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This was a very engrossing episode - I felt a bit of trepidation going in reading some of the other comments, but a fascinating listen. Simon does sound very raw about the direction the story has taken but as Colin said above, very open and honest and really interesting to hear these views from one of the creators.

It's hard to disagree with most of what he says about comics that try to be both gritty and grim and also superheroic: they generally do suck and this is tonally all over the place. On the final couple of pages of this episode I always felt that this was the most 'evil' representation we ever see: he's slicing Jena up (he boots her in her wounded leg, a very typical 'baddie' move) and just standing there with this horrible sneer - I don't he looks heroic at all: he looks a lot like his Father.
What Simon says about the horror of this scene is true though: it's a horrific scene and this is Dante at his absolute worst and it could definitely have emphasised that this is evil Dante more. Although, the very next story it's back to japes in England...
This isn't my favourite bit of Dante because Dante himself is indeed awful here. For him to Romanov up, and to do so in such a wholehearted way at this point in the story doesn't really make any sense. I always kind of assumed he as trying to commit suicide by war, but by killing hundreds of people..? Not very cool. Elena aside I've also never been a fan of the irregulars either: they're an absolutely horrible bunch, especially the Groznys, so basically we've got evil Dante leading a bunch of murderous scumbags and I definitely feel Jena is more of the hero here.
The other bit I don't like is when it all goes a bit George and Lynne with Jena's top. I love Burns but that is well off. I definitely have a new appreciation for his Starfleet style robot now though, not sure if I ever really saw that before!
It's definitely made me read the story with a fresh pair of eyes, really enjoyed it.

Also great to hear someone described as a complete waz.

What is the recommended intense smokey whisky for the Podcast? Inquiring minds are interested.

Devastating news. I can remember moving from Spiderman comics to 2000ad and his work on Nemesis, and it blowing my perception of what comic art could be to bits. It was the same intoxicating feeling as when I first heard heavy metal music: a giddy thrill of finding a whole new world, a more exciting, edgy one where the rules of bland normality didn't apply.
Later his work on Marshall Law was so influential for me in my teenage years. It was like discovering him all over again.

Some lovely tributes. Can only echo everyone else saying: Thank you Kevin, for everything.

Really good to hear from you TJM.

Feeling depressed isn't comparable, please don't feel guilty thinking others have it worse so your feelings are less viable.
I don't comment much on this thread, I feel others say things better than I, but if you want to give voice to some pain and share the burden a little, we are here for you.

That goes for anyone here going through hell right now. Love to all you guys.

Given the risk factor involved in launching a new regular comic, I really hope Monster Fun survives and thrives. But... I dunno. I wanted it to be great. I enjoyed the specials myself and mini-IP enjoyed bits of them. But she wasn't really taken with the first couple of issues, and I'm not about to throw money at something she just doesn't care about.

Lew Stringer recently stated on a Facebook post that "the three important things a kids' humour comic needs are clarity of storytelling (both visually and in the dialogue), energy (keep it lively and interesting), and, most importantly, it must be *funny*!"
Monster Fun has been a real disappointment and I think a the first two factors Lew points out are real issues with it. Regened is more action-orientated so a slightly different kettle of fish, but I think clarity of storytelling is something that's really lacking as too many of these stories are being written as though they were for adult readers. I have no children myself, but the ones I know who do read comics don't want crazy panel layouts, stories mired in continuity and ancient jokes (like Nikki Louder in Bladers punning off Niki Lauda, who retired in 1985 ffs, is an awful choice of name for a strip aimed at a young reader). Regened didn't click for them at all.

I'd also like to see a more settled lineup in Regened - I didn't like Scooter and Jynx, for example, but is it now done and gone, or will it be back? It seems like if a story has promise it moves into the Prog for a series and everything else drops out and gets replaced, which I imagine is a good model for experimenting but surely not so if you want repeat readers to keep buying these issues. I really feel like the concept is a tryout in Regened, a run in the Prog, and then a GN which is presumably the desired endpoint.

It all adds up to a very frustrating comic indeed with stories starting and then stopping, weird tonal shifts and a complete confusion as to who this comic is actually for. Is it to get younger readers to pick up old collections of Dredd, SD etc? If so then they're in for something jarringly different when they find Dredd, Chopper and Rogue are totally different characters. If not, then it needs to commit to being a kids comic a little more fully: more clarity, more humour, more excitement and, because it's 2000ad, more craziness.  I understand why Regened exists, and if it's keeping the Prog going then all well and good, but it's hard get behind them with anything other than mild resignation.

