Nyogtha Volume I, Issue XIII

This week I thought I’d do something a little bit different. For those of you not aware of it, I was commissioned to write a graphic novel for the “All Flesh Must Be Eaten RPG” by Eden Studios. You may also know them as the writers of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer RPG to boot. Anyway, said Graphic Novel appears to be amazingly hard to find, so I thought it would be fun to at least let you guys read the script, and also see what goes into making one before the artist starts his drawings. The Script, the art directions, and so on.

Let me give you a little back story first. My In 1997, I had Restoration Period English Literature. For my final project I wrote a Horatian satire in the style of John Wilmot, Lord of Rochester. The poem was a combination parody of Night of the Living Dead, but also the old morality plays of yesteryear. It’s also written in mock heroic couplets, but which each line, something is wrong that makes it merely a sham couplet. The combination proved to be amazingly popular and was published in several collections (online and off) especially after the VC took off and I had my first 15 minutes of fame.

In 2000, right after I graduated college, I sent the poem in to Alex Jurkat of Eden Studios just to read. 24 hours later, he came back offering to buy it and into making it into a graphic novel. The change from poem to novel started on 10/26/00 and ended on 02/05/01. Three months to make the changes. Scary, huh? Well the main reason behind this is because no one at Eden Studios had never done a graphic novel before, and I’d never written a comic book. Only essays, short stories and the like. It was all a learning experience for us. The end result though ended up being impressive to a lot of people in the comic’s field as they said it was very professional and had a hard time beliving we hadn’t spent years in the industry. Of course if we had told them the project took us three months… :-P

Anyway here now is the original poem followed by the finalized script (5th draft) of what would become the graphic novel.

Ode to a Tombstone as the Moon’s Silver Light Casts Down Upon Me as I am Besieged by Ravenous Flesh Hungry Ghouls

Or

Romero, Romero, Wherefore Art Thou Romero?

I walked home one eve. It was a cold night.
That movie I saw had filled me with fright.
***************************************

The dead rose from the grave, no one knows how.
All that really mattered was they were there now!
Eight humans were trapped inside a small shack,
While outside the zombies were ready to snack.
The dead had rose with an inhuman taste
For warm human brains. The rest…they would waste.
The dead finally won; they smashed through the walls.
The Humans were dinner. I was appalled.

*******************************************
The clock tower struck one. It gave me a start!
Back to reality, I clutched at my heart.
That small shock gave way to one that was worse…
My Brit Lit. Paper! “I forgot!” Then I cursed.
“It’s due in the morning! God, I’m so dumb.”
Should’ve been working. Instead I had fun…
Tomorrow she’ll ask me, “Where is your work?”
I have not a thing! I’ll look like a jerk!
Then as I pondered, I thought of a plan!
If I could still bullshit, I’d be the man!
But how to get home? I’m so far away!
I’ll just take a short cut through that cemetery!
*************************************
It’s cold and dark and there’s no one around.
What if the dead start to rise from the ground?
I get the feeling something’s following me…
I whirl ’round and look…but there is nothing.
I should not have watched that zombie movie,
Now my mind is playing tricks upon me.
I laugh at my fear; Tell myself it’s all in my head.
“Nothing can hurt me. All that’s here is dead.”
I continue my walk. All remains still.
The campus of Morris lies o’er that hill.
Then comes a sound that makes me soil my Haines…
An inhuman voice moaning the word….”Brains.”
I turn with a fright and see my worst fear!
The dead have risen! The zombies are here!
***************************************
I’m frozen in place! My will starts to drain.
The zombies move closer, droning out “Brains.”
I turn and run, the blood flows through my veins.
Unlike the zombies. They just want my brains.
I run over the hills. Over the plains!
As the zombies chase me, hungry for brains.
The clouds above darken. It begins to rain.
The zombies pursue! They can’t have my brain!
There is no light now. My vision, it strains.
I can’t see the zombies who want my brains.
My chest is pounding. My side’s wracked with pains.
I stop for a rest, but then I hear “Brains…”
“I only I had done my homework” I feign,
“I’d be safe at home, not chased for my brains!”
I turn back and look; they’ve started to gain!
The dead sure are fast, when they want your brain!
Next time I rent films: NO ZOMBIES! NO BRAINS!
Maybe a romance; perhaps one with Claire Danes.
“Instead of movies, think more towards survive.
I can’t watch movies if I’m not alive!”
As I continue, my foot slips in a drain.
My ankle is twisted! Now they’ll get my brain!
I crumple to the ground. My strength, it wanes.
The zombies surround me, lusting for brains.
As they reach for me, a thought enters my head.
“Who cares about homework, I’m already dead!”
One of them bites me. The grass my blood stains.
Hope I can’t feel it when they eat my brains…
Night is now over. Dead return to the ground.
My last thought? “I hope my body is found.”
*********************************************
The sun is now shining. Kids go out and play.
I’m not in Brit. Lit. What will they say?
Yet somehow my friend, you’ve gotten this poem.
Though I’m now a zombie. The earth I must roam.
And if you Dear Reader, judge this poem bad,
Remember I have not the brain I once had.

