#Superhero Analysis

[ballinandcantgetup452]

Can we stop calling The Punisher a hero?

I'm sick and tired of the glorification of The Punisher. Frank Castle is a sick man whose happy place is being in a war and it doesn't really matter what or who he's warring against. He never started this crusade for revenge. If it was for revenge, then he would've gone home like 3 weeks in to Punishering it up.

Frank Castle is not a hero. He’s not some tough-as-nails, misunderstood anti-hero. He’s not some tough teeth gritting vigilante with a heart of gold. You're thinking of Wolverine. No, he’s a murderer. Plain and simple. That’s his whole thing. That’s what he does. That’s all he does. He doesn’t fight for justice, he doesn’t save people; he kills. And yet, people still put him on this twisted pedestal, like he’s the symbol of the moral gray and justification. And I’m so sick of it.

Yeah, sure, this is the Marvel Universe, where logic bends, where guys in tights throw buildings and teenagers can swing between skyscrapers like it’s no big deal. Ethics get fuzzy when you have gods and mutants and billionaire playboys. But what Frank does goes beyond all of that. Because Frank Castle is a bad man. A sick man. A man whose entire life is wrapped up in a never-ending war he never really wanted to end.

He lives in a van or warehouse full of guns and weapons, and he’s still out there, free, because he's too violent, too ruthless for anyone to deal with. Nobody stops him. Nobody can truly stop him. Not because he's some anti-hero with a tragic backstory. Once again, you're thinking of Wolverine. It's because he's a walking, talking, killing machine who’ll unload a clip in your face before you even think about it. People think he’s a badass. They think he’s cool. No. He’s a psychopath. A man who is only happy and defines himself by being in the middle of a war.

Don’t get me wrong; I like the character. I really do. But, I read his comics the way you might watch a true crime documentary about Jeffrey Dahmer. You’re not rooting for Dahmer. You’re horrified by him. But you’re fascinated. You’re trying to understand what makes a person tick when their clock is so broken. That’s The Punisher. There’s something raw, something almost cathartic about watching one man wage his own war against crime with no empathy, no mercy, just a hell of a lot of ultraviolence. And yeah, everyone gets in that mood every once in a while.

But here’s what gets me: people out there, actual people, glorify this. They paint his skull on their cars, their jackets, their walls. They act like he’s some kind of symbol of tough love or real justice. But Frank Castle would hate that. He’s said it himself — "Captain America would love to have you. I would not." He despises anyone who sees him as a role model because he knows what he is. He’s not confused. He’s not conflicted. He’s not trying to be a better person. One more time, you're thinking of Wolverine. Frank Castle is a monster.

And he knows it.

So let’s call it out. Call out the people who put Frank Castle on a pedestal like he’s something to aspire to. You wanna read a tough teeth gritting vigilante? Go read Frank Miller’s Batman or Daredevil. You want someone morally gray, someone who actually grapples with the weight of what they do? Check out Moon Knight. But if you want to peer into the mind of a deeply broken, deeply dangerous man, then yeah, read The Punisher. Just don’t fool yourself into thinking he’s anything other than what he is: a guy who likes to kill people, who lives to kill people, and who’s damn good at it.

Frank Castle is not a hero. And he never will be.

[importantangeldefendor]

Batman is interesting as a superhero because he is one of the only superheroes I know about that like. Went out of thier way to become a superhero?

Before his parents died he was effectively a normal rich human kid.

Like 99.99% of superhero fiction the mc is a special person who decides to become a superhero because of shenanigans.

Spiderman didn't go and get bit by a spider to become Spiderman, that shit kind of happened and now he has a responsibility to help others.

The tragedy of batman is that "become a superhero" Is a abysmal ideal that Bruce Wayne had the ability to achieve.

[artbyblastweave]

A few years ago, there was a thread on r/asksciencefiction where someone was fishing for a superhero story with an inverted Omni-Man dynamic, or a setting where Homelander's initial presentation is played straight- a setting where the Superman figure actually is the paragon of morality he's initially presented as, but no other superhero is- a situation where you've got one really competent true-blue hero standing head-and-shoulders in power above what's otherwise a complete nest of vipers.

