Arzra

Back in the early 2000s I was doing more comics. I had this comic going for a few months (doing 1 page a week) that was about a gender-shifting catperson named Arzra (spelled backwards: Arzra). I really fell in love with this character. The whole gender-shifter concept, for me, was a direct inspiration from Tanith Lee's Death's Master. Lee's Flat Earth books are foundational to my inner fantasy worldview. I place them squarely in the sword-and-sorcery category alongside Robert E. Howard's Conan.

Anyway, Arzra was a gender-shifting catperson version of Conan. I wrote the character as a wanderer, getting into adventures, with a strong sense of savage honor. At this time in my life I was a pretty rabid individualist in my philosophy. I would have called myself "libertarian" at the time, though the term for me had a different meaning than what we think of today (I always picture cowboy hat-wearing rednecks with guns screaming about free speech today). For me, this was about opposing authoritarian moral police.

Arzra was meant to be a vehicle for me to tell exciting fantasy stories that could be sexy and philosophical at the same time. I have several scripts lying around and they generally involve the character wandering into a weird place and encountering a weird entity, usually with some kind of dialog exchanged that cuts to the bone of how I felt about religion and morality. Arzra wasn't inclined to take a knee before authority and he had no interest in being responsible for anyone other than himself. She was a barbarian, after all, albeit with a sharp mind. She could slice you open as easily with her words as with her sword.

The art to the left was part of the comic, which was done with brush markers, colored pencils, and Prismacolor markers on bristol. I believe the pages were something like 14x14 inches. It was a lot of fun to do, but the amount of labor that went into each page was a bit much for me to sustain over time. And these were totally rated R pages with lots of nudity, making it a bit awkward to share later on Facebook and the like.

I did a bunch of drawings of this character for the period of a year or so and I really hoped I could turn it into a "regular" comic book series. Alas, doing anything "regular" just doesn't seem to be in my DNA. The only reason Black Pudding has persisted (yes I'm still working on #6!) is because it has very few constraints. I allow myself to wander and do whatever I like, within the domain of old school D&D style gaming. If I tried to make each issue themed or have an ongoing comic in it I'd probably flounder and sputter out. Much love to creators who can crank out issue after issue of comic book series over time. Salute!

Lace Featherdawn and the Domain of the Kitty Cats

Back in the mid-2000s I drew a lot of cartoon catgirl art. I was, for a time, really into that aesthetic. I wasn't a furry, in the strict sense. I never identified with the label and I just didn't have much common ground with that community beyond a great love for anthropomorphic cartoon animals. It wasn't a lifestyle or identity for me. I just appreciated the aesthetic of what I still call "funny animals" and "cartoon animals". And I still do, very much.

Drawings like this one are little gems in my catalog. This figure looks really nice, I think. She's sexy and soft and strong and cool. But of course when you mix funny animals with pin-up sex appeal you are treading on the kinky turf of the furry fandom whether you accept it or not. I never fully accepted it.

She's not bad, she's just, y'know, drawn that way.

I guess it's because this is, for me, just another pin-up piece. It's actually part of a broader project at the time to create a fantasy world peopled by these animal-type characters that weren't straight-up reflections of any particular animal. Lace Featherdawn isn't a cat. She's a catgirl, for sure, but not a cat. She's a fantasy character that is part of a fantasy species.

I used to doodle in the margins a lot.

Of course I was probably resistant to the furry label because of all the heavy heavy baggage it comes with. Furries get a lot of shit. They are unfairly maligned by the broader public because at a casual glance it looks creepy and fucked up to be drawing sexy animals doing it (the furry fandom is pretty rife with porn, y'know). I didn't want to be put in that category and since I didn't really identify with the label I didn't feel any need to subject myself to such torture. I wanted to draw sexy cartoon pin-ups and so that's what I did.

Later when I created Rabbits & Rangers I intentionally avoided ever using the furry label. R&R is not a furry game book, it's a funny animals game book. It's Bugs Bunny and Captain Carrot and Usagi Yojimbo in a dungeon. Full stop. But since funny animals are included as part of the furry aesthetic, then if you are a furry R&R is going to be in your wheelhouse even if I don't consider it to be a "furry fandom book".

There's probably a Venn diagram showing some overlap between old grogs like me who read Usagi Yojimbo and young whipper-snappers who identify as field mice. But the similarities, for me at least, are only skin-deep and the divide between me and the field mice person is substantial. Much love to you, mouse. Be your own self and fuck the haters.

All of this reminds me how very interesting the topic is. Like... what is it about animal characters that is so appealing? When I wrote R&R I was absolutely engrossed in making each animal type distinct and hopefully fun to play. Each type was like a mask. And therein, I think, lies the appeal. Cartoon animals are masks. They are stand-ins for ourselves, with the animal bits being character traits we fantasize about - not at all unlike superhero powers. Where's the bright line between a guy who can fly and shoot eye lasers vs. a guy who is a walking, talking alligator? Both are humans at the base (we couldn't identify with them otherwise) and have fantastic augmentations (flying, chomping!).

Maybe there's some book out there that dives into this idea? I dunno.