Wednesday, April 30, 2008

A Memo: Part 2

To: Lord Aragorn, Heir of Isildur
From: Bill, Head of Groundskeeping
Re: Coronation

My Lord,

Let me first congratulate you on your great victory over Sauron and his fell forces. It was truly a magnificent deed that will shine in the songs of Men until the end of our days.

However, the continued requests to clean up the city and its surrounding environs in time for your coronation are patently impossible. My men have cremated almost a thousand bodies and have worked to exhaustion, but they simply cannot work any faster. If we are to remove all the bodies in time for your coronation, we will need the combined armies of Rohan and Gondor to help.

Your humble servant,
Bill, Head of Groundskeeping

To: Lord Aragorn, Heir of Isildur
From: Bill, Head of Groundskeeping
Re: Coronation

My Lord,

While your constant messages are flattering, they are not helping us progress any faster. If your lordship wishes his guests to not notice the piles of corpses I suggest you buy a lot of tents, erect them over the bodies and then spread enough potpourri to fill Mount Doom ‘cause we’re not going to be done.

Your exhausted, increasingly frustrated servant,
Bill, Head of Groundskeeping

To: Lord Aragorn, Heir of Isildur
From: Bill, Head of Groundskeeping
Re: Coronation

My Lord,

Let me tell you a story. It involves trying to move a month-old Oliphant corpse. First, you have to gut it and let all the innards out, being careful not to be crushed by the hundreds of tons of offal or passing out from the smell. Then you have to build scaffolding inside the beast and starting hacking and sawing away. I cannot begin to describe the smell, save to say that I would rather be an orc bathroom attendant for 100 years than spend five minutes inside a dead Oliphant. Not to mention the fact that you get to be literally covered in bits of Oliphant all day and can’t quite get rid of the smell, even after several hours of bathing.

In short: bite me.

Bill, Head of Groundskeeping

To: Whom it may concern,
From: Bill, Head of Groundskeeping
Re: Up Yours

We quit.

We’re tired, we stink, and we’re getting nothing but grief.

If you want everything cleaned up for your coronation, do it yourself. Maybe you should’ve had that undead army tidy up for you before you let them go.

Btb, if you feel the need to arrest us and charge us with treason or something, please do. We could use a break and even jail is better than standing hip deep in rotting offal.

Bill, Ex-Head of Groundskeeping


Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Convention Listings.

So we've had some questions about why we're not yet listed as exhibitors at Emerald Con. This is because we were fortunate enough to be high on the waiting list for a table and only got one this week. So the ECCC staff hasn’t had a chance to update the list with any of our info yet.

We’ll be there though. :)

- Leigh

A Memo: Part 1

So, I happened to watch the Return of the King the other day and at the end of the battle in front of Minas Tirith, it occured to me that somebody is going to have to clean all that up. That thought inspired the following:

To: Lord Denethor, Steward of Gondor
From: Bill, Head of Groundskeeping
Re: Bodies

My Lord,

I have recently received orders that the corpses from the recent battle in front of and within Minas Tirith be cleaned up post-haste. I would like to remind your lordship that we number but fifty, while the dead number greater than ten-thousand, not counting the Oliphants.

If my Lord wishes the corpses to be removed in a timely manner, I must ask for more men, preferably in the number of five-thousand.

Your humble servant,
Bill, Head of Groundskeeping

To: Whomever’s in Charge
From: Bill, Head of Groundskeeping
Re: Bodies

My Lord,

I have once again received an urgent missive regarding the state of the corpses decomposing in and in front of our fair city. I must humbly remind your Lordship that we can remove no more than 200 men or orc corpses (or some forty horse carcasses) a day. I cannot begin to imagine how long it will take to remove a single Oliphant!

While the ten additional men you saw fit to assign to us have helped, it will take at least a thousand to make any sort of progress.

May I remind your lordship of the numbers that we must deal with:
6,000+ Orcs
4,000+ Men
1,000+ Horses
200+ Random Trolls, Nazgul Mounts, & Fell Creatures We Cannot Identify
10 Oliphants
Several Hundreds of miscellaneous Squirrels, Cats, Dogs, Wombats, Lawyers, & Street Performers

Your humble servant,
Bill, Head of Groundskeeping

Tomorrow: Part 2 - 'I suggest you buy a lot of potpourri'

Monday, April 28, 2008

Buy issue 1 of Wayfarer's Moon now!

