeth’s piece— “We should have a war memorial for all of the women we have lost to this. We should lay flowers and grieve and see our reflections in stone.”— struck a very literal chord in me.
So yeah, here it is. A place just for me where I can light a candle and remember all of the wonderful people I probably will never get the chance to meet. Folks that have been driven away by these horrible fucks that have the audacity to think they know what gaming and community is about.
I have never, in my life, been ashamed to call myself a gamer. Until now. These misogynist little shitbags are a disgrace to our community.
All of us who care about gaming need to step up and save our community, while there is still something about it that’s worth saving.
RIP women like me. This is beautiful.
I refuse to be added to or thought of as a casualty though. I can keep going. But those who couldn’t or can’t, you are missed. Your voices are missed. I hope I can help carry your memory forward and continue to say “never again”.
Until the game industry/community has active channels of support for survivors of rape and sexual assault in the industry, and mechanisms to prevent developers who commit rape and sexual assault from continuing to do that, in a way that is peaceful and brings about permanent positive change, I’m gonna have a real hard time believing shit about shit.
And this is just, like, one thing I see the deeply enmeshed communities of Game Industry and Consumers of Games (note how it’s often difficult to talk about the industry without also having to assume discussion of the community of fans) needing to address.
"Saving" or whatever is nice, but fundamental structural changes…f-fundamentally change things, and that will probably feel uncomfortable.
We know what white people (hi) and men, and especially white men, are like when they’re uncomfortable. They turn into misogynist, racist, entitled little shitbags. I don’t see that changing even if everyone sent Zoe a dollar for every word of abuse she’s received (which hey we should also do, where’s the Indiegogo to help pay for this woman’s long-term emotional health, if everyone’s so damn sorry?).
The hatred of women runs wide and deep in games, it won’t end when Zoe’s not getting harassed every day, it won’t be gone when Anita’s series is done, it wasn’t gone when I left games, it didn’t disappear when Maddy Myers stopped going to public fighting games tournaments, it didn’t go away when Jade Raymond stopped being the face of the Assassin’s Creed series (these are just the names off the top of my head, writing into the little XKit reblog window right now)
…and meanwhile FYI sexual assaults happen at and around all your fave big tent-pole gamer and game industry events, and throughout the industry all the time, because misogynist little shitbags don’t just PLAY games they also MAKE them. But who wants to report on a colleague, who *doesn’t* want to sign up for this sort of experience (but coming from your coworkers, and at work events)?
(But I’m supposed to have #1reasonwhy I’m excited a woman wants to work in that industry.)
well he really should have worn more protective clothing if he didn’t want that to happen
sounds to me like he was asking for it
Are we really sure he was actually shot and decapitated? Idk, sounds like something he would’ve made up. Guys make false decapitation accusations all the time, you know.
If he didn’t want to be decapitated, he shouldn’t have worn a shirt that showed off his neck
if he didn’t want to die he shouldnt have had a heart-beat in the first place
KALI MA……KALI MA…..KALI MA SHAKTI DE
If he didnt want to get his head cut off, he should have worn a neck guard of some kind. Damn rapists with their exposed necks and jugular and shootable genitals.
Isn’t there an episode of Gravity Falls that had a cursed Chuck E Cheese or something? It’s kind of perfect either way.
Surprisingly no, the closest is that haunted convenience store they break into with Wendy and Robbie early on in season 1, and the latest episode about the minigolf course with the tiny golfball people.
I actually tried to do one of these like ten years ago, but that fell on the simple fact that I never really played enough video games to write about them. And also because 10 years ago my drawing abilities were the equivalent of a monkey with a pencil in its hand having a seizure on a canvas.
Even at age twelve I could tell that Jimmy Carter was an honest man trying to address complicated issues and Ronald Reagan was a brilcreemed salesman telling people what they wanted to hear. I secretly wept on the stairs the night he was elected President, because I understood that the kind of shitheads I had to listen to in the cafeteria grew up to become voters, and won. I spent the eight years he was in office living in one of those science-fiction movies where everyone is taken over by aliens—I was appalled by how stupid and mean-spirited and repulsive the world was becoming while everyone else in America seemed to agree that things were finally exactly as they should be. The Washington Press corps was so enamored of his down-to-earth charm that they never checked his facts, but if you watched his face when it was at rest, when he wasn’t performing for anyone, you could see him for what he really was—a black-eyed, slit-mouthed, lizard-faced old son-of-a-bitch. He was a bad actor, an informer for McCarthy, and a hired front man for a gang of Texas oilmen, fundamentalist dingbats, and right-wing psychotics out of Dr. Strangelove. He put a genial face on chauvanism, callousness, and greed, and made people feel good about being bigots again. He likened Central American death squads to our founding fathers and called the Taliban “freedom fighters.” His legacy includes the dismantling of Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal, the final dirty win of Management over Labor, the outsourcing of America’s manufacturing base, the embezzlement of almost all the country’s wealth by 1% of its citizens, the scapegoating of the poor and black, the War on Drugs, the eviction of schizophrenics into the streets, AIDS, acid rain, Iran-Contra, and, let’s not forget, the corpses of two hundred forty United States Marines. He moved the center of political discourse in this country to somewhere in between Richard Nixon and Augusto Pinochet. He believed in astrology and Armageddon and didn’t know the difference between history and movies; his stories were lies and his jokes were scripted. He was the triumph of image over truth, paving the way for even more vapid spokesmodels like George W. Bush. He was, as everyone agrees, exactly what he appeared to be—nothing. He made me ashamed to be an American. If there was any justice in this world his Presidential Library would contain nothing but boys’ adventure books and bad cowboy movies, and the only things named after him would be shopping malls and Potter’s Fields. Let the earth where he is buried be seeded with salt.
A random drawing from a while back, the Famous Five of the classic Universal Studios horror movies.
Bela Lugosi’s Dracula
Lon Chaney’s Wolfman
Boris Karloff’s Frankenstein
Ben Chapman’s Creature From The Black Lagoon
Boris Karloff’s The Mummy