[Concluding my discussion of Warren Ellis's superhuman trilogy from Avatar Press (Black Summer, No Hero, and Supergod).]
The most interesting superhuman in Supergod is Dajjal, a creature that forms a humanoid shape but seems to be made out of pieces of purple metal with glass goggle eyes. He has 'tactical perception,' the ability to see time. He can see time and decide which path to take, knowing where it will lead. It's like perceiving the timeline as a road map. Except it's a map that is constantly changing because the territory is always changing. It's a more advanced version of the Midnighter's ability to play out every possible scenario in his head. There, it's still theoretical and limited by his knowledge of the situation. With Dajjal, there are no limitations. And what that means for his mind is that he is without sanity: "It is said that human sanity is the best set of reactions to the structure of the perceived world." With no set structure since time is fluid and changing, how could he be sane? It's not insanity either, which is almost like a faulty set of reactions; there are no set reactions in his case. In the end, he decides that the only path he wants to take is one of destruction and his death. Again, not considering what a superpower would mean: if you can see every outcome, every scenario, would life offer any excitement or meaning?
The questions of what these powers and altered perceptions would entail is something that I have a hard time letting go of. To me, that's more interesting and worthwhile that symbolic meaning or escapism or any of those other things that superhero comics tend to embody. If anything, there's a progression from one book to the next in this trilogy: a rising awareness of what superhuman powers entail and the characters' acceptance of that awareness. John Horus lives in ignorance, clinging to his humanity and ideas of justice and unwilling to embrace his power; Carick Masterson doesn't recognise that living forever and not aging means that he has to look at the world in a different way that just as a means to comfort; and the superhumans in Supergod think differently and perceive humanity as truly beneath them, willing to kill and destroy if it suits their goals. But, there's something they have in common: all roads lead to death. At least for humanity. Contact with superhumanity means contact with the next step in human evolution, whether natural or unnatural, and that means the first step towards extinction. That's the unseen danger of superhumans, one addressed only in specific superhero comics often. They are the inevitable and our destruction is also inevitable. You can't fight the future.
In 30 minutes, I'll begin discussing The Programme...
[Don't forget to donate what you can to the Hero Initiative! (Details in this post.) After you do, let me know via comment or e-mail (found at the righthand side) so I can keep track of donations -- and who to thank.]
Showing posts with label of humanity and superhumanity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label of humanity and superhumanity. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Blogathon 40: Of Humanity and Superhumanity Part Five
[Continuing my discussion of Warren Ellis's superhuman trilogy from Avatar Press (Black Summer, No Hero, and Supergod).]
Ultimately, the question comes down to what does being superhuman mean. What is the proper use of power? I've already said that, for humanity, the perfect amount is where you're the Powers That Be's bitch. Do the dirty work, don't ask questions, and don't rock the boat. Be Superman (er, most of the time). But, even then, Marvel and DC have implied conceptions of what being a superhuman means. Black Summer is a Marvel conception twisted, while No Hero is DC twisted. Marvel features superhumans that are too human; DC features superhumans that are inhuman often -- near lifeless icons. That's where Supergod stands out. There is no natural conception of the superhuman as non-human, as something completely divorced from all human thought and inner life. And, yet, it seems so natural and obvious when you stop and think about it. I mostly wonder if it would be possible to establish a shared universe populated by superhumans that are non-human.
Then again, to relate this to an earlier conversation: would Superman actually qualify under these conditions? Does, for example, Grant Morrison's Superman actually think like a human? His viewpoint of the world is skewed and different from most humans. Ellis applies the conception of non-human superhumans to the idea that they would be destructive or consider humanity irrelevant. That's not guaranteed, though. Isn't it possible that non-human thinking could lead to the view that all life is sacred and worth protecting? That every life is irreplaceable and all important? That even those who try to destroy you are worthwhile and should be treated with kindness and meant to be reformed? After all, I made the joke about that version of Superman basically being SuperJesus and wasn't Jesus meant to be God? Ellis draws heavily on the Old Testament conception of God but ignores the New Testament. Must a God be destructive?