And two months later, the VC which was started around the same time as this blew up and a year later, I got my Sub-Cultural Icon label. Anyway look how different it is when you format a poem for a comic style structure.

Ode to a Tombstone as the Moon’s Silver Light Casts Down Upon Me as I am Besieged by Ravenous Flesh Hungry Ghouls

Or

Romero, Romero, Wherefore Art Thou Romero?
by
Alexander Lucard

General Art Direction:
The pages of the poem portion of the books should appear to be parchment-like. Also, the background of the writing (the text box) could be parchment-like. Yellow paper, with maybe one of the corners curled over for an extra super pompous look. The lettering should be in a flowing cursive (not quite Calligraphy) to again accent the fact we have a poem in ‘heroic’ couplets.

Page One

Art Direction:
Small section of the cover repeated.

Text:
Title, credits

Page Two

Art Direction:
The lines on this page and those of the next few discuss the main character’s daydream about “Night of The Living Dead.” The lines and art should be obviously different from the rest of the poem and the ending as well. Make the art for these pages simply black and white, and the art obviously depicting a scene from Romero’s B&W film. Let’s go with a shot of the house all the main characters were trapped in, showing it surrounded by a horde of the undead.

Text:
The dead rose from the grave. No one knows how.
What really mattered was they were there now!
Eight humans were trapped inside a small shack,
While outside the zombies were ready to snack.

Page Three

Art Direction: Still in black and white and italics. I’m assuming the second set of lines will be what the pictured is based on. People being eaten. Zombies masticating. Things of that nature. We’ll deviate a little from the film a little here. After all, the gore was quite little for modern audiences. Remember to leave the violence as comic as it can be, what with the undead devouring the living and all.

Text:
The dead all arose with a horrid taste
For warm human brains. The rest . . . they would waste.
The dead finally won; they smashed through the walls.
The humans were dinner. I was appalled.

Page Four

Art Direction:
I honestly can’t picture what this guy looks like. I mean, when I wrote it, I pictured him as me. But I rather not have that. Alex doesn’t need his fans knowing what he looks like. That whole “OMG! You’re Shawn Michaels!” thing, you know? So this is your ball to run with. Since we are making him a theatre/drama student now…artsy fartsy can work. Especially since it’s all a very pompous poem about zombies.

Text:
The clock bell struck one. It gave me a start!
Back to the present, I clutched at my heart.
That small shock lead to one that was worse . . .
My drama reading! “I forgot!” I cursed.

Page Five

Art Direction: Mainly your call here. I’m assuming it’ll be a teacher admonishing the student or the lad up till dawn plagiarizing something out of an old text. It can really go either way. Regardless, to show it’s imagination and not reality, we should change the colours a bit. Lets make things a little more pallid than in the main art of the comic.

Text:
“It’s due in the morning! God, I’m so dumb.”
Should’ve been working. Instead, I had fun . . .
Tomorrow he’ll ask me, “Where is your work?”
I have not a thing! I’ll look like a jerk!

Page Six

Art Direction:
The cemetery has to look as evil as possible. Just horribly wrong. Have a foul looking bird glaring at the reader on a wizened branch of a dead tree. A bit of mist rising from the ground. Perhaps we could really ham it up with a lighting bolt streaking across the sky, illuminating the evil portent of the graveyard. And of course, even with the forboding sense of doom and the obvious foreshadowing, our main character is clueless. Would you step foot in that cemetery?

Text:
Then as I pondered, I thought of a plan!
If I could finesse it, I’d sure be the man!
But how to get home? I’ve nary a ride!
I’ll cut through the graveyard there to the side.