Someone in the thread floated My Hero Academia; while I haven't read it, my understanding is that that's not really an accurate read of what's going on with Stain's neurosis about All-Might being the only "real hero," that the point of that arc is that Stain's got an insane and unreasonable standard and that taking an endorsement deal, while bad, isn't actually grounds for execution. My own contribution to the thread was Gail Simone's Welcome to Tranquility, where a major part of the backstory involved the faux Justice-League's Superman analogue having a little accident because he's the only one who thought they were morally obligated to go public with the secret life-extending macguffin that the rest of the team is using to enforce comic-book time on themselves and their loved ones; while only a couple members of the team are directly in on it, the rest are conveniently incurious. And Jupiter's Legacy gets tantalizingly close to this- The Utopian, a well-meaning stick-in-the-mud, ultimately gets blindsided and couped by his scheming brother who creates a superhero junta staffed by a Kingdom-Come-style glut of third-gen superheroes, who are framed as fundamentally self-interested because only came onto the scene after most of the situations you legitimately need a superhero to handle have been neutralized. (The rub, of course, is that the comic is also highly critical of the Utopian's intellectually incurious self-righteously 'apolitical' approach to superheroism- if for no other reason than that it left him in a position to get blindsided by a coup!) While Jupiter's Legacy gets the closest, all three of these are only loosely orbiting around the spirit of the original idea, and there's something really interesting there- particularly if the Superman figure isn't hopelessly naive in the same way as Utopian. Because first of all, if you're Metaman or Amazingman or whatever brand-name alias the writer goes with, and you really earnestly mean it, and you put together a team of all the other most powerful heroes on earth in order to pool your resources, and then with dawning horror you gradually begin to realize that everyone in the room besides yourself is a fascist or a con artist or abuser or any other variant of a kid with a magnifying glass eyeing that anthill called Earth- What the hell is your next move?

Do you just call the whole thing off? Can you trust that they'll actually go home if you call the whole thing off? I mean you've put the idea in their heads, are you sure that they aren't going to, like, start the Crime Syndicate in your absence? Do you stick around to try and enact containment, see if getting all of these people on a team makes them easier to keep on a leash? But that's functionally going to make you their enabler pretty quickly, right? Overlooking "should you kill them-" can you kill them? You're stronger than any individual one of them- are you stronger than all of them? The first time one of them really crosses a line in a way you can't ignore- will that be a one-on-one fight? Are they the kind of people capable of putting two-and-two together and pre-emptively ganging up on you if you push back too hard? Do you just start trying to get them killed, or keep them at each other's throats so they can't coordinate anything really nasty? Can you squeeze any positive moral utility out of them, or is that just a way to justify not doing the hard work of taking them down? There've been works where the conceit is to question the default assumption that Superman in specific would be a good person, and there've been works where the conceit is to question the default assumption that superheroes in general would be good people. Something to be done, I think, with questioning the default assumption that everyone Superman becomes professionally close to would be good, and to explore how he'd handle it if they weren't.

[gojosbf]

i know many people are complaining about megumi '"living for someone else" instead of himself part but you've got to understand that there is no right or wrong way to get over depression, it effects different people differently. while i would've loved seeing megumi get his revenge and be a total badass but i also understand this plot choice. one doesn't cure their mental health and go on to conquer it's cause immediately, so i get it.

this is his first step towards himself because while he phrased the choice as "to live for someone else" he did have to choose to not give up on himself to get here. this is only the beginning, he will get there, he is still recovering from all the trauma but slowly and surely he will learn to live for himself, give it time.

[gayofthefae]

I just realized something so sweet and personal about Will's painting.

Their DnD characters don't look like that. We saw him draw them plenty in season 1. Will the Wise has a long beard and Mike's character I think has straight blond hair.

Will didn't just draw their characters per usual, he drew them as their characters. He's drawn Mike's knight character a hundred times. But he's never drawn Mike as a knight. He was understanding that Mike's character is a projection of who he aims to be, like all of them, so he drew MIke as the knight this time. For the first time.

That's what this smile is. Mike has played a hero for years. But he's never been one. He saw a dragon and probably expected his character, overjoyed with more of Will's familiar art, but instead, he was met with a glorious knight in shining armor with black, wavy hair. He was the hero this time. *(you can even see his facial expression change from happy excitement to this broad smile)

In season 1, Mike initiates the search party because of Will's heroics in DnD meaning that he would do it for them. He acknowledges that Will's actions in character are still his own. This is the same. This is Will saying "To play a hero, you have to be one yourself. And you are. I see through your character disguise. I see you. This is just the hero you've always been without the mask."

THAT is why it's different. THAT is why it's so much more personal than all the others, not just the heart, MIKE. THAT is why it hurts so bad (Will too but I'm referring to me/us).

I've said in a previous post that it wasn't about the heart, the heart was kind of for us, it was more-so about the heroism. And that's exactly what I standby. The heart isn't the only new thing about this painting. The hero has never actually been Mike before. And Will responded "Yes it has been. It always has been."