Brian Aldiss is a great suggestion, thank you! I'm not sure I've read anything beyond The Saliva Tree and that definitely fits the category of what I'm after.

I'm a big fan of Howard's Conan books - they're incredibly visceral, but not in a gory way as they're not gory at all but in the very way they're written - really evocative, interesting tales, loacking exposition but still feeling like part of a real world. The writers who came after him really don't seem to get it: L Sprague de Camp for example is really dry, and also has a nasty tendency to always include an unpleasant woman-getting-stripped-and-whipped scene. Robert Jordan definitely gets the breathless, descriptive yet fast moving style to write a Conan I think but he's got what i can only describe as a pervy eye where Howard didn't.
I do like pulp writing, even though it's pretty trashy and incredibly derivative, but there's a definite issue with newer work replicating the sins of old. I don't think there's any excuse for a current writer of, say, heroic fantasy, to pack it full of misogynistic tropes and other horrible world views and I can't enjoy a book like that regardless of when it was written.

Agree re. Cornwell, after a while you realise he is basically writing the same book over and over. Great book at first though!

I've been reading some Robert Jordan authored Conan books on my commute. He's a far better writer of these than L Sprague de Camp but there's something quite icky about a story where literally every single female character is either naked or essentially naked when they're introduced (and indeed, usually for the bulk of their time on page)
Recommend me your lightweight paperback reads, please!

[Dredd]

Wot no Mayflies?

Dredd One of the better Cadet Dredd tales but I still think the whole concept just isn't that much fun.

Bladers Others enjoyed it, but I thought this was pretty dire. A future sports concept story is a good fit for Regened: this set up the story, but was pretty boring, which is criminal in a sports strip. More crucially the various characters stood out from each other visually, but lacked any other distinction between them. Really surprised that this was Leigh Gallagher on art duties! I thought the player names were all poorly chosen for an all ages comic, as kids won't get the jokes.

Ulysses Sweet I think this nailed the idea of an all-ages comic a lot better than 90% of what we've seen in Regened before. No crazy panel layouts or confusing storytelling, and a mix of carnage and humour. Seemed a bit odd to run all four strips back to back rather than, say, sprinkled throughout the issue but good stuff.

Future Shock I thought this was decent, but possibly would have been better suited to the main Prog with a few changes.

Chopper I personally don't like this version of Chopper at all, but this episode was far better than the previous one and I think this bodes well for a more all-ages version of Chopper. The art was bright and cheerful and the story fast moving and fun, and I liked the direct chatting to the reader. On the flipside, as with Bladers, I'm sure the Chekov's Gun joke would go over the head of almost all younger readers (although it was nicely done)

Regened feels like a necessary evil for me nowdays. The state of Royal Mail has me considering my subscription, and tbh Regened issues (and it's intrusion into the regular Prog) are also a factor. Anyway, onwards to next week!

The Pre-Office.

Goodneess Gracious!

I actually thought he was long dead, but reading about him, he was a pretty nasty bit of work wasn't he?

I'm still pushing for the snake solution...

My parents have rats in their loft and you have to check the traps all the time in case one gets killed in it and then starts rotting or worse, the others come and eat it. They multiply like mad though and they can't figure out how they're getting in.
Some years ago they had a rat specialist dude come over and he asked if birds were eating a lot of food in the garden. My Mum admitted she just hung out another of those suet balls whenever the old one was gone without thinking about it. He took her out into the garden and there under a remote bush was a pile of about a dozen mostly eaten suet balls that the rats had been taking off the tree.

Good luck with your mousepocalypse JBC!

That's my take also. Emotionally broken and fatalistic, Dante is almost looking to commit suicide by war, but nevertheless is still fighting for the people who are his responsibility.

Another good episode and interesting to hear Simon and Evie have a slightly more critical take on some of it. I think the introduction on John Burns art is what I always remember about this story rather than the dark tone and shift to grimness. I'd forgotten that Flint and Spatch were part of the rape and murder gang at Rudinshtein with the Groznys - I guess we're to assume that Dante arrives in time to stop anything happening but it does throw them into a more sinister light.
Something worth saying is how good John Burns draws a uniform.

[Trial of Champions]

Great review dude! I agree that these are two of the best for a long time.

Here's my Trial of Champions Replay!

