I really don’t collect action figures anymore. I recently sold off all of my Star Wars figures, and well before that, I ditched most of my comic book figures, too. They were taking up a lot of space, but the primary reason I stopped was cost.

When I was a kid, I could usually pick up an action figure or two with my weekly allowance. They were cheap back then, and not always in terms of manufacturing. They also seemed to come with a lot more accessories, and they actually had action features and more articulation. And the more expensive ones, like the Transformers series? Those were definitely worth saving up for, as they were bigger and better than everything else.

Nowadays, it’s a wonder kids can afford basic figures anymore. Even after adjusting for inflation, today’s figures are preposterously overpriced when you look at what’s actually in the package.

For example, I picked up a few Green Lantern movie toys a few weeks back, which I freely admit I bought just for the included power rings. The basic action figure line consists of toys around 4″ tall, about the same size as a Star Wars or G.I. Joe action figure. And like those other two brands, they retail for $8 or $9, which is fucking ridiculous. The figures are barely articulated, only come with one or two accessories, and you’re expected to shell out nearly a ten spot for them? That really pisses in the fishbowl. Imagine being a parent who needs to buy a stack of ‘em for their kids!

Things get far worse when you get to action figures aimed at the “adult collector.” No, not porn figures, you sick bastards. I’m talking about the larger, often heavily detailed figures smartly aimed at older collectors, who may not even remove them from the packaging. I understand that the cost to produce these figures is naturally higher, but retail pricing around $17 to $20 per figure is not uncommon. They rarely come with accessories, and if they do, it’s usually because the figure absolutely requires it to be accurate; Starman isn’t the same without his Cosmic Rod. (Stop snickering.)

The owner of my local comic book shop hates that he has to charge so much for these figures, but he has little choice. Especially when it comes to comic book shop exclusives (like much of the DC Direct line), he stands to lose a lot of money if he drops the price. Meanwhile, the mass market stuff is just out there to make a quick buck, but it shouldn’t be at the price of kids’ hard-earned cash.

Has anyone else noticed the embarrassing rise of the “militant” nerd?

More and more often, I’ve come across nerds and geeks who are increasingly vocal and downright arrogant about their chosen hobby. Nowhere is this more apparent than the Internet, but since that could easily apply to just about any social group, I’m just going to focus on the geeky crowd today.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with proudly proclaiming what you’re into. But being a pretentious douche about it and elevating it above others’ hobbies at all costs is not cool at all. I suppose this whole thing is a progression from the hardcore fanboy movement I’ve seen gaining steam lately, but that’s still no excuse.

I see a lot of blind allegiance to geeky causes and interests, and immediate, ignorant dismissals of anything and everything that’s different or “mainstream.” In the militant nerds’ minds, only their interests are creative, or interesting, or relevant. Everything else is mass-market garbage…even if it’s not. Even worse is when they believe their interest of choice is exempt from any and all legitimate criticism. (Item #1 on this list is a damned fine example of this behavior.)

Surprisingly enough, I don’t see this kind of elitist behavior with extreme video game fans. I think that’s because video games as a medium have actually become mainstream in recent years. (The industry’s trouncing other forms of entertainment in sales, after all.) Gamers are rarely considered geeks anymore. Besides, gaming elitism is usually insular; gamer geeks rip on other gamer geeks.

Perhaps the popularity of superhero movies was the tipping point. Or perhaps the critical acclaim lauded on science fiction and fantasy programs like Battlestar Galactica, LOST, and Fringe. (Even though nerds were not what made these shows popular: it was a mass audience.)

The biggest irony, of course, is that these arrogant nerds have not only become what they despise, but they’ve actually become worse. They’re trying so hard to push back at a society that’s scorned them that they’ve become shitheads who crap in others’ cornflakes at an even higher level. Not only that, but since they make it a point to demonize the mainstream at every opportunity, that only proves that the mainstream is what actually drives them (just like hipsters).