Wayfarer’s Moon Issue 1 is now available through IndyPlanet!

Weeeeeeeeeeee! We have received our first batch of printed comics from IndyPlanet, and we will be bringing them with us to our convention appearances. We’ll be at Emerald Con in Seattle on May 10th and 11th, as well as SuperCon in San Jose CA on May 17th and 18th. See our News page for more details on our convention schedule. If you can’t go to any of the conventions on our schedule you can still buy a copy of issue 1 through clicking on the links above or by visiting IndyPlanet and searching for Wayfarer's Moon.

- Leigh

Friday, April 25, 2008

Emerald Con

Good News!

We have just been confirmed for Emerald Con!

It's May 10th & 11th in Seattle. Both Leigh and I will be there and we will be selling and signing the FIRST PRINTED ISSUE of Wayfarer's Moon.

Be the first kid on the block to have one!


Allergic to Death: Part 2

Tone Deaf
This is a tricky weakness to exploit, as you need to get the creature singing and then laugh at it until it starts to cry. You then, of course, kill it while it’s busy sobbing. Or, you could promise not to laugh, get it to sing again, and then laugh some more. NOTE: my sister deserves credit for this weakness and causing me to never sing in front of anyone EVER.

Or, as it is more commonly known, the fear of clowns. This is a hard-one to identify, as having an absence of clown paraphernalia is pretty normal. The only real way to exploit this is to have the party dress up like clowns when adventuring, on the off-chance a random orc will scream ‘Aaaagh! Clowns!’ and run away (granted, you will need to know orcish to figure out why it’s fleeing). As Lon Chaney, Sr. supposedly said "There is nothing funny about a clown in the moonlight."

Fear of Commitment
This particular weakness is generally only found in male monsters, but is fortunately fairly common. Pre-battle, just have the female party members announce that they would like to talk about ‘our future,’ moving in, and meeting said monster’s parents (assuming they haven’t been eaten). With any luck, half of the marauding orc war band will suddenly remember they left the campfire burning and quickly evacuate the area. There is, of course, the danger that there will be the rare goblin that wants a relationship and is perfectly willing to move in and get a cat (and not just for dinner). You should try to let him down easy.

And there it is. GMs, please free to use these in your own campaigns. Once your players catch on, they’ll be running around dressed like clowns, and carrying milkshakes, dictionaries, and solid gold anvils in a vain attempt to actually find a critter that is susceptible. You, obviously, will have a good laugh and beat the snot out of them with creatures vulnerable to pink roses.


Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Homemade Star Wars

This is terribly, terribly cool.

A couple guys did a homemade Star Wars movie and it rocks.



Allergic to Death: Part 1

In most sci-fi and fantasy games, it is not uncommon that a specific critter or race will have some sort of ‘weakness.’ These usually run the gamut from a weakness to cold for fire-based critters, a weakness to flame for cold-based creatures, and a general weakness to being stabbed, shot, or lasered repeatedly for most living organisms.

However, I find that these weaknesses tend to be rather mundane. The aforementioned weakness to cold for fire-based critters has been done to death. If it has flames, tends to use fire/heat, is red in color or dress, lives in Phoenix, or watches CNN, it’s most likely weak to cold.

It’s rather predictable.

So, in the interest of both creating more interesting races and critters and confusing the hell out of the players in my DnD game, I created a list of new and unusual weaknesses that could be exploited . . . er, used, in a gaming environment.

Lactose Intolerant
Rather self-explanatory. The adventuring party just needs to get the critter to eat some sort of giant sundae or drink a milk-shake. Mordenkainen’s Marvelous Milkshake would be most useful when dealing with these critters.

Poor Speller
Only really apropos for intelligent, literate monsters. This particular weakness can be exploited by simply asking them how to spell ‘surreptitious’ at an opportune moment and then sneaking up and stabbing them when they’re consulting a dictionary.