Superman doesn't fullfil the role, honestly, because he chooses not to occupy it. He's much more like Carick Masterson: superhuman in nature, but human in his brain and heart. He's limited by his humanity, which is why he occupies a state of inhumanity. He is above and equal. I said that Clark Kent is the balance and that's his limitation.Whereas, a hero like Spider-Man is rooted in humanity. If both were to take their ideals too far, Superman would conquer the world, while Spider-Man would take down figures of authority. It's not simply a matter of the scope of power, it's a matter of perspective. No Hero is almost a remix of Squadron Supreme, a book with a group based on the Justice League, you'll recall. Those characters are so powerful and shiny and perfect that they're stuck in that inhuman position, not human and human. No wonder Marvel is the company that people 'relate' to: it's heroes are so rooted in humanity.
To be continued in 30 minutes...
[Don't forget to donate what you can to the Hero Initiative! (Details in this post.) After you do, let me know via comment or e-mail (found at the righthand side) so I can keep track of donations -- and who to thank.]
Ultimately, the question comes down to what does being superhuman mean. What is the proper use of power? I've already said that, for humanity, the perfect amount is where you're the Powers That Be's bitch. Do the dirty work, don't ask questions, and don't rock the boat. Be Superman (er, most of the time). But, even then, Marvel and DC have implied conceptions of what being a superhuman means. Black Summer is a Marvel conception twisted, while No Hero is DC twisted. Marvel features superhumans that are too human; DC features superhumans that are inhuman often -- near lifeless icons. That's where Supergod stands out. There is no natural conception of the superhuman as non-human, as something completely divorced from all human thought and inner life. And, yet, it seems so natural and obvious when you stop and think about it. I mostly wonder if it would be possible to establish a shared universe populated by superhumans that are non-human.
Then again, to relate this to an earlier conversation: would Superman actually qualify under these conditions? Does, for example, Grant Morrison's Superman actually think like a human? His viewpoint of the world is skewed and different from most humans. Ellis applies the conception of non-human superhumans to the idea that they would be destructive or consider humanity irrelevant. That's not guaranteed, though. Isn't it possible that non-human thinking could lead to the view that all life is sacred and worth protecting? That every life is irreplaceable and all important? That even those who try to destroy you are worthwhile and should be treated with kindness and meant to be reformed? After all, I made the joke about that version of Superman basically being SuperJesus and wasn't Jesus meant to be God? Ellis draws heavily on the Old Testament conception of God but ignores the New Testament. Must a God be destructive?
Superman doesn't fullfil the role, honestly, because he chooses not to occupy it. He's much more like Carick Masterson: superhuman in nature, but human in his brain and heart. He's limited by his humanity, which is why he occupies a state of inhumanity. He is above and equal. I said that Clark Kent is the balance and that's his limitation.Whereas, a hero like Spider-Man is rooted in humanity. If both were to take their ideals too far, Superman would conquer the world, while Spider-Man would take down figures of authority. It's not simply a matter of the scope of power, it's a matter of perspective. No Hero is almost a remix of Squadron Supreme, a book with a group based on the Justice League, you'll recall. Those characters are so powerful and shiny and perfect that they're stuck in that inhuman position, not human and human. No wonder Marvel is the company that people 'relate' to: it's heroes are so rooted in humanity.
To be continued in 30 minutes...
[Don't forget to donate what you can to the Hero Initiative! (Details in this post.) After you do, let me know via comment or e-mail (found at the righthand side) so I can keep track of donations -- and who to thank.]
Blogathon 39: Of Humanity and Superhumanity Part Four
[Continuing my discussion of Warren Ellis's superhuman trilogy from Avatar Press (Black Summer, No Hero, and Supergod).]
Krishna is created by the Indians to help solve its problems. Embued with radical powers, it looks at the population problem in India and begins killing people. It allows a nuclear weapon to be detonated because nuclear winter will cool the planet down. To save India, it will tear it down and rebuild it. Three astronauts return to Britain fused as a spore alien god that people have to take medication when near because fungi will grow in them. Scientists worship the three-headed fungus god. It's not a simple matter of these things being gods, it's that we turn them into gods. When the Indians built Krishna, they designed him to be their god. In an extended speech in issue three, the three-headed god delivers a speech about his role, summing up an argument that there's a genetic need in humans to create gods, something that activates a pleasure centre in our brains that will bring us together and help us to work as a community. He summarises the argument as such: "I am your stash." It's a disturbing idea.
That superhumans would be seen as or treated as gods is nothing new. That they would think differently isn't new either. What sets Supergod apart is the degree to which Ellis applies these ideas. They seem inescapable: there is no situation where we would not treat superhumans as gods and no situation where they would not think radically different from us. Even someone like Jerry Craven, the American super-soldier, is something that's alien. He's eventually sent to kill Krishna, but looks around, decides that Krishna has done right and that he wants to stay with Krishna. He was a man treated as a god and, as such, he didn't react or act as expected.