If you’re of the nerdy persuasion, acting like this is nothing to celebrate. It’s just yet another example of how super-geeks are incredibly annoying, and continually ruin any chance of acceptance in society for their more laid-back brethren.

(Part of this entry was originally published in the post Cool to hate.)

Why do so many comic book nerds hate Superman?

You wouldn’t think the Man of Steel would be reviled by many, but hear me out. The ultimate superhero archetype has been around since 1938, and every superhero that followed owes their livelihood to Superman in one way or another. No superhero is more influential, nor ever will be. Yet the negativity against ol’ Kal-El never seems to cease. From whining about his costume (“it’s too old-fashioned”) to grumbling about his powers (“too powerful”) to eye-rolling at his weakness to Kryptonite (“that makes no sense”), you’d think that there aren’t any Superman fans at all out there. Of course, we know that over seventy years of comics, films, games, and television shows put that worry to rest.

Personally, I’ve been getting back into the character as of late, largely due to the “Reign of Doomsday” storyline running through multiple DC Comics series. Since I’m also a Doomsday fan, it was a lock for me. This made me want to re-read the entire Death of Superman saga (“Doomsday,” “Funeral for a Friend,” and “Reign of the Supermen!”), and it still holds up quite well despite its controversial nature. Bear in mind that this was back in a time when superheroes dying and coming back to life was not commonplace! It remains one of my favorite comic book tales of all time, yet I know a lot of comic book fans who bitch endlessly about it. What gives?

This has also spurred me into picking up other past Superman stories in collected form. Next, I’m going to pick up the massive Superman: Doomsday and Superman: Our Worlds at War omnibus trade paperbacks. Unlike the hardcover omnibuses commonly seen, these reprint those storylines at a budget price, since they’re in paperback form and use non-glossy paper. You can’t beat that! Concerning Our Worlds at War in particular, I only read part of that story when it was originally published, via other DC Comics series I was reading at the time. I’m looking forward to seeing Superman serve Imperiex a piping-hot slice of ruckus pie. When Superman: Secret Origin comes out in trade paperback form, I may check it out; I’m not a fan of Geoff Johns constantly retconning heroes’ histories and origins, but I did hear that the book was excellent. (Though I doubt it beats The Man of Steel or Birthright, the previous retellings of Kal-El’s formative years.)

That’s not to say that Superman doesn’t have his share of shitty comics. We all know how puke-worthy Superman Red/Superman Blue was, and as far as more recent comics are concerned, I’ve heard that the years-long New Krypton storyline was very disappointing. (That noise you hear is my wallet breathing a sigh of relief.) Still, that alone can’t be the source of so much negative fan reaction.

Other than comics, of course, there’s the Superman films. I’ll admit that I’ve seen only bits of pieces of the George Reeves ones, but I watched the first two Christopher Reeves movies constantly when I was a kid. (Even back then, I knew that Superman III and IV sucked.) These are one of the primary reasons that everyone knows what that big “S” stands for. I even enjoyed Superman Returns, which apparently makes me a horrible person. Sure, it wasn’t a perfect film, but by no means was it the shitty piece of celluloid that so many nerds make it out to be. The geeky complaints I’ve heard about that film range from borderline to certifiably ridiculous, and they all translate to a simple belief: “Superman sucks.” I’ve heard little to no constructive criticism of the film, just fanboy whining. I certainly believe that this just boils down to dislike of the character himself. Which begs the question: why did these tools even bother seeing Superman Returns in the first place?

Personal preference is one thing, but this seemingly blind hatred? I don’t get it.

I’ve always maintained that selling printed collections of webcomics is wrong. Why? Because 99% of the time, webcomics are free. You can read them any time you want on just about any Internet-ready device. More often than not, the entire webcomic’s archive is also available for free viewing. This does not stop most creators from producing printed volumes of their works and selling them at a premium.

