#242: Tentacrillian: Deity of the Caverns

     Hey, guys. Apologies for the lack of a Geek Stuff poll as of late due to some sort of nonsense computer glitch. So, here's a picture of Mr. Spock on a mighty unicorn to help fill the geekiness void:

Spock can sense your jealousy.

 Anywhosers, here is a long-overdue character I finished over the weekend: Tentacrillion! Animaland is one of the most impressive planets in the JC-Verse. Not because it's quite as advanced as the Zarcrannian capitol planet of Vikk 9, or as vast as the outer-dimensional realm of Quazen'abi, but because the entire futuristic society was build from the ground-up by its native creatures: animals. The place is like Zootopia on hyper juice. But while these furry fellows certainly deserve a solid tetradactyl set of applause, they owe their success to their planet's super supply of the evolutionary element, Ozotonium (click the link for some handy dandy info on the stuff). Over the years Ozotonium has become an integral part of their biology, with each Animallander's blood containing about 88% of the stuff . . . Notice the word about. Because not all Animalanders stick so close to this statistic. Well, almost all of them do. Except for one. One that just so happens to have spent the last 10,000 years living in the underground Ozotonium caverns. One by the name of Tentacrillion. With 100% Ozotonium blood and a crud load of cranium to match, the Deity of the Caverns , as he is known, has become shrouded in infamy and legend among Animallanders, telepathically surveying the "foolish" critters aboveground for his own enjoyment. Now, I'll leave you guys to gaze at the Spockicorn picture as you digest all that. Hasta la pasta.

#241: Milly Brimcogs

     Hiyah, comrades. Hope you all had a dandy Super Bowl day and that you weren't too scarred by the puppymonkeybaby. Now, let's get to a new character (sorry for not bringing her to you sooner, but here she is nonetheless): Milly Brimcogs! Mutants became somewhat of a trend in the JC-Verse's steampunk era. Kinda like selfies, only with more genetics and less hinting of society's decline. All across the nation, scientists were conducting experiments with whatever toxic concoctions they could gather in hopes of creating their own customized forms of life. And one such scientist that struck gold with this prospect was Elijah Brimcogs. Yes siree bob, this guy had the mutation formula down pat, mixing this and that with expertful ease to create his own posse of creations. But how does the gal below come into all this? Well, people who are as renowned as he was tend to acquire certain, um, opposers whose jealousy drive them to hatred. Long story short, he was killed. Quite explosively, may I add. And that tragic incident happened to leave one person behind: his young daughter, Milly Brimcogs. And then, masterless and feeling sufficiently sorry for her, Elijah's mutant entourage decided to raise her themselves. So, after ten years of living with six monstous adoptees, a teenage Milly became who you see below, a bright yet bonkers vigilante, determined to do right by her late dad and bring catastrophe to his killer. Personality-wise, picture her as Dr. Frankenstein, with a dash of Harley Quinn and the "Pull That Peach" commercial girl. (This is how my mind works, ladies and gents.)

(Milly, undoubtably up to something catastrophic of sorts.)

EGAD, MAN! THE FAN ART STRIKES AGAIN!

     February is here, and with it comes Deadpool and Valentine's Day - AKA two things I, as a 14-year-old bound by the rules of his maternal unit, cannot actually participate in. Duped again by the cruel mistress called age. But never fear, for with February also comes more awesome additions to this here blog! Unfortunately, I don't have an official character for you guys just yet, although that will be coming some time later this week. So, in the meantime, enjoy this swanky Star Wars fan art I made of the first Jedi. Note: this guy was long before the days of magnetic containment fields, so his lightsaber needs a central metal rod to conduct the usual energy. Just wanted to explain that little tidbit. Enjoy!

