Surviving above all... then, in no order:
violence bloodshed killing dominating beating destroying pillaging looting bombing raiding damaging setting ablaze radioactivity Nuka-Cola Rad-X Rad-away '50s '80s Fallout nice women to save from baddies kicking baddies' asses guns tons of guns pistols shotguns submachineguns machineguns multibarrel guns (ala vulcan) hi-tech guns pasta pizza radscorpion meat Dogmeat postatomic movies cigarettes alcohol sex ghost cities sun falling behind the skeleton of skyscrapers the Pipboy collecting pre-war items selling them stealing them back fuel nuclear batteries nuclear-protection vests kevlar power armours cars motorbikes motors pickups water clean water a home a confortable home.
...peace...
Music
Vandal - Depeche Mode, some jazz, some lounge, some celtic, some '80s, some '50s Jack - Metal, Rock, some '80s Trovò - Metal, Rock, disco Fez - Celtic, some metal, Irish pop, some pop Cera - Rap, Hip-Hop, Metal, Punk Dajo - Metal, Japanese traditional, Rock, some '80s, some ambient Max - '80s, Tina Turner's, some jazz Spisso Boy - doesn't care really
Prof. Torchio - Pink Floyd, '80s, '70s Bob - House, Disco, some metal
Movies
Mad Max trilogy
The Postman Waterworld
The Day After
The Day After Tomorrow
Akira
Hokuto no Ken
Cowboy Bebop
Television
Kindred - the Embraced Nip/Tuck The Shield CSI Hokuto no Ken Cowboy Bebop JERICHO
Books
there are no books in the wastelands anymore... they all turned to ashes during the apocalypse
Cigarettes
Vandal - Lucky Strike (soft box), John Player's Special (black box) Jack - Phillip Morris (yellow) Trovò - what his mates give him... Fez - Moods (vanilla) Cera - Camel (blue) Dajo - Mooods and japanese smokin' crap Max - doesn't smoke Spisso Boy - Cuban cigars
Max Rockatansky (Interceptor and Mad Max)
Jake Green (Jericho)
De Arte Necandi's Details
Status:
Swinger
Here for:
Networking
Orientation:
Straight
Hometown:
S.Giusto - Canavesan wastes
Zodiac Sign:
Cancer
Smoke / Drink:
Yes / Yes
Education:
Some college
Occupation:
bounty hunters
De Arte Necandi's Companies
Mistress P. world rebuilding - Loner (Spisso Boy and Mad Max) Old Turin - nowhere (Spisso Boy and Mad Max), US (Spisso Boy) - Australia (Mad Max) IT Officers - Brigand (Spisso Boy) - Scav (Mad Max) Inquisition and Indoctrination Dept.
from the Bomb 'till 2006ish
Messina's Team ('till Messina's death), no name (after) HQ @ S.Giusto, IT Jack-of-all-trades
from '06ish 'till present day
De Arte Necandi roaming the wastelands... Posted at 12:18 AM Sep 4, 2007 view more
About me: About this:
What's De Arte Necandi? As shown on the banner below, it's a post-nuclear italian tale about the life of a bunch of friends in the radioactive wastelands after a nuclear war that swept everything away from the planet.
This heap of shit has been drawn during lessons at high-shool, especially during english, italian litterature, history, latin, philosophy and science lessons, just a past-time activity for me and my friends who gladly read it and had fun with it. I didn't pay attention to other subjects anyway. Also, being in the last row of the classroom, behind several backs, and protected by a fake wall of books, I was out of teacher's sight, thus being able to concentrate on tools to use. lol
Let's say comic-drawing took an important part in my life. It has been like writing a diary for Zeno in Italo Svevo's "Confessions of Zeno", that was just a way to get rid of nicotine addiction and cure his poor mental status. Now, I've always been happy in my life, but probably if I hadn't drawn the comic now I would be in a different state of mind. I'd probably be mad or introverse, fatter or slimmer, who knows? Probably no changes as well. I stopped drawing comics when I got into a serious relationship, so I can guess that drawing has just been a way to get me out of boredom and insecurity. Who the fuck knows? Just theories, just maybes.
It's heavily inspired on some famous fictional works such as Mad Max (who actually appears as a member of the group) and the Day After, some videogames (wasteland, fallout) and various anime such as Hokuto no Ken, though there are no tsubo-pressed exploding-corpses.
Probably you will not understand some of the facts in the comic because they are based on facts actually happened to me or my friends, who already know and don't need previous explanations.
