Farmer Frost #1

Hello Strangers.

My webcomic has been posted via HyperComics!

Regardless of whether I win the contest, this might become a monthly thing based on all the great feedback I've gotten from the City of Villains community.

Hope you guys enjoy a glimpse into my nerdier alter-ego, the arrogant, sadistic, prissy Farmer Frost. Actually, that sounds a lot like me...

Nerd Alert ... Total Nerd Alert

I once felt ashamed of my nerdiness, ashamed of those countless hours spent online playing roleplaying games.

But I am no longer ashamed. Spring is here. Renewal and rebirth are fresh on the calm breeze dancing through my window. It is now the time to embrace all things which give me pleasure in my life because I've come to discover (much in thanks to being released from my job) that spending time discussing unhappy things really, really sucks.

It really sucks.

So I've recently discovered an online Comic Book Creator! And there is a nifty contest sponsored by my addictive online game City of Heroes and the makers of the Comic Book Creator in which you get to create your own comic based on the brave sacrifices or dastardly misdeeds of your very own hero or villain. The grand prize is nearly a thousand dollars worth of graphics arts hardware and applications.

Of course I'm submitting my villain. Introducing: Farmer Frost. He's a manipulative cyborg who is a leading expert on cryobotany, the twisted science of fusing the destructive power of ice with the deadliest of nature's flora.

I love him. He makes me happy. So I'm working on my very own online comic book based from in-game screenshots. Even if I don't win, perhaps I'll start a monthly series.

Here's a few screenshots to whet your appetites for villainy. When my submission is done, I'll certainly post the link here.

"Destiny blooms slowly, much like a seedling in a frozen grave." Farmer Frost

Here is Farmer Frost in his battle armor with his giant flytrap, Coldsnap.

Here is Farmer Frost working on either his Evil Blog or his Kittens Blog.

And here we have Farmer Frost pondering his sexuality with a gang of evil bears. Hot!

Revenge of the Nerd

Darlings, I'm a nerd. A fabulous nerd, but yeah. Granted, I don't own a set of stormtrooper armor and I certainly don't attend Star Wars conventions, at least not regularly. Nonetheless, I'm still a nerd. I do have a few dusty Star Wars novels and I've played more than my fair share of Star Wars computer and card games. Yeah, nerd. You see, during dark times like these the non-nerds join up and have a hardy-har-har at the expense of the casual nerd. "Why do nerds take these stupid Star Wars movies so seriously?" everyone blogs and jokes.

Why? This shit is our religion. No, no, no. I'm not one of those nerds who debate whether The Force actually exists and if the pseudo-mysticism of the Star Wars mythos applies to everyday life. Those nerds suck, bless their pocket protected hearts, hardy-har-har. I'm speaking of the social aspects of religion; the community and the brotherhood of it all. Nerds get to come together and enjoy the sweeping, broad handed strokes of the Lucas brush, err mallet. Yes, as Salon's Stephanie Zacharek wrote in her dismissive review of Episode 3, Lucas isn't the world's greatest wordsmith, but he achieves something that doesn't require nuance or subtlety. The stories he tells have been told by humanity for ages. This is neither the first nor last time history has seen a power hungry leader tip the checks and balances of a "democratic" society into his favor. Comparing President Bush to Chancellor Palpatine is a toss-away analogy at best. Is the fiction imitating life or rather is life imitating fiction? Better yet, can Darth Dubya shoot lightning out of his fingers?

It's that blur between the two worlds that excites nerds like me. We dream of wielding our lightsabers, and piloting a starship through an asteroid field and being roughly kissed by Han Solo. Thus we meet other nerds in our "church" (movie theaters and convention halls) so we can find communion and parlay our geek-speak of alien words like Twi'lek, IG-88 and Darth Xendor, not unlike such alien Bible words as Leviticus, Canaan and Tetragrammaton. Christianity even has collectible action figures now. Don't open them though; doing so completely ruins their value!

In the movie theatre our "sin", our "nerdiness" is absolved. So nerds (and even the most skeptical follower) will indeed flock to the movie theatres over the next few weeks and for two and a half hours pilot those starships and battle droid armies and be envious of Natalie Portman's wonderous wigs before shuffling back to face jar-jarring judgment by our "cooler" aloof peers. But for that brief moment we'll be in fellowship. By the digital light of Star Wars, bathed in the holy words of Lucas, let's all be nerds, hardy-har-har.

Convention Attention

I learned early on that a science fiction convention isn’t the best place to hunt for hot, available guys.

NERD ALERT!

