These are some rough concepts for a Comic I am currently working on with my good friend Sam Coleman,  find out more about him here- http://ambercloud.blogspot.co.uk/

group project.

We are now quite far into the group project and after a talk with a director at Ardman (who will remain anonymous) we found ourselves confused, in a rut and at a loss of what to do. I then went back to the drawing board and started to compile out ideas into a single beautiful and delicate idea. which basically consisted of me getting rid of almost everyone else's contributions (not because they are bad but this is just what I would do if I had full control and it was my vision) and just fine tuning some of my own, except the new scene where Dave wakes up which is either the Ardman directors idea or Jack's I don't recall who said it originally but it is a really good idea regardless. so this is it- if I had full direction over the project this is what I would make, and I'll propose this to the group because I like it so much, and they can take it or leave it.

what would my perfect story have been-

flashback to childhood. show dave wake up, put on his glasses, put on the kettle maybe put on a record. and then open the curtains revealing a cityscape with many super beings flying around. then he’d sit down with his tea and just look out the window and watch them. then it would fade to white.
that is all i would do.
and it would all be in an overexposed grayscale.

oh and this is the revised script i’d use, only the last two lines are different.

FLY- the script to Mundave (REVISED)

The world burns in obnoxious fumes.
I was born in an antiseptic womb.
Mrs. Stamford would make me costumes
and i’d pretend to fly.
and my mother told me, when you're older,
thats when you can worry about flying.
At school i worried in the opposite direction.
And watched the others and their superhuman reflections.
The world turned once. The world turned twice and i was old.
And i never flew but acceptance is another word for growing up.
And i’m alone. But the world watches, and pokes me sometimes.
Chokes me sometimes.
I’m very sick but the morning will break soon.
And the world burns in obnoxious fumes.
I’ve lived behind malignant bars
but tonight, will fly amongst the glittering  stars.