In one of today’s features for our Guardians of the Galaxy Month here at Multiversity to benefit to Bill Mantlo (which you can read more about here and here), we bring you a special intermission from artwork and interviews, as it seemed only appropriate to look way back to the beginning and give the original outing of Rocket his due. So join us as we look back on the original “Rocket Raccoon” mini-series from Bill Mantlo and a young upstart named Mike Mignola.
As a note, this piece contains spoilers for the original “Rocket Raccoon” mini-series. The book is 30 years old, but we figured it was worth a mention.
Characters change. When you have companies like Marvel or DC who want to keep their properties in constant circulation, it’s necessary for them to evolve and grow and shift with the era. Sometimes the change comes from a certain creator whose vision of the character influences the way other creators handle him (think Frank Miller and Batman). And then there are the characters that go away for a little bit, only to return as decidedly different versions of themselves to be updated for the modern day or for a full reboot.
The current Rocket Raccoon running through the Marvel Cosmic Universe is a wild animal: foul-mouthed and arrogant, wielding enormous guns and chasing after gorgeous women. He’s a rogue, a scoundrel, quick-thinking and sharp-witted. With his current popularity, he’s the Rocket many current readers are starting to know and love. Yet there’s also the original Rocket Raccoon, the one created by Bill Mantlo with Keith Giffen and perfected with Mike Mignola. This Rocket has a totally different purpose, an entirely different attitude; he’s still quick-witted and sharp-tongued but Mantlo, I think, wanted to create a hero — a character who acts and reacts out of a sense of duty and of right and wrong rather than selfish interests… or because he’s been guilted into doing something… or because he thinks it’ll impress some girl… or he wants revenge.
He’s the little guy who perseveres through insurmountable odds and is willing to put his neck on the line, without question, for those who have been wronged. There’s a certain Disney feel to this iteration of the character, like he’s a Jiminy Cricket who wields massive laser guns.
“Rocket Raccoon: The Guardian of Keystone Quadrant” is about the third time Rocket appeared in comics altogether. In the story, Rocket is part of a group of animals that have been assigned to protect and entertain a bunch of mentally challenged humans called the Loonies on a distant, secluded planet known as Halfworld. The chief means of entertainment are these magnificent toys the animals design, and are constructed by robots on the other side of the planet (who are also working on something else). There are two companies primarily in charge of making all these toys: Dyvynicies, Inc., lead by the reptilian Lord Dyvyne, and Mayhem Mekaniks, which belongs to Rocket’s girlfriend in this series, Lylla, but exists under the stewardship of Judson Jakes, who probably killed her parents and wants control over the entire company. Both Dyvyne and Jakes want control over the entire planet, going so far as to start a war between their two companies.
Stuck in the middle of it all is Rocket and his trusty sidekick Wal Russ, who sports a series of interchangeable tusks he can use to fix machinery or shoot lasers. Together, they navigate several kidnappings, a giant gaseous monster and survive a series of chases and narrow escapes as they try to subdue the evil toy conglomerates, restore sanity to the Loonies, and explore further parts of the world. This book is pure 80s Marvel pop, with bright colors and high octane action sequences involving rocket skates, killer clown robots and a team of evil bunny mercenaries. There are gunfights, pratfalls, giant monsters, spaceship chases; everything needed to provide you with a sugary cereal Technicolor rush.
It’s an early Mike Mignola book — according to the backup, it’s the second thing he actually penciled — and he gives it this wild, practically manic energy that’s far removed from the cosmic horror of his most famous creation. He manages his chases with a clear sense of direction and staging, and though junk is blowing up all over the page, you are never confused by what’s happening. Mignola also makes it easy to get lost in Rocket’s giant blue eyes — and sort of helps you understand why all the other characters in this story are willing to trust him. Christie Scheele knows how to pull the colors back from her limited palette, and when the action is at its highest levels, they pop and explode and I almost had to pull out sunglasses while reading it.
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Mantlo’s script provides plenty of opportunities for action and stunts, even if it does get repetitive as the characters all blatantly state what they’re feeling and what they’re supposed to be doing; however, I feel that’s mostly due to being published in 1985, where you needed to make sure new readers had a sliver of an idea about what was going on. He throws a lot of plot on the page and the book frequently teeters on the brink of being overloaded and bogged down by the sheer amount of things going on, but Mantlo manages to pull them together in the end, not so much through careful planning, but by sheer luck. For instance, in the beginning of the book, Mantlo gives Uncle Pyko this evil vibe when he goes to jack the Halfworld Bible, using similar language of wielding power and controlling Halfworld that we’ve been hearing come from Jakes and Dyvyne for all these pages, but when our plucky heroes meet up with him later, he reveals he only wants to design toys for the simple sake of designing toys. For the art of it. Characters are talking — always talking — which sometimes drags down the kineticism from Mignola. Much of this, though, is simply a product of the Bronze Era, and Mantlo does well keeping the story grounded by keeping Rocket grounded.
I think the reason why “Rocket Raccoon” works is that Rocket Raccoon himself is so earnest, honest, and willing to dive headfirst into any situation to help out the people he cares about or has sworn to protect. He’s vibrant and energetic. He’s the one who cannot understand why these conglomerates aren’t putting the best interests of the people they’re serving at the forefront, so lost and blinded by their own greed and tyranny. In fact, he even believes that toys the animals provide ought to be delivered free of charge. He’s the one meant to show us how we should act in the face of evil mega-corporations, of how we can’t lose sight of the people suffering all around us.