A true geek I made plans to attend a Sci-Fi convention over spring break. Instead of tequila shots I’d be rolling multi-sided dice in a cramped hotel suite with pimply misfits. The 1994 Magnum Opus Con in South Carolina, held in the posh Clarion Hotel and Conference Center, drew my interest. I read it boasted a gay and lesbian regional sci-fi club. So at warp 9.8 I was off to South Carolina for spring break 1994!

My carefully arched eyebrows were meticulous and painted with a delicate stroke. I wore a snug green sweater over dark forest slacks and black boots.

I placed pointed tips on my ears with spirit glue. Across the sweater I wore a leather bandoleer adorned with a regal Bird of Prey. It was the second evening of the convention, and I was Centurian Momar, a treacherous member of the Romulan Intelligence Agency, the Tal’Shiar.

I was LARPing and loving it! LARP stands for live action role playing. There are many genres, be it vampire, fantasy or Star Trek. This day long event was billed as one of the largest LARP events in the southeast, and it certainly lived up to my expectations. There were seven different races represented with competing teams of dorks dressed in pointed ears, Klingon foreheads and Star Fleet uniforms, all holding Starfleet tricorders and foam rubber weaponry.

The Clarion Hotel was beamed into the future as Deep Space Clarion and an unprecedented democratic gathering of the galaxy’s super powers set the stage for intrigue, espionage and combat. A fat dweeb swilling a goblet of blood wine yelled in Klingon, cursing my Romulan hide and angrily shaking his foam bat’leth towards me.

“Filthy Klingon cur”, I spat at him but quickly continued on my course. I was to meet my superior officer, Subcommander Nevak, for my first intelligence briefing.

When I met Nevak, my passionate Romulan heart beat with green glowing blood. Nevak was a hunk! He wore a fitted green top and his thick dark blond hair was gelled into a crisp point that fell in the center of his forehead. He regarded me with condescending eyes, reprimanded me for being tardy and set about detailing our sabotage protocols against the rival teams.

Nevak and I became the Bonnie and Clyde of Deep Space Clarion. No mission was deemed too dangerous. When ordered to steal sensor logs from the Cardassians, we set about hiring three Nausicaan mercenaries to fight our way onto the ship’s bridge where Nevak and I cemented the Romulan Empire’s high score and first place finish at the end of the night!

During the course of our intrigue a less subtle cloak and dagger was at play. It had come up that Nevak’s real name was Troy. He was 25 and from Tennessee. To my excitement he was gay and a member of the aforementioned gay and lesbian sci-fi club. I was tickled pink. A Romulan cloaking device couldn’t hide my happiness when Troy invited me to the club’s closing party the final night of the Convention.

I took so long choosing the perfect t-shirt to wear and set out to the party suite with equal parts excitement and intimidation. Not only had I never been asked by anyone, gay or straight, on a date, but this was my first party ever!

My social scene in high school was limited to a best friend’s sweaty garage playing video games and watching Japanimation.

Here I was, fresh out of the closet and walking into an executive suite where two chubby girls in dominatrix gear flogged one another and a wall of gay men dressed as Dr. Who all laughed among themselves and rated the boys as they came to the party. (I scored high marks by the way.)

And there next to the Jello shots was Troy wearing an open front poet’s blouse and black leather pants. He was dressed as Lestat. We began talking and all the other gay geeks in the universe faded away.

Many hours, several empty beer bottles and half dozen crumbled Jello shot papers later, Troy and I staggered, arm in arm, through the comic book displays when he pulled me into a side conference room. It was empty and the lights were off. I was apprehensive and nervous, but didn’t want to pull away from him. We rested behind a table. I was so excited. I couldn’t stop giggling as we nestled into the brown carpet, hidden by the dark green table cloth of a squat table.

I kept looking away from Troy because I was so nervous we would be caught. And also I didn’t exactly know what to do next.

He handled everything. He pulled me close into him. He carefully removed his vampire teeth and looked into my eyes. He gently stroked my hair. There on the floor of the Deep Space Clarion, I had my first kiss.

We kissed the entire night and eventually parted ways, reluctantly returning to our hotel rooms and promising to exchange numbers the next morning.

The next morning fresh with purple hickeys on my neck and my first of many hangovers, I sought out a prime spot to eat my complimentary breakfast so I could say goodbye to Troy as he left the checkout area. I sat there the whole morning nervously waiting. What would I say? I had no idea. My muffin and orange juice long gone, I timidly creased a note with my phone number and a meticulously written “Hugs and kisses, Centurion Momar”.

As a river of nerds left with luggage and life sized, collectable action figures, I assumed I had missed Troy’s departure. Until he stepped off the elevator and looked right at me.

I beamed and stood from my table. He walked towards me and then quietly past me. My Romulan cloaking device deactivated, he simply opted not to see me. He left the Clarion Hotel and I sat down, crumpling my juvenile love note in my lap.