[cyanidespideycup]

I think a lot of people conflate superheroes as a whole to specifically Batman when it comes to the importance of a life. It makes sense, supers are meant to be put on pedestals and represent what we should all aspire to be. But it's weird when this gets applied to Spidey.

Just like everything else with Peter, he is a regular guy. Other superheros represent what we should aspire to be, but Spidey represents what we can be. He cares for every life. He hopes to give everybody a second chance. But if someone asks for it, Pete will beat their fucking skull in.

When his cop/detective friend Jean DeWolff was murdered, he hunted the man down and physically fought his way past Daredevil to kill the guy and ended up beating him within an inch of his life. When Kingpin got May shot, Peter broke into his prison, effortlessly beat him to a smear, and then promised that when May died, not if, he'd come back and finish the job- violently. There are just countless instances of him deciding "I'm actually going to kill him now totally" with Norman. Most notably of course is the glider incident, which Peter didn't actually go to with the intent to kill (weirdly enough despite Gobby killing his fiance). However, he took pleasure in beating him senseless and wasn't exactly broken up by the final thud.

Peter's a guy who meets every situation with the intent to help someone. He tries to find every opportunity to help another person, even someone who's trying to kill him, even if it's at his own detriment. He's not a perfect manifestation of morals and purity. He's just some guy. Some guy who cares a whole lot for people. And that makes it all the more special when he does help someone. When he talks a girl off a roof, or inspires a kid to be better than the system set him up for, or befriends his own rogues. It all feels so much more personal. This is just a person, one of us. Someone who fails more often than not, who makes bad jokes and gets angry and feels hate and love and pain all at once and most of all, someone who tries his best no matter what.

[kacievvbbbb]

I need someone that believes in magic to get ahold of Batman again. He is an overly serious man that runs around in an admitted bat suit fighting a gimmick rouge gallery. And he is doing it because he sincerely believes in a better tomorrow and somewhere along the way we have lost the plot. Batman wasn’t created to punish the guilty that is actually completely antithetical to his beliefs he is not the fucking punisher.

Batman just like wonder woman and Superman primarily wants to save people! sure he doesn’t do it in a sunny way but that is still what drives him. Hell he even goes a step further and actually builds a case he’s not just waiting for criminals to commit the crime he is shutting down smuggling and trafficking rings foiling plots he is a detective! For Christs sake it’s what made him so unique and fun as a superhero.

Also His desire to save people is literally what compels him to adopt Dick, Jason, Stephanie. Cass because he wanted to give these kids a chance, to save them in ways 8year old him wasn’t. Someone who just wants to punish the guilty wouldn’t do that, And now they have turned him into a borderline physically and emotionally abusive absentee parent all in the name of making him an edge lord. Where is the heart! Where is the fucking heart in it all! Where are the kids and the bright colors and the zaniness. Let Batman and Gotham be FANTASTICAL! I’m tired of the greys and the browns.

I’m tired of “grounding a story” meaning sucking all the joy and color out if it. Also superhero stories don’t need to be grounded in your fucking abysmal reality they are literally superheroes they exist outside of reality, let them!

A story does not have to be joyless to have depth and it does not have to be nihilist to be compelling.

I am sick and I am tired of it. 😔

[youryurigoddess]

The Small Back Room — Hour of Glory (1949)

Good Omens 2 begins with the visit to The Small Back Room not because it was meant to serve as an exposition scene for Maggie and her record shop. It’s a substantial foreshadowing of the main plot and the relationship changes between Aziraphale and Crowley.

As all the other classics referenced throughout the show, this 1949 Powell and Pressburger production is easily available online — whenever you have 100 minutes to spare, I highly encourage you to watch it.

Our story begins with the arrival of Stuart, a British military captain, who makes his way through a labyrinth of offices towards a small building — the research section led by an eccentric, queer-coded, bow tie wearing professor Mair — to ask for help with a secret Nazi weapon.

That’s when the professor calls our hero, Sammy Rice — an engineer and bomb disposal expert in the service of Her Majesty’s government and, not accidentally, the most brooding, wounded man in Powell and Pressburger’s impressive canon of dysfunctional and alienated characters.

Due to a prosthetic foot keeping him from active service and confining to work in the titular back room instead, Rice is dramatically slipping into alcoholism. Haunted by self-loathing and disappointment with the internal politics, he can’t see the point of his research anymore.

Sammy is also conducting a clandestine affair with the secretary of his research unit, Susan. They live in the same building and meet regularly, but can’t openly enjoy their company or even dance due to his injury, which makes him even more bitter and pathologically determined to wear her angelic patience down.

