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The Webcomics Uncertainty Principle
by Rob Balder
Author: Rob Balder
Title of Theory: The Webcomics Uncertainty Principle
Comics Chosen: Fragile Gravity, Bassetville, The Order of the Stick
Criteria for Choice: Last three comics whose creators I talked to in person
Abstract: Observing webcomics is impossible without changing the thing being observed. The examination of webcomics is therefore impossible, and should be abandoned as an academic pursuit.
Research Method: Participant Observation
Defined by Wikipedia as "a major research strategy which aims to gain a close and intimate familiarity with a given area of study ... through an intensive involvement with people in their natural environment," participant observation is mainly considered a qualitative tool, less useful to sociologists than more controlled and measurable research methods. It is usually restricted to extreme and insular subcultures which could otherwise not easily be studied, such as Hell's Angels, drug and sex cults, extremist religious sects, and (in this case) webcomics creators.
It can now be revealed to the academic world that my comic, PartiallyClips, was created and maintained solely as a sociological research tool to facilitate my participatory observation in the deviant subculture known collectively as "the Webcomics community." The comic is of no artistic worth (I used commercial clip art, available at any Best Buy, next to the CD Head Cleaners), and only minimal humorous or entertainment value (I relied on grad students to write most of the jokes, and used only those I suspected were abusing illegal substances).
It was my hope and my thesis to gather data on this largely unknown and conceivably dangerous group, and bring it into the light of academic scrutiny.
Behavior Model Observed: Classic Social Dominance Hierarchy
It became immediately clear upon starting PartiallyClips that the prevalent social structure among webcomics follows the model of the primate dominance hierarchy. This is the classical social model common in many primative, frontier, and aboriginal societies, as well as among social apes and monkeys.
Although webcomics creators as individuals can usually be described as "ostracised outcasts," webcomics quickly and naturally form into highly social tribes, identified by their association with various boards, communities, and collectives. Within those tribes, a clearly-demarked indicator of social standing is usually present. This can take the form of a comic's position on a voting list, for example, or the size of the payments it receives within the Keenspot/Keenspace caste system (see "Keenspot/Keenspace, Cyber-feudalism, Cyber-caste or Cyber-fraternity?" [R. Balder 2004]), or simply how many high-status group members its creator is associated with.
In order to observe the higher social functions of this subculture, it therefore became imperative to grow my comic's traffic, and to schmooze as many creators as possible, preferably the better-known ones.
Early Successes
To this end, I began to attend conventions (see "Whither the Furries? Sub-Subculture Ghettoization at Science Fiction, Comics and Gaming Cons" [R. Balder, 2003]). Due to strokes of good fortune and many fifths of Bombay Sapphire, I was able to gain the good graces of such leading Webcomics lights as Jon Rosenberg of the celebratory hedo-centric romp "Goats," and Pete Abrams of the exhausting nega-topian epic "Sluggy Freelance." The visibility and status of PartiallyClips within the community therefore rose.
Additionally, I began to make the extraordinary (and entirely false) claim that PartiallyClips was appearing in many newspapers. I did not fear that this lie would be revealed, as the avoidance of newsprint is one of this subculture's strongest taboos. Because of this, the claim both boosted the comic's status and set it apart as something alien, and a bit naughty.
Over time, the active schmoozing would result in friendly contact with nearly all of the most revered names in the community. However, it is that very reverence, so common in this society, which would become the project's downfall.
Early Indications of Flaws in Methodology
Once even the tiniest fraction of notoriety had been achieved by the strip, a phenomenon which would come to haunt (and eventually doom) my research began to show itself: unmerited hero worship.
Because there are so many participants (perhaps more than 20,000) in this subculture, nearly all are toiling in abject obscurity, if not complete functional anonymity. It becomes a common logical fallacy, therefore, that if Creator B has ever heard of Creator A, then Creator B assumes Creator A must be "famous." Compounding this fallacy is the underlying assumption enforced by the "panel" structure at conventions (see "The Sociology of Convention Panels: The Use of Trailing Conjunctions and Run-On Sentences as Territorial Weapons" [R. Balder/ T Campbell 2004]), namely the assumption that the webcomics creators on one side of the table know much more about the topic being discussed than the creators on the other side of the table. This assumption is almost always demonstrably false, as comments made by both sides invariably reveal that nobody in the room knows anything of merit.
Figure 1 shows a sketch made by Ben Thompson of the collegiate simul-stalgic chronicle "Townies," made while he sat in an audience listening to me and three other never-was creators discussing webcomics at a convention in 2003. Note the use of the deifying terminology and self-subordinating posture in the caption, "Quotin' From Olympus on High." This threatened to become a theme, which would reveal itself over time.
Figure 1
Methodological Disaster 1: False Imprinting
As the study progressed and I attended more cons, the posture of other creators gradually changed from aloof indifference to rapt, deferential attention. More and more frequently, my words were accepted with an uncritical and completely unfounded trust. Gravity was assigned to my most flippant remarks, always by creators who occupied a lower rung on the social ladder. When a creator who saw their own status as "unknown" and mine as "at least known" met me, a form of false imprinting would sometimes occur.
