Brady has hit the mark on this one; while I don’t know (or remember) who the Village Bicycle – er, I mean Gram Trellion is, it’s easy to figure out from the context of the comic… and from the humorous final panel. Further, the setup of this strip even gives strong hints as to who (and what) Gram Trellion is, without his even appearing on panel. Seeing a half-dozen blonde children running around (with every adult with dark hair) made me quite glad I wasn’t drinking coffee when I visited the comic.

Probably the only thing that would have made this even more amusing is if we’d seen a single father happily holding a blonde child without any wife in evidence. As improbable as that would seem (though this is a fantasy comic…). In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy this short side-story of Emily’s (which will be running for another four updates) while catching up on the archives for Cwen’s Quest.

The thing is, there were still gems of awesomeness visible in 8BT from time to time, such as the big bad planning on creating a cakelogical singularity out of the universe (which Black Mage actually came up with when considering how the big bad might bring about the end of the universe). But much like a mine that is being played out, these gems grew rarer and rarer as the comic continued. Near the end, the only reason I continued to read was because of all the effort I’d already put into it. And of course, I hoped to find just one last nugget of goodness to remind me of what had attracted me to 8BT to begin with.

Naturally, the climactic conclusion of 8-Bit Theatre pulled a massive twist. Don’t expect any grandiose battles between the forces of not-quite-good and of utter-evil. It is here where the comic fizzles, with luck and deus ex machinas allowing the so-called heroes to survive. And while the epilogue comic (with actual drawn art rather than the cut-and-paste pixel characters that were used for the rest of the series) does give us a “where are they now?” wrap-up, it fails to provide any last gems of greatness with its closure.

While Gregory’s first couple of appearances worked fairly well, he soon had the more tragic elements of his life ripped out of him, resulting in a fairly flat and uninteresting character who often detracted from the storylines focusing on him. While Gregory was not the only reason I stopped reading Dominic Deegan for a while, the roots were laid in storylines focusing on him. It was only the recently-ended epic storyline on the Orcish nation-region of Maltak that regained my interest in the comic.

Before I go further, I want to mention that Michael Terracciano’s decision to focus on secondary characters rather than Dominic has been a welcome change. One of the problems with Dominic is that he’s become entirely too powerful a character; indeed, one of the reasons the epic storyline focusing on Maltak was so enjoyable was that Luna rather than Dominic was the story’s primary protagonist. These secondary characters are (for the most part) what has made Dominic Deegan a good comic, and by looking at their stories, it also lessens the importance of Dominic himself. The world doesn’t revolve around Dominic Deegan, and the stories focusing on secondary characters help drive that point home. Naturally, I don’t count Gregory among these useful secondary characters.

When Terracciano decided to focus on Gregory for his newest storyline, I must admit I was tempted to go on a sabbatical from the comic. Inertia kept me reading. Initially it seemed my concerns were well-founded. The start of the new Gregory-centric storyline felt lackluster and uninspired, despite the fact that Gregory not only was still stripped of his magic (which happened at the end of a previous Gregory-centric storyline) but was now starting to suffer nightmares on what had happened to him (both in the previous storyline and when he was a child and infected by the Blight of Undeath).

Being stripped of his magic and without anything to give him value, Gregory decided to commit suicide (by the convoluted process of creating a pretty boy band). Naturally, it didn’t go well, with Gregory ultimately kicked out of the band he created after they received a truly scathing review. And it was at this point that something odd happened. I don’t know if my heart grew three sizes or Gregory outgrew his Scrappydom, but I actually started liking the storyline (and while I still don’t particularly like Gregory, I’m detesting him far less).

And Gregory? He went from “pretty boy band” to writing hard rock… and recruited a new band who (while initially skeptical) became partners in crafting an “honest and ugly” band. He started using his nightmares as a source of inspiration, and the events in his life the fodder for his music. The story became less about Gregory (which is a good thing) and more of a commentary on rock music, and of music bands.

The cynic in me suspects the review was partly to blame. In crafting a devastating yet constructive review in the comic, Terracciano also called out to his own critics. He stated that “you don’t have to like this. But if you hate it, say something other than ‘it sucks,’ okay?” I am probably seeing further into this than there is, but let’s face it: Dominic Deegan has gotten its share of naysayers and shock-jock faux-critics who think tossing out a few vulgarities, saying “this sucks,” and making personal attacks on cartoonists is the highest form of entertainment out there. I prefer reviews to have some actual substance to them, and the faux-critics often fail in that regard. While Tangents (and most of the decent review sites) has avoided descending to that level, I’ve not been always kind to DD either (and even now I’m not going to pull punches).

I have to admit, I still am looking forward to the end of this storyline. Some people (such as Terry Pratchett) can meld contemporary cultural phenomena and fantasy literature with little problem. But these are the exceptions, not the rule. Dominic Deegan works better when its stories focus on more traditional fantasy tropes, rather than dragging modern music, superhero comics, and other contemporary venues into play.