Page Seven

Art Direction: A couple ideas, but it’s your ball to roll with. Perhaps a decomposing hand reaching over the main character’s shoulder. Another idea is a big pan of him in the middle of the cemetery. Everything looks calm and serene, but from behind a grave the readers can see a hand emerging from the earthen floor.

Text:
It’s cold and dark and there’s no one around.
What if the dead start to rise from the ground?
I get the feeling something’s following me . . .
I whirl ’round and look . . . there’s nothing to see.

Page Eight

Art Direction: More freaky shit should be here. Everything around the main character should look normal. Creepy as hell, but normal. Then on the edges of the pages and/or the corners, little things should be noticeable. Eyes glaring in the foggy night. a tombstone upturned. Graven earth is disturbed. Subtle things the discerning reader will catch.

Text:
I should not have watched that undead movie,
Now my mind starts to play tricks upon me.
I laugh at my fear. The voice says in my head,
“Nothing can hurt me. All that’s here is dead.”

Page Nine

Art Direction:
Morris is a branch of the U of MN-Morris. Http://www.mrs.umn.edu has some pics of the campus if you need it. Hell, the main character could be in UMN colours of Maroon and Gold. It should be in the background. Far off in the distance, like a cruel taunting. So close, and yet so far.

Of course, then this is the scene where zombies first arrive. But I think the next page would be a better dramatic intro to the undead corpses. Your call whether he actually soils himself or not. Although dookie IS always amusing. I’d also like to see the word “Brains” appear in the art as well. The only word spoken in the entire poem part of the comic. Have it drawn out and hushed.

Text:
I walk further on. All remains dead still.
The campus of Morris lies o’er that hill.
Then comes a sound. I soil my Haines . . .
An inhuman voice moans just one word . . . “Brains.”

Page Ten

Art Direction:
Now, the next big chunk is all action/chase. Zombies can be scary or Evil Dead like zombies. Doesn’t matter. It all depends if you want it to be comedy or horror-esque.
This will be the first real picture where the zombies actually appear. So it should be utterly devoted to making them look like a threat (with comedy overtones if you choose). The main thing is we should see a lot of them encroaching upon the main character, arms out stretched, hungry from gray matter.

Text:
I turn with a fright. I see my worst fear!
The dead have risen! The zombies are here!
I’m frozen in place! My will starts to drain.
The zombies move closer, droning out “Brains.”

Page Eleven

Art Direction: This is utterly your call here. After all we’re in the, “Boy meets Zombie. Boy runs like holy hell from zombie.” stage that appears in every bad horror film/novel. That’s pretty much what it should look like. One happy splash panel of doom.

Text:
I turn and I run, the blood courses my veins.
Unlike zombies…they just hunger for brains.
I run over hills. I run over plains.
The zombies still chase me, hungry for brains.

Page Twelve

Art Direction: Perhaps we should go with a literal reading of the lines. It is near black now. Perhaps the entire background of the picture is black. All we can see is the main character. Peppered through the darkness are strange and gruesome sights. A set of smiling teeth with the lips and gums rotted away. A desiccated hand gripping a rodent or bird tightly. Perhaps another arm outstretched, almost clenching around the main characters neck. Things of that nature.

Text:
The clouds above darken. Down comes the rain.
The zombies pursue. Stay away from my brain!
There is no light now. My vision, it strains.
I can’t see the dead who lust for my brains.

Page Thirteen

Art Direction: A see the main character stooped over besides a grave, huffing and puffing. After all, when was the last time you saw an artistic type in good enough shape to climb the rope in gym class? Behind him we see the horde of the damned closing in on him.

Text:
My chest pounds fiercely. My side’s wracked with pains.
I stop for a rest. Again I hear “Brains . . .”
Not working in earnest is proving my bane,
I should be home safe, not chased for my brain!

Page Fourteen

Art Direction: Perhaps have a picture of Claire Danes twisting into a mental image of her as a zombie. We can do this in three way. One is a zombie just looks like Claire. One is the reader fantasizes about Claire…but she’s a zombie and eats him. Or three is we mock the old Spider man comics. You know where Petey’s spider sense is tingling and half of his face is now the Spidey mask? We could do a horrid half and half of her face like that.
Personally, I can’t stand a thing she’s in…so mock her as much as you can without us getting sued.