So for this, I went at max stats. I also skipped the pre-Dungeon bit, as despite being interesting it's also extremely linear and if you succeed you get all your Stamina restored, and if you fail.. well, you're dead. I know your luck isn't restored, so I reduced my Luck to 10 (although you need all the luck you can get in Deathtrap Dungeon)

Therefore my story begins as I stand before the foreboding arch of Deathtrap Dungeon. The crowds cheers fill the air, but my eyes see only Lord Carnuss, resplendent on his dias in his finery. His robes, so bright in the sunlight, may as well be drenched with the blood of the brave men and women who died in his games. Lord Carnuss dies this day, I swear.

Ducking under the archway I enter the cool, dank darkness of Sukumvit's legendary dungeon. Behind the first door I encounter I battle a terrifying hellhoud, putting it down though its flames scorch me mightily, and discover a single gold ring in the room it was guarding, strangely cool in the heat of the hounds chamber. Some strange feeling tells me the ring will be significant, so into my pouch it goes.
At the next junction I go right, some odd compulsion, like a half-remembered dream, telling me the left path is the wrong one. The path ends at a ropebridge, swaying dangerously over a fast flowing underground river, complete with a tollbox. I have paid my toll already, I think - a toll in pain. Instead I clamber down a rope at the chasms side, where a creature ambushes me and tries to dump me into the rapids below: a strider, a fearsome hired killer, surely placed here by Sukumvit to ensnare the unwary. My superior skill wins through and I cut the assassin down, claiming a bone charm from around its neck as a prize.

With nothing further to be found below, I clamber back up the rope and decide to cross without paying the toll, meeting no ill-fortune for doing so. The passage ends at a door with a simple riddle - at least, I believe it to be simple, as I place my hand, unprotected into an alcove, conscious that should my confidence be misplaced, the penalty could be steep - but to my relief the door opens. Moving on, I discover a door upon which rests a broom - a symbol of witchcraft, thinks I and opening the door are proven right to see an ancient crone cackling about her cauldron, doubtless preparing some evil concoction. The hag vanishes, leaving me assailed by vicious bats: no match for the fine blade Carnuss supplied, but whilst I battle the first the second latches into my back, draining my blood and leaving me weakened and disorientated. I dump the dead bats into the cauldron, hoping to spoil the witches brew, and search the room, finding a phial of red dust and a strange box, its lid carved with the face of a dwarf - the very dwarf lord, indeed, who entered the dungeon before me, his eyes and mouth wide in soundless horror. With a shocked cry I drop the box to the floor and hurry from the chamber.

(I auto-death'd in this room from the red dust, but decided to continue)

The next door is sturdily locked: figuring it must contain something of note to be sealed so I break it down with my shoulder only to find myself facing the most awful foe so far: a Coldclaw, bloated and foul, hungry for my innards. The cold here hampers my efforts, but I dispatch the thing, though it wounds me grievously. Within the chamber I find a wax-sealed pot, and within the pot a second gold ring. Luck indeed! Feeling brave I enter the lair of the Coldclaw, gritting my teeth against the chill. Bones and scraps of clothing litter the chamber, whilst far above is an opening where I can see the sky - what I would give, at that moment, to stand under it! There is no way to climb, so instead I scour the detritus and recover a pair of fine elven boots before returning to the corridor.

The tunnels continue to twist and turn about until I am forced to admit I am lost. Ahead, for a second, I glimpse the head of a small humanoid, before it ducks back and flees into the darkness. Giving chase, I stumble across a sword half-buried in some fallen rocks: it is finely balanced and sparkles in the dim torchlight. I need no further incentive to rid myself of the sword of Carnuss: I cast it against the wall, wishing it were the man himself, and press on with my new blade. The next portal I find is barred - I am torn here between my pursuit and entering this room, but again, thinking the bar can only be there to prevent my entry for nefarious reason, lever my way in only to find two skeletons, thick with cobwebs and half-buried in dust. To my horror, the door slams shut, sealing me within, and worse, one of the skeletons begins to speak. It is another riddle, but a simple one. My reward: a small iron key. The bones fall silent and the door opens, allowing me to continue on my way.

Something tells me the next door is best left alone, and at the junction ahead I resume old habits, bearing left and finding myself at another door, hidden behind which is a fresh horror - none other than a Lich, sitting upon a throne, clad in rotten finery. Her burning red eyes fixed upon mine, she demands I endure her gauntlet of pain - or die where I stand. Such a choice is easily made and with trepidation I don the gauntlet she offers. The pain - such agony, as though being crushed, flayed and disemboweled, all at once. I scream and sink to my knees, silently willing the pain to end, but then, unbidden, the faces of my fellow slaves float before my eyes: The brave Southerner who so nearly won the tournament, the Northman so fleet of foot, the brave soul I killed blindfolded and never even saw his face - even the vicious Easterner. Determination to see Carnuss pay floods me, and despite the torment I force myself to stand and face the lich. Slowly the suffering fades, and with my face set, I pull off the gauntlet and let it clatter to the floor.
Her eyes fixed on mine, she silently pulls a gold ring from her skeletal finger and drops it before me. For a moment I hesitate, then pick up the ring, turn my back and leave. No other word passes between us.