I've been struggling to figure out exactly how the ideas of Supergod could be applied ever since it came out. Ellis presents a fairly direct story that leads to the end of the world because superhumans think so differently. But, where else could this sort of story lead? If superhumans are so alien, so different in thought and deed, what story could possibly be told featuring this conception of them? In a similar limitation to Dr. Manhattan in Watchmen. His apathy and distance is what makes that story work to a degree. If he took a more active interest in the events unfolding, the story would fall apart.
Then again, one can rarely apply radically or new ideas to mainstream superhero comics. That doesn't mean that other comics can't benefit from the lessons of these three comics.
To be continued in 30 minutes...
[Don't forget to donate what you can to the Hero Initiative! (Details in this post.) After you do, let me know via comment or e-mail (found at the righthand side) so I can keep track of donations -- and who to thank.]
Krishna is created by the Indians to help solve its problems. Embued with radical powers, it looks at the population problem in India and begins killing people. It allows a nuclear weapon to be detonated because nuclear winter will cool the planet down. To save India, it will tear it down and rebuild it. Three astronauts return to Britain fused as a spore alien god that people have to take medication when near because fungi will grow in them. Scientists worship the three-headed fungus god. It's not a simple matter of these things being gods, it's that we turn them into gods. When the Indians built Krishna, they designed him to be their god. In an extended speech in issue three, the three-headed god delivers a speech about his role, summing up an argument that there's a genetic need in humans to create gods, something that activates a pleasure centre in our brains that will bring us together and help us to work as a community. He summarises the argument as such: "I am your stash." It's a disturbing idea.
That superhumans would be seen as or treated as gods is nothing new. That they would think differently isn't new either. What sets Supergod apart is the degree to which Ellis applies these ideas. They seem inescapable: there is no situation where we would not treat superhumans as gods and no situation where they would not think radically different from us. Even someone like Jerry Craven, the American super-soldier, is something that's alien. He's eventually sent to kill Krishna, but looks around, decides that Krishna has done right and that he wants to stay with Krishna. He was a man treated as a god and, as such, he didn't react or act as expected.
I've been struggling to figure out exactly how the ideas of Supergod could be applied ever since it came out. Ellis presents a fairly direct story that leads to the end of the world because superhumans think so differently. But, where else could this sort of story lead? If superhumans are so alien, so different in thought and deed, what story could possibly be told featuring this conception of them? In a similar limitation to Dr. Manhattan in Watchmen. His apathy and distance is what makes that story work to a degree. If he took a more active interest in the events unfolding, the story would fall apart.
Then again, one can rarely apply radically or new ideas to mainstream superhero comics. That doesn't mean that other comics can't benefit from the lessons of these three comics.
To be continued in 30 minutes...
[Don't forget to donate what you can to the Hero Initiative! (Details in this post.) After you do, let me know via comment or e-mail (found at the righthand side) so I can keep track of donations -- and who to thank.]
Blogathon 38: Of Humanity and Superhumanity Part Three
[Continuing my discussion of Warren Ellis's superhuman trilogy from Avatar Press (Black Summer, No Hero, and Supergod).]
Carver, while appearing to be everything Masterson would want in his group, is really a severely damaged person whose parents were killed by a serial killer. Raised by the same serial killer, he's since become property of the FBI and is kept in a box until it's time to send him out and kill people. He's an expert at adapting to stay alive, to fit in, and it's only when he takes FX7, the drug that gives people superpowers, that we see him for what he really is: a freakish, twisted monster. The drug makes his skin fall off, his penis fall off, his teeth fall out, and he's left this blue, scabby thing that is the stuff of nightmares. You expect him, by Ellis's description of No Hero to be the inhuman one, and, to an extent, he is. However, by the end, the way he kills Masterson (or, rather, sticks in space) and himself, there's something sad and human about him. He's just happy to finally be able to choose something. It may be his own death, but he's lived in a world ruled by a man who fucked the wounds of people he killed, a world ruled by the FBI, and a world ruled by Carick Masterson. He never had a choice before. Masterson says that Josh is the villain of the story when he's just a pawn caught between two bad guys. Masterson is a selfish prick, while the governments working together to elimate Masterson and the Frontline are fools. They didn't know how essential the superhumans were, how much control they had, and the series ends with snippets of news reports about various global disasters that the Frontline stopped from happening before. Things from the stock market crashing to keeping countries disarmed to tectonic plates shifting. It's a chilling ending that offers little in the way of comfort or answers.
