There are two things that have worn out their welcome real fast over the last few years that I never got sick of: WWII shooters and zombie shit. This review falls under the latter. Comic Con’s “Artist Alley” was mostly comprised of people sketching in front of huge posters of their work, with smaller prints hung up and displayed on their tables. But tucked into a small corner was a younger dude, no posters, and maybe four or five comics strewn across his booth. I looked down and read “Zombie Dickheads are not coming to get you.”
You had me at zombie dick.
Writer and artist Chris Moreno explained his premise as “Basically The Walking Dead with Seth MacFarlane style humor from the point of view of the zombies.” He went on, “Human flesh is like a drug to zombies. The four we follow don’t eat people, so they’re still kind of with it. The rest are pretty much stoned out of their minds.” I flipped it open and read a short exchange.
“I need to get out of these clothes and into a nice pair of slacks.”
“Anything but these gay-ass leathers. I feel like Rob Halford’s balls in this shit.”
Sold.
Our lovable group of zombie misfits is made up of four dickheads. Josh is the middle-aged fat guy that can think fast on his feet, the glue that holds our antiheroes together. Colt is the punk twenty-something with a tough exterior that hasn’t yet realized how much he needs the group. Dennis, affectionately known as “Dickless,” is the prim and proper grandfather figure, the group’s punching bag, and often the voice of reason. Lisa is the weakest character, pretty much an amalgamation of teenage girl stereotypes. She seems to represent the group’s vulnerabilities, walking with her head in the clouds and generally causing more problems than she solves.
This far into the apocalypse, the only survivors are “wild-eyed, moonshine-swilling hillbillies.” They’re always armed to the teeth, but can usually be (barely) outsmarted by the gang. The comic feels like a sitcom; no character development, no real storyline, and everything ends up pretty much how it started. It definitely has its funny and clever moments, but I think by “Seth MacFarlane humor” Moreno meant “an average of 3.5 fucks per page.” In the words of one of my favorite comedians, “Now you’ve ruined the magic of the word fuck.” It feels a little forced, like a middle school kid trying to keep up with his older brother’s friends.
Moreno’s working on a sequel as we speak, and I’ll probably pick it up (if I remember to check back in a few months or so). I like the art style; great use of shadows and all the characters are really expressive. Ten bucks might be a little pricey for what you’re getting, but it’s a great premise (for a tired out genre) and I think it’s worthwhile to support an obvious labor of love that has some real potential. It seems to be finding its legs, and I expect there will be some improvements over the next couple issues. It’s hard to have any real development when you’re introducing new characters in a new world. I’m definitely interested in seeing where Zombie Dickheads goes with an established lore, a little more freedom and hopefully a lot more support.
Find out more and buy yourself a copy at www.zombiedickheads.com.
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