Going left again, I hear a cry for help and, upon investigating, find the small man I saw earlier, trapped in the web of a huge spider. The fellow seems doomed, but it does not sit well with me to abandon another to his fate: wounded as I am I step forward to bring my strength to bear against the huge arachnid and leave it slain upon the cavern floor. The small man is full of thanks - he and his folk lived in these tunnels before the coming of Sukumvit, he claims, and are now beset by monsters. As a reward, he gifts me a gold ring - my fourth - and a cryptic warning before fleeing into the darkness. Something about his story does not sit right with me, yet had I not intervened when I did, the spider would surely have slain him..?
The tunnel continues till it arrives at a staircase, leading both up and down. Had I a coin to toss I would have done so - in absence of a coin, I decide to descend, where I am swarmed by huge rats: easy fodder for blade. The rats, it seems, were crowding in a storeroom of sorts, much of the food stale and rotten. I am in poor health, so salvage what best I can: I loaf of stale bread and some salted beef. I devour both and discover a bonus - an iron file baked into the bread that drops into my lap when I break it open. My strength restored, I return to the stairs and climb up where I find a chest containing a bunty of treasures: rope, a hammer, and a vial of anti-poison. More treasures await in the room beyond: a winged helmet and shield. I take a moment to read the runes within the room - a warning of some sort - before moving on, the precious armour forgotten (I was annoyed here that reading the runes precluded me from taking the helmet or shield, and this proved very significant later)

The food had restored me somewhat, but I cannot not help but feel that only hate was keeping me going as I trudged through miles of dank corridor, awaiting the next monster or fiendish trap that might take my life. For a moment I even envy the poor souls who died on Blood Island, before pushing such thoughts to the back on my mind: their deaths must be avenged! I push on bitterly. The corridor soon ended at another door, and upon entering I find myself facing a serene fellow, evidently blind, who greeted me as contestant number two and claimed he had awaited me - to test me and determine if I was worthy of proceeding - I cannot help but laugh. Me, who has already endured hell to get this far! His first test is of strength: a tug of war over a pit with a huge brute of a man, evidently a servitor of the trialmaster. After the games of Carnuss this is child's play to one such as I: with a mighty heave I send the poor fellow tumbling into the pit, something that concerns the trialmaster not. His second test is a riddle, easily solved, whilst his third is trial by combat. He is blind, but evidently skilled: I bide my time, defending his strikes until an opening appears, then press savagely until I strike the winning blow. For a second I fear he might take umbrage at his defeat but instead he allows me to continue.

Remembering the warning from the little man I pass by a tempting fountain and head further into the maze. I am soon surprised to hear the sound of hoofbeats before out of the darkness bursts some skeletal horror - an undead rider atop an undead mount, shrieking for my blood. Forced into battle, the hammer I found earlier proves useful in reducing the attacker to dust. In its saddlebags I find a wooden whistle and a mirror: I take both. At the next junction I keep left until I reach a pit and, on whim, lash my rope to the rocks above and descend into the darkness until I find myself upon a small ledge, leading to a cave. After vanquishing the creature within - a small mutant, easily slain - I search the things stinking nest and find another curious item: a clay pig, with something rattling inside. Hoping for another gold ring I break it open upon the rock wall but find only a black charm of polished coral which, when hung about my neck, seems to make me feel somewhat diminished.. as though fate were turning her back on me. I have no time for such thoughts. Ignoring all thoughts of returning to the level above I move deeper into the cave, soon finding it thick with sucking, smelly mud that rapidly rises to my knees. To return now would be more wearisome than to continue - I can feel the spirits of the other dead slaves at my back, urging me on to Carnuss's death. I press on. The mud soon reaches my waist, and at one point my neck, but I drive forward and eventually exit feeling strangely refreshed.

