I’ll admit, when I first was assigned to review Monocyte #1, I hadn’t seen a comic like it in a while, and probably wasn’t ready to. Growing up in the 90’s, the surrealist style of H.R Giger was all the rage. Aliens had come out just four years before 1990 and, at the time, you couldn’t pick up a comic without seeing hints of Giger’s twisted influence.
It was great for a while, but after a certain point, the style began to seem dated, especially as Jim Lee and Image were introducing the world to the bold and vibrant styling of Wild C.A.T.S and Stormwatch. I have always preferred capes and utility belts to brooding, gritty vigilantes stalking the streets of New York, Detroit, and Chicago. Swap a pistol for a ray gun and you’ve got my attention. I had no place in my heart for the brutal reality and endless darkness that was found in comics like Zero Hour and Judge Dredd. So, when I first opened issue one of Monocyte, it all came flooding back. The darkness, the agony, the complete hopelessness, it was all there.
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