Black Summer ended in a similar fashion with the voice of Tom Black talking about his friend John Horus and the crimes of those that he killed. Whereas No Hero ends in a chilling way where you can't help but think everyone gets what's coming to them, Black Summer's ending is simply sad. Horus is dead, Black is dead, and the world is worse off. It's not doomed, it's simply worse off and it could have been prevented if these men actually thought a little bigger. Black wallowed in self-pity; he retired after he lost a leg and his lover was killed. But, had he stayed in the Seven Guns, what could have changed? Would he have kept Horus in line? Would he have come up with a better plan of action? Where No Hero is a story of the corrupt, Black Summer is a story of the stupid.
In that respect, Black Summer and Supergod have something in common. Supergod is filled with narrow-minded stupidity as people fail to consider the consequences of their actions. The people who create superhumans never consider that what they make won't think like them, that those powers will offer more expedient methods than available for humanity. It's like they read a bunch of comics and assume that building a superhuman would mean some nice guy in a tight costume that rescues cats from trees. Instead, they got gods that they couldn't help but worship and couldn't help but fear. Alien presences that immediately don't feel right. Alien minds that we can't fully comprehend.
To be continued in 30 minutes...
[Don't forget to donate what you can to the Hero Initiative! (Details in this post.) After you do, let me know via comment or e-mail (found at the righthand side) so I can keep track of donations -- and who to thank.]
Carver, while appearing to be everything Masterson would want in his group, is really a severely damaged person whose parents were killed by a serial killer. Raised by the same serial killer, he's since become property of the FBI and is kept in a box until it's time to send him out and kill people. He's an expert at adapting to stay alive, to fit in, and it's only when he takes FX7, the drug that gives people superpowers, that we see him for what he really is: a freakish, twisted monster. The drug makes his skin fall off, his penis fall off, his teeth fall out, and he's left this blue, scabby thing that is the stuff of nightmares. You expect him, by Ellis's description of No Hero to be the inhuman one, and, to an extent, he is. However, by the end, the way he kills Masterson (or, rather, sticks in space) and himself, there's something sad and human about him. He's just happy to finally be able to choose something. It may be his own death, but he's lived in a world ruled by a man who fucked the wounds of people he killed, a world ruled by the FBI, and a world ruled by Carick Masterson. He never had a choice before. Masterson says that Josh is the villain of the story when he's just a pawn caught between two bad guys. Masterson is a selfish prick, while the governments working together to elimate Masterson and the Frontline are fools. They didn't know how essential the superhumans were, how much control they had, and the series ends with snippets of news reports about various global disasters that the Frontline stopped from happening before. Things from the stock market crashing to keeping countries disarmed to tectonic plates shifting. It's a chilling ending that offers little in the way of comfort or answers.
Black Summer ended in a similar fashion with the voice of Tom Black talking about his friend John Horus and the crimes of those that he killed. Whereas No Hero ends in a chilling way where you can't help but think everyone gets what's coming to them, Black Summer's ending is simply sad. Horus is dead, Black is dead, and the world is worse off. It's not doomed, it's simply worse off and it could have been prevented if these men actually thought a little bigger. Black wallowed in self-pity; he retired after he lost a leg and his lover was killed. But, had he stayed in the Seven Guns, what could have changed? Would he have kept Horus in line? Would he have come up with a better plan of action? Where No Hero is a story of the corrupt, Black Summer is a story of the stupid.
In that respect, Black Summer and Supergod have something in common. Supergod is filled with narrow-minded stupidity as people fail to consider the consequences of their actions. The people who create superhumans never consider that what they make won't think like them, that those powers will offer more expedient methods than available for humanity. It's like they read a bunch of comics and assume that building a superhuman would mean some nice guy in a tight costume that rescues cats from trees. Instead, they got gods that they couldn't help but worship and couldn't help but fear. Alien presences that immediately don't feel right. Alien minds that we can't fully comprehend.
To be continued in 30 minutes...
[Don't forget to donate what you can to the Hero Initiative! (Details in this post.) After you do, let me know via comment or e-mail (found at the righthand side) so I can keep track of donations -- and who to thank.]