#240: Max Ballemy: Shapeshifting Mascot Supreme

     Extreme apologies to you all for not posting for almost 2 WEEKS. You can pin the hefty blame on me working on my second '05s comic for the Young Authors' Faire, editing the footage for the Mustache Ninja and her accomplice Sophie's school project, and a smidgen of Youtube binge-ery. But fear not, for now it's time for my latest character (who is most definitely furry, as promised): Max Ballemy! In the modern age of the JC-Verse, FLs (Fantastic Lifeforms, in case ya didn't get the memo) are very common in the world around you, and come in a Helicarrier-load of different shapes and sizes. And sometimes, several of those shapes and sizes are packed neatly into one FL. And sometimes, that FL's name is Max. Coming from a long family line of shapeshifters, Max Ballemy currently attends Snarwicky High in Washington, and while doing so discovered how he wants to use his God-given gifts. Being school mascot. It was practically written in the stars: he has an intense, mildly-hazardous school spirit, and a general history of being clumsy at his peer's amusement. Plus, he took a karate class for a week down at the Doohickeys-R-Us strip mall once, and from that experience he's already been able to cross out using his gifts to fight for justice and all that jazz. So, after giving his all in an official tryout, they readily excepted him, and he's been living his luck-bringing, half-time-hyping dream since. Plus, getting the gig meant not another poor soul would have to hop inside the Snarwick Skink mascot suit, infamous for its stench of bodily odor and general death. We salute you, Max Ballemy.

#239: Blaster Jack

     Okay, time for my latest character: Blaster Jack! U.N.D.E.R.O.O. is a long-standing and oober-powerful staple of the JC-Verse. It's got spies spying on its spies, and it probably knows you better than you know you. But, as I'm sure you all know, nothing lasts forever except infinity and Gravity Falls between-episode waiting periods. And it only takes one extraterrestrial puppetmaster guy in your circle to end your run just like that. After the Man is finally ousted to the public in the future(ish) year of 2020, U.N.D.E.R.O.O. is shut down, and all of their high tech bells and whistles are confiscated by the U.S. Government and stuck in a top-secret warehouse called the Lockbox. There. End of story, no? No. Well, just as it takes one evil alien master man to ruin your good name, it only takes one government agent with some serious high-level clearance and flimsy morals to steal all your confiscated goodies and make you look like a doof. So, after doing just that, average government man Jack Mortinson recreats himself as Blaster Jack, ultimate UNDEROO-armed assassin and thief, running from the US Government and looking really swag doing it. (PS, if any of you noticed how many bad guys I've been posting as of late, fear not. Next up is a good guy. Anticipate furriness.)

(Shout-outs to Boba Fett, however far down the Sarlacc's esophagus he may be, and some vidoe game designs I've seen lately for inspiring Jack's design.)

#238: Fäter: The World's Last Dictator

     Okay, time for a new character. Ladies and gents, Fäter! Remember those times I said that the JC-Verse's planet Earth was going to meet its cruel and palindromey demise in the year 4114 AD? Good ol' times there. But I never actually told you what causes the catastophe in the first place. Well, all you Nibiru believers left over from 2012 can rest easy, because what takes us (or really, the JC-Verse version of us) down just so happens to be something competely different: ourselves. Or rather, our own creation. In Flogel, a future European nation smack dab where Germany and France used to be, a scientist wows the world with the first robot built with a human-equivalent consciousness, whom he names Fäter. This android dominates the press, becoming a superstar even bigger than the Kardashian overloards of our current society. Everything looks fine at first. But as Fäter furthers his knowledge of Earth, he gets more corrupted, and more corrupted, until he gets a little idea of how he can use all this star power of his. To rule us. And that's exactly what the artificially intellegent son of a gun does, reigning surpreme through his one-world government and destroying everybody who resists his rule. All you people who "survived" Y2K must be feeling like a bunch of straight-up n00bs now, huh?

MAN MAKE MOVING PICTURES! OOGA BOOGA!

     I don't currently have any elaborate posts to compose as of right now, but here's a quick animation I made last night via my Toon Boom Harmony 12 program. I felt like I should probably give you all some proper proof that I'm actually working on animation nowadays, not just lounging around in my Saturday pants and scrollin' the webternet. Ladies and gents, "Round Man Rob Isn't Fond of This Job!"

WELCOME TO FAN THEORIES

    In the mood to have random, obscure aspects of the world around you questioned? Well, my friend, I think this is the page for you. Grab yourself a pair of your finest skepticals, hunker down and partake in my current array of existential fan theories. Feel free to join in via the comments! Unless, of course, you're a troll. Then I banish you to Reddit.