Susan puts up with it until the minister is forced to resign. She knows that if non-scientists take over, their section will become useless, Rice even more difficult, and the war possibly lost. She urges him to take action and when he dramatically refuses to make a difference, she leaves him.

Seemingly at his lowest now, Rice becomes a sudden chance to redeem himself. Captain Stuart calls him about two unexploded booby traps found in Wales, but left to himself, he dies during a heroic attempt to dismantle one of the thermos-like devices before our engineer arrives at the scene.

In a nerve-jangling finale, Stuart’s notes help Rice dismantle the second device. He becomes a hero, gets an officer commission as head of the new scientific unit, and discovers that Susan not only came back in the meantime, but repaired everything he drunkenly destroyed in the apartment after their breakup.

The parallels seem straightforward enough for me to add that in this context the role of Maggie through most of S2 may particularly reflect Crowley’s stagnancy in both work and love life. And if you’re unsure why the demon identifies with the heroic roles and characters, you might want to read this post on the subject.

Now, The Small Back Room was distributed in the US under another title — Hour of Glory. Which happens to be a specific Bible term referring to Christ’s “hour”, the period supposed to consummate all of his work on Earth and reveal God’s ultimate plan of salvation: the Son’s death.

John 12:20-36 Jesus replied, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honor the one who serves me. Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and will glorify it again.” The crowd that was there and heard it said it had thundered; others said an angel had spoken to him. Jesus said, “This voice was for your benefit, not mine. Now is the time for judgment on this world; now the prince of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.”

Christ’s hour began in the garden — this time the garden of Gethsemane — as he prayed passionately for the cup to be passed from him, similarly to Aziraphale declining Metatron’s offers on screen, both regarding the hot drink and his reinstatement as part of the Heavenly Host:

Luke 22:42 “Father, if you are willing, please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.”

All throughout the Old Testament, we see God’s wrath being described as a cup poured out on sin and those guilty of it. By accepting it, Jesus took the toll of all the sins — from Eden up until the last one to be committed right before his Second Coming — on himself, for the sake of his beloved humanity.

The passion of Christ continued as Judas betrayed him with a kiss, his disciples abandoned him, and the high priest accused him of crimes he was not guilty of. Even Pilate, the prefect of Rome, pretended to uphold the law; and remember we already expect a S3 trial based on another Archers movie.

All in all, it’s an hour of great injustice and pain, but also glory of God. We’re led to believe that the Ineffable Plan will similarly triumph over the great one (or whatever Metatron tries to implement at the moment), as it did in S1. And its ending will be a good one, back in a garden.

[swolesome]

Hi, I did a big queer comic nerd video essay.

Batman, Masculinity, and Gayness: Decoding the Dark Knight

[fruitydemogorgon]

HOW TO TREAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND WITH POWERS NO BORAX NO GLUE:

(with cleo and lewis from h20 just add water)

with borax and glue:

result:

[lookbookcatdva]

[asm5129]

ITS OUT NOW: MAN OF STEEL v SUPERMAN

TW: Mentions of Violence, Death, 9/11

MY PATREON: https://www.patreon.com/user?u=10398701

Hello to all of my Queers and Dears, and welcome back to my Adam Writes an Essay series! Today, in celebration of the new season of My Adventures with Superman Season 2 Finale and the increasingly more detailed information we’ve been getting around James Gunn’s upcoming Superman feature film, we’re going to be digging into an essay I wrote a few years back comparing and contrasting the approaches the Christopher Reeve-led and Henry Cavill-led respective Superman origin films have to the Superman mythos.

I’m excited to adapt it into a video essay for you all!

[betterthanbatman1]

Sigh *adds a line to my tally of how many times Bruce hurts Jason and Jason forgives him*

[kiwinatorwaffles]

the hate towards amber in the invincible tv show is wild honestly because other than that one line (the one where she reveals she knew mark was a superhero) that was a slight fumble on the part of the show runners, she’s actually really excellent and excels at her narrative role compared to her comic counterpart who is just kind of there to be a placeholder date before mark gets with eve.

i admit that line was kinda poorly set up and could’ve been written better (like maybe her instead saying “ugh i expected it but that doesn’t excuse the way you treat me”) but like. Really? did that negate every single thing her character stood for prior to this point? how amber is actually really good for putting up with his bullshit for so long even after he flaked out on dinner with her parents? how she put mark in his place for thinking he could get away with neglecting his relationships just because he’s a hero? how it showed that he’s acting just like how nolan treats debbie? did One single line, said during a moment of anger and frustration, change all of that?

