Progress Report (of unrelenting terror)

Got the proof copy for Wayward 2 in yesterday. When I got to The Apartment, it sat there in a little, comic-shaped package, propped up against a wall in the lobby amongst the piles of junkmail, fliers, and syringes; as if it were waiting for me. I would not be one to be caught off guard though; as I had already been expecting it's arrival and had made plans of my own. And that plan was to throw it away without ever opening it. Fuck you, I never said it was a complex plan.

With the arrival of every proof copy comes the unrelenting horror of having to actually sit down, look at, and review this horrible thing I have been wasting my life on. It is truly unbearable. This time around I decided no more and chucked the proof into the dumptster behind my building.

Satisfied with my victory over an inanimate object, I went upstairs to my apartment, went inside, and found myself face to face with the proof,  propped up on my desk, staring at me.

I retraced my steps, but refused to accept the conclusion that my scenario presented. I took the proof and threw it out my window and watched it fall to the alley 3 floors down. When it hit the ground, it exploded. I didn't let myself ponder that too long.

Once again satisfied with my victory over a few staple-bound sheets of paper (though slightly less satisfied this time around), I went to the fridge to get a celebratory can of delicious Mountain Dew, only to find the fucking proof propped up in my refridgerator, staring at me. It could have just been my eyes messing with me, but I could have sworn I saw it shiver.

It was then that I realized this man-versus-package skirmish had become a full-out war. And there would be blood and heavy casualties on both sides.

I removed the proof from the fridge, along with some peanut butter and jelly. I then made a PB&J&proof sandwich and fed it to one of the hobos in the alley. I returned to The Apartment to find it in my living room. Hanging from the ceiling. Upside-down. Like a bat.

And this was how the battle waged on for a good hour. I destroyed it in various ways, each method growing more and more convoluted; and it always returning. Waiting for me to open it and succumb to the failure inside. It even got me with the ol' bathroom mirror gag - I had opened my bathroom cabinet mirror to get a bottle of NyQuil from my Happy Rations supply, and when I closed it, the proof was right behind me.

Finally, I decided to take a more passive tatic. If the proof was going to keep popping up, fine. I'll keep it, but not open it. Because everyone knows that ignoring a problem is the best way to make it go away. So I threw it on my desk and resumed with my normal daily activities: sitting on my couch, staring blankly at an unplugged television and dreaming of a life that doesn't so closely resemble hell. My victory was as flawless as I had hoped, but I had won none the less. The proof was far away on my studio desk, where it could harm no one.

That's when I started to hear the ticking.

Very faint at first, but still there. Coming from the studio, reverberating through the floorboards, growing ever louder; it became the only thing I could hear, see or feel. The ticking consumed all that I was aware of, mocking me, driving me mad with it's incessant beat just like that guy in the classic gothic horror story Charlotte's Web.

I could take no more. With a savage, pig-like howl, I sprung from my couch and dashed to the studio, where I snatched up the package, tore it open with ravenous teeth, removed the proof, and perused it diligently.

It turns out the art didn't turn into absolute shit in print form. I was pleasantly surprised. Still driven completely mad from the nightmare of the previous few hours, mind you; but still pleasantly surprised none the less. The only problem is the artwork is too dark, so dark that some panels are all black. Since Wayward is, in it's most basic form, a story about some juvenille delinquents running around in a pitch-black building, I'm obviously as surprised by the too-dark issue as you are. Fortunately, correcting that problem isn't nearly as intrusive as, say, having to redraw an entire page, so that's good. I do wish, however that this didn't involve having to readjust the brightness of every single goddamn fucking page, but what are ya gonna do.

Needless to say, getting this corrected and out to the frothing public takes the number one spot on my LIST O' THINGS I HAVE TO DO, an ever-growing list that unfortunately takes priority over the LIST O' THINGS I WANT TO DO. The former list basically revolves around Wayward right now, while the latter list contains the more personal, joy-inspiring things like personal art projects, playing the various awesome videogames that seem to be dropping every other fucking day this month, inventing Ubernachos: The Nachos of Tomorrow!, and killing myself in the most violent and disgusting way possible*.

That's where Wayward stands right now. I'll post more as it develops.

*Woodchipper.