Splat—at its fundamental, base level—is writing's attempt at being a photograph. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then a splatterpunk idea is worth a thousand pictures. It's a visual medium first and last. These are freeze frames of reckless details, surgically exposed and forced upon the viewer with no regard for their mental process. In return, the viewer is rewarded (or punished) with the freedom of creating the reason and possibly even the justification of the events they are witnessing. When the desensitization begins, so does the attitude. The snarl. The resistance to flinch. In the case of Splat, it is the edge of the extreme that we seek to shape our attitude. And to achieve that, focus needs to be applied to the most carnal of our human instincts: Death, Sex and Anarchy.
Here is the base level of splat — human mutilation. A headless corpse on display for who? There's not rot? Has he been preserved in this state? Great stuff for starting any splatter story.
Another great staple of the splat genre — the crazy eyes! And crazy eyes don't always come naturally. More often than not, somebody that looks this sadistic comes with an even more sinister backstory.
A great example of how exposing the ugly under belly — quite literally — of an already established genre can provoke an entirely new set of responses and questions.
It must be mentioned that any fictional idea that can be dreamt up, will never match the sheer horror of actual human tragedy. Humans themselves are the most visceral, most vile monsters we could ever imagine.
Here's is one of the few, great examples of less-is-more in Splat. The cover shown here is actually the artistically rendered—censored—version of the original, photographic album cover.
An example of why it's important to respect the composition in such a way that the attitude of the image always supercedes even the gravest, most depraved subect matter.
If all else fails, keep it simple and let Splat regress into its most wretched to explore the perverted mind of pure adolescence.
A classic example of how instant Splat can be achieved by taking the everyday mundane and turning it inside out (quite literally).
Splat can be as little as the voyage of one tiny droplet of blood or absolutely every disgusting, obscene, impure and ultimately offensive subject all at once.
Good Splat is nothing if it can't turn around and laugh at the absolute absurdity of itself. GREAT Splat has the attitude and humor to make the audience do see that for themselves.
The very best Splat exposes so much horror and terror that it is almost mind-numbing... ALMOST. But what really makes it great is that last, small, unborn detail that the audience has to dream up for themselves.
Very few Splat pieces ever rise from the bowels that originally shat them out. However, when they do, extreme appreciation must be observed while the sparks fly and pop culture is reduced to an insignificant, shrivelling mess.
The ultimate Splat can simultaneously make the viewer cringe, retch and ultimately laugh all within a single viewing. Keep it simple—and stupid!
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