Text:
I turn back. I look. They’ve started to gain!
The dead sure are fast, when they smell your brain!
Next time I rent films: NO ZOMBIES! NO BRAINS!
Maybe a romance; perhaps with Clair Danes.

Page Fifteen

Art Direction: The logical choice would be to have him slip here and be surrounded by the undead. If we show the trip, the expression on his face should be one of utmost terror. After all, these zombies are fast and hungry and he just f*cked up big time. The other choice would be to show him on the ground, showing obvious damage to his ankle, and the exposed pipe lying by him, still firmly rooted in the earth so no one asks “Why doesn’t he pick up the aluminum siding and wield it like a club”

Text:
Instead of movies, think more towards survive.
I’ll see no more films if I’m not alive!
I run blindly on. I slip in a drain.
My ankle is twisted! They come for my brain!

Page Sixteen

Art Direction: Something similar here. But the zombies are closer and the smell of defeat lingers in the air. Where in the last panel, the main character had tripped and the zombies were still behind him, here they have surrounded him and their feasting upon his grey matter is a certainty.

Text:
I drop to the soil. My strength, how it wanes.
The zombies surround me, lusting for brains.
As they reach me, a through fills my head.
“To hell with homework, I’m already dead!”

Page Seventeen

Art Direction: Either a really horrid eating scene, or we show the dawn break through the clouds. In the latter Zombies can start returning to their grave ala a certain Simpsons episode. In the middle of the page is what remains of the main character. I’d far prefer something amazingly nasty, but it depends if you want a mature readers label for this or not.

Text:
One of them gnaws me. The grass my blood stains.
Hope I can’t feel it when they eat my brains . . .
To light the night pales. The dead go to ground.
My last thought? “I pray my body is found.”

Page Eighteen

Art Direction:
At this point, the look of the pages should shift away from dark and foreboding to lighter and more colorful. The bright and cheery art should contrast with the dark subject particularly in the later pages. It’s a happy day in cheeryland!

Text:
The sun shines brightly. Kids delight in play.
In Econ, I’m absent. What will they say?

Page Nineteen

Art Direction: Three ideas to run with.
1. A manuscript is found by a Professor or student on the campus. The art is of them flipping through it.
2. For comical appearance, we show the now zombified main character hard at work trying to write, maybe while munching on an arm. The only problem with this one is that it might ruin the effect later on when we see him in class.
3. A freshly dug and unmarked grave is shown. Drops of blood splatter the earth, and a piece of identifying clothing lies on top of it to signify this is the end of the main character.

Text:
Somehow, dear reader, light reveals this verse.
Still, I’m a zombie. This world I do curse.
For those that read this; If you judge my ode bad
Please recall I’ve not the brain I once had.

Page Twenty

Art Direction:
Should show a good portion of the classroom. Camera angle comes in from the windows. The seven students and a professor should be parodies of the “Night of the Living Dead” characters. Younger 21st century theatre student parodies. Either version of the movie. Hell, Bruce Campbell could be the Prof! The students are laughing and clapping. The Professor is standing and says something like,

Text:
“Excellent job! Especially with the makeup!”

Page Twenty-one

Art Direction:
Show the main character. OBVIOUSLY dead. A chunk out of his head. But hell, these people thinks it’s makeup. His last vestiges of humanity and sanity are used up by his writing of the poem to warn his friends. Some portion of the classroom is visible but nothing to take away the focus on the zombie kid. He should be isolated from his fellow students.

Text:
He says, “The huh-huhngrrrrr. It hrrrrrts.”

Page Twenty-two

Art Direction:
The class laughs. Prof asks for any questions. A student speaks up,

Text:
“That poem reminded me of the styling of John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester and British Restoration style poet. Did he inspire you?”

Page Twenty-three

Art Direction:
Again we see the main character. His eyes are pleading, and some ichor comes from a wound in his head or throat. Again, isolation for the others. The contrast between the busy and animated scenes in the panels on the opposite page should be stark.

Text:
All he can say is, “K-k-killll mmmeee.”

