I saw this article over at ComixTalk today, as well as its predecessor, both revolving around the continual struggle to make micropayments work.

Now, the battle to make micropayments successful was pretty much lost before it began, and even the most dedicated proponents finally set it aside. But that was, really, only the original conception of micropayments itself – Joel Fagin wants to look at new and improved ways to try and make money for webcartoonists.

His main proposal is the sale of downloadable high quality collections of comics – paying a small bit of money so that you have a permanent electronic collection of the strip, allowing you to avoid internet load times when reading from comic to comic, and though these strips would be the same as the ones available online, you would benefit from much higher quality, no ads, easy browsing – lots of little advantages designed to make it worth the $2-$3 price tag.

Now, the articles themselves are very well-written, and analyze some interesting ideas. The proposal of the downloadable comic archives is… well, not a terrible idea. At the core, there is something solid there. I don’t think it is something the majority of readers will care about, as Joel seems to believe – but there could definitely be enough to make a production of it.

At the moment, the biggest weakness I see (outside of the market for it being much smaller than imagined) is that there really isn’t any software capable of fully presenting such material – not in the way they want. CBR is the format they are using, and it is certainly serviceable – but the entire idea is to boost the experience well beyond reading it online. CBR gets the job done, but that’s pretty much it. If there was a really dynamic bit of software out there that could truly enhance the reading experience, then I’d start seeing it as worth-while. As it is… it isn’t quite there.

But it did get me thinking on Joyce and Walky, which I realized is both a successful micropayment and subscription system – and just about the only one out there in webcomics. The deal – $2 gets you access to a month of strips (updated on Tues and Thurs). The strips continue the adventures of Joyce and Walky (a-duh), and unlike the free strip he updates each weekend, they have their share of the classic drama for which he is reknowned. They are good stuff, primarily designed for the more dedicated fans – and despite costing around 25 cents a strip, people are willing to pay the price.

The advantage of them is that, once paid, you have indefinite access to the month of strips you’ve purchased. Unlike with ModernTales, where you are cut off from the archives when your subscription ends, you are effectively purchasing lifetime access to the month you buy. The downside – especially now that this has been running for almost two years – is that anyone who wants to catch up on the plot has to purchase pretty much every single month they’ve missed out on.

But still – it works. It’s been working since August, 2005.

Now, I don’t know the numbers on it. I don’t know how many subscribers Willis actually has. But it seems to be enough to make it worth continuing – and seems to be proof that somewhere, somehow, something resembling micropayments can actually work.

We don’t need to call it micropayments, of course – but it is darn near the closest thing out there, and the only thing I’ve heard of that is remotely successful.

So… what makes it so?

Well, Willis had a built-in audience when he started it up – It’s Walky ran for years and ended up with a decent sized following. More importantly, I would estimate it had a much larger percentage of truly devoted readers, likely due to the intricate nature of the story. When it ended, readers proved willing to pay for more content – so Willis was able to start the subscription system without walking into it completely blind.

The Walkyverse is, at heart, one that focuses on elaborate characterization and plot development. So unlike a daily gag strip – though it has those too – it brings with it a lot of motivation for audience members to keep reading. And once they get into the habit of buying their monthly subscription, it is awfully easy to keep going.

Willis is also a webcomic powerhouse. He’s able to crank out content at an unbelievable rate – such that he can offer free content in the form of three to five Shortpacked strips every week, plus a weekly Shortpacked!@TNI and Saturday Joyce and Walky strips, in addition to the two strips a week for subscribers. He’s able to retain a presence with those who aren’t subscribers, and that in turn lets him potentially attract new readers. Very few webcomic artists could produce that much material without getting burnt out – that’s probably why few have tried it, since in order to move to subscription strips, most would have to halt their primary work in the meantime.

Willis managed to make it work. Not everyone could do so, of course, and it is only part of the income Willis gets from his comics – he’s also got plenty of advertisements, merchandise, and the occasional limited prints.

But still. This is a demonstration that it is possible to sell webcomics directly.

It might be in a limited form, it might require a very specific set-up and set of circumstances to make happen – but I suspect there are more than a few out there that would be able to pull it off. I don’t know if they should, of course – but I also don’t think the discussion over micropayments is quite as dead as some people think.

Joyce and Walky is proof of that.