Beyond the mud a chamber lit by glowing rocks, within rests a soapstone statue of a great elephant: the statue bears an obvious door, and it is a simple task to work out how to open it, revealing yet another golden ring. Giving thanks for my luck I move on until I find another pit, leading to a level below. Reasoning that dropping down a level has served me well at each point so far I jump down into a darkened passge below, lit by flickering torchlight. A figure is in the corridor ahead, and, at the sound of my landing, he turns and walks towards me with heavy tread: with shock I realise advancing upon me is another of my fellow contestants: the chaos warrior, clad in his black spiked plate, and as he does so he swings his great mace from across his shoulder into a fighting stance. That he intends to fight me is obvious for those initiated into the cult of chaos know only battle. Steeling myself I adopt a fighting stance myself, and without a word battle is joined. He is a savage and skilled opponent: again and again his mace slams into my exposed flesh whilst I hack desperately at his thick armour until my limbs ache and the floor is slick with blood. Eventually, more through luck that judgement, one of my blows finds the back of his knee, where the armour is weakest - he stumbles, and I drive my sword with a shout into the visor of his helmet until I feel it scrape the steel of the helms back. He falls with a crash and does not rise.

I do not know how long I sit there in the dark with his body. My wounds are grievous - my ribs, at least, are broken, as is my jaw, and possibly my shoulder and arm also. Black spots swim before my eyes and I am bleeding freely. Finally I struggle to my feet. It is not my fate to die here in the darkness.
The warrior has little on him - a strange code in black ink on a parchment, and another gold ring wrapped in black silk. How had he so few, yet had progressed this far into the dungeon? I add the ring to my five and move on, holding onto the wall now for support. I leave bloody handprints in my wake.
Ahead, in an alcove, I discover a strange sight: a pair of cheerful candles and a plate of nuts and berries, arranged for a tasty meal. I force some of the food between my lips, not caring now if they are poisoned or no: my strength a little restored I move into a junction where, turning left, am horrified to see the tunnel packed with zombies, their pallid skin gleaming sickly in the torchlight. They practically fill the corridor: I can smell the stench of them as they stumble forward, arms outstretched. For a second I ponder fighting them but the odds are too great: turning, I half run, half lurch down the corridor hoping for a door, a tunnel, anything to take me away from the horde.
Ahead, the corridor terminates in a pit, wide, deep and dark. I pause, panting, trying to force air back into my lungs, trying to ignore the pain in my ribs. I cough, and my palm fills with blood.
Behind me the horde approaches, soundless but for the soft sound of their feet dragging over the stone. The is only one way forward. With a snarl, I throw myself out over the pit, my fingers brushing the far side as I plummet downwards into the dark.
For the slaves of blood island there would be no revenge.

***

Failed again. This book is so difficult. Had it not been for the healing mud I would have easily died when battling the chaos knight: as it was I was on four stamina points when I faced the zombies (and only two before I ate the nuts and berries) and it turns out either fighting the zombies OR jumping the pit with no winged helmet is certain death. Even at this point I decided to press on as though I did have the helmet but ended up dying so many times it wasn't funny: the combats are so many in number, with such high skill scores and no real chance to regain stamina, that death is essentially assured.
Reading on for pleasure I discovered when I got to the end I didn't even have all of the rings - you need all nine, and missing one is an auto-fail, as well as three codes, for a total of 12 essential items to pass the final test (and that's not counting things like the helmet, the red dust, the file and so on that you cannot win without) making this one of the hardest and unfair books to date - which is a shame as, if you do go all the way to the end, it has a very satisfying and dramatic conclusion.

So it's been fun, but also not fun if that makes sense.

Next I shall be playing Falcon: Lost in Time (Thanks Richard!) and then onto another childhood favourite: Robot Commando.

[Dredd]

Arrived this morning and swiftly read over my teabreak. It's Dreddworld > everything else this week.

Dredd – Digging this so far. Henry Flint is just incredible here. Final page especially is great - interesting character design, the rain, the little blood spots on the forehead.

Chimpsky – Really enjoying this story. Continues to do all the good stuff from previous weeks. Was that a visual King Kong gag as Noam escapes from the ToyZ Zone?

Hope – Four episodes in and I have no interest in reading any more of this. It's alarming how I went from loving Hope to finding it borderline unreadable, but other people are enjoying it so I guess it's me!

Enemy Earth – This is really boring stuff. Sorry.

Hershey – Art looks magnificent. Franks looks like he's in trouble!

Regened again next week? Bah! But it looks like a great cover and I'm interested to see both Mayflies and Ulysses Sweet are in it so bah retracted!

Actually, reading Shark's brief, I've Bixed the that up somewhat. Ignore!

Bix (Bartonian) - to be both entertaining and annoying in equal parts. For example: The cat is eating my Birthday cake. What a Bix up!