her character is a great parallel between mark and his dad in s1 and is even better in s2 at showing how mark physically can’t live a normal life no matter how much he wants to. like we know amber isn’t endgame and that’s what hurts a lot. they want to be normal college kids going through their awkward teen years together but i guess that one slightly weak line of dialogue made her character “terrible” and “ruin mark.” also even setting aside the myriad of… Other biases, a lot of people just seem to forget the fact that she’s a teenage girl sooooooooooo

(also i’m thinking about this one comment i saw on youtube where someone was like “i didn’t watch that scene initially so i didn’t understand the hate but after i watched it i hate her as well” and. seriously. are you being so serious right now.)

anyway i’m an amber defender to my death she’s amazing in the show and deserves nice things. if you are a video analyst who actually sees her as a normal character instead of calling her “the other woman” you immediately gain my respect

[gayofthefae]

Obviously, narratively, it was all planned, but the thing about the bad timing trope is that Byler was almost Jopper. And they sorta thought they might be to. The one with the martyr lover healing from grief and learning to find love again in their best friend.

But imagine if Bob came back to life at the end of season 3, right after Joyce asked Hopper out. No one would be mad if Bob came back to life. Someone we love coming back to life is good. That's how Mike feels, of course it is. That's how Joyce would feel too. But... There's a "but". If we hadn't known El was alive, that's what it would feel like. That's what it was for them. That's exactly what it was.

No one could fault Joyce for moving on after a year of grieving. No one can fault Mike either. When it's Joyce, her eight months is a long time, long enough. When it's Mike, his year is barely anything and he should just keep holding on. But holding on like that isn't healthy. And no one can fault him.

They held out for a year, still grieving, then in the week we saw them, their arc was to overcome that grief in shifted their attentions to the person who had been supporting them and being able to find love again in them. That was Mike's arc too. It was. Learning to love again after your last love died in front of you, sacrificing themself heroically. Now, after holding on a long time, you're learning to let go and heal so you can move on with your life; you're learning to love again. That's good. We're rooting for you.

Then "Bob" comes back. And that reunion scene would be beautiful. You know that it would. But you also know that the inner monologue would be complicated once the relief died down. And you also know that the following season would demonstrate the complications in the relationship that it left.

Him hanging up that radio on Halloween was healthy. We were sad because we knew she was alive. But him hanging up that radio was healthy, no matter how grateful he was to be wrong.

[artbyblastweave]

Hi! I've been reading a lot of your thoughts on superheroes, and wanted to ask you a question if that's okay.

I've always been interested in the genre, but lately I've gotten frustrated with how "safe" the entries play it. No matter what, there's always a Justice League, a world built on superscience, and most "importantly" of all, a Superman. I wanted to ask if all of these things a required for a superhero story, and if so, how far can they be stretched while remaining within the genre?

My conjecture is that from a bunch of directions, it’s a legibility issue. 

Long swaths of rumination under the cut.

The superhero genre, out of all genres, is one of the most self-referential; it’s subject to an exaggerated, snowballing and self-reinforcing instance of the Mount Fuji Problem, as laid out by Terry Pratchett:

“J.R.R. Tolkien has become a sort of mountain, appearing in all subsequent fantasy in the way that Mt. Fuji appears so often in Japanese prints. Sometimes it’s big and up close. Sometimes it’s a shape on the horizon. Sometimes it’s not there at all, which means that the artist either has made a deliberate decision against the mountain, which is interesting in itself, or is in fact standing on Mt. Fuji.”

Superman is Mt. Fuji. 

Superman is enormously popular. The first modern superhero, the one the rest of them are patterned on or in conversation with. In the early days, a lot of superheroes were just naked attempts to cash in on Superman, to the point of IP slapfights (This is how DC acquired the rights to Shazam/Captain Marvel.) In the interregnum period caused by the Wertham Scare, he was one of the only superheroes that survived and saw continuous publication. As a result of this bottleneck, superheroism is a genre monoculture; all characters conceived of as “superheroes” are only a couple of creative generations removed from Superman. All of this gives him- and characters patterned directly on him- an outsized influence in both the public and authorial perception of what a “superhero” looks like. 