As a disclaimer, I warn you that this crap is not politically correct, lacks of common sense and it's full of violence, rough and barely legal sex (well... there's not that much indeed...), smoking, nonsense and bad language and there is absolutely no balance between all this and the little romance that might appear. Romance wouldn't have justified the bad attitude of this comic anyway :P
So, should someone get offended by the content, he can happily stick a finger in his ass and go crying to his mother, I don't care as well as nobody's forced to read. lol asd rotfl yo
They live by as bounty hunters or mercs, and are well known to be the best in what they do... "How am I supposed to know about guns to choose? We don't even know which station is gonna be attacked! Can't we simply go to the pub with the others instead of fuckin' around with loads of ammo?" ...because they know they can count on each other... "Itwouldn't be the first time if we go there unprepared, thanks to you, so don't fool around and get those goddamn guns on the car, and don't forget ammo, as you usually do." ...thus managing to live in comfort... "The shit-pit is full again... We'll have to call the Shit-World guys tomorrow, to have it emptied. Hope to get the reward for that bounty soon, otherwise they'll leave us in the shit, literally." ...and, though mother earth no more bears resources, to guarantee goods of vital importance... "Where the fuck did I put my cigarettes? I can't go out tonight without my cigarettes! Motherfuckers, who the fuck stole my fucking cigarettes!??!" [Post Fiction by D.U. - De Arte Necandi by 3V]
..table>
...De Arte Necandi, a post-nuclear italian tale, coming soon... or maybe never...
About us: Daniele "Cera", class 1982, is one you would never have to face as a opponent in fights or in burp competitions. When he fights he burps causing the enemy to stop attacking (and friends to laugh, even in combat) with a puzzled look giving him a serious advantage in combat. In burp competitions people simply get deaf: his burps are thunderous and long-lasting. Part of the group's money has been earned by him winning competitions in saloons, pubs, and beer fairs across the european wastelands. His mood is always cheerful resulting pleasant to everyone. Even people who hate bad attitudes such as burping might find him pleasant. On the other side, though, he is well-known for his insolence. He's insolent of look and tongue. His face is one you would like to slap all day long and his tongue one you would cut before it lets out too much "honesty"...
Before the war he was a clerk and a taxi driver and got a degree in economics. After the bombs fell he (and his survivor friends) became an agent of the emerging P's empire. But his faith in her was kept only by a chip she installed in his head, conditioning his will. When the chip got removed by Federico he regained his will at cost of his memory since he joined P, memories he gladly doesn't want to regain, and became a bounty hunter of the Trovò's Team. When the team got vanquished in a P's assault to their HQ, he left to unknown places for fortune, but being not so fortunated, he came back to get team up again and fight the empire.
Valerio, known as Vandal, class 1982, is the owner of the house the team lives in. Before the war he was a lazy college student. He studied linguistics but never completed them, instead he managed to get a job as a traffic-safety policeman. Soon after, the bombs fell. Like his mates he became an agent of the P's empire, sharing the same fate: will loss when "indoctrinated", memory loss when "hereticized". He became then a bounty hunter in the Trovò's Team. When the team got defeated he left for what remained of Ireland, got married to a local girl he knew in '98 and built a family. Got bored soon, he left the place to reunite with his mates, who settled in S.Giusto at his countryside home. He incarnates moderation and excess in the same body. He's the most violent in the group. He hates violence, but when he sees violence he gets nervous and badly violent and he loves it. He loves human beings, but he thinks human rights are not so right. He hatea animals except cats, he sometimes kicks them, but when he sees someone else kicking animals he gets nervous and badly violent. When he sees injustice, he gets nervous and feels an urge to bring justice in the violent way. Before the war he remained in silence when injustice showed up, he couldn't do anything anyway. Now that he got the right guns, he can and enjoys it. His mind might seem chaotic and confusing to the most, but if analyzed a bit it can be found in pragmatic and crystalline order. He's insolent and loud, in his speach one word out of two is a profanity or a swear against God and people might find it hard to get along with him at a first meet. Then things settle pretty good most of times. He can also be nice and well-mannered... but good manners are not appreciated anymore in a world where fuel and bullets come first. His hatred for muslims and fanatics in general is unparalleled. He's often found with a cigarette hanging from his lips.
Jack, class '82, is Vandal's closest friend of a lifetime. They've been schoolmates since kindergarten, grown up togheter, shared almost the same interests and survived war and fallout in the same bunker, and as the other fell under the forced influence of the Mistress. Before the war he was a student and a bookshop clerk. Reading has always been his main interest. As a result he is the most educated in the group, especially in hystorical and philoshophical matters. Clearly he's also one of the most educated in the world, though education means nothing anymore. He also writes book in his spare time, though nobody's gonna ever read them, basically for two reasons: he never finishes them and there are no presses to have them printed. He's a thinker: when he doesn't write, he drinks wine and meditates about life and death in general. He's a prefectionist. He prefers aiming a single good shot with a tiny pistol instead going full-auto with a machinegun. He's athletic and keeps always fit. He loves his long hair and use them as a weapon for mocking Spisso Boy, and usually girls find him the most attractive in the group. Sometimes he's found farming in the backyard, trying to get the little that Earth still has to give. It's a job that the others seldom do, but, hey! someone has to do it! Though the group has no leader, he's got the right temper and charisma to take command, and most of all the right speech ability to fuck up people in matters of sales and barterings. As a matter of facts, he's the one who has the brightest ideas on what to do and where to go on saturday nights.
Cassidy aka Spisso Boy, was bord in 1967 in USA. His mother was irish and his father italian. Nobody knows his past and seldom he lets his friends know some details. His family was killed by the russian mafia for apparently no reasons, probably they just were in the wrong place at the wrong time. This tall guy graduated in one of the worst Californian high-school after being kicked out from many others for bad attitude and, at 22, he joined the US Army. In a few years he developed his sheer genius that high schools couldn