Here Today. Gone Tomorrow? (Patreon)

It was 1997. I was fifteen and trying to reinvent myself in high school. I was old enough to realize that the life of drugs and violence that had preceded me was not a cycle I wanted to continue. I had found inspiration in the pages of Spider-Man comics and aimed to escape from my past and become a new and better human being.

My life was drawing and tape trading, chasing the (then mythical) Transformers the Movie VHS with cussing in it. I was deeply entrenched in the punk scene as a forum moderator and shipper for a number of prominent punk rock fanclubs and message boards. My spare time, which felt nearly limitless, was spent writing for fringe zines and music reviews for emerging websites during the dot.com era. It was still early days. Pop Punk didn’t even truly exist yet, especially not in smalltown Australia.

Back then it was my dream to be a comic book artist. So, when one of the Message Boards I frequented was running a contest to write a script for a music video, I thought it would be fun to enter my sequentials. The winner would get some merch and have their work turned into a Music Video.

I never expected to win. My entry went against the grain, I didn’t even follow the rules. Really, I probably shouldn’t have won, but I did. I created a series of storyboards; it was a parody really. A little love letter to Ultraman, a hero most people here in Australia wouldn’t recognize. Given the peaceful nature of our suburbia, the idea of a masked Tokusatsu hero running the streets seemed ironic to my teenage brain. I’d argue it was done to much better effect in the recent Koala Man series, which I highly recommend to fans of Australian Animation and off-beat humor.

Winning the contest was a huge deal to me and something of a surprise. But it was done and before I knew it, a T-Shirt and a CD showed up a few weeks later. I remember hearing the song on the radio on Triple J before I saw the music video. Seeing an adaption of my work on television blew my mind. When the song became a national hit and was all over the TV, I couldn’t believe it. I thought that my Tokusatsu Homage was off beat, did not match the theme of the song, but I think that made it more interesting.

It was the first time I was published outside of a crude zine or a music review. Back then, I didn’t even know I wanted to be an author. My dream was to draw Spider-Man and inspire hope in the downtrodden or troubled youth. I’d already started to see my peers, the same ones who vowed to never be like their parents, begin down that same path of self-destruction – by the time I was sixteen, I’d already had two friends overdose and pass away – and while I had broken that chain for myself, I hated it, I hated losing people I loved, but more than that I hated watching the slow decay of their heart and mind. I wanted to break that chain for others like it had been for me.

I can't tell you how many years I spent watching good kids I grew up with turn into things I called husks. Addicts. The light goes out in their eyes, and the person they were dies as they become loveless, empty, self-serving and cruel – driven almost entirely by a need to feed their own continued decent without regard for the damage they do to others.

This was compounded when the same happened to my first partner, my teenage sweetheart. When we met in the states on the road, she was an innocent Christian girl with ruby red hair and rainbow socks. More of a geek than I was. Beautiful. Bright-eyed. Whacky. Real manic pixie dream girl stuff, before things like that had a name. Me, I was a blue haired punk rock atheist with a gut full of hate and a chip on my shoulder the size of six devil dinosaurs. I spent a lot of time with bands and road crews back then. Drugs and alcohol were around me constantly, I prided myself on my strength to abstain. She wasn’t so strong. By the time I came back to America three months later, the people she’d met through me had turned her into an addict, and instead of pushing my beliefs on her, I just looked after her as she fell deeper and deeper.

Sure, I asked her to stop, to slow down, but never pushed it. Not hard enough. Not like I should have. I never walked out. I never made her course correct. Instead, I enabled her by paying debts, fighting off the consequences of her actions, calling in favours to bend rules, and carrying her to bed when she passed out on the floor or holding her hair when she spewed into the toilet. I told myself that is what love was. As a result, I lost her. It was the first time I had to give up on someone and something I loved.

If you’ve read this far, you might find yourself thinking "Wonderful but what does this pity party have to do with Conquest Comics?” well, everything, really. I’ll explain. These successes, failures, and life lessons were the building blocks for the Xenoverse and the story I wanted to tell, and why I wanted to tell it.

By the time I’d gone through my training and had the chance to tell my own story and create my own characters, I wanted to create something with meaning. Something successful. I saw there was a hole in the marketplace for the ultraviolent anime and manga I’d grown up with. Anime like Ninja Scroll, Biobooster Armor Guuver, Devilman, Fist of the North Star, or Space Adventure Cobra just didn’t exist anymore. Not really.