So fifty years down the line, when you’ve got creatives crawling out of the foxholes to try and make some superhero things that are new and innovative or parodic, a few things start happening:

Number 1. Superman is Very Legibly a Superhero. Superheroes, up until the MCU boom, were pretty niche in the mass market; a lot of pre-MCU films (and actually a lot of MCU films, this is my perennial beef) are structured in a way that makes it seem like they’re apologizing for daring to be superhero properties. Note the aversion to code names, the costuming choices made in the X-Men films, the irony poisoning. Superman was one of the exceptions to this, (Others being Batman and Spider-Man;) he’s too iconic. He’s one of a handful of characters who’s clearly a superhero and nothing else. (I’m going to return to this point later.) So if you wanted to invoke superhero at a glance in a mass-market property, making them have costumes and/or powers like Superman (sometimes with hints of Batman) was a fast way to communicate this. As the number of works that do this increase, the gravity of the bias swells because of the pool of precedent- the likelihood that your audience has seen not just Superman, but numerous parodies of Superman. (I was friends with a woman once who knew almost nothing about Superman beyond the fact he existed, but upon being told the broad strokes of his backstory, said, “oh, like in Megamind!”)

Number 2. Superman attracts the interest of Creatives and Iconoclasts. This is the non-cynical take on the above; Superman’s outsized presence in popular culture means that inevitably, a lot of really competent writers are exposed to him, grow up with him as one of their blorbos, and rotate him in their head non-stop for years until they’re finally in a position to write something. The Superman pastiches in Astro City and Irredeemable and Supreme Power and Invincible and Jupiter’s Legacy and The Authority and BNHA and Powers and on and on and on- they’re in there because the writers wanted to tell a story about superheroes, sure, but more specifically they want to yell their hot takes about Superman, who they love, out to the world. And many of these stories are thoughtful and reflective of the human condition or whatever, and so the canon of “Oh my god you have to read this” superhero works, inevitably start to contain tons and tons of Supermen pastiches. (And Batman pastiches; he’s subject to a similar dynamic.) The effect is reinforced.

Number 3. Even in niche or fan-oriented superhero works that don’t suffer from the above-described marketing pressures, familiar character archetypes are useful shorthand that lets you get to whatever novel point you’re trying to make faster. This applies to Superman, who I’ve focused on up until this point, but this is also a good point to start talking about one of the other things you mentioned, the Justice League. 

In Invincible, the Guardians Of The Globe, world’s premier superhero team, are 1-to-1 pastiches of the classic Justice League Lineup. I own the ultimate collection in which Kirkman explained that choice; beyond the fact that they were very powerful heroes, and that it was very very bad for the world that they were dead, the actual nature of the Guardians was immaterial to the story. All things being equal, it therefore made the most sense to him to just piggyback off pre-existing comic book fan affection and reverence for the JLA, because his editor was breathing down his neck to get the actual story moving after the six issues of relatively low-stakes adventure that Kirkman had insisted on in order to make the reveal hurt more.

Strong Female Protagonist is (was?) a webcomic about the world’s most powerful superheroine sliding into semi-retirement after neutralizing all the superheroic threats and realizing that her actual toolbox with which to enact lasting societal change is pretty limited. There are a lot of powersets you could give to the most powerful hero in your setting; a lot of aesthetics you could give her; actually, by making her a woman at all you’re already breaking the mold. But there’s utility in starting somewhere bog-standard so that everyone’s on the same page when you start doing the social commentary.  

Black Summer is a story about John Horus, the most powerful hero in the world, deciding that the only way to stay consistent with his commitment to evenly applied justice is to execute George Bush for War Crimes, explain why he did so, present the evidence, and ride off into the sunset; his five surviving teammates are then left holding the bag as a pissed off military closes in. The most powerful hero in this case is pointedly designed to look more like Magneto than Superman, but the seven-person team dynamic is clearly meant to broadly invoke that of the Justice League; this gives the readers somewhere to start when picturing what the team dynamic looked like before it collapsed, and it makes the ways in which the group is really obviously not at all like the Justice League pop.

Superhero story which are about someone needing to replace the world’s greatest superhero? Often rely on this fan-legible shorthand. (BNHA, Dreadnought, a couple others.) Stories in which the most powerful hero died as part of the backstory and left an imperfect world for the survivors? Often rely on this fan-legible shorthand. (Welcome to Tranquility, Renegades, etc.) Stories about the kid of the world’s most powerful hero trying to live up to their expectations? Often make use of this fan-legible shorthand (Sky High, Hero, etc.)

Extend it to other individual superheroes. You want to critique the economic injustice implied by superheroism, or the ways in which it would physically and socially destroy you? It’s efficient to invoke Batman or Iron Man, quintessential billionaire powerless capes, and go from there. You want to examine the hellish existence of the working-class teen superhero? Efficient to invoke Spider-Man and go from there. You want to examine the uphill battle of the female superhero in a male-dominated field? Efficient to invoke Wonder Woman and then go from there.

When you can simultaneously save time and creative energy AND demonstrate to your audience that you know the genre canon, the shared referents, the in-jokes- why reinvent the wheel? 