Blogathon 37: Of Humanity and Superhumanity Part Two
[Continuing my discussion of Warren Ellis's superhuman trilogy from Avatar Press (Black Summer, No Hero, and Supergod).]
That fundamental difference between the two groups and their central leader figures, John Horus and Carick Masterson, leads to the problem in each respective series. Masterson doesn't age and can't die. What would that do to a person? Would it make him cold and devoted to controlling his environment completely? So, he took over the world secretly, controlling things from behind the scenes in ways that no one knew. That a collection of nations target him and his group alone shows how well protected his position is. He's no longer human and maintains his basic humanity to the degree that he still thinks like a human; meaning, he thinks himself as something more than human without actually progressing to the point where he's not actually human anymore. That's where the idea of ruling the world so he can live in comfort comes from. Granted, it also allows him and his group to keep things under control, it's mostly about the power and the profit. As he puts it: "[...] THE MORE PEOPLE ALIVE THERE ARE, THE MORE PEOPLE THERE ARE TO EARN MONEY THAT WILL EVENTUALLY BE GIVEN TO ME. / ALSO, THE MORE PEOPLE THERE ARE TO BREED GIRLS WHOM I WILL EVENTUALLY FUCK." It a callous attitude, one that is contemptable, but rooted in the idea of a man who will not age nor die. In a sense, he's trapped somewhere between humanity and true superhumanity. Physically, he's a superhuman, but, mentally, he's a human. Together, they make him inhuman.
By contrast, John Horus operates within the system to a degree. It doesn't occur to him to secretly take over the world and make things right that way. It just occurs to him to kill the president and his advisors for arranging an illegal war. Basically, what if a superhuman killed Bush for Iraq? He wants to serve his fellow man and that means working within established systems. He doesn't see himself as something better than human; John Horus is a human who happens to have the best tool to fight injustice. He does what he thinks anyone in his position would (or should) do. That's his failing: he is better than humanity. He's developed such sophisticated weaponry that that technology actually raises him to another level. He had other means of enacting change than just killing someone. It's something so narrow-minded and focused that it ignores how people tend to react to that sort of thing.
Of course, with these two men on either side, what's the proper middle ground? Considering yourself above humanity and deciding to take on what you think is best is inhuman, but considering yourself just another person is being too human. Where should these two have landed? The failing of these books is that Ellis offers criticism but no solutions. Where is the proper place to land? Supergod shows that being truly different from huamanity leads to death and destruction, so that's not the answer either.
There is no answer beyond the most obvious one: superhumanity cannot function alongside humanity unless it is willing to bow to the wishes of humanity. That's how superheroes like Superman operate: they colour inside the lines and stick to the laws established by man and don't rock the boat. The minute you do that, you almost need to be willing to kill anyone that gets in your way and utterly debase humanity, making sure they're under your thumb completely. Secretly ruling the world isn't enough -- it needs to be explicit. And things need to be made better. Part of being better than humanity is acting better than humanity. That means not falling prey to the same vices and faults as humanity. Wanting power for the sake of money and sex? That should be beneath someone above humanity. Just killing the people at the top of a corrupt system and expecting everyone to applaud you? Hopelessly naive.
The roles of Tom Black and Joshua Carver fill the same roles in their respective books: the men who take down John Horus and Carrick Masterson. Both do it out of recognition of where things went wrong. How they go about is interesting. Black does it because he's disappointed. Horus failed to live up to his expectations. Carver does it because it's his job, because he's crazy, and because the idea of someone controlling everything offends him.
To be continued in 30 minutes...
[Don't forget to donate what you can to the Hero Initiative! (Details in this post.) After you do, let me know via comment or e-mail (found at the righthand side) so I can keep track of donations -- and who to thank.]
