Site icon COMIC CRUSADERS

Magnetic Press and TUN talk MFKZ!

Wepa! Y’all already know what time it is — it’s your boy Al Mega comin’ in hot with some next-level fire from the world of comics, animation, and all-out underground creativity!

In this exclusive Comic Crusaders feature, we dive headfirst into a mind-blowin’ conversation between the trailblazing teams of Magnetic Press and TUN (The Unorthodox Narrative) — two powerhouses bringin’ the heat with their next-level collab on the wild, chaotic, and culture-punchin’ project: MFKZ! That’s right, baby — we’re talkin’ alien gangsters, high-octane action, and deep-rooted street soul that hits harder than a roundhouse from a Kaiju.

From anime grit to French hip-hop swag, this ain’t just a story — it’s a full-blown movement. So strap in, fam, as we uncover what makes MFKZ a genre-bustin’, world-shakin’ phenomenon that’s about to light up the scene like never before. Let’s get into it!

MFKZ is really a mix of everything I love — not just from pop culture, but also from my travels and life experience. I went through a huge wrestling phase, especially with Mexican lucha libre, which fascinated me with its over-the-top energy and colorful characters. (In fact, the name of my label comes from Rey Mysterio’s finishing move.)

I’ve always had a strong passion for West Coast rap, street culture, and I grew up on American movies and TV shows— all of which helped shape the world of MFKZ.

But beyond the references, I’ve always been drawn to the broken ones, the outcasts, the people society leaves behind. I spent many years living in the poorest city in France, and from the start, I wanted to tell the story of small-time loserscaught up in a conspiracy way bigger than them — something that should’ve crushed them.

But because the world around them is even more chaotic, they somehow manage to survive. At its core, MFKZ is really about chaos.

Back then, I simply wanted to give shape to a universe that was starting to form in my mind. I had no clear idea of what it would become — a film? A series? A video game? I didn’t have a structured plan, just a strong urge to bring that world out of my head and make it visible. The opportunity came quite naturally through a short film, because I happened to be surrounded by people who knew how to animate using cell shading. So we improvised from there.

I personally handled the 2D visual effects, textures, and compositing… It was a real DIY effort — done with limited tools, but with a lot of passion and energy. I could have chosen to start with a comic at that point, but I still felt technically limited, not strong enough as an artist to carry a whole project on my own. And to be honest, I was probably a bit too Young -and probably too lazy- to dive headfirst into something so demanding solo. I needed a collective framework — a kind of momentum — to really get going.

It was, above all, a matter of creative freedom. I had a fairly clear vision of the universe I wanted to build — its characters, its codes, its energy… But it was impossible to bring that vision to life within the framework of animation, without running into production constraints, budget limitations, or the pressure from producers who might have sanitized or reshaped this rather unconventional and ever-evolving world. I quickly realized that only comics would allow me to tell this story without compromise, at my own pace, using my own tools.

So I rolled up my sleeves, despite my technical limitations in drawing at the time. I wasn’t necessarily ready — or “legitimate” in the academic sense — but I had the motivation, the drive, and this inner need to shake things up, even if I didn’t know whether it would ever be published. (Which, looking back, was a bit presumptuous!) And against all odds, the French audience responded really positively.

A lot of readers connected with this unusual approach: they found unexpected references for the time, a real DIY energy, and a tone that broke completely from traditional Franco-Belgian comics norms. From the very beginning, there was also this cultural and visual hybrid style that would later become the signature of Label 619. Even in the first volume, MFKZ carried a mix of influences — manga, comics, genre cinema, urban culture… Very quickly, MFKZ was seen as a kind of UFO in the French comic book world, and in the end, I think that’s what drew people in: something unclassifiable, sincere, and free.

At first, I really thought I would stick to just three volumes. I had a basic outline, a general idea, and I saw MFKZ as a kind of punchy, underground project — something a bit off the radar, almost confidential. But as I kept working, the universe started to expand naturally. Secondary characters grew in importance, certain story arcs needed more space, and somewhere around volume 2, I realized I didn’t want to rush things just to wrap it up quickly.

The story became denser, more complex, and I decided to give myself the time and space to tell it fully and properly. At the same time, I had launched Label 619, which was starting to gain momentum. The positive reception from readers, and the growing recognition of our editorial approach, meant that MFKZ could no longer be seen as a small solo side project made in a corner without structure. The substance had to live up to the style. So I reworked the structure, raised the stakes, and gave more depth to the characters — but always with the same intention: to have fun, stay true to the universe, and deliver a story that’s fast-paced and entertaining, but with real depth.

In the end, the five-volume format just naturally made sense as the right way to tell the story I had in mind.

I think it’s mainly because I still feel like I haven’t fully explored this universe — which, in many ways, is just a slightly twisted version of our own. And most of all, the characters have taken on a life of their own. They almost exist independently of me. Even when a book is done, they keep living in my head. Sometimes I catch myself thinking, “This thing — I have to tell that story.” It’s that kind of almost organic relationship with the characters that keeps pulling me back.