The effect is reinforced.

Number four. In works that are about a more unconventional or unique superhero, A tertiary Superman-figure can be a useful genre signifier.

So, the obvious rebuttal you could provide to everything I’ve said so far is that the superhero genre is obviously, comically, massively more diverse than just Superman and copies of Superman. You can make a superhero based on almost anything, intersecting with almost any genre. This is, in fact, the key to the genre’s longevity; the degree to which “Superhero” is such a nebulous genre category that you can cram basically anything into it and have it work. You can remix it forever.

However, this is a double-edged sword; while a superhero universe can accommodate literally anything, many of the resultant “superheroes” are superheroes purely because they exist in the context of a superhero universe; they stop existing as such if removed from it. Blade is a superhero, but the Wesley Snipes Blade films are not really framed as superhero films. Doctor Strange, extracted from the rest of Marvel, could just be an Urban Fantasy property. Green Lantern and Nova and Captain Marvel could be yoinked out and reframed as participants in the Space Cop flavor of Space Opera. Context-scrubbed Thor could be high fantasy. Context-scrubbed Hulk could be a monster movie. Context-scrubbed Guardians of the Galaxy becomes Space Opera. Ant-Man wasn’t originally a superhero; Hank Pym debuted in a one-shot horror/adventure comic about a scientist who nearly gets killed fucking around with a shrinking formula and an anthill, and then he got retooled when Marvel realized superheroes were coming back. Logan was a fantastic film but like many X-men films it divested itself from the framing of superheroism as much as it possibly could. On the opposite side of things, you could take a property like Buffy The Vampire Slayer- generally not viewed as a cape thing- and slot it into the Marvel or DC universe without having to alter anything. If someone like Shepard from Mass Effect, with their armor and future-weapons and/or their biotic powers, crash landed on Marvel or DC Earth, they’d transmute into a superhero just by virtue of who they’re now standing next to when shit starts going down. (This is the backstory of at least three superheroes, probably more.) Superheroism is incredibly fluid. It’s incredibly modular. It’s incredibly contextual.

There are a handful of characters, though, for whom this isn’t true; as I mentioned above, they’re superheroes and nothing else. They’re the platonic implementations. Batman is one example; the most grounded and gritty version of the character ever put to film still couldn’t get around the fact it was about a vigilante in a bat costume beating up the mob. Superman is another; It’s basically impossible to make a Superman film that downplays the iconography, the power, the social position and license of the superhero.  The social position and license are huge parts of this!

So, if you’re gonna write a story about a unique superhero- a superhero with a cross-genre origin, or an unconventional aesthetic, or really esoteric powers- a way to keep your story anchored in the genre is to include a Superman-style figure or a Justice-League style organization as a tertiary presence within the worldbuilding, in order to make it 100 percent clear to your audience what lens they’re supposed to view this story through, and to emphasize the contrast posed by your esoteric cape. Worm does this, juxtaposing a protagonist who controls bugs and thus has to fight like a maniac for every victory against an all-powerful Superman-analogue who exists in the background of the setting (although he swells in narrative importance in the back half.) Another example is The Shadow Hero by Gene Luen Yang, which is a comic about a Chinese-American vigilante in the 1930s who, due to a poorly worded pact with a spirit, becomes invulnerable to bullets and nothing else; a more traditional Superman Analogue called “The Anchor of Justice” exists in the background of the setting, only getting a couple of speaking lines, and is mainly used to demonstrate the double standard society applies to superheroism when someone other than a white guy starts doing it. Incredibles does this as a background gag, with the sheer number of heroes in Edna’s “no capes” montage who were clearly trying to fill the Superman niche but continuously couldn’t cut it.  Valiant comics did this. Wild Cards I think did this. City of Heroes I think was doing something like this by having prototypical flying-brick Statesman as an NPC while all the PC heroes were (by virtue of being PCs) significantly more diverse and outlandish in powers and presentation. There are other examples of this juxtaposition trick that I’m not thinking of.

So, what are some works that don’t do this?

Here’s a non-comprehensive sample of works that unhook themselves from the standbys;

First off, The Marvel Universe. I think I’ve talked a few times about how the Marvel superhero community is pretty heavily dysfunctional, disjointed and fractious in comparison to the DC superhero community; The Avengers are an absolute shitshow in comparison to the Justice League, as individuals and as an organization. It’s easy to forget due to their total conquest of contemporary pop culture but Marvel was churning out unconventional cape after unconventional cape for years without stepping on DC’s toes; for a long time they were the answer to this question. Any time that Marvel has played at adding a Superman analogue to the setting, it’s usually in the context of pointing out how radically different the setting would work if there was a number-one top-tier hero like that running around.

