By Adam

Partly because of my laziness and partly because I’m embarking on the completely ridiculous adventure of re-imagining the series, I’ve decided to bring out the old issues of Exit Theory for people to marvel at/run from. Because of my nigh-sexual passion for this story and all the denizens of Cedere Abunde, New Mexico, don’t expect me to say “fucking queermo” or whatever other crazy bullshit I’m known for. Don’t get me wrong, this will probably be funny-the content you are about to see is so rough, so decidedly unpolished-you’ll laugh at how pedestrian everything is. I don’t care, though, as you’re a fucking asshole who needs to die in an apartment fire. See? I did it anyway.

Exit Theory Volume One: The Blog

During my freshman year of college (“Coolege”), I started blogging sort-of regularly about the stupidest shit. It was vintage: long-winded, masturbatory, and full of metaphors and similes that even a third-grader would find preposterous. I haven’t progressed that far in writing skills, but at least I’m not a dopey bitch anymore. The site had a decent following from friends, and eventually, I pulled some in to write for me (Writer’s Tip #1: Producing content is so fucking cake when you have others help you out. The more you know!). In fact, the Reactionary Century model is built upon my old Exit Theory model. My editor will (not) back me up on this.

Regardless, one of the jerks that I hired was one Tyler “Burky Tea” Burks. What sets Tyler apart from other people is that he is a fucking alien. No one in the history of the universe has someone been dubiously-creative meets unheard-of-retarded as him. Eventually, Tyler and I got to talking about the things we had in common (videogames, comic books; we’re talking things that social outcasts are made from) and how less talented people were making money creating web comics. We had to get a piece of that action. Here’s what we came up with:


Not the most auspicious start. So we looked like a couple of retarded salamanders, who gives a shit? We were unique. We took those big heads and put them through their paces. We made a six-part story about a guy who gets metal arms in his search for Sasquatch. A title of one of the strips was “Tony Hawk’s Extreme Downhill Garbage Bag Vagina Racer.” If you ever wondered what it takes to get excommunicated from the Catholic Church when you aren’t Catholic, there’s your fucking answer.

Let me take a minute to talk about the creative process we had. When collaborating with someone on a project like this, there are generally two ways to go about it: plot or script. Throughout the entirety of Volumes One through Three, I used the plot method. It involved writing a bunch of shit down describing the story and some choice bits of dialogue; a synopsis, if you want to use a cool word. You then pass this document over to the guy who makes the pictures, who interprets your words into pictures and posts them on the internet on a fancy new redesigned site. For the writer, this puts an equal amount of creative freedom into the hands of the artist; if someone capable runs with your idea, you get impressive results. This was how Stan Lee was able to write Captain America, Spider Man, The Hulk, Iron Man, Fantastic Four, etc. every month and still stay sane. He had the other guy do a lot of the work.

We didn’t hit this creative handshake until Volume Two.


Notice how the PS2 control says “SIN” on it? Take that, Sony, you corporate fucks! Volume Two marked an important shift in creative style-Tyler started to take on more of the creative reins, as I had grown mostly bored of the videogame/comic-book web comic. You know how every idea you’ve ever had was already done by The Simpsons? Well, Penny Arcade! did everything already. My creative energies were being focused on creating an overarching story steeped in delicious continuity. I had to leave the James Remar jokes behind me.

There you have it! A brief history of Volumes One and Two of Exit Theory. God, that was untenable. Join us next week as we tackle the only series of Volume Three comics ever produced… yet. Here’s the cover:


See you next week, queermos.