The most tragic example of this phenomenon was Bryan Prindeville, of the canine pseudo-biographical portraiture "Bassetville." Shortly after meeting me at a panel in January 2005, I gave Bryan's comic a free banner ad on PartiallyClips and his traffic increased. As thanks, Bryan presented me the artwork seen in Figure 2, entitled "PartialDeity: The Patron Saint of Bassetville." This mortifying, yet fascinating piece depicts me as a heavenly apparition, seated placidly upon a cloud, a blazing munificence about my head, and a floating pair of scissors (my talisman, representing that clip art I bought for 50 bucks).
Figure 2
The problem with such leaps to aggrandize an unknown figure is, of course, the inevitable disappointment when the inadequacies of the worshipped individual reveal themselves. As a case in point, it should be well known in academic circles (and certain local eating and drinking establishments) that I am a complete, flaming asshole (see "Role of the Inexcusable Asshole in a Subculture: A Participant Observation Study" [R. Balder/S. Howard 2004]). In a very short span of personal contact with me, Prindeville has unfortunately had to come to terms with this fact.
Asked to draw a representation of me now, Mr. Prindeville produced the drawing seen in Figure 3, entitled "PartialDisparity: That Useless Wad Who Owes Me a Book." His disillusionment is palpable, yet certain elements show a lingering desire to restore my former stature atop the distant cloud, now raining. The damage done to his psyche from this experience is likely to result in an ethics investigation of this study.
Figure 3
The impact of this experience has clearly altered the direction of Bassetville. Once a straightforward weekly gag strip, Bryan now plans to completely retool and relaunch the strip as a 5x weekly with a 15-strip establishing story arc at the beginning. Bryan traces this plan in part to some damnfool thing I said when I was drinking, and other suspect advice I have given him which he still clings to as somehow meaningful. I deeply regret spoiling this subject for further study by my careless meddling, but this is far from the first time I have made this mistake.
Indeed, it is the thrust of my thesis that such mistakes are unavoidable.
Methodological Disaster 2: Researcher is Integrated Into Subject Matter
It is not only through such sadly misplaced trust and unjustified worship that the participant observer causes a webcomic to be changed. Any form of direct social interaction can draw the observer so closely into the process that the people and "art form" he is attempting to study are forever altered and tainted, rendered worthless for study. And pretty much anything else.
Take, for example, the automorphic anarcho-abstractive annal "Fragile Gravity," drawn by Chris Impink and written by Barb Fischer. Nearly from the start, Fragile Gravity has been my most closely-studied subject. I have allowed and encouraged more contact, in person and online, with Mr. Impink and Ms. Fischer than with any other creators. The results have been correspondingly catastrophic.
The Fragile Gravity universe, once a pristine and fascinating work of art, has been forever spoiled by the integration of my image into the storyline. This occurred first as a charicature of me as a creator (Figure 4) and then as myself (Figure 5).
Figure 4
Figure 5
In addition, the first Fragile Gravity book, "Summertime Brews," which should have been a virginal work for the reader and fan to interptet, has been permanently despoiled by an analytical foreword written by me (figure 6). This was an unavoidable but nevertheless eggregious blunder on my part, and both their work and mine greatly suffered for it.
Figure 6
And it should be noted that I similarly ruined the first "Townies" book with a ham-handed foreword. I am ashamed, but I don't know what I could have done. It's simply impossible to study without interfering, I tell you!
Alternative Methodology Considered: Guruism
Having become so painfully aware that I was ruining everything I touched, I turned to a more neutralized approach to testing my hypotheses about the Webcomics Community. I began to post generalized rants in open forums, challenging the fundamental pecking-order social structure in webcomics. I beat a drum for community outreach, shared goals among creators, a rational approach to traffic benchmarking, seeking win-win scenarios, and other such nonsensical utopian clatptrap. To my surprise, very few creators rose to defend the existing hierarchical system, despite the general slavish adherence to it. Some agreed with the posts vociferously, while most quietly muttered that I am a tool. Which, of course, I am.
Encouraging though this was, it was not long before the direct effects of these posts on individual comics became apparent. In an article for Comixpedia in March 2005, I used the iconoclastic neo-postprimative narrative "The Order of the Stick" by Rich Burlew as a concrete example of something or other. Whatever point I was making required me to heap absurdly lavish praise on the comic.
Within weeks, a quotation from the article appeared on the cover of the first Order of the Stick book, "Dungeon Crawlin' Fools" (figure 7). I was flabbergasted. What is a neutral, impartial observer to do in order to keep from direct integration into the works of those he is supposed to be studying? My subsequent direct contacts and discussions with Mr. Burlew have ruined any chance I have of objectively evaluating his progress through the dark and mysterious underworld of webcomics.
Figure 7
Conclusion
It is with a heavy heart that I must admit to the Committee that I, too, have become tainted by the research process. Despite the very great shortcomings of this community, I find myself self-identifying as a webcomics creator more than a researcher. This long and disheartening study has sapped my will for academic work, and I must therefore tender my resignation from the University.
It is my intent to pick up PartiallyClips where I have left it, with the other members of the community none the wiser for my unique origins as a webcomics creator. Although I submit this paper to you as my final work, I ask that its publication be suppressed. Should it be leaked to any source visible to other creators, my stature within the peer group would suffer greatly. I thank you.
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