Press

A sci-fi comics anthology from Studio Inti featuring 10 writers and 10 artists exploring the edges of the unknown.

The world told us paper was dead. That everything was going digital. That comics would live forever in the scroll, the swipe, the sterile hum of an LED screen.

There’s a certain kind of storytelling that doesn’t scream—it whispers. It doesn’t leap out at you with jump scares and gore.

Somewhere in the vast, algorithm-choked swamp of digital comics, a hand twitches. It’s tired of drawing the same three poses in the same three-point perspective

There’s a moment in every indie creator’s journey when they realize the internet isn’t just a platform—it’s a jungle. Chaotic, hungry, loud, and full of beasts screaming for attention.

There comes a moment in every indie creator’s life—somewhere between the 300th coffee-fueled all-nighter and your third emotional breakdown of the week

Somewhere, deep in the neon-soaked corridors of a forgotten city, a lone figure runs, feet pounding against pavement, heart racing.

Manga is no longer just a Japanese phenomenon, it’s a global wildfire, spreading across borders, platforms, and artistic styles at a speed the old industry never saw coming.

There was a time, not long ago, when the animation industry was a fortress, walled off with towering budgets, gatekeeping executives, and the ever-present fear that if your cartoon didn’t sell enough lunchboxes, it was doomed before it even aired.

It’s late, too late, and you’re staring at a blank page, trying to conjure life from nothing. A character, a figure, a face.

Wake up. Stumble into the kitchen. Coffee first. Always coffee first. The clock says 10:47 a.m., but time means nothing in the world of indie comics. You went to bed at 4 a.m. again,

There’s a storm brewing in the indie creative world, and at the center of it is AI, a glitching, code-crunching beast that half the industry fears and the other half is desperately trying to tame.

A swipe down the screen, and suddenly, you’re falling, plummeting into a world stitched together by pixels and ink, where stories unfold like a game and games feel like an interactive comic panel.

There’s a certain kind of madness required to build a world from scratch. Not the well-funded, studio-backed kind where executives sign off on lore bibles and merchandising deals

Somewhere, right now, in a dimly lit apartment in Tokyo, or São Paulo, or some backwater town where inspiration hits like a sledgehammer, an indie manga artist is grinding away at their masterpiece.

The first time I saw the blinding, seizure-inducing spectacle of a bullet-hell game, I knew, without a doubt, that anime had burrowed its way into indie gaming like a parasite with impeccable taste.

I was hunched over my laptop in the dead of night, surrounded by empty coffee cups and that peculiar kind of desperation only creators know.

It’s a strange feeling to stare at a blank canvas and realize that less might truly be more.

The room smelled like cheap takeout and shattered dreams, two constants in the world of indie animation.

It’s a Tuesday night, and I’m scrolling through a seemingly endless vertical cascade of panels, bright colors, bold text, and characters that seem to leap out of the screen.

I’m sitting in a cluttered cafe that smells like over-roasted coffee and desperation. My laptop screen flickers, and my fingers itch to type something that doesn’t feel like a scream into the void.