Broken Frontier have been kind enough to put MWM#1 through the grinder for us 
Originally published on Broken Frontier …
Three tales of the creepy, twisted horrors of daily life from three Brits with an axe to grind . . . against our imaginations.
“Left Behind” begins with Mark, recently dumped by his girlfriend Kristy. He has no idea why she’s gone, nor why she hasn’t taken her cat with her. Taking care of the cat allows him the feeling that she hasn’t left completely . . . until the cat runs off. He follows, believing those “That’s Incredible” stories about abandoned cats that travel thousands of miles to find their owners. But what he finds makes him wish he hadn’t. The perils of the supernatural aren’t Mark’s to deal with alone, however. A cabbie named Marty gets a bit of it, too, in “Thirty Pieces,” in which he picks up a very strange customer. Stranger still are the otherworldly beings chasing this man—just when it couldn’t get worse, it does as they turn into living skeletons of Roman centurions on horseback. But the kicker comes when the ride is over and Marty gets paid. Getting paid is what it’s all about in “The Exchange,” in which a family down on its luck and cash agree to sell something very dear to them.
Japanese horror flicks and the American adaptations they’ve inspired, like The Ring and Dark Water, work so well on our innate fears because they are grounded in the everyday. This is the vantage point from which Monkeys With Machineguns #1: Making Deals With Devils approaches its stories, yet the stories provided for this review have varying degrees of success.
The weakest, it terms of both story and art is “Thirty Pieces.” The strengths of Mark Smith’s rough hewn artwork—mood setting, emotional reactions, and solid framing—unfortunately do not overcome its weaknesses—a sometimes too loose, other times too stiff approach to anatomy, and work that in general seems two or three degrees from looking “professional.” But perhaps the biggest weakness of the art has more to do with the choice of picking this particular artist for this particular kind of story. Smith produces a great panel here and there, but overall, his art style isn’t a great fit for the script’s tone. More to the point, the artwork’s lack of polish subtracts from the sense of drama and suspense needed to pull off the big truth at the center of the story. But that itself is a problem, as the big truth is amateurishly telegraphed by little things in Chris Lynch’s writing, such as the title itself and a “mysterious” customer who looks way too much the part. However, even if these scripting hiccups could be expunged, where the writing shows its deeper weakness is the lack of something at stake. Marty drives like he’s in an action movie, and he gets paid in the end, but there’s no sense at all that something of real value has been won or lost.
Somewhere in the middle is the first story, “Left Behind.” Stu.Art’s work here is quite strong, at once capable of conveying the lead character’s feelings of isolation, loneliness, desperation, and confusion after being dumped, then switching gears to depict the horrors that await as the story moves towards its conclusion. Unfortunately, Lynch’s writing isn’t up to the artwork. It does a great job of pulling us in and gaining our sympathies for the lead, and it also does a great job of not showing its hand as it does with “Thirty Pieces.” However, for all the strong buildup, the twist ending is more ridiculous than horrifying. The point trying to be made is lost on the reader purely because of poor third act dialog and the lack of a believable reason why what happens happens. As a result, the ending comes out of nowhere and leaves the reader scratching his head.
It’s good showmanship to save the best for last. Fortunately, the minds behind Monkeys With Machineguns feel the same way, as “The Exchange” has none of the problems of the previous stories. In fact, it’s quite chilling on several levels. First, Lynch’s scripting does a great job of making this tale feel like it happens everyday. Second, given the pace of scientific advance, it also feels so possible. And third, like really good sci-fi, it sheds light on the present through scenarios set in the future or an alternate present. In this case, the light is a damning critique about the intersection of technology and capitalism, but, to his credit, Lynch keeps the critique on the down-low as the story grinds its way to a conclusion that would make Rod Serling squirm. Stu.Art’s hard black and whites, an expressionistic take on grotesque realism, is a strong compliment to Lynch’s writing for the way it strikes the tone of low-level fright the story needs, then builds on it.
Monkeys With Machineguns may have a number of flaws, but they are the missteps of creators who are still learning the craft. At least two of them have real promise, and one of them can be a fantastic artist if he gets scripts that are up to his level.