Sorry for the long delay, and sadly, this ended up shorter than I wanted. I wrote out something to the effect of 5 pages and then realized that I had long since stopped making sense, and in the few moments of clarity I had, it was redundant and pointless. So I eventually cut it down to about a page and a half, getting closer towards 2.
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To say that print is dead would be inaccurate, if only for a number of bastions which remain eroded (and eroding) as they stand against a rushing river. But then, to say that print is anything less than dying would be an understatement. No… perhaps the better phrase would be to say that print is in a coma. Living, but not alive, with a few persistent functions, but essence of a truly living body is not all there. In the sad reports of print’s condition, people rarely take note of how comics as a medium would be affected by the changes.
As newspapers die down, the circulation of daily and weekly comics are equally so hit. Many comics are read simply for their being there, and readers will not go out of their way to find them via a sparse online newspaper interface. Comic specialty shops are seeing troubles as well- the proliferation of graphic novels and trade-paperbacks (bound collections of individual issues) has been enormously successful, but some in the industry are displeased with the trend. These bound volumes are expensive to print, and therefore, have a high MSRP; consumers aren’t likely to purchase them for franchises that they are unfamiliar with. Big pre-existing titles can survive the format, earning repeat profits from the avid collectors of single issues, casual fans who will purchase the collections, and completionists who purchase both. Smaller titles which have not yet established a following have difficulty surviving in this shift towards TPB’s: avid collectors may delve into the single issues, but they’re not likely to sell collected editions, which seriously hurts business.
In a publishing world where comics are having difficulty in print, where to do the writers and artists turn? To the internet, it seems. While some artists like the aforementioned Tom Siddell seem to prefer the internet and choose it when their comic is otherwise worthy of print, other artists are forced into using it for any number of reasons. Some artists simply are producing a product not physically printable, a phenomena which will be discussed in greater detail in part four of my dialogs, regarding The Infinite Canvas. Other artists are simply producing comics which simply are not quite sellable to a broad audience- comics regarding niche interests (such as the sometimes preachy but most entertaining Loxie & Zoot, a comic for nudists), for example, or comics featuring content too explicit to be carried by major distributors (such as the truly phenomenal erotic steampunk comic Chester 5000XYV by Jess Fink). Other comics still simply would not appeal to distributors, simply because of a combination of factors- my next dialog will concern Rice Boy, a lengthy full-length comic with psychedelic elements and simple, childish art. This would be a tough sell to many consumers, and a tougher sell to profit-minded publishers.
But then, there are also the comics that simply are not very good. While print is dying, the internet is flourishing, and this has opened new doors to everyone. “Everyone,” includes the artists and writers who simply were never good enough to have their work picked up or appreciated by those around them, or by publishers. Because the internet allows enormous proliferation of work, and through such wide exposure, eventually find an audience, no matter how small. A creator with a point and purpose is all the more likely to find such an audience- regardless of quality, a work that speaks to a niche audience will be, in part, adopted by that audience.
This phenomena manifests itself in many regards, which is to say, regarding many subjects- Furry fandom has found interest in webcomics since the earliest days of the internet. Modern Furry fans have a broad number of quality titles to select from, however, in the early days of the medium, many comics of poor quality grew significant fanbases. By the late 90’s, a number of video-game-centric webcomics rose to prominence amongst webcomic communities, and to this day, such webcomics remain a dominant force in the medium. Penny Arcade in particular was an enormous hit, and remains to be one of the biggest success stories of webcomics- however, Penny Arcade’s own success spawned a movement perhaps large enough to be considered a genre unique to the medium.
Two gamers and a couch- not just a random set of nouns, but a description of a formula. Penny Arcade hit it big by connecting with video-game fans on a very natural level. It told the tale of two friends, both video-game fans, and followed their antics and conversations whilst playing video games sitting on their couch. The simple formula was revolutionary for comics as a medium- similar humor had been employed by newspaper comics for decades, but never for the gamer culture, nor appealing to generations that young.
This formula connected with gamers on a very visceral level, reminding readers of their own friends and weekly experiences with those friends. The comic not only spoke of life as a gamer, but openly name-dropped major video game titles, making the humor all the more inclusive to gamers and gamers alone. Penny Arcade was more than just a popular success, but a financial success, and for both reasons, it spawned hundreds (thousands, and more, really) of imitators. Every gamer with experiences on their own couch decided that their tales were worthy of being told to an audience, that their commentary on video games needed to be heard. And for every one of these gamers who felt they needed to be heard, there was an audience willing to hear it.
