Vitiators – Elytron Frass & Charles N.
Reality and manga meld as one under the influence of a grinding meta-feud between a once beloved mangaka and his outraged fanbase. Expat Press presents Vitiators by Elytron Frass and Charles N.: a satiric metafictional atrocity in graphic novel form. Vitiators openly invites its readers to become complicit in the psycho-delic celebration of its gore eroded exploits and offenses.
If you committed suicide your family would find this book in your room and judge you. Vitiators proves that a God exists, but it doesn’t love us.
— Jimmy ScreamerClauz
Cyber-demon Horacio Quiroga exquisite corpsed between Mike Diana and Moebius, the enigmatic blueprints for hell blood-jetted from a nightmare Borges refused to transcribe, an arterial splint behind the eye, ophiolatreia personified.
— Sean Kilpatrick
Elytron Frass splatters out his own Book of Disquiet, a dissenting fairy tale, in which the artist ejaculates their own apocalypse. Within each page is a goregrind slam death metal record drawn in screaming monochrome by Charles N. A Junji Ito-inspired wet dream that’s as comedic as it is bizarre. Rip your corpse apart in awe of this spiritual behemoth of shapeshifting sludge.
— Damien Ark
A comic designed by a mad A.I. infected by an Euro-Guro virus asked to retell the story of the creation of man.
— Alexander Kattke
A miscreation of all that went south of heaven as life paced amorphously on, a fathomless CERN leak, Vitiators reflexively busts every genre, unnerves you as its ironclad oath, cracking its knuckles over extradimensional bloodbaths. Honor us as we work wonders by the appetent urgency of our hunger. Vitiators is a graphic novel labored over for years and lapidarily refined to each granular detail, a sordid, sobering gift to the humanities. It surrounds a cataclysm upheaving the world with grievous consequences. Masks off, human nature runs untrammeled with insidious pathology and perversion. A harbinger of the coming crises of revelation, it is solemn and severe with indignity, privation and despair. It is a story written while the world was on fire and hasn’t stopped burning. Born under a bad sign, it is the excruciating unraveling of collective sanity and interpersonal infrastructure. Its satirical bent will leave you cackling. It is a righteous polemic against corruption we must all by conceit of social contract be complicit in and answerable to. Judge not lest ye be judged pitilessly by a featureless non-arbiter. It is the collapse vanishingly contrite around the bend, always just past. Whatever it is, it already is. It’s finally here. Black and white has never looked so lurid. Gore sears itself in a synapse firing while everyone you love gets railroaded. Such a horrific grand pageant of abjection has never issued a reveille so startling. Far from some Edenic ideal of ourselves, far from grace, a holocenic rude awakening to bring the status quo water carriers prostrate repenting as dust settles into compassion fatigue. A gruesome excoriation of internecine wrath with madcap high profile crimes against humanity a laugh riot. Elytron Frass & Charles N. take no shade of grey for granted.
8×11″. 250 pages perfect-bound. Illustrated by Charles N. from a script by Elytron Frass. Ships July 29th or sooner. PREORDER.