YE OLDE TRILOGY

Apologies for the recent dry spell here, despite having no graphics this week, the workload's been pretty heavy. Us warriors of Comp are cobbling together websites, and only just recently learned our deadline was thankfully pushed back another week. More doodles are keen to follow, but now you'll have to settle for more delicious oldies.

Back in the shitkicking summers of underclassman high school, my old gang and I spent many a humid night on the porch, fiddling with a Genesis emulator on a dinosaur of a computer. For a while there was a bout of PS4 madness, much to Aubig's jubilation. On two different occasions, he got a hold of my pad and wrote something stupid on a blank sheet. What followed was a series of drawings that would go down in history.

EXPONENT: YOU JUST GET ME TO THE PRIMARY, Y'HEAR?

Little bit of Strangelove behind today's graphic!

BASTARD ROLL CALL: NELL

Next up is Nell, a certain someone who started as a nobody pugilist and wound up as one of my most fucked-up little animals.

Circa: ~2006
Age: 20
Height: 5'1"
Weight: 138 pounds
Occupation: Devil's advocate

Nell's past and family tree are shrouded in horrible legal name-changes, otherworldly poop, and Irish jackassery. Her now-estranged father, Arthur, lost a bar bet and wound up changing the family name to O'Fuckaduck (court found it too funny to pass up, owing likely to drunkenness), naming his firstborn daughter William, and later lavishing his younger son with a normal name and apprenticeship in the baffling Irish Art of Fighting (trademark?).

William went on to meet up with a crack squadron of deplorable superhumans, engaging in unspeakable shenanigans with a cult founded in the lifestyle of Mythbusting, squaring off against George Foreman on several occasions, killing dozens of people and getting away with it, you know, stuff. Somewhere along the way a shambling gorilla-monolith of a man by the name of Garcia Jenkman crawled through her entire digestive tract looking for a pair of keys, shitting his mystical Garcia poop all the while. Bill somehow recovered, and thereafter exhibited unprecedented resilience and physical fortitude; however she's also missing nearly all of her internal organs, somehow surviving with nothing but a damaged knot of intestines and a brain that hasn't quite been firing on all cylinders since.

She's settled down recently, but not before exacting revenge for her embarrassing name and spoiled brother, weaving through stacks of paperwork and court dates to change her name to Nell and her brother Shit Tits. All's well that ends well, now she just pisses away the days socializing with and/or antagonizing my ensemble for a rise. Nigh invincibility has skewed her moral compass, and she's not above ruining someone's day for a round of excitement...

Theme Song

SWEAR TO GOD, NOT INTO LOLICON

Darkstalkers was a fighting game series I didn't get into until waay later than the other fundamentals, mostly owing to never having found a copy of 3 early on and having no fucking clue what MAME was until I was fifteen or so. Regardless, I spent a long while feeling indifferent to the freakshow ensemble, using Sasquatch and Victor, never really learning the nuances because nothing clicked.

Then one day I found out Lilith was, for all intents and purposes, a sprightly, adorable Dan that threw lethal dance parties and got way more naked. Haven't turned back since.

EXPONENT: NO MERCY FOR THE SMOKERS

God, was this a mess. I was assigned this graphic sometime over the weekend, and went through two drafts before settling on an extreme landscape. One ambitious iteration involved a lineless look and Prismacolor markers until two of the blues dried out. Thursday sneaks up behind me and I manage to cobble this together at the very last minute.

Ashamed? Extremely, but it's something, and I'm running out of old sketches.

EXPONENT: BECAUSE I GOT HIGH

Fresh off the PSD, another Exponent graphic!

Coming soon to Purdue are musical performers Casting Crowns and Afroman. Bit of an odd juxtaposition, but hey, I ain't judgin' nobody. Ten more bucks in the bank!

BOLSHOI PABEDA

Week full of studying, paper writing, and intensive newspaper graphics means no time for idle doodling, so have some vintage Zangief while I compose myself.

EXPONENT: RENT THE RUNWAY

You'd probably never guess from peeking into my sketchpad any given day, but I do, indeed, draw, and enjoy drawing, broads. Unfortunately, my hideous, angular, and unflattering style doesn't do them sufficient justice, which is why I draw them so infrequently compared to, say, gigantic, muscular men, freaks of nature, and shameless scatological gags.

No wonder everyone thinks I'm gay.

Anyway, presented in the usual, terribly rushed Exponent-O-Vision:

This was for an article about Rent the Runway, some damn service that lets you rent designer threads. So, that constitutes lousy, towering supermodel. Not really my forte, but c'est la vie. We'll come across something more perverse sooner or later.

Bonus oldie: Ralf Jones expressing his affection for Athena in the only way he knows.

THE FREE STAY LODGE?

(you can stay there for free)

BASTARD ROLL CALL: RICHARD

Quite a few folks who've known me since high school or so mention that I neglect my own characters quite a lot nowadays. Suppose it's chalked up to assuming most folks find them too boring, and feeling too self-indulgent when giving them the limelight. Obscure and obtuse as they are, though, there still is a moldy, creasy place in my cold and shriveled heart for them, which is why I've finally given in to featuring and overhauling the little assholes.

 Guess I'll start off with the old veteran of the bunch, Dick.

 Circa: ~1998
Age: 45
Height: 4'10"
Weight: 120 pounds
Occupation: Retired professor of forensic astronomy

A three-chambered peanut, inexplicably given life and wisdom, Dick is a man with no mission. His vast seniority over the other cast provides the group with much needed foresight on my predispositions and wicked habits, and his vast knowledge over many essentially useless subjects has made him the star of many an ass-kissing extra credit comics during high school. Professor Budst lacks any real character background or backstory, and thus evolves extremely rapidly in image and personality. What little that can be said of him is that he's generally an amicable, old-fashioned fart that the other characters can count on, or more often alienate themselves from and ridicule. A big fan of scaring birds with umbrellas.

Theme song

EXPONENT: SOME OTHER GODDAMN COACH

Once again, it's time for some newspaper bullshit!

This here is apparently the coach of the volleyball team, Dave Schondell. Now in deplorable Max-O-Vision! 

On an off note, I'd like to direct my audience (that's right, all three of you) to the blog of another Max. He's been a comrade of mine since last year, but I only found out today that he, too, is hip enough to artblog it up. Update your bookmarks folders, and if you get your Max's confused, just remember that I'm the shittier one!

http://maxdraw.blogspot.com/

Also, because it's been a while since my last post, here's another oldie, a couple busts of the one and only Gene and Olivia.

New, not-Exponent-related shit coming up. Hold onto your asses, ass holders!