Doug TenNapel’s Creature Tech is, as the title implies, something of a different creature when it comes to graphic novels. It starts off with bizarre monsters, mad scientist, and demons, but before it is over, it touches on cosmic reality and various responses of many people to meaning and society. Creature Tech isn’t one of those so-called “Christian” comics such as the late Jack Chick used to publish. Mr. Chick wouldn’t have approved of the aliens, the weird phenomena, the faux miracles, or the recurring themes of demons and a “shroud of Turin” that was resurrecting the dead without regard for the just and the unjust. But Doug TenNapel gets in a few good points to those who are prejudiced against Christianity. But, let’s consider the story.
The prologue is about a mad scientist luring giant space eels toward his observatory so that he can prove their existence to his skeptical friends. Things don’t end well, but the scientist who sacrificed part of his body to conjure a demon is able to show up over a century later to become the antagonist for the chief scientist at a small research station. If you think of a cross between X-Files and Warehouse 13, you get the picture. The job is to open crates (I suppose our protagonist is one of the “top men” the government told Indiana Jones would be looking into the Ark of the Covenant.) in a specified order, categorize them, and neutralize any danger.
There is plenty of humor involved. I particularly enjoyed the part where a maladjusted space mantis befriends a couple of “good ole boys.” Seeing the three of them going hunting and fishing together is worthy of more than one chuckle. The nice thing about this secondary story element was that it demonstrated in humor how ridiculous racial/cultural prejudice is and how even very different “people” can find common ground if they’re willing. I also liked the bizarre explanation given for the San Joaquin Valley’s existence (MUCH more interesting than the San Andreas Fault or some “tectonic” theory!).
One gets the feeling that part of this story is semi-autobiographical. Oh, I don’t think Doug works for a secret government operation (although, he did work for Spielberg for a while, so maybe he was one of those “top men”), but he was raised in the conservative Christian denomination represented by the father in the story and he was raised in Denair, California—very close to Turlock (a town in the San Joaquin Valley). As part of the irony, the research facility in the story is in Turlock and our protagonist didn’t want to go back. Last time I was there, Doug’s The Neverhood design studio was in Orange County, so I suspect he didn’t want to go back there, either.
Apologies to my cousins who still live there, but I wouldn’t want to go back to the San Joaquin Valley, either. (Hey! Didn’t the American Graffitti characters escape from Modesto in the SJV?) Our scientific protagonist seems to have trouble getting along with the townspeople. He really dislikes an old fraud who runs a Museum of the Weird, a tourist trap which seems like one of those sideshow rip-offs at the state fair (“See the incredible three-headed squirrel! Nature’s miracle!”). Of course, this “museum” specializes in such things as pastries with the face of Jesus and phony “space” artifacts. Naturally, one of those artifacts plays a special role in the plot.
The faith/science tension in the story is exacerbated by the “scientist’s” father’s role as the minister of the conservative, evangelical church in the town. At one point in the story, the scientist has done everything he can do for a bug-eyed space alien (even using duct tape for the emergency, since duct tape fixes anything) and calls his father in to pray for the being. The father prays, the being goes to bug heaven and is shown a sign with the Hebrew verb for returning or turning around. Visually, this is stunning. When the space alien returns, the father gives credit to God and the scientist, predictably, suddenly gives credit to the duct tape. So, real in my experience with regard to those who must have either/or in their lives.
Another moving moment was when the protagonist is asked to join “The Brotherhood” in order to fight these demonic manifestations. “The Brotherhood” is formed of beings of all kinds. And the deciding factor for him appears to be an alien creature being crucified on a slightly different cross. I liked that a lot. I’ve always maintained that if there are aliens in outer space and if they were subject to the entropic tendency to sin that humankind is, God would be willing to rescue them in the same way. God would become alien in order to live and die for their sins. I know that’s strange, but people who really know me are aware that I am strange. I’m just glad to see that Doug is there, too.
My favorite line in the book is somewhat related to this idea. The scientist is talking to a colleague he considers to be one of the smartest people he knows. So, in a very patronizing way, he asks the colleague how he could be so dumb in believing in God and suggests that the number of “dumb” Christians shows that they aren’t rational. The colleague answers, “That’s a straw man! There are dumb atheists, too! You know that. You’ve been to university!”
No, Doug. The late Jack Chick would not have approved, but as a minister (and successful player of The Neverhood) in another evangelical denomination than yours, I do approve. Your lines about Christianity come honestly from where you are. You don’t force anyone to agree with you but you give your readers plenty to think about. I’m mighty sure your Lord approves, too.
Creature Tech would be fun even without the faith portion and the love interest I didn’t even cover, but with the faith and the romance, it does what great comedy and great stories do—it tells the truth.