So, when reinventing Xenotype from my preliminary concept into something more psychological and biological themed, I decided I would include all the elements of my prior successes and failures. The opening scene in the book is a call back to the opening of the music video. The design of Esper is a mix of Batman, Nightwing, Spider-Man (Black Costume), Ultraman, Tekkaman Blade and Casshern. Which is why I always think its so amusing when detractors try to link the design to the Zoalord Imakarum Mirabilis. Any similarities are purely coincidence. The intent of Esper's design, as the Transformation Hero, was for him to be an aspiring and changing hero that would rise through darkness and hardship and change with time.

His costume was intentionally designed from my sketches to look incomplete for that very reason. An inexperienced fighter dealing with a crisis and evils beyond his comprehension, Felix rooted himself in superheroes (just as I had when I was a directionless teenager) – but that is where the similarities end. As the series continued, I would forge a superhero that would become my Spider-Man in a manner similar to Kirkman with Invincible.

This was my intention – with XENOTYPE: DREAMCATCHER being the foundation, showing who Felix was, introducing his friends, his enemies, cementing his base powers, and introducing elements of uncertainty and chaos experienced by teenagers when they’re growing up.

Everything seemed perfect, and while there were hurdles, the feedback was tremendous. I was excited to bring a book to my customers with the intention of delivering a new chapter (albeit smaller than the first) once every three months while working towards a monthly release schedule.

The goal was to build an entire 1 year run before tackling the mainstream market, allowing us a decent amount of backlog so that we could keep ahead of deadlines.

As I am sure everyone knows by now, that didn’t happen.

Comic Books and the Creative Process is a marathon, it is not a race. However, it’s a struggle and so it is common for creators that experience a sudden boom of success to feel entitled to more or to pursue shortcuts. I’d seen this myself as a young man and knew that consistency and hard work is the only path to certainty but offers and promises that were too good to be true and mounting pressures and stresses from online influencers ultimately left me stranded.

After two years of regimented training, planning, and storyboarding I was left holding the bag while my lead artist ran off to another company making promises they (to this day) have not kept for a pay that is less than 10% of what he made during his time working for me, while they now own print and publish his IP at Dark Horse without paying him a red cent. It’s dishonest, disgraceful, and a waste of talent. But its a lesson learned for the both of us, and I won't be working with him again any time in the near future.

But, what did this mean for the future of Xenotype?

Finding a new artist that could match the kid’s style and speed was going to be virtually impossible. On top of everything else I was under severe emotional duress and stress. My plan was to launch Xenotype II immediately, but who would do it?

I’d been working on Dinoking but had hoped that I could spend my time training Yuka, whose original role was to apprentice for Ody. Everything was out of whack. Everything was a chaotic mess. Worse, I had people in my ear trying to run my company, control my schedule, control my thoughts, control my art, control my expression, and ultimately control my company. People who were inexperienced, arrogant, and never had my best of intentions or the best of intentions of my company as their priority.

I was constantly confused, stressed, and vulnerable. It was an ugly mess.

Making matters worse, Xenotype’s success hinged on the serialization of the releases, it was absolutely necessary. However, from the start a number of other creators within the independent space saw my release schedule as an attack, insulting, or a threat to them. When that was never the intent, rather, Xenotype needed to stay fresh in the reader’s mind. It was modelled after the Superhero Soap Opera; with detailed arcs, mystery, revelations, and releasing a single book a year just was not going to be sufficient. It needed to be a constant stream of content.

I worked hard trying to find another artist that could replicate the manga style or at the very least approximate it so the readers would not find the experience jarring, but I was met with failure, after failure, and spent just shy of $980 USD in commissions. More wasted money.

I had already finished most of DINOKING but was hesitant to release the prequel book before the second issue of Xenotype was complete. Fortunately, or so it seemed at the time, I would be approached by an artist keen to work for the company and, realizing that the window of interest was fast fading, I decided to compromise and hire them.

I paid them to produce over 37 pages before they (unexpectedly) became a national champion basketball player in their country and their production crawled to a stop while they were training. They were still a huge fan and begged to be kept on board but...

Three months later, I realized I’d wasted another $6475 USD only to end up with 2/3rds of a book I couldn’t use. I couldnt do the project at one page a month and I couldnt ask them to give up national success in athletics to sit hunched over a desk all day. The ole Liam luck was in full swing.

I’d produced an amazing cover (one I am beyond proud of) but finding another artist to match the style of the existing pages or having a changeover mid book just seemed daunting, impossible, and unprofessional. So, instead, I sat on the book and tried to come up with another solution.