Heroes, the first season at least, is heavily in conversation with traditional superheroism without actually featuring any of the aesthetic markers within the show itself; no costumes (because supers are simply too new as a widespread phenomena to have the institutional backing for that) no obvious Superman figure (one power per person) and the handful of cast members trying to behave like superheroes are explicitly doing so because of the existing cultural referents of fictional superheroes; by the end of season one nobody has made it all the way to the finish line in terms of costumes and codenames.

Absolution, a comic miniseries by Christos Gage about a superhero who snaps and starts playing Dexter, using his versatile forcefield powers to emulate dozens of different murder weapons so that the killings can’t be traced back to him. The setting is aggressively and deliberately street level, with almost no obvious character analogues, a host of novel powers, and “superheroes” that are universally incorporated into police departments as superpowered SWAT teams. However, the books politics are noxious; it seems that the author’s objection to the police is that they don’t kill enough people. But I bring it up because it’s visually clearly a superhero work while still having a strong aesthetic aversion to all of the tropes you specifically mentioned.

No Hero by Warren Ellis, which is about a superhero team created in the 1960s by a counter-culture chemist who stumbled upon a psychedelic drug that provides superpowers. The team is, in universe, very visibly attempting to carve out an aesthetic identity independent from that of traditional superheroes, brutally fighting crime in varied combinations of gas masks, latex, and evening wear; the group is also tiny, due to the team’s founder being rightfully paranoid that the government is going to jump on his secret recipe. It’s also an incredibly visually horrific book. Body horror galore. 

Uber by Keiron Gillen is an alternate history in which World War 2 was fought by super soldiers, developed initially by the Axis and then by an increasingly-panicked America and Britain. The project of the comic was to repudiate the idea of the superhero as an individualist figure who can overcome anything through grit and moral righteousness; in the words of Gillen, it’s a comic about how Galactus is going to beat Spider-man, every single time. In keeping with this, the superhumans are fairly cookie-cutter (developed in batches down known lines of research) the outcome of superhuman fights are determined purely by which of the two superhumans were better made, and as military projects the “heroes” are named using the same conventions as battleships (USS Colossus, HMS Dunkirk, etc.) 

Watchmen is an interesting situation. The one powered hero, Dr. Manhattan, is mainly used as an exploration of Superman’s geopolitical impact- the effects of the most powerful thing in the world being an American agent. But in terms of actual origin and aesthetic Manhattan is primarily in conversation with the Marvel Stable; a lab-accident origin, space-age energy powers, presence within the setting’s second wave superhero resurgence rather than having gotten in on the ground floor. That one is picking and choosing recognizable elements in order to do a bunch of different things at once.

Most of these tie back to the Mount Fuji thing; the absence of immediately recognizable figures in these works are, due to the volume of precedent, themselves a very pointed and noticeable choice. Sometimes even a choice the characters themselves are making within the story. And this presents a challenge to any capefic author who deliberately eschews familiar archetypes because they’re sick to death of them; go too far out of your way to excise Superman from your story, and you run the risk of just providing implicit commentary on his ubiquity instead. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

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One last note; you clarified in DMs that the “super science” you were referring to was that of the crop of pulp heroes; Doc Savage, The Shadow, The Phantom, et al et al. I think something different is going on here from everything else I’ve been going on about. When superhero settings incorporate these proto-heroes, it’s part in-joke and partly a nod to legacy; these were the characters immediately preceding Superman and Batman, the prototypes, the incubators for a lot of ideas and aesthetics that later superheroes would take and run with. Many 1930s-1940s superheroes are visually the “missing link” between the two genres; examples of this include The Spirit, The Sandman, and The Green Hornet. In superhero settings that are built “from scratch” outside of the big two, with a setting history that stretches back before the 1930s, it’s therefore common to incorporate a few figures patterned along these lines as a form of tribute. The flip side of this is that the archetype is also very easy to attack and parody; many of the pulp “men of science” were predictably tied to very yikes-inducing ideas about race, gender, and so forth, and thus if you want to criticize the basic assumptions of heroism, one way to do this is to take the archetypes at the root of the genre and then make them period-appropriate jackasses.

I’ll cop to being significantly less informed about this last bit, and thus significantly less confident in the conclusions I’m drawing about it; I’m therefore going to refer you over to @maxwell-grant, who’s very into the pulp hero side of things and can probably give you a more informed perspective both on how the science hero types informed the development genre, and the varying degrees to which they’ve hung around as both objects of tribute and parody.