The grand, inaugural show I’ve been waiting for for months is now at a close. I am in mourning. From what I’ve read, the show was enjoyable, at least for those exhibiting, within whose ranks I humbly toiled. Read on for my takes on C2E2 from both a fan and an exhibitor’s point of view.
As many of you have heard, I’ve quit my regular day job. I won’t go into reasons why except to say concentrating on the strip was one of them. There will be no interruption of your regularly scheduled comics (get me, I sound like the CTA), but I’ll have to revise my schedule as appropriate. Wighthouse will be the better for it. Que sera sera…*spins off into the clover, arms outstretched*
I’d like to talk a bit about the comic.
You may have noticed that there’s a lighthouse in the top banner. You may have also noticed that Wighthouse’s selling points within the banner mention both a lighthouse and a ghost. You may have keenly noticed that almost three months in, besides the first three comics, neither of these things have appeared in the strip.
These are the byproducts of being a fledgling storyteller. When I started Wighthouse, I planned this opening funeral gambit merely to lay the foundation for the rest of the story. It’s taken me longer than I thought. Rest assured, ghosts are waiting in the wings, ready to perform their eldritch duties. All will come together. I also intend to improve the site sometime soon, especially the comments system, of which I’m not fond, and better typefaces. (File this under “famous last words,†as I’m still fussing with my comicking schedule and have issues with PHP.)
And even if the above has not rustled the merest feather of your composure and you haven’t even noticed the plot, it’s been bugging me, so therein lies my justification.
So over New Year’s weekend, I went down to good ol’ Huntsville, AL (home of the space museum I have managed to not see twice now) and hung out with members of the Team Fortress 2 community known as Control Point. Some of the higher-ups requested I do a comic for a newsletter that would print daily for the duration of the convention. Unfortunately, there seemed to be a mixup when my turn came on the final day, so I never saw my strip run and I presume no one else did either. That’s what the Internet is for: to give to the audience what is rightfully theirs! (And to not feel like I wasted an entire Saturday doing the thing.)
I was asked to do something Rock Band related, since there was going to be an RB2 competition, so what’s more RB2 than TF2 characters hamming it up? Makes me wish we’d had a keg at our own celebration.
1. Note the arrival of a package bearing the return address of “Wondermark.com.”
2. Jump up and down with glee.
3. Plod up stairs with package and sundry less-important items.
4. Tear open package with hands, vestigial prehensile tail, foreceps, whatever’s handy.
5. Marvel at quality of ill-gotten tome, resplendent with silver gilt and rich layouts.
6. Grin absurdly at the sketch provided by the author at his own behest, as well as supplemental “The Revolution Will Not Be Telegraphed” sticker. Affix sticker to laptop, gym locker or muzzle of small yappy dog.
7. Clutch book to chest; hug. (Warning: Several cartoon hearts may exude from general bodily vicinity. This is normal.)