Bad Back
The creatures with this affliction habitually lift with their backs, not their legs. They can easily be defeated by dropping a large, solid-gold anvil near them and then running away. They attempt to pick up the anvil, throw their back out, and then are easy pickings. Beware, though, leader-types may be wearing a +3 Weight Belt of Disc Alignment.

Later:Part 2

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Wayfarer's Moon 1-Year Anniversary: Part 3

This is it, the thrilling conclusion to 'A Picnic With Ponies.'

Do not fear, Leigh and I have decided it would be for the best if we resumed our original responsibilities.

Thanks again for the kind words on our Anniversary!

Normal blogging will resume tomorrow!


Monday, April 21, 2008

Wayfarer's Moon 1-Year Anniversary: Part 2

A big 'thank-you' to everyone who's posted comments and in the forum congratulating us on our 1-year anniversary. We appreciate all your kind words.

Yet, to continue to the celebration, I must inflict another page of 'A Picnic With Ponies' on you. Tune in tomorrow to see the astonishing conclusion!

Friday, April 18, 2008

Wayfarer's Moon 1-Year Anniversary: Part 1

Happy Birthday to us.
Happy Birthday to us.
Happy Birthday, dear Wayfarer's Moon.
Happy Birthday to us.

That is correct! Today marks the 1-year anniversary of Wayfarer's Moon going live.

Some quick statistics:
87 Pages
263 Blog Posts
79 Registered Users on the Forum
90 Threads
1803 Posts
4 Moistened Towelettes
0 Carbs

Leigh and I would like to thank everyone for all the support and compliments we've received over the last year. A special thanks goes to our intrepid forum users, especially Captain Hesperus for having the most posts (and possibly no life), for making the forums a great place to chat.

In honor of that special event, Leigh and I decided to show you what Wayfarer's Moon would have been like if he'd done the writing and I'd done the art.

Behold, the splender and horror of 'A Picnic With Ponies'

Tune in next week for PAGE 2!!!!!

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Vader Being a Jerk

My good buddy Sean sent me the following:

Well, when you're a Lord of the Sith and can strangle people with your mind, how else do you get your kicks?

Also: Tune in tomorrow for a VERY VERY SPECIAL blog. I would add another VERY, but that would silly.


Wednesday, April 16, 2008

MS Excel: Part 1

I’ve been working a lot in Excel lately. It’s a fine, even marvelous program if you know what you’re doing. I sorta know what I’m doing, which means I only occasionally try to perform math functions on sentences.

Which, frankly, would be cool if you could.

However, Excel, despite it wonderfulness, is really boring. It needs some flash, some pizzaz, a bit of ‘je ne sais quoi,’ which is French for ‘albino tuxedo.’

So here are my recommendations for making Excel into the raging spreadsheet monster it was meant to be:

Theme Music
Imagine you’re working in Excel. For those of you actually working in Excel this should be easy. For those of you who have never seen Excel, tape a piece of graph paper to your monitor. This will simulate the experience.

Anyway, you’re working in Excel. You’re filling in columns and rows. Calculations are happening, numbers are popping up. In the background, music slowly begins.

You start working faster as the music picks up tempo. Your fingers fly about the keyboard. Numbers flare into life. Keys are pressed. Cells are filled. The mouse . . . mouses.

And suddenly, the theme from Indiana Jones blares out.

Now, you’re not longer Joe or Jane Smith working on the numbers for the Wilson account. You’re Indiana Jones and you’re fighting Nazis, with Excel!

Every time you tabulate a row, it’s like punching a Nazi in the face. Every time an algorithm is calculated, it’s like swinging across a chasm on a whip. Every time you switch sheets, well, you’re just switching sheets, but it’s cool, ‘cause that’s what Indy would do.

The possibilities are endless. Working on personnel files? Then the Imperial March plays. Computing taxes? Chopin’s Funeral March (or Dirge, or something). All that’s needed is a little imagination.

Later: Naughty Pictures

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

A Friendly Reminder

From: Admiral Janicki
To: All Death Star Personnel
Re: Imperial Taxes

I have been asked to remind all Imperial personnel aboard the Death Star that today is April 15th and all personal taxes are due. In light of last year’s ‘Wookie Deduction’ debacle, the 3rd Imperial Tax Division (the Fighting 1040s) has asked me to pass on the following tax hints:

Cloned Stormtroopers may not claim each other as dependents, even though they are technically related.