On top of that, each spin-off gives me the chance to explore a completely different tone or genre, which is incredibly refreshing creatively. The main MFKZ series is clearly rooted in B-movie energy, over-the-top action, and a kind of fully embraced chaos. But with Loba Loca, I wanted to do something else — something more intimate, more emotional, more social, even. Puta Madre leaned more into the tragic and political, and now with MFK2, I’m trying to juggle all three tones at once.

In the end, this universe is big enough to surprise me, and flexible enough for me to explore different moods and styles — while still keeping a strong sense of coherence, which is really important to me. Personally, I can’t stand the kind of stories that jump all over the place just because it’s trendy. To me, that’s a way of denying narrative structure, and I think that structure is essential — even in chaos.

I don’t always approach it in a theoretical or calculated way — it’s often quite instinctive. The visual style usually flows naturally from the tone of the story or the emotion I want to convey at that specific moment. For example, if a scene is more intimate or fragile, I might choose something softer, more minimal. On the other hand, if it’s a moment of action or high tension, I’ll go for something more sharp, raw, and aggressive. The black-and-white sequence with red accents during the Z7 assault, for instance, marks a violent turning point in Angelino and Vinz’s lives — and that sudden shift in style underscores the impact.

I also enjoy playing with graphic codes and breaking the reader’s visual expectations. Sometimes the change in style becomes a language in itself. It’s a way to re-energize the storytelling, create surprise, or signal a deeper narrative shift. And on a personal level, it helps me avoid boredom as an artist. MFKZ is a chaotic, ever-evolving universe, so the visual style reflects that instability, that disorder… that sense of freedom.

For inking, it really depends on the mood and atmosphere I’m aiming for. Some scenes work better digitally — it’s cleaner, more controlled. But others need a rougher, more instinctive, more visceral line, something I can only get through traditional tools, with all their imperfections: smudges, ink stains, happy accidents… Coloring, on the other hand, is almost entirely done digitally. That said, I sometimes incorporate watercolor elements, especially when I want a more textured, organic, or even dreamlike feel.

My love for technical variety probably comes from my time at art school. We were constantly encouraged to experiment— with woodcut printing, acid etching, photography, typography… As I mentioned earlier, for me it’s all about exploring different ways to tell a story, without ever losing narrative coherence. Changing techniques shouldn’t confuse the reader — on the contrary, it should enhance the experience, support the tone, or shift the rhythm of a scene in a meaningful way.

There’s a deliberate visual logic in MFKZ: the more dangerous a character is, the more realistically they’re drawn . In contrast, I wanted Angelino and Vinz to look harmless, almost naive, to emphasize how out of place they are in the world they inhabit. They’re outsiders, losers in the noble sense of the word, who don’t fit into any system.

I imagined Dark Meat City as the twisted twin of Los Angeles, infused with all the myths and fears that city carried in the ’90s — at least from the perspective we had growing up in France: gang wars, urban paranoia, police brutality, and so on. In that world, the gangs, the Men in Black, and the Macho (dark matter entities lurking in the shadows) form their own social structures, their own substitute families. But Angelino, Vinz, and Willy are orphans of this city.

They don’t belong to any of those circles. No tattoos, no gang colors, no dress code to give them an identity or protection. They’re completely on their own, and friendship is all they’ve got to survive — and when Willy’s your best friend, well… anything can happen.  I wanted to throw them into this toxic, chaotic world, completely exposed and without a safety net — so that the reader feels just as lost as they do, and can paradoxically relate to their loneliness and humanity, even if they look like total freaks / weirdos.

I started writing MFKZ in 2005, at a time when conspiracy theories — in their academic sense — were still fairly marginal. They hadn’t yet flooded the public discourse or poisoned political debate the way they do today. Looking back, I’m not even sure I would write the same story now, since so many of those once-fringe narratives have become mainstream and, frankly, a bit depressing.

That’s actually one of the reasons I wanted to revisit the universe with MFK2, which deals more directly with topics like disinformation, collective belief systems, and how those shape our perception of reality. But back in 2006, conspiracy theories still felt like a niche curiosity — almost an insider’s pleasure. I found it fascinating to play with that language: “What if man never walked on the moon?”, “What if the Nazis got there before the Americans?”

For a writer, it’s a rich playground, somewhere between science fiction and alternate history. The core narrative of MFKZ is built around a silent alien invasion — a theme deeply tied to conspiracy lore: government cover-ups, Men in Black, Roswell, shadowy state manipulation… These are iconic pillars of American pop culture, things we all absorbed through movies, shows, and comics. As a kid, I was fascinated by The Twilight Zone (To Serve Men really stuck with me), and later, by X-Files. So of course, I felt the urge to recycle all those myths — partly to poke fun at them, but also to build a twisted, offbeat world , full of mysterious entities with obscure — or completely absurd — plans.

