Retrograde

Retrograde emerges as a thought-provoking graphic novel that catapults readers into a haunting vision of a world stripped of modern technology, unfolding across an estimated 68 pages of poignant and gripping storytelling. Imagine waking up to a reality where only the most rudimentary tech still functions—how would humanity cope, and what would become of our interconnected world? This comic explores these profound questions, delving into the immediate chaos and long-lasting repercussions of a world-changing disaster that rewires society at its core. Retrograde not only captures the moment of collapse but also traces how such a cataclysm continues to reshape lives, relationships, and the essence of what it means to be human. Through evocative artwork and raw, emotional narratives, the story reveals what people will do to preserve their humanity and protect those they love in the face of an unimaginable regression. Spanning these 68 pages, the comic offers a deeply personal yet universally resonant look at survival, adaptation, and the enduring human spirit.

The narrative begins with the catastrophic event that triggers this technological blackout, likely depicted in the first dozen or so pages of the 68-page volume. A mysterious pulse—perhaps electromagnetic or cosmic—sweeps across the globe, rendering advanced electronics, from smartphones to power grids, utterly useless. Cities plunge into darkness, communication collapses, and panic ensues, illustrated in stark, chaotic panels that convey the visceral shock of a world unplugged. The story centers on a diverse ensemble of characters—a single mother in Mumbai, a farmer in rural Tamil Nadu, and a former tech mogul in Bangalore—whose lives are upended as they grapple with the loss of the tools that once defined their existence. These early pages set a tone of desperation and disorientation, with the artwork using muted, gritty tones to mirror the sudden emptiness of a tech-dependent society now forced to revert to forgotten ways.

As the story progresses across the middle bulk of the 68 pages, Retrograde shifts focus to the long-term fallout of this disaster, exploring how humanity adapts—or fails to—in a world thrust centuries backward. The single mother scavenges through abandoned markets, bartering for food with skills she never thought she’d need, her struggle to protect her child depicted in tender, heartbreaking detail. The farmer, once reliant on modern irrigation systems, rediscovers ancient techniques, his panels filled with earthy textures that contrast the sterile tech of the past. Meanwhile, the tech mogul, stripped of his empire, wrestles with irrelevance, his arrogance crumbling in scenes of quiet introspection. The artwork evolves with each character’s arc, using distinct visual styles to reflect their environments and emotional states, while dialogue and captions reveal their inner battles to retain hope and identity amidst regression.

A significant portion of the comic, likely spanning several key sequences within the 68 pages, examines the societal shifts that emerge in this new reality. Communities form and fracture, with some reverting to tribal hierarchies while others strive for egalitarian rebuilding, illustrated in sweeping crowd scenes and intimate campfire gatherings. Conflict arises over scarce resources like manual tools and clean water, with action-driven pages showing clashes between scavengers and hoarders. Yet, moments of compassion shine through—neighbors sharing knowledge of pre-industrial crafts or strangers uniting to rebuild a school—captured in warm, hopeful visuals that punctuate the bleakness. These contrasts highlight the dual nature of humanity, capable of both cruelty and kindness when stripped to its essence.

Thematically, Retrograde uses its 68 pages to probe the fragility of progress and the resilience required to redefine normalcy after catastrophe. It questions whether technology truly defines us or if our humanity lies in something deeper, with each character’s journey reflecting a facet of this debate. The comic mirrors real-world anxieties about over-reliance on digital systems, grounding its speculative premise in relatable fears of collapse. Detailed character expressions and environmental decay in the artwork ensure the emotional and physical toll of this retrograde world feels palpable, forging a connection with readers.

Ultimately, Retrograde, with its estimated 68 pages, delivers a powerful meditation on survival and identity, leaving readers to ponder how they would fare in a world stripped bare. The open-ended conclusion, hinting at both lingering struggles and nascent hope, suggests that the repercussions of disaster echo far beyond the initial impact. With its compelling characters, striking visuals, and profound themes, Retrograde stands as a testament to the graphic novel’s ability to explore complex human experiences, reminding us that even in regression, the drive to connect and endure remains our most enduring technology.