Maintenance crews may only deduct one (1) Compacter Monster attack.

If strangled by Lord Vader and are:
Add two (2) to Row F: Near Death Experiences
Add one (1) to Row G: Actual Death Experiences

When computing dependents, droids do not count unless you are legally married to one.

If you are Lord Vader, please mark Box A ‘Sith Do Not Pay Taxes.’ Or not. Really, we’re cool either way.

You will check Box 7F ‘I want one dollar to go to the Emperor’s Party Fund.’ Failure to check this box will result in immediate execution.

When computing dependents, alien parasites only count if they are larger than a standard Stormtrooper helmet.

‘Helmet Hair,’ though a consistent problem for all Imperial troops, is not a valid deduction. ‘Armor Crotch’ is a valid deduction for Stormtroopers only.


Monday, April 14, 2008

The Usual

We're close. We're very, very close. Hopefully, we will finish up all our prep work for the con season this week and we can get back to updating regularly.

Trust me, good things are coming up.


Friday, April 11, 2008

L.U.S.H.: Part 3

“Doesn’t anyone else think that’s rather stupid?” asked Moon Man. “I mean, how come they get to have the spotlight and we . . . well, you, get stuck cleaning gutters or whatever.”

The Stevedore raised his hand. “We don’t actually clean gutters.”

“Or do windows,” added the Hyena. “We never do windows.”

“You never put the seat down either,” said FTL.
The door to the conference room was suddenly flung open. “Hey!” exclaimed the young man in green from the reception desk. “There’s a twenty-car pileup on I-6! It’s all over the news!”

“Cool!” said Moon Man. “Well, no, not cool,” he said, after a second. “Let’s get out there!”

“We can’t,” said Shatter Gal. “That’s strictly League business.”

“Really? And what will happen if we show up anyway?”

The assembled heroes looked at one another.

“Uuuuh,” said the young man in green. “Won’t they beat us up or something?”

“On camera?” asked Moon Man. “They’re going to show up and jump a bunch of heroes who are already helping with the media watching?”

“Well,” said the Hyena. “They could bust us down to H.U.S.H.”

“What’s H.U.S.H.?”

“Horribly Unattractive Super Heroes,” FTL answered. “Hyena used to be there, but then he stopped piddling on the carpet.”

“Well, hell, call them up and we can do this thing together!”

“Even Lardass and Phlegm Bomb?” asked Miss Mist?

“Who- nevermind. Sure. We get everyone out there and if the LSH shows up, we let Hyena drool on them and Mist can lecture them on the evils of beef or something!”

There was a moment of silence, as the assembled heroes looked at one another. Then, with a clatter of chairs, they rose.

“Someone gimme a cell!” shouted Hyena. “I’ll call H.U.S.H.”

“Shotgun!” Stevedore yelled.

In but a moment, the room was empty, save for a few water bottles and a soggy handkerchief. Shatter Gal suddenly burst back into the room and grabbed her purse, digging furiously through it.

“Found ‘em!” she called out, holding her keys up. “To the minivan!”


Thursday, April 10, 2008

Second Time Around

I've posted this link before, but I still keep meeting people who've never heard of Yahtzee or his incredibly hilarious, yet accurate game reviews.

So, I feel it is my duty to put the link up yet again:

He's pretty much the only reviewer I pay any attention to anymore.


Wednesday, April 9, 2008

L.U.S.H.: Part 2

“It’s simple,” said Shatter Gal. “We’re either just not good looking enough or have some particular trait that’s not quite ‘media-worthy.’ So we handle all the jobs that are too small or tedious for the League of Super Heroes.”

“We had a great kitten rescue last week!” FTL burst out. “It was touch-and-go there for a second, but then Stevedore just ripped the tree out of the ground!”

The Stevedore and the Hyena exchanged high-fives, and then the Hyena wiped away the seemingly ever-present drool.

“But you’re not hideous or anything?” said Moon Man. “At worst you’re average. Well, the Hyena’s kinda gross. Sorry,” he added.

“No prob,” said the fur-covered hero, with a wave of his handkerchief.