It was definitely a major challenge — and to be honest, at one point I even considered making a film that would be entirely different from the comic. But given the timeline and how far along the project already was, we ultimately decided to stay faithful to the story in the comic, even though it wasn’t fully finished at the time production began. Looking back, I think the film suffers from some narrative limitations, mostly due to the format. 95 minutes simply isn’t enough to do justice to a universe that dense.

If I had to do it today, I wouldn’t hesitate — I’d go for a mini-series, maybe 7 or 8 episodes of 20 to 25 minutes. That would be the ideal format to really dive into the world, develop the characters, and let the atmosphere breathe. But at the time, platforms like Netflix or Amazon Prime didn’t exist — or at least not in the way they do now. And in France back then, TV animation was strictly for children. An adult animated series with violence and dark themes was just unthinkable. So the only real option left was to make a theatrical feature film.

Originally, the script was written to be two hours long — that’s how we envisioned, wrote, and storyboarded the project. But once production officially began, we were asked to cut 30 minutes, and then another 10 on top of that, even though the animatic was already complete. Of course, you can’t cut 40 minutes from a film without losing important story elements or sacrificing character arcs.

Characters like Luna or the Lucha Libre wrestlers were heavily reduced — or almost entirely erased from the final cut, which was really unfortunate. In the end, I still see the film as a kind of visual curiosity, something I hope feels fresh and unique for the audience. But the comic goes much further — it digs deeper into the character dynamics and the broader worldbuilding. It remains the most complete and faithful version of the story I originally set out to tell.

To be completely honest, I barely followed what happened when the film was released. I was feeling both anxious and frustrated by certain aspects of the production, so I stepped back and went into my own bubble. I preferred to refocus on the comic, to dive back into the universe as I had originally imagined it — without outside interference.

At the time, I was exhausted, and even a few bad reviews might have hit me pretty hard. Studio 4°C did a fantastic job with the animation, the backgrounds, the atmosphere… If the film received any international recognition, I think it’s mostly thanks to their work.

I’ll admit — I’m a bit nervous. I started the series back in 2006, almost twenty years ago. Is it still relevant for a reader in 2025? I honestly have no idea. From the beginning, MFKZ has been heavily inspired by American culture, but seen through a foreign lens — that of a French kid raised on American TV, movies, video games, and West Coast rap.

It’s a very personal, almost fantasized version of America: urban, violent, saturated, the symbolic capital of the Western world — full of contradictions, but also incredibly rich in icons and imagery. Now, seeing that vision go back to the U.S., the very place that inspired it, is honestly intimidating. I’m curious — and a little anxious — to see how American readers will receive it. Will they see a distorted reflection? A caricature? Or maybe a twisted love letter to their own culture? Either way, for me, having the book published in the U.S. feels like a real form of recognition. And I’m grateful to be doing it with Magnetic Press.

The MFKZ universe is definitely big enough to host many more side stories, and some of the secondary characters absolutely deserve their own narrative space. But I don’t want to create spin-offs just for the sake of it — they need to have their own voice, their own reason to exist. When I did the MFKZ: 1886 reboot with Simon Hutt, it really made sense in terms of the universe and what I wanted to explore.

1886 was the year of the invention of Coca-Cola, the unveiling of the Statue of Liberty, and the capture of Geronimo— setting all the characters in that era was incredibly exciting. And I think we managed to make something both original and impactful. Overall though, I prefer to take my time, let ideas mature, and only develop what feels essential to the universe — and most importantly, what genuinely excites me as a creator.

That said, I honestly think MFK2 will serve as the final chapter of the main story. Ideally, I’d love to see other authors take over the universe, push it in new directions, bring in their own visions of the characters, reinterpret things… I think that would be amazing. I’m one of those people who believes that a creation doesn’t truly belong to its creator. It lives on through those who keep it alive.

I actually stumbled into comics by accident, so I don’t really feel like I’m in a position to give advice to young creators. But if I had to say something, I’d start with this: stay honest above all else. Don’t try to please people or follow trends — especially in a time where AI is flooding everything. Create the kind of stories you would want to read yourself. Be unique. Stray from the beaten path. Embrace both the beautiful and the ugly — they both have value. Also, don’t be afraid to face your own limitations.

When I started MFKZ, I wasn’t a great artist — I had a lot of doubts and technical gaps — but I went for it anyway. In the beginning, it’s not about technical mastery. What matters is the energy, the vision, and the honesty of your intent. And finally, understand that building a universe takes time. You don’t create a world in a single album or a few pages. You have to let it grow, get to know it, and sometimes even let it surprise you. In the end, I just hope readers feel the same energy and freedom that drove me to create MFKZ in the first place. It’s a chaotic world, yes — but sometimes, chaos is the best way to feel alive.

Support the Kickstarter Live NOW at:
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/label619/the-complete-mfkz-series-by-run

Author Profile

Al Mega
I'm Al Mega the CEO of Comic Crusaders, CEO of the Undercover Capes Podcast Network, CEO of Geekery Magazine & Owner of Splintered Press (coming soon). I'm a fan of comics, cartoons and old school video games. Make sure to check out our podcasts/vidcasts and more!
Exit mobile version