If you do, congratulations. You're one of the lucky few who didn't have their brains fried by sheer awesome. We thank you for your devotion and are glad to see that whatever correctional institute and/or psychiatric hospital you currently call home allows you to have internet access. Good for you!
If you don't, congratulations. You really dodged a bullet there. Now please stand still while we reload.
WHAT IS RFU?
A question a child might ask, but not a childish question. Once upon a time, four lowly schmucks wrote a series called RFU, a masterpiece of mediocrity and shame that spanned the whole of space and time, telling tales of love, loss, humor, action, and kicking Nazis in the face. Mostly that last part. But there was more to RFU than just kicking Nazis in the face. There was also kicking Nazis in the balls, punching Nazis in the face, stabbing Nazis in the face, shooting Nazis in the face, setting Nazis on fire, having Nazis be violated by giant genetically altered fire ants... we covered all the bases. A significant amount of Nazi-killin', I guess that's what I'm getting at here. It was basically just glorified fanfiction, but it was fun. People liked it.
Time passed. The four schmucks went on to more "legitimate" projects, and RFU died an inglorious death when they all went away for the weekend and forgot to leave any food in its bowl. It was then buried in a shallow grave in the garden next to Fluffy - poor, poor Fluffy - and the saga of RFU came to an end.
Anyway, those four schmucks I mentioned? I'm one of 'em. Name's Jack Barton. Some folks call me Weasel. Together, we are Porch Time Productions, and we have something of a problem...
THE SCAM BEGINS...
So a few months back, the four of us are all just chilling out on the porch - hence the name - when suddenly three guys in pointy hats show up talking all kinds of craziness about magic and the apocalypse and supervillains and blah blah blah blah blah. Whatever. Same thing happened in RFU, so we just figure they're psycho fans or cosplayers or something. They're willing to pay us to come to their "universe", which we assume is either some kind of convention or a windowless van where they're gonna do some sick stuff to us. Either way, it's a good way to kill an afternoon, so we agree.
An hour later, we're in an actual factual alternate universe and the Pointy Hat Guys are seriously expecting us to, y'know, do stuff. Anyone who knows us knows that doing stuff is not our strong suit, so we spend the next few weeks stringing the PHGs along instead. We got money, a nice house, and nice stuff to fill it with. The other guys even got some superpowers out of the deal. I kinda got shafted on that one, but I did get them to put a Dr. Pepper dispenser in my car, which is pretty badass. The point is, we took those suckers for all they were worth, figuring that we'd live it up on their dime until they'd eventually realize their mistake and just boot us back home.
That... kinda came back to bite us in the ass.
...AND IMMEDIATELY BACKFIRES.
We've now been in what we're calling the RFUniverse for eight months. The PHGs are refusing to let us go back home until we repay them for everything we mooched off of them, which is pretty much impossible. So against our will, we actually have to do our jobs and save the world if we don't want to die in the same fiery apocalypse as everyone else. This is troublesome because, as I said, we are schmucks.
I got thrown out of a plane last week. There's currently a guy with superspeed in my living room playing video games with a telekinetic Jewish supervillain who's tried to kill me twice in the past 72 hours. He crashes on our couch sometimes. My pyromaniac best friend has killed Adolf Hitler no less than eighteen times. Killed me once too. It was weird. There's a gay superspy reading all my emails and an FBI agent rifling through our garbage. Our dog talks, a time-travelling douchebag is trying to erase the children that we don't even have yet, and I'm fairly certain our furnace is haunted. This is my life now.
Please, for the sake of my sanity, help me make a comic about it.
RFU LIVES, APPARENTLY.
And we live in it now, I guess. Might as well share the story. The PHGs cut off our funding, so we need your help to make this book happen. I went on the Craigslist looking for an artist and hired the first person who didn't try to murder or molest me. Later on, we found out he could also draw, so that worked out pretty well. His name is Steve Bentley, and his work kicks ass. Check it out.
PHOENIX! A man who believes that the shortest distance between two points is the Road of the Fist. His fist. In your face. With punching.
BRYLLIN! Throwing lightning from his hands like a mighty black Zeus! Y'know who else was once a mighty black Zeus? Samuel L. Jackson. Die Hard With A Vengeance. You wanna cross that man? No? Didn't think so.
INFERNO! Given the opportunity, he would set your junk on fire and then stomp it out. Only by contributing to our Kickstarter will your man and/or lady parts be safe.
WEASEL! I... don't actually really merit the Caps Lock, to be honest. I'm just some guy. I got nice hair, I guess? That's almost like a super power. For narcissists.
HITZER! Adolf Hitler with alien superpowers. Also, he can't die. He's a jackass and we hate him. You should too.
CALEB! Our handsome Hebrew homeboy. He says he's only working with Hitzer so he can kill him eventually. Personally, I think it's for the dental plan.
KING! Of all the people who've tried to kill me lately, this lunatic is totally my favorite.
VIOLET! Violence is her middle name. Literally. Violet Violence Valance. I love it for being so damn Silver Age-y, but hate it for about a million other reasons. She cute though.
As I understand it, this world used to have plenty of superheroes. Too many, in fact. Caleb and King were just two chumps trying to make a name for themselves by making the good guys in the Liberty Brigade look like idiots. They wanted to embarrass the good guys and make a name for themselves as the world's greatest villains. They succeeded. Boy, did they ever succeed. Suffice it to say, the Brigade no longer exists and about a hundred super guys were accidentally made deadsies. The bad guys won. And based on how much time they spend hanging out in my damn living room, I don't think they know what the hell they're supposed to do next. It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock n' roll, but where do you go once you get up there?