“That’s very sweet of you,” said Shatter Gal. “But we’re just not cut out for prime-time, so to speak.”

“Why? I mean, what’s wrong with FTL?”

“Cankles,” said the heroine, holding up one leg.


“My powers are fueled by alcohol.” Moon Man stared at him blankly. “I have to get drunk first.”

“Fine. Miss Mist?”

“Militant vegan,” said the young woman. “Meat is murder, if you didn’t know.”

“Okay,” said Moon Man. “But what about you, Shatter Gal? You’re really good-looking!”

Shatter Gal blushed. “I’m . . . ummmm . . . not big enough.”

“I don’t understand.”

“A-cup,” said Miss Mist. “You gotta be at least a D to get into the L.S.H.”

“You can get away with a ‘C,’ but you have to wear a really skimpy outfit,” added FTL.

Later: Part 3!

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

L.U.S.H.: Part 1

Bob ‘Moon Man’ Baker glanced down at the address at the bottom of the letter. He was definitely in the right place, but the modest office complex somehow didn’t look like the headquarters of the most powerful superhero collective on the planet.

He went into #201 and found a modest office front and a young man in green tights sitting at the desk. This seemed more like it.

“Hey there!” said the young man, glancing up from his game of FreeCell.

“Hi. I’m Bob- er ‘Moon Man.’ I got a letter about joining.” He held up the sheet of paper, showing the embossed logo.

“Great, we’ve been expecting you.” The receptionist pressed a button under the counter and the door popped open. “Go right on in, first door on the left.”


“No problem.”

Bob went through the door and turned left. The hallway was decorated with a variety of newspaper clippings with titles like ‘Hero Saves Cat’ and ‘Tire Changed at Super Speed!’ He found the first door and after taking a deep breath, entered.

It was a small meeting room, with half-a-dozen people in various superhero outfits sitting around the table. The conversation stopped when he entered and everyone turned to look at him.

“Uh . . . hi,” Bob said. “I’m ‘Moon Man.’”

“Hi, Moon Man,” replied the woman at the head of the table, as she rose. She was slim, but rather pretty, with a big ‘SG’ on the front of her black unitard. “I’m Shatter Gal, president of the North-East chapter of L.U.S.H.” She shook his hand with surprising strength.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” She gestured around the table. “I’ll let everyone else introduce themselves.”

“Miss Mist,” said a teenage girl in blue.

“The Hyena,” said the man next to her, who looked just like his name suggested.

“The Stevedore,” said a burly man in a plaid shirt.

“FTL,” said the next woman, who was dressed in gold and red.

“Super Soaker,” burbled the last man, who seemed to continuously perspiring.

“Please, take a seat,” said Shatter Gal, gesturing to an open chair.

“Thanks.” Moon Man sat down. “Ummm, I don’t know how to say this, but I’m a little confused. I thought I was joining the League of Super Heroes.”

There were a couple chuckles from around the table.

“We all were, dude,” said the Hyena, who then wiped at the drool that dripped from his muzzle.

“Let me explain,” said Shatter Gal. “We’re L.U.S.H. The League of Unattractive Super Heroes.”

Moon Man stared at her for a moment. “Okay, now I’m really confused.”

Tomorrow: Part II. Same L.U.S.H. Time! Same L.U.S.H. Channel!

Monday, April 7, 2008


Things have been rather slow, but still amazingly busy around Wayfarer's Moon. Leigh is still up to his eyeballs in Photoshop trying to get Issues #2 and #3 ready for printing so we have something to show at the cons. I'm swamped at work right now, but am trying to get Issue #5 done in a timely fashion.

Really, not much happening. Seriously.

. . .

I did laundry.

It wasn't evil laundry or anything (though my shorts were present), just regular ol' laundry. It didn't for my jugular or pull a knife, it just kind of . . . oscillated.

Like I said, not very exciting.

I'll put up something fun tomorrow.


Friday, April 4, 2008

Last Words: Part 2

“Dad got mad at me one day and threw Poofy in the lake. I was, of course, heartbroken and ran to my mother, but she just looked at me funny and said ‘Rocks can’t drown.’”

