Creator: Andrew Whyte
Length as of Review Date (5/14/2016): 34 pages
Schedule: Updates on Sundays
Word Count: 1140
Basileus by Andrew Whyte is a comic that I find
myself struggling to describe, namely out of fear of underselling the talent
that is put into it. Visually it strikes me as a combination of some forgotten
Rankin Bass rotoscoping fantasy cartoon made to look like the illuminated
paintings of mythic Slavic folktales. By way of story, it gives me vibes of a
young Conan during his days as a thief, with the strangeness and horrors of
wizardry presented as strong as they ever will be. Basileus is a good entry, and one I would encourage you to give a
looking at. Now may be, perhaps, too early to become fully invested, but the
building blocks are present.
The story, thus far, is about a man named
Navan who has taken to uniting himself with a thief named Uz. Together,
alongside a third compatriot they are pretending to be members of the famous
mercenary group known as the Poison Spike. These charlatans become employed by
a group of dissident peasants who desire a better life and think with the aid
of these three men they might be able to rob Tarshish of Bridden and get away
with it. The raid does not go exactly as desired due to the cowardice of Navan
and the violent introduction of a wizard known as Naboth, the Twisted Plank. In
the aftermath, Navan decides he may pursue his fate at sea because while he is
not a sailor, neither is he a thief; and of the two he'd rather the one with
steady pay. Uz takes the road elsewhere.
The world itself, beyond what we've seen
so far, is spoken of in an organic matter. Uz discusses a divine ritual orgy
with Navan as a way to make conversation on the road. The peasants subscribe to
folk medicine, knowing both toad anus or a skull drill can cure madness (may as
well use both just to be safe). A mercenary captain snacks on tiny men he keeps
in a pouch, they bleed a pale purple and almost look fungal to me. In the ruins
where the rogues keep their supplies there is a fresco of a woman with the sun
behind her head. We even get a slight view of a map on the table of peasants to
get a general idea of where we are within space. The finer details of why
things are what they are, and where exactly within this fantasy world we might
be (from a broader perspective), are not known, and this is fine. We are getting a taste of a fantastic
landscape through organic development.
This all would likely not work, if not for
the superb art.
The character designs might not be for
some, but I appreciate the level of ugly the cast possess. The men are warty
and wrinkly and have a variety of facial hairs and postures. They remind me of
the old Hobbit animation by Rankin Bass, done by someone with modern techniques
and a full appreciation for characters looking like they belong within the
world rather than designing characters who look like they were meant to be
protagonists. It helps that our protagonists blend well into the background
until they need to be brought forward into the story proper; if they were
shining knights or looked too heroically out of place it would draw our focus
away from the events unfolding.
There's something of a Miyazaki vibe to
the ugliness; the sort of design you see brought in when his works are
featuring shriveled old men, witches, or brutes. It speaks well to a gritty
aesthetic which does not necessarily indulge in being grim, allowing for a deeper
and sometimes humorous characterization to take place by aesthetics alone. The
peasants look simple without having to portray them as simple. Uz and Navan
look roguish without having anything that distinctly portrays them as such.
They project a vibe through their design that is subtlety woven to make their
actions seem entirely within their character as they establish said character.
The actions fit the designs, nothing feels forced or as though the hand of the
author ordained it to happen.
The writing compliments the lettering, and
both are exceptional. The dialogue carries weight and levity when required, and
each character has their own voice. The mercenary guards speak with
professional detachment, the peasants sound pressured but humorous, Uz has a
scoundrel's confidence and the occasional rhetoric of a sexualizing
philosopher, and Navan, who is our protagonist it seems, sounds the type to be
experiencing what he is experiencing with full honesty for the sake of being
our prospective character. While I may perhaps be overindulging (having read
this comic about ten times over to get this review put together), I will say
that this is something that I only ever really notice when one has taken the
time to hand-letter the work themselves. That extra effort helps convey a sense
of intimacy that a pre-fabricated font cannot. A creator can hobble their work
greatly by picking a font rather than hand-lettering, most often by picking the
same tired fonts we see so often in other comics. Such a thing pulls me out of the immersion
and reminds me of the manufactured quality of what I’m looking at; and in a
work where the art is far from modern, it’d be so alien to look at a
Blambot font. Hand-lettering can side-step this issue and tie it all in as one cohesive
piece, which is what we have here.
The colors are enjoyable, they remind me of
the works of Ivan Bilibin.
There is a painted flatness to them that makes me think of how one might paint
clay rather than canvas. Details hatched stylishly help show the age, wear and
tear and break up the flatness so that nothing appears boringly flat. Lighting
is subtle but superb, and the palette reminds me of a warm summer afternoon and
evening out in the green forests along the shore of a lake. In general each
scene thus far feels warm or hot, as though you could feel a breeze warmly
blowing in some of the scenes. I like this, as someone who has grown up in the
northeast where the seasons are extreme. Seasons are rarely played the full
depth of their character, and it is my hope that Basileus continues this skilled work. The stylistic choices for the
wizarding that has occurred is also of note, reminding me a bit of a prog rock
track, but I hold myself from going deep into this for the sake of enjoying it
unbiased.
It is not very often that I stumble upon
something that I thoroughly enjoy within webcomics, due primarily to the
exceptionally low barrier of entry and the over-saturation of the field as a
whole. Basileus is one of those rare
exceptions where I find something, appreciate what it is doing, and find no
obvious flaws. Now, it is only thirty pages in. There is plenty of room for
mistakes to be made, for the story to fall way to trite genre stereotypes, or
for things to radically shift to the negative, but I have my doubts that these
things will occur. The creator has a careful hand and I firmly expect it will
remain of quality.
I hope this is the case.
These items of quality help bring added
integrity to the field.
Andrew Whyte's Basileus updates on Sundays, and it has just started its second
chapter, "The Hermit Mage," which has begun us with Javan out at sea.
I look forward to the potential eventuality where Basileus becomes something I might own as a physical book.
At the moment, 5/5.
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