Mantlo repeatedly stresses how important these toys are for the Loonies. It’s not simply a matter of “Oh, everyone will be said without them” — terms a young audience would understand — but also, “Without the toys, the world as we know it will end.” See: without the toys, the Loonies become despondent and melancholic and they die. Essentially, these toys work as medicine for the Loonies, and because of this, the importance the characters constantly press on the matter, and the fact that the whole plot involves these two evil corporations trying to price-fix the galaxy, that I believe Mantlo was making jabs at pharmaceutical companies and overall corporate greed. And it’s his Rocket, and only this Rocket, who would put himself in the middle of this mess for altruistic reasons. This Rocket moves in exact opposition of Dyvyne and Jakes. They see the world as cogs in the machine to fuel their own ambitions. The toys, to them, are arbitrary products. As long as there is the prospect of money, the two of them will hire mercenaries and dispatch their entire private armies against each other and Rocket to try to bring everyone down.
Mantlo obviously stems from a counterculture background. In the book, he pulls from Ken Kesey and The Beatles; he gives sets names like The Cuckoo’s Nest and The Asylum; he calls the Halfworld Bible Gideon’s Log. (Let’s not kid ourselves, we’re all singing this right now.) Rocket’s dialogue is also peppered with socially aware exclamations: “We animals are supposed to exist to safeguard and entertain the loonies…!” “We animals are pledged to protect the Loonies. …We accepted the job and the responsibility that comes with it.” One of the most heartbreaking moments comes when Uncle Pyko — the turtle master toymaker for Judson Jakes — deciphers Gideon’s Log and discovers that the Loonies originally arrived on the planet so a group of psychiatrists could try to find a cure for their mental disorders, but the doctors’ funding was revoked and they were summoned by home when their home world decided they weren’t moving fast enough. And to Dyvyne and Jakes, the toys that keep the Loonies contented don’t mean much to them. They only care about money and power, and repeatedly monologue about how they will have the run of the world by any means necessary. They provide the toys, the Loonies provide them crackers, and that’s all that’s important to their minds, no concern or cause at all for keeping the Loonies happy or giving them something that will last.
Continued belowI mean, it’s no accident Blackjack O’Hare, the wicked rabbit mercenary (did you read his name?), joins forces with Rocket when he sees how little Dyvyne and Jakes care about him, even if he’s doing their dirty work. He realizes Rocket, the hero, the altruistic one with a sense of duty, is the only character who would keep him alive throughout this whole ordeal, who won’t view him as an expendable resource. Or that Lylla, Wal Russ, Pyko and the Loonies all turn to him the moment the whole place starts to go Vesuvius on everyone. Rocket is driven by a desire to keep his world peaceful and the people who inhabit it as happy as possible. He wants order, calm, and respects his duty to the planet. Rocket, in this book, knows his purpose in life and he has achieved his own balance with that. All the characters turn to him because he’s the only one with the ability and will to stand up against the evil of this world and confront it.
For the wildness of it all, for it’s colorful characters, movie matinee cliffhangers and pure Marvel melodrama, there’s a certain… bittersweet flavor to the book, especially when we look back on it now, almost 30 years after its initial run, and it feels like very little has changed. What makes this book even more poignant is how it parallels the turmoil of its creator.
Mantlo was involved in a hit-and-run accident while he was out on his roller blades, leaving him unable to write and need of constant care. Before that, though, his work at Marvel had basically dried up when he wasn’t getting along with editorial, and he left comics to work as a public defender. His insurance paid what they required to pay, but the family had to fight tooth and nail to get even that, and he’s been on Medicaid ever since.
It’s difficult now to not see Mantlo, almost in a precognitive sense, asking for help and understanding from the people who have the power to help and understand him. The book reads that in a world constantly being dictated by a free market, there needs to be a hero around who keeps a balance between the social and the corporate. His Rocket is almost a wishful thinking character, a Robin Hood of sorts, who will always be around to stick up for people getting brushed aside in favor of easy money. And, to me, it’s heartening that in recent months, when the Guardians of the Galaxy movie had been announced, more than plenty of people, especially Greg Pak, have stepped up to help him out. One of the biggest morals Mantlo provides is that “knowledge is the ultimate power”: Rocket struggles to study an old text; Uncle Pyko deciphers it, and they know how they can change the world.
Now, look, “Rocket Raccoon: The Guardian of Keystone Quadrant” isn’t heavy footed or loaded down with glum observations. It’s definitely a blast to read and the early incarnation of Rocket is sweet. The early Mignola work is great too and reading this I sometimes wished he would unleash more wild and manic energy. I find Mignola’s current work to be grandiose and epic, graceful and minimal in its execution, and, come on, he’s one of the best in the biz. But here, he’s throwing everything on the page and there’s a kind of earnestness to it that matches Rocket’s personality.
I know there’s a sense that comics from this era are sort of products of their time, and any meaning we might pull out of these things is more reflections on the era, influenced by changing context. This book was originally released in 1985 and there’s that whole overwritten quality to them, where it seems like every single panel has to have letters all over it, that seems so quaint now. “Rocket Raccoon” is a Bronze Age book and it definitely has the silliness and Comics Code Authority approval rating of a Bronze Age comic book, but I think it still says a lot about how our society works versus how it should work. Mantlo and Mignola provide a good little lesson wrapped up in a kinetic and fun package.
And while Rocket’s current incarnation is running around and getting into all kinds of trouble, going on bonkers adventures, and narrowly escaping a plethora of sticky situations, I still think there’s this place for the large-hearted Rocket, the one who wants to do right by the world and fights for a better future for everyone.