Page Twenty-four

Art Direction:
Some students laugh. Professor has a slightly annoyed look on his face. After all, in his opinion the student should be answering questions. Not continuing the act. Running gags get old fast, especially with snooty professors. A third student, one who looks like he’s only in the class because he thought it he could get some easy credits toward graduation asks a smart ass question,

Text:
“So if you’re a zombie, how’d you manage to write a poem? I though all zombies thought about were brains…”

Page Twenty-five

Art Direction:
Again we see the main student. This time, any humanity and intelligent is gone. Perhaps the eyes are rolled back. He is pure hunger now, animated by the need to consume flesh. And the student’s “Brains” comments sets him off. Here we have the first intersection between the isolated zombie kid and the rest of the class. The interaction is not pretty. He lurches out grasping at a student as he moans out,

Text:
“BRAAAAAAINS.”

Page Twenty-six

Art Direction:
Cut to hallway outside the classroom. Show two students sitting on floor outside door. Make them stereotypical big dumb jocks. All muscle and no brain. Their books are open, and they are desperately trying to cram before a test. One could be making a cheat sheet while the other says

Text:
“Wish these drama geeks would finish up already. I want to make sure we are sitting as far away from Professor Hunt as possible for this dumb ass Political Theory quiz.”

(Note: It’s an above joke. Prof Hunt’s Opening Political Theory Class was a 1000 (entry) level class and many people took the class for a general credit, assuming a 1000 level class meant it would be easy. Wrong. Most of the class was identifying quotes with the authors. Major Memorization. So it wouldn’t surprise me if people cheated left and right. Plus, he teaches at Morris and is a Prof who probably won’t sue us….)

Page Twenty-seven

Art Direction:
Same scene. Add a bunch of screaming from the other side of the door. The frosted panel on the door shows the shadow of a hand clutching. Some liquid runs down one side. Shadows beyond the glass show violent action. The two students outside stop studying and look up.

Page Twenty-eight

Art Direction:
Same scene. Neither student seems surprised by the sounds of terror or pleas to various deities. After all, theater classes pull things like that all the time. One jock says,

Text:
“Fucking drama majors. Hope they don’t expect us to clean up their mess.”

Page Twenty-nine

Art Direction:
Back inside the room. Close up of a black board, a feeble HELP in chalk is missing the last part of the “P” as the chalk line trails off. Blood runs down one side and is splattered elsewhere. In a corner of this panel should be a reprise of the yellowed parchment and cursive writing from the poem pages with the following couplets:

Text:
Eight students were trapped inside a small room.
One was a zombie . . . thus sealing their doom.

Page Thirty

Art Direction:
The zombie shambling down a deserted school hallway, dragging a jagged arm and trailing blood which spells “The End”.

Hopefully this was of some interest for you reading this. You get to see a comic book script, and you get to see some of my pre 411/IP published shit. So everyone’s a winner. Huzzah.

Cooking

It’s been a while since I’ve done any vegetarian style dish, so I decided to do one today while going back to my roots as a Japanese style chef.

Shitake Mushrooms are often called “vegetarian steak.” Good for you, and even better tasting, the shitake is used abundantly in Japanese cooking. The dish we are making this week is simple, and cast last for weeks in your refrigerator after making it. The Japanese name for it is Fukum’e-Ni. This makes a great vegetarian main course, but also can be used as an excellent appetizer or additive to a larger meal.

Ingredients
20 dried shitake mushrooms
3 tbsp vegetable oil
2 tbsp shoyu (soy sauce)
1.5 tbsp superfine sugar
1 tbsp toasted sesame oil

1. Start soaking the dried shitake the day before. Put them in a large bowl almost full of water. Cover the shitake with a plate or lid to stop them floating to the surface of the water. Leave to soak overnight.

2. Measure one-half cup of the liquid from the bowl. Drain the shitake into a sieve. Remove and discard the stalks.

3. Heat the oil in a wok or a large pan. Stir-fry the shitake over a high heat for 5 minutes, stirring continuously.

4, Reduce the heat to the lowest setting, then add the measured liquid, the soy sauce, and sugar. Cook until there is almost no moisture left. Stir frequently. Add the sesame oil and remove from the heat.

5. Leave to cool, then slice and arrange the shitake on a large plate.

To make shitake rice, cut the finished product into thin strips. Mix with 5.25 cups cooked rice and 1 tbsp chives. Service in individual rice bowls and sprinkle with sesame seeds.

Closing

That’s 14 pages of writing this week, so I’m going to nix the plug section for this edition. I’ll see you back next week with more of the usual.

-Lucard