“I eventually got another dog. A real, proper dog. At least, I thought he was.” Arklebar shrugged. “I didn’t find out dogs normally had four legs ‘till I was thirteen. He also foamed at the mouth and walked into trees. In retrospect, he was probably rabid, so I can understand why he ‘disappeared.’” Arklebar made ‘quote marks’ with his hands. “That was the best New Year’s dinner ever.”

Bryl stared at his enemy. “Are you completely, barking mad?”

“Hmmmm . . . maybe,” the defeated king said, after a moment’s reflection. “Eventually, I noticed girls. There was one, her name was-“

“Hold it!” Bryl advanced, his sword point moving to within inches of Arklebar’s throat. “I don’t have time for anymore stupid stories! You die! Now!”

Arklebar pushed the tip of the sword away. “Wait a minute! You said ‘last words!’ Not ‘last word’ or ‘last paragraph’ or ‘kindly sum up your existence in a haiku!’ You practically demanded my last words and now you’re getting them! Besides, you’re supposed to be the good guy! What will all the other good guys think down at the good guy tavern if you went and offed me mid-soliloquy?”

The sword wavered. “Well, just hurry it up. Skip to the end or something.”

Arklebar took a deep breath. “Let’s see,” he began. “Girls, school, more girls, arson, petty theft, robbery, a brief stint at Madame Via’s School of Dance- to meet girls,“ he said pointedly. “Moving up to thuggery, murder, and eventual domination of the kingdom of Uburia.”

“Done?” Bryl said.

“Almost. I haven’t gotten around to the bit where I invested heavily in magical healing.”

“Ah, then- wait, what?”

Arklebar smiled. “It’s called Ginormous Heal!”

A dazzling white light enveloped Arklebar. The young Lord Faringdoyle staggered backwards, his hands going up to shield his eyes. By the time they cleared, Arklebar already had his helmet back on and was picking up his sword.

“I believe,” he said calmly. “It’s your turn for last words.”

The young hero stared. “Catnuts!”

Arklebar considered that. “I liked mine better,” he said and then advanced.


Thursday, April 3, 2008


And today, we have the wonders of movies in 30-seconds. With bunnies.

Some of these are truly hysterical.


Wednesday, April 2, 2008

An Announcement: Part II

I actually got a worried piece of email from yesterday's blog about us shutting down the site, so let me reassure everyone that Wayfarer's Moon is not going anywhere. That was just an April Fool's joke.


However, out of curiousity, I looked up 'April Fools' Day' on Wikipedia and learned that nobody seems to know how it got started. It's just one of those weird little things that probably made complete sense when it began, but is now just a tradition.

Sort of like Larking Day, when you bury a fish (preferably freshwater) in your yard, spread playing cards atop it and then throw lard at the cards while firing guns into the air. Y'know, Larking Day.

Note: Larking Day is completely made up.

However, on a serious note, Leigh is busy getting the comic ready for our print order and has not had time to get a page done this week, though there should be one up next week.

Note: Larking Day would totally rock.


Tuesday, April 1, 2008

An Announcement

It is with heavy heart, mainly from the cheeseburger I had last night, that I must announce that Wayfarer’s Moon will be on indefinite hiatus.

We (Leigh and I) have basically just come to a crossroads in our careers. I want to go left, he wants to go right, the car’s out of gas, and both of us need to pee.

For a long time, Leigh has dreamt of travelling America, bringing hope and aid to the downtrodden, the friendless, and the slightly sticky. He plans on wandering the highways and back roads, and using his formidable art skills to better the lives of those he meets. How exactly this is going to work is unknown, but probably something like this:

“Well, our house has been repossessed by the cruel and vindictive sheriff, the barn’s burned down, the well’s been filled with instant oatmeal, and the crops have failed.”

“It’ll be okay, pop. That portly stranger left us this piece of paper!”

“Is it the deed to our house or proof that the mayor’s corrupt?”

“Nope, it’s a picture of a busty woman in a chainmail bikini with an axe.”


As for me, now that I’ve finally reached puberty, I plan on giving up the soloist position in the boy’s choir and striking out to seek my fortune in Hollywood. I don’t have any actual talents or skills, aside from juggling women’s shoes, but I feel confident that I can find something along the lines of Executive Producer.


P.S. April Fools (obviously)