[Review] Désida

Let's imagine for a moment a parallel, dystopian and fantastic reality, but with so many parallels with the one we know that it is impossible not to look back, at the recent past, and forward, in the direction of our precarious present and uncertain future. In March 2020, the Wurm computer virus plague, with its epicenter in Wuhan (China) shook the foundation of the global economy, highly dependent on cyber technology. This disaster was the catalyst for a new cold war between decadent and emerging powers. The European Union, instead of staying on the sidelines and benefiting from a neutral position, took sides, and the result was a new economic setback and greater subordination of the less developed periphery of the continent. The “economic miracle” of Mole Project, large-scale hydraulic fracturing works to obtain a lucrative energy source, was only the trigger for the real disaster. The earthquakes They proliferated everywhere, leaving the central urban areas in ruins and socially lumpenized, where the mafias imposed their law. The periphery, more modern, resisted better, and became the new “respectable” area of ​​the cities.

And, thus, we arrive at 2029, the starting point of Desida, the self-published comic by Bardeo that concerns us today. Many were not amused that Keriot, vocalist and keyboardist of the group that gives its name to the work, returns to the scene after a period of retirement and, in the middle of a live interview, must defend himself from Security, who try to expel him from the set. As he takes up his weapon, we see how an arrow with P1 (player 1) appears above his head...

For the introduction of this review, I referred to the panorama described as “parallel reality” with respect to the real world, but, in fact, one of the main features of this comic is that it presents two parallel planes. And, as you may have guessed, what has been described up to that moment it happened inside a video game. “Reality”, within the fictional universe of the work, begins in May 2021. It is a less chaotic world than the one described, but it is still not free of economic problems, uncertainty and unrest. The protagonist of that story is Uli, a man in a wheelchair who discovered a mysterious video game Desida in an Internet forum located on the old global network, outside the state network free of the Wurm virus, violating the rules of computer distancing (that is, that “reality” and video game converge to that point, by relying on those events as the starting point of his approach). Another apparently important character is Lauren, an unemployed dancer who goes to a motion capture session for a video game, like Jordan Mechner's brother in Prince of Persia. One in which, as we will see, somewhat strange things will happen.

On the other hand, in the video game that Uli plays, we have the aforementioned Keriot, the young vocalist and keyboardist with a hairstyle reminiscent of the Japanese style, long but at the same time pointed, who will fight against the oppressive system of technocrats brandishing his microphone stand converted into a weapon having a large, sharp knife placed in his place (and in the company of a cat with a red scarf tied around its neck). It remains to be seen to what extent the two worlds are so far apart.

Desida It is a comic with a great political charge. Using a fictional context as a background, but with obvious references to our turbulent times, Bardeo makes a stark social criticism. You don't have to be a lynx to see in the Wurm computer virus a cyber equivalent of Covid-19 (they even originated in the same place!). The new cold war That this event exacerbated it, we are also experiencing it in our flesh, and in an increasingly lacerating way because, just like in the comic, the EU has been unable not to interfere, even at the cost of its own interests. The economic crisis perennial, structural for many, also starting from 2008, with an almost identical name (bankruptcy of Lemmond Bros.), as well as the lack of sovereignty of the least wealthy countries in the EU. Mágeryt (la ciudad en la que transcurre la acción en ambas realidades) es claramente Madrid, y no sólo por lo similar de su fonética, sino por sus enclaves bastante reconocibles, como es el caso de la Puerta del Sol. Ahí transcurre una manifestación que recuerda a la de aquel 15M. Para quienes nos lean desde otros países, fue una manifestación de proporciones colosales que tuvo lugar el 15 de marzo de 2011 que devino en movimiento. Una especie de mayo del 68 a la española y en el siglo XXI y que, desde mi punto de vista, fue el catalizador de la crisis en el plano ideológico casi en la misma medida que la de 2008 lo fue en el económico.

En relación a este tema, hay dos cosas que me gustaron especialmente. Una, la sublime representación de la televisión, en particular sus presentadores y tertulianos, como burdos propagandistas que sólo son neutrales de labra. Otra, el hecho de que Uli, teniendo claras inquietudes políticas, sea un desencantado de entre (y de) los desencantados. No podría sentirme más identificado.

Con respecto al grafismo, el autor nos ofrece un estilo bastante personal con un notable potencial descriptivo y expresivo, con cierto regusto underground, y con un marcado dinamismo en las escenas de acción (líneas cinéticas, efectos de golpes, onomatopeyas…). Pero lo más notable se encuentra en el tratamiento del color. Mientras que el mundo real aparece en el blanco y negro más absoluto, las escenas del videojuego se tornan a todo color (y con un logrado efecto de luminosidad en ciertos momentos, como cuando se nos revela Keriot como un personaje de videojuego). El diferente tratamiento del color según la situación constituye, sin duda, de un recurso narrativo muy poderoso, tal y como pudimos ver en The grooves of chance. Si en uno el pasado parecía más vívido tangible y, en definitiva, real que el propio presente, aquí es el videojuego el que prevalece sobre el mundo real.

El presente volumen de Desida (que, por cierto, es en tapa dura) es sólo el principio. Así lo sugiere el mismo comienzo, cuando, junto al título principal, aparece especificado “Acto I” y, conforme llegamos al final, lo constatamos al ser testigos de tantas preguntas sin respuestas. Espero que Bardeo saque adelante su segundo tomo, pero, de momento, podéis haceros con él en formato físico en Gumroad y en Amazon en versión Kindle. Desde Combogamer, le agradecemos de corazón habernos confiado un ejemplar para esta reseña (¡y dedicado, por si fuera poco!).