Let me reiterate why I have a problem with this: it’s because the creators are selling something that’s free. This is immoral, unethical, disgusting, and insulting. Things would be different if, for example, a black and white webcomic was printed in full color for the collected edition. Or if half of the material inside was previously released, but the other half is brand-new webcomics that are unavailable anywhere else. In that case, you’re paying for something you cannot get for free. This a rarity, however. An overwhelming majority of the time, printed collections are the same thing found online; technically, they’re less than that, as they are not interactive. Selling them is taking advantage of readers in order to make a quick buck, even if the creators do not realize this. It’s indefensible.

This stance naturally puts me at odds with just about every webcomic creator out there. After the expected (and irrelevant) personal attacks, I’ve heard loads of shaky defenses of this business model, but they all fail in the face of simple logic: it’s still selling free stuff, and that’s greedy exploitation.

But enough of the history lesson; let’s get to the main point of this post. Believe it or not, there’s actually something worse than selling printed collections. Lately, I’ve begun to see creators selling digital copies of their webcomic collections.

Think about that for a moment.

You’re buying a collection of webcomics that you can read on your computer, smartphone, or other mobile device. Or, you can go on the Internet and read them for free…on the exact same devices. This latest sales tactic is nothing short of appalling. Even with the bullshit scam of printed collections, at least that’s a physical product. The only difference between the webcomics and a digital copy thereof is the damned file extension. Oh, and possibly some DRM, so your rights will be restricted. Seriously, shit like this makes me very angry, and that the fact that fanboys fall for it incenses me even more. I can’t believe people are that fucking stupid.

Listen, if you love webcomics and want to support them, then by all means do so. Buy unique items like t-shirts, sketches, original art, or figurines, and most importantly, spread the word. But don’t support the greedy, corrupt business model of selling what’s free. It’s shameful and wrong.

I saw a message board thread the other day asking what readers missed the most about comics from the 1990s. The response that really piqued my interested was “I miss the risks.”

Creators took risks with characters and stories back then, and not just to grab headlines. They wanted to challenge the minds of readers and contemporaries alike, and most of their tales had long-term consequences. This is in sharp contrast to modern storytelling. Nowadays, the risks are minimal if not nonexistent. Stories feature more graphic violence, but it’s simply drawn in for shock value. Characters “die,” only to be resurrected very shortly thereafter. Publishers freely admit to making “controversial” moves simply to make it into the news. (Which is laughable, because the general public doesn’t give a shit about comics, and never will.) It’s all pointless, because these stories are very quickly reverted to the status quo and were never done for creative reasons in the first place.

But back to the risky, creative 1990s. I’m going to focus on the “Big Two” publishers here — DC Comics and Marvel Comics — because clearly risks are taken by default when it comes to small presses and creator-owned work.

At DC Comics, many of the company’s top heroes were replaced with new blood. Batman’s back was shattered by Bane, and another caped crusader rose to the challenge. Superman was killed by Doomsday, and four new Supermen appeared on the scene. A top officer brought down the entire Green Lantern Corps, with an unassuming artist becoming the wielder of the last power ring. And then there was the newest incarnation of Starman, who I steadfastly believe is the best superhero introduced during the 1990s. Even when their forebears returned in one form or another, all of these heroes came into their own as unique and relevant characters.

On the Marvel side, we saw crossovers with serious consequences, such as Fatal Attractions and The Age of Apocalypse having a profound effect on the X-Men. “The Onslaught Saga” killed off many top heroes, and the aptly-named Heroes Reborn brought them back in a very unique way. The Heroes Return followup reintroduced them to proper Marvel continuity without ignoring the events that had come before.

Yes, I know there were a lot of shitty comic stories in the 1990s, too. But guess what: there’s just as many shitty stories in any decade. Not only that, some of these same shitty stories were also incredibly ballsy. The oft-maligned Spider-Man “Clone Saga” radically changed the status quo, and the long-term consequences have had to be revisited countless times over the years.

You just don’t see those kinds of risks anymore. I’m sure much of this has to do with the steadily declining sales and readership in the comics world, but I’m equally sure that there’s a more powerful motive: money. Why take creative risks when you can just milk fans over nostalgia, over and over again?