I recieved my copy of Start of Darkness yesterday, along with the rest of the OotS books, and it is just as good as I was expecting it to be. It arrived a little weathered from the journey, unfortunately – just enough dinged and dented to be frustrating, but not enough so that I would feel justified in doing anything about it.

But as for the content within the book, I have no complaints. It serves as a good example of the changing state of Order of the Stick – while the first prequel book was from the days when humor held a stronger presence than plot, Start of Darkness stands as a very clear example of the primary focus on story. The jokes are still there, of course – but they take a back seat to character developments and plot twists.

Art, of course, comes in a distant third between plot and humor, but is nonetheless an undeniable aspect of the comic. I’m sure most everyone has heard about Josh Lesnick’s artistic critiques by now, but it is a post worth reading – though in this case, his discussion on OotS was one of the few areas where I disagreed with his analysis.

Now, I’m not going to argue that OotS is the subtle work of a master artist. I like the look of the strip, yes, but is by no means an artistic triumph.

What it is, however, is profoundly functional.

Josh L’s argument is that Rich should spend “the time he saves to really go broke on the expressiveness and body language of the characters,” but as much as I enjoy Girly – and I do – it’s own brand of chaos wouldn’t have any place in OotS. One of the comments in Josh’s critique – and one I was disappointed in how easily he blew it off – argued that Rich uses his time “on elaborate sets and subtlety in expression” – but I don’t think that is necessarily true either.

The expressions are generally appropriate to the moment, but they are usually not subtle. Backgrounds are fleshed out, but they are not elaborate.

What Order of the Stick does have is twelve-panel strips detailing entire action sequences, fully colored and with backgrounds and props – however simple – always present.

One of the things that has amazed people is the sheer amount of happenings in OotS. I would argue at least part of that is due to the art. It is practical – it allows for an easily identifiable cast and the ability to pack a ton of action into every page. It is simple, sure. I am confident there is room for improvement within that style, at least from an artistic perspective. But functionality is not something that should be so easily dismissed.

I read too many comics that are fantastically good strips, but are immensely hard to follow. Not just from day to day due to complicated plots or dialogues, but often within the strips themselves. Templar, Az, as I mentioned the other week. Girly itself, which is wild and unrestrained – but as Foibos very succinctly described it, is approaching the webcomic equivalent to WRITING IN ALL CAPS. Even Penny and Aggie occasionally loses me in exaggerated expressions and sudden panel transitions.

These are all comics that are right near the top of my daily update list. They are some of the best strips out there, both in general and artisticly speaking. And they are perfectly free to draw their comics however they desire, regardless of what it means for me.

But as a reader, I have learned to appreciate accessibility.

I’m not saying that OotS is artisticly better than any of the above comics – it isn’t. But analyzing it without paying heed to the benefits of its functionality is doing it a disservice, and one I wanted to comment on.

There has been some discussion, recently, on the role and value of webcomics criticism, and it has me thinking about the posts I write here – both their nature and their purpose, and how they relate to the field itself.

First, a brief summation on what I percieve as the ongoing debate over webcomic discussion. On one side, there are those who are frustrated by seeing the majority of “reviews” consisting of butterflies and sunshine – endless praise that sounds nice and swell, but doesn’t actually accomplish anything, other than to make the reviewer feel good about the nice words they’ve written. Beyond that, many webcomics have enough devoted followers that offering honest criticism is an invitation to be assaulted by thousands of rabid fans, and that scares people from writing what they feel.

On the other hand, there are those who see the countless diatribes about the flaws of webcomics in general, repeating the same vague points over and over, and focusing on how terrible webcomics are – rather than what can be done to improve them. More than this, so many of these pieces fail to look at specific webcomics, and pinpoint the areas of weakness, and explain why that weakness exists.

So. Both these opinions are extremely valid ones, and while I personally agree with elements of both sides, neither side really seems open to dialogue with the other. My own posts break down into five real categories, and each one is pretty different from the rest.

I admit it – I tend to write exuberant reviews. I do so often, and without remorse – when I like a comic, why shouldn’t I talk about how good it is? The series of posts I’ve been running lately on the Best of Comic Genesis and Drunk Duck falls into this category – but it is important to realize the purpose for which they are being written. I’m not writing them to discuss the flaws of a comic, but its strengths. Yes, I will tend to mention the elements that need improvement, but that isn’t the focus of the piece.