A few months later, I was encouraged to find that a fiery interest in Xenotype continues among fans, as the book was selling on the secondary market for upwards of $100 USD, which motivated me to once again begin working on Dinoking and think more on the future of the Xenovese.

Meanwhile, with the line art done with Wonder Island, Yuka secretly adapted an example pitch I’d sent her into what would become Kakashi: Murder Dolls. I didn’t expect this but saw it as a great opportunity for her to grow as an artist, so imposed a 30-day deadline on the art and used it to teach her a grind. She did great, but by this time I’d suffered so much PR damage that I was not able to promote it and the project never got the eyes or success it rightfully deserved.

Which is on me. Nearly all of this is.

The XENOVERSE was my attempt to create a rich lived-in universe with a roster of superheroes and a level of conspiracy and vile darkness that would rival Spawn. I had a clear vision of what needed to be done but, even when dedicating my entire life to it and working multiple jobs, I’ve failed to execute it. It weighs heavily on me each day because I know I have a committed and fierce customer base and I have excellent employees.

Everyone, especially everyone here, has been so understanding. And as I watch the success of Eric July, someone who, for whatever criticism people may level at him, is preaching much of my own values and talking points, it is difficult to deny that the failures we’ve faced so far are largely my own fault and due to my own inadequacies and short comings as a human being.

I wanted to create a rich tapestry that people were excited about and do it clean. I wanted to be free to create my vision and provide you all with an exciting and engaging experience, a serialised experience, but in the independent space.

I had saved a lot of money to make that happen. I’d worked hard. I didn’t drink, smoke, party, or spend money on anything but the occasional action figure and DVD Boxset. I was set for life. I didn’t have to work another day of my life. But in my blind faith, I gambled all of that on the dream that I could make it back, uplift overs, and create an exciting ongoing superhero saga in the vein of Invincible.

All of that is gone now. I had to spend the last of my life savings buying a new home and replacing the car after a nail was placed in our water tank the night before our original moving date. Something, which, while inflicted upon us, was also my fault because in my excitement to pack and leave, I forgot to lock the car door.

This, plus the last two years tax have devastated me, and I have been forced to take other work (teaching positions) to keep things going. It’s stressful, exhausting, and this last week has forced me to face a lot of certain realities.

This year is probably it.

On top of everything else the constant betrayals, misunderstandings, misinterpretations, and hostility are just too much.

I hear more excitement for my release of Dinoking from haters and detractors than I do from my largely silent but loyal fanbase and that is discouraging.

Not because you are at fault, but because I know that most of you do not want to face persecution or attack for supporting us. And because I know that they intend to attack my product and my work as endless content for their streams; which will lead to another disgusting incident like Wonder Island’s forced association with paedophilia and Epstein Island.

So, what now?

I’d like to release Dinoking, it is finished. I’d like to finish the Kakashi: Murder Dolls arc, book two is already storyboarded. And as you can see, Fathom (the third and final of my three lead books) is far into development. But I am not sure the XENOVERSE has a future, because I don’t think I can afford to keep making more books. Moreover, my promotional reach is so limited now (and intentionally sabotaged) so the possibility of having fun on livestream is basically zero – and that was always my most effective way of selling books.

Realistically, I can probably make one more franchise or property before I am forced to retire. Its heart-breaking to write this, especially knowing how much faith you have all placed in me, but I simply cannot continue to do this under these circumstances and all my efforts to maintain a positive attitude around this has failed.

It is hard to imagine having one of the hardest working teams in the indie scene, to have approval, encouragement, and acclaim from some of the top mangaka on the planet… and yet fail so dramatically in marketing and PR.

The idea of my XENOVERSE, a dark world of superheroes fighting back against globalist monsters that exploit and prey upon and entrap others in their vices, might need to be cancelled. I might have to put my attention and efforts somewhere else for one last thing.

Nothing is decided yet and I know these are grim times, but I never wanted to be in this for a hobby, and I will not ask my staff to do this because they love it. I want to continue to pay my artists a living wage. They deserve it. I refuse to become one of these dead-end indie companies that exploits its talent or thinks that it is somehow noble to work in destitution. I'll close my doors before I allow that to happen.

The year is 2023. I am a father now. I have responsibilities I didn’t before. I can’t take the gambles on myself I used to be able to and for the first time since I was that 15-year-old kid, I don’t know what the future holds and all I have is hope.

Its tough out here guys and it has been for a long time. I need a win. I can handle being a loser or a class clown, but I don't want to be a failure in the eyes of my daughter and my family.