That fundamental difference between the two groups and their central leader figures, John Horus and Carick Masterson, leads to the problem in each respective series. Masterson doesn't age and can't die. What would that do to a person? Would it make him cold and devoted to controlling his environment completely? So, he took over the world secretly, controlling things from behind the scenes in ways that no one knew. That a collection of nations target him and his group alone shows how well protected his position is. He's no longer human and maintains his basic humanity to the degree that he still thinks like a human; meaning, he thinks himself as something more than human without actually progressing to the point where he's not actually human anymore. That's where the idea of ruling the world so he can live in comfort comes from. Granted, it also allows him and his group to keep things under control, it's mostly about the power and the profit. As he puts it: "[...] THE MORE PEOPLE ALIVE THERE ARE, THE MORE PEOPLE THERE ARE TO EARN MONEY THAT WILL EVENTUALLY BE GIVEN TO ME. / ALSO, THE MORE PEOPLE THERE ARE TO BREED GIRLS WHOM I WILL EVENTUALLY FUCK." It a callous attitude, one that is contemptable, but rooted in the idea of a man who will not age nor die. In a sense, he's trapped somewhere between humanity and true superhumanity. Physically, he's a superhuman, but, mentally, he's a human. Together, they make him inhuman.
By contrast, John Horus operates within the system to a degree. It doesn't occur to him to secretly take over the world and make things right that way. It just occurs to him to kill the president and his advisors for arranging an illegal war. Basically, what if a superhuman killed Bush for Iraq? He wants to serve his fellow man and that means working within established systems. He doesn't see himself as something better than human; John Horus is a human who happens to have the best tool to fight injustice. He does what he thinks anyone in his position would (or should) do. That's his failing: he is better than humanity. He's developed such sophisticated weaponry that that technology actually raises him to another level. He had other means of enacting change than just killing someone. It's something so narrow-minded and focused that it ignores how people tend to react to that sort of thing.
Of course, with these two men on either side, what's the proper middle ground? Considering yourself above humanity and deciding to take on what you think is best is inhuman, but considering yourself just another person is being too human. Where should these two have landed? The failing of these books is that Ellis offers criticism but no solutions. Where is the proper place to land? Supergod shows that being truly different from huamanity leads to death and destruction, so that's not the answer either.
There is no answer beyond the most obvious one: superhumanity cannot function alongside humanity unless it is willing to bow to the wishes of humanity. That's how superheroes like Superman operate: they colour inside the lines and stick to the laws established by man and don't rock the boat. The minute you do that, you almost need to be willing to kill anyone that gets in your way and utterly debase humanity, making sure they're under your thumb completely. Secretly ruling the world isn't enough -- it needs to be explicit. And things need to be made better. Part of being better than humanity is acting better than humanity. That means not falling prey to the same vices and faults as humanity. Wanting power for the sake of money and sex? That should be beneath someone above humanity. Just killing the people at the top of a corrupt system and expecting everyone to applaud you? Hopelessly naive.
The roles of Tom Black and Joshua Carver fill the same roles in their respective books: the men who take down John Horus and Carrick Masterson. Both do it out of recognition of where things went wrong. How they go about is interesting. Black does it because he's disappointed. Horus failed to live up to his expectations. Carver does it because it's his job, because he's crazy, and because the idea of someone controlling everything offends him.
To be continued in 30 minutes...
[Don't forget to donate what you can to the Hero Initiative! (Details in this post.) After you do, let me know via comment or e-mail (found at the righthand side) so I can keep track of donations -- and who to thank.]
Blogathon 36: Of Humanity and Superhumanity Part One
[Beginning my discussion of Warren Ellis's superhuman trilogy from Avatar Press (Black Summer, No Hero, and Supergod).]
Note: I've written about these books before and two posts are worth checking out before continuing: Black Summer #7 and No Hero #6.
These comics make up a thematic trilogy, not a plot trilogy. Each story stands on its own and function on a larger scale when placed next to one another. Even then, Black Summer and No Hero offer the best chance for direct comparison, both structured the same with seven proper issue and a shortened 'zero issue' that begins their respective stories. Both are drawn by Juan Jose Ryp and both begin with a group of superhumans that began with the simple goal of cleaning up their corrupt city. Where they diverge is interesting. Supergod, on the other hand, has Garrie Gastonny on art, is five issues, and deals with superhumans on a global scale, specifically built and directed by nations. Whereas the first two series begin extremely locally and expand, Supergod begins on that level. But, Ellis provides a framework of sort for understanding these three stories and how they relate to one another.
In the most basic terms: John Horus, the superhuman in Black Summer that starts everything by killing the president, his advisors, and whoever tried to stop him, is too human. He steps over the line many have of how far would you go to see justice done, because he cares that much. And because he's so human, he can't see that there are better ways to accomplish his goals. In No Hero, it comes down to control. Carrick Masterson created superhumans with a drug and used that power to secretly take over the world. He's brought down by an insane man sent in to destroy the Frontline on behalf of a multinational group. Masterson's casualness about ruling the world is meant to be inhuman, but so is Joshua Carver's ability to infiltrate the group and slaughter them when presented the chance. In Supergod, superhumans are created and think nothing like humans. They are different and those differences cause death and destruction.
Black Summer and No Hero are two sides of the same coin, and Supergod is something else entirely. I think the first two are good superhero stories, while the third is a genuinely important and worthwhile work that's been ignored at the detriment of future superhero fiction. So, of course, I'll start with the two books that are closely related.
The starting place in these fictional universes for superhumans is the same: a group of people that want to clean up a corrupt city. How they go about creating superhumans is one of the key differences. In Black Summer, the Seven Guns use technological enhancements that maintain their basic humanity and augment their physical abilities; in No Hero, the Levellers/Frontline take a drug that alters their bodies and, possibly, their minds. On one side, you have Iron Man and every other basically human 'superhumans' who use their wits to make themselves more, but in a manner that's apart from them. On the other, you have mutants or Spider-Man, the types that are changed forever and are no longer human anymore. That disconnect is the thing that separates the Levellers/Frontline from the Seven Guns. While the Seven Guns can choose to see themselves above humanity, there's always something that holds them back and keeps them grounded to a degree. They're still humans. Disarm their guns and they're no different than you or I. The Levellers/Frontline are superhumans always.
To be continued in 30 minutes...
We're also up to $349.99!
[Don't forget to donate what you can to the Hero Initiative! (Details in this post.) After you do, let me know via comment or e-mail (found at the righthand side) so I can keep track of donations -- and who to thank.]
Note: I've written about these books before and two posts are worth checking out before continuing: Black Summer #7 and No Hero #6.
Black Summer was about superhumans who were too human. No Hero was about superhumans who were inhuman. Supergod is about superhumans who are no longer human at all, but something else.--Warren Ellis
These comics make up a thematic trilogy, not a plot trilogy. Each story stands on its own and function on a larger scale when placed next to one another. Even then, Black Summer and No Hero offer the best chance for direct comparison, both structured the same with seven proper issue and a shortened 'zero issue' that begins their respective stories. Both are drawn by Juan Jose Ryp and both begin with a group of superhumans that began with the simple goal of cleaning up their corrupt city. Where they diverge is interesting. Supergod, on the other hand, has Garrie Gastonny on art, is five issues, and deals with superhumans on a global scale, specifically built and directed by nations. Whereas the first two series begin extremely locally and expand, Supergod begins on that level. But, Ellis provides a framework of sort for understanding these three stories and how they relate to one another.
In the most basic terms: John Horus, the superhuman in Black Summer that starts everything by killing the president, his advisors, and whoever tried to stop him, is too human. He steps over the line many have of how far would you go to see justice done, because he cares that much. And because he's so human, he can't see that there are better ways to accomplish his goals. In No Hero, it comes down to control. Carrick Masterson created superhumans with a drug and used that power to secretly take over the world. He's brought down by an insane man sent in to destroy the Frontline on behalf of a multinational group. Masterson's casualness about ruling the world is meant to be inhuman, but so is Joshua Carver's ability to infiltrate the group and slaughter them when presented the chance. In Supergod, superhumans are created and think nothing like humans. They are different and those differences cause death and destruction.
Black Summer and No Hero are two sides of the same coin, and Supergod is something else entirely. I think the first two are good superhero stories, while the third is a genuinely important and worthwhile work that's been ignored at the detriment of future superhero fiction. So, of course, I'll start with the two books that are closely related.
The starting place in these fictional universes for superhumans is the same: a group of people that want to clean up a corrupt city. How they go about creating superhumans is one of the key differences. In Black Summer, the Seven Guns use technological enhancements that maintain their basic humanity and augment their physical abilities; in No Hero, the Levellers/Frontline take a drug that alters their bodies and, possibly, their minds. On one side, you have Iron Man and every other basically human 'superhumans' who use their wits to make themselves more, but in a manner that's apart from them. On the other, you have mutants or Spider-Man, the types that are changed forever and are no longer human anymore. That disconnect is the thing that separates the Levellers/Frontline from the Seven Guns. While the Seven Guns can choose to see themselves above humanity, there's always something that holds them back and keeps them grounded to a degree. They're still humans. Disarm their guns and they're no different than you or I. The Levellers/Frontline are superhumans always.
To be continued in 30 minutes...
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