Because the piece is being written for webcomic readers, not creators. The point of the reviews is to say: “Hey, here is a cool comic I’m reading, why don’t you read it too?” And sure, not every comic is for everyone, but there are enough good ones out there that I can easily find one or two good news ones a week. So I’m spreading the word on quality comics – usually ones that deserve a bit more exposure, for the theoretical benefit of both artist and audience. Yes, they aren’t filled with criticism, but they aren’t meant to be. So that is category one – recommendations. The goal? Simple reviews of good comics, shared with those looking for enjoyable strips to read. Who is it written for? Webcomic readers.

On the other hand, I do occasionally do proper critiques. It doesn’t occur nearly as often as basic reviews – but when I see something that merits mention, I’m going to say what I think. As long as I feel it isn’t going to simply be a waste of time.

See, when I write criticism, it is something primarily aimed at webcomic creators. Let’s take a hypothetical example – say I notice that Spamusement has an unhealthy obsession with pterodactyls. This, clearly, is a travesty. The comic would be perfect, if only it had less winged dinosaurs! I can go run and scream this to the masses – but what’s the point? It won’t accomplish anything, unless I feel that Mr. Spamusement is going to notice the clamor and take my anti-dactyl ways to heart.

I can criticize for its own sake, and point out what I might think to be the worst comic in the world – but that’s honestly just called drama. It isn’t productive. It won’t make people thoughtful, it will just make them angry. So I tend to criticize the comics I like – ones I find to be good comics with a few specific flaws. I want my criticism to make the artists think. Sure, maybe serve as an example of what not to do to other webcomickers – but the main goal, at its focus, is to try and get the creator of the comic to look at what they’ve done, and ask themselves if it could be improved. So, category two – critiques. The goal? Earnest discussion of a comic’s flaws, and what can be done to fix them. Who is it written for? Webcomic creators.

The third category is probably the one where I am most guilty of shameless flattery, and I readily admit is an indulgence on my part – when something totally awesome or intense happens in a well-read comic, and I’ve just got to sit down and comment on it. I’m sure everyone knows what it’s like – a major plot twist is revealed, or the hero defeats a bad guy in a moment of supreme badassitude, or something simple and heartbreaking is captured in a single picture. And you have to talk about it.

So I do. These are often among the most popular webcomics out there, so they don’t get anything out of me talking about the how and why of their awesome moment – but I feel the need to recognize them, nonetheless. They should get praise, and applause, and biscuits. Not because they need them, but simply because they deserve them.

And because, hey, I like talking about the exciting moments. Sure, you can call it rampant fanboyism – but if a scene resonates with me, I’m going to discuss it. If something really makes me think, I’m going to talk about why. Category three – reactions. The goal? To recognize moments of true quality, and analyze my own response to such scenes. Who is it written for? Myself.

The fourth type of post is what you see before you – discussion of webcomics in a more general sense. Thoughts and ramblings on more abstract topics such as criticism, website design, crossovers, etc. Basically – a look at the bigger picture. These tend to be few and far between, if only because it is difficult to compare the many diverse elements of webcomics – but at the same time, I tend to think of these as the important posts. Noticing trends, talking about what elements work and what doesn’t – this is useful information I am trying to share.

I’m not always right about these ideas, either – but they are topics worth discussing, and if I can get other people discussing them as well, that’s success right there. Category four – discussion. The goal? To try and analyze and understand more general aspects of webcomics. Who is it written for? Everyone involved in webcomics.

And the final category isn’t really of much relevance to this topic – news posts. These are often about strips starting, ending, restarting, returning from hiatus, going on hiatus, or simply hitting important landmarks – not always vital information, but worth sharing. After all, if I always find out a comic has returned six months late, I have to imagine everyone else is out of the loop of one thing or another, and anything I can do to fix that is worth it. Sometimes I might mention something of real consequence, though those are far from common. Category five – news. The goal? To share information that is worth sharing. Who is it written for? Anyone that needs to hear the news.

The above covers pretty much every post on this site related to webcomics (which is most of them.) Why did I write it? Largely because I wanted to help people understand what is going on in my mind when working on different kinds of reviews – and more than that, to try and deal with the fact that there are different types of reviews. Some lend themselves towards flattery, others towards criticism. There are different goals for different posts, and there is a place for all of them.

Yes, there is a place for praise, for the comics that deserve it. Yes, there is a time when one should point out the things that need fixing. And people need to accept both those types of reviews, as well as accept that they are both out there – and that both those voices need to be heard.