But I'm getting off topic. Hundreds of bad guys, no more good guys. The Pointy Hats figured that the complete destruction of all the world's superheroes was PROBABLY A BAD THING. So they came to us. Which was ALSO PROBABLY A BAD THING. They are bad at this. They are bad at protecting their world. Bad. Bad bad bad.
So now we have to beat up Nazis every day. Psychic spies. Alien warlords. Robot mages. Murderous marathon hosts. Multiversal hipsters. Also a chef for some reason. Still not entirely sure what that one was about. But that's life here. Let me tell you all about it in comic form.
Every issue features two stories ripped from the pages of our stupid shitty lives. The first story is RFU, all about the three raging jackasses who I call my best friends as they do battle with the forces of evil. And logic. And common decency. And each other. The second is a flashback to one year ago, when our malevolent pals Caleb and the King decided to take on the forces of good. And also logic. And also common decency. And - yes, once again - each other.
Aside from RFU #1, we're publishing this book in a digital only format. It keeps costs way down and lets us keep making the comics you (hopefully) love. It also lets us make the stories as long as we please. No need to jack up the price if we wanna give you more pages! But the purists among you shouldn't fret, because we're still going to collect each story arc in physical trade paperbacks. So digital for the month-by-monthers and physical for the trade-waiters. We'll give you RFU any way you like it. We're bringing fun back. We're bringing love back. We're bringing RFU back.
THE WORLD IS A MESSED UP PLACE.
There are wars and guns and hate and punk kids on skateboards with the rap musics. Don't you just wanna feel good again? Do you even remember what fun is like anymore? Aren't you tired of the universe stomping all over the crotches of our hearts on a daily basis? You want funny-ass comics. We want to make them for you. It's win-win. We just need a hand.
What's so funny 'bout peace, love, and understanding?
And I drop the mic.
Have a question?
If the info above doesn't help, you can ask the project creator directly.
All that, plus a second physical copy with an alternate cover only available through Kickstarter. That's double rare! That's more rare than a leprechaun nailing a unicorn, although I've actually seen that twice now. This universe is weird, man.
Do you read your comics month to month, or are you one of those people who waits on the trade? No need to choose, chum! Aside from all the stuff I already mentioned, you'll get a copy of our first trade paperback, collecting all five issues in a handy dandy format! Read it on the bus! Read it on the can! Loan it to your friends, provided you washed your hands after reading it on the can, because... come on, man. That's just a sanitary issue. Don't be gross.
Getting into the good stuff here! I like! All of the above, of course, but we're also throwing in A Brief History of the RFUniverse, a production guide that will only be available through this Kickstarter! It includes the script to issue one with notations, sketches, excerpts from earlier versions, character profiles, and a detailed history of both the book's production and the world in which it's set.
So where do we stand with your goodies so far? Let's review. You're getting our acknowledgement of how much ass you kick. A physical copy of RFU #1. A second copy of RFU #1 with the exclusive cover. Digital versions of the first five issues. The first trade paperback. A Brief History of the RFUniverse. Maybe also a firm handshake and a pat on the back. Definitely some major love and good karma heading in your direction. That's pretty great. That's a good, solid package right there (which may or may not be what she said.) But how do you show the world how awesome you are? You just gonna carry that Special Thanks page around 24/7 and rub it in everyone's face? No. Come on. That's lame. Do it with pizzazz. Do it with style. Do it in a Crimson King hoodie. Our lovably insane pal has graciously agreed to let us use his logo on a snazzy blood-red hooded sweatshirt that will let you show the world your RFU love no matter where you are. Treat yo' self!
Daaaaamn, fancypants. Let's get a little bit weird here. All of the above (duh) as well as a ceramic Crimson King mask that will let you look just as creepy as the man himself. Possibly more so. You also get The RFU Tarot, a full deck of cards that will let you tell vague and non-specific fortunes for all your friends with a funky fresh RFU style! Not a fortune telling type of guy? Stick em' in the spokes of your bike! Rank up your Social Links! Or just look at the purdy pictures!
Hey, big spender! How much ass do you kick? Quite a bit. But now it's time to get YOUR ASS kicked. Aside from all that other wonderful junk, you're going to actually appear in RFU #1! Sure, you're going to get your teeth kicked in by our kinda-sorta-heroes, but you'll have a whole buncha comics to read while you're recuperating, as well as an "I was in RFU and all I got was this stupid severe head trauma." t-shirt!
You're like a damn superhero to us. Now be one for the rest of the world too. Join the Brigade. You'll be a full-fledged member of the world's premier group of costumed do-gooders. Your name, your face. We'll design the character to your specifications and you'll go on to appear in issues #2 through #5 of RFU. Then you'll... uh, well... you'll die. Horribly. Very awkward. But your memory will live on! You'll get a nice print of the panel in which you die, signed by the artist! Screw it, we'll sign everything you want! Want your comics signed? Your trade? Your King mask? We'll autograph the hell out of any rewards you want (or none of them, if that's how you roll). You deserve it, champ. We'll also throw in a personalized Porch Time Productions hockey jersey to commemorate the occasion. The only other way to get one is to actually be a part of our crew. It's the least we can do to make up for the whole, uh, dying thing. Again, super sorry about that. It's Caleb's fault. I'll go yell at him over it right now. (Please note that this reward does NOT include the cameo appearance in RFU #1. You only live once. Twice if you're 007.)