A year ago I thought of it as of a pro-LGBT, pro-feministic, and pro-politically-correct comic. It was self-censored due to the public hysteria. That made the storyline super-fucked-up. Ferocious post-apocalyptic invaders wouldn’t rape and among them there were no black people, and women (i.e. all my main characters) became extremely heroic, unrealistically good and surprisingly boring. Bad guys became bad only because they were antagonists. And good guys became good because it was right to. Even though the initial concept was that there are no good or bad guys. Take Valentine, for instance. It’s a boy who was sold to sexual slavery. “Violence-violence trigger-trigger” I even thought to replace it with sending him to peel potatoes for raiders. But come on, this comic is absurd enough without that shit. Why violence is accepted in comic but not in illustrations? Because violence in a comic is a part of a story where the reader understands that shit is happening and what happens to the victim afterwards. But an illustration leaves the consequences behind the scene and the reader sees only exciting forced sex where the victim is dehumanized. But that’s a different story. As for Valentine. I’ve changed Valentine hundreds of times under the influence of self-censorship, realizing that the more I do it the less I like him (and the whole story). At first he was “small”, I created him as an absolute fan service character for porn pages. But then he grew younger and became a “camp follower”, hentai and fan service were left behind. As a result he turned into an absolutely boring boy, whose presence in a comic was hard to explain. Afterwards I discovered my own opinion under this pile of shit (which was my job). What a hell these potatoes are doing in a post-apocalyptic anti-utopia? I asked myself: what kind of Valentine you’d fall in love with, my little inner Ulrik? An independent teenager who says he’s 18. He looks too girly. Dances in lingerie in front of a mirror and flirts with men only because it’s the only behavior pattern he knows. Because all his conscious experience was from invaders filling him with cum. Most of all Valentine loves his new ever terrible life, as there is this weird guy John Doe. Valentine loves him with all his teenage love and tries to gain his goodwill as well as he can, and sacrifices himself. But Valentine doesn’t know that life is a string of break-ups, and there are no Johns who can’t be
replaced. His John is the one and only to him. He’s gonna wipe his beloved’s blood snot and make senseless sacrifices, sometimes by sacrificing the ones who really love him. There’s nothing like loving a beast.
I almost forgot to mention that this character first of all touches upon the transgender problem. What can possibly influence our self-realization and why most of us dislike being in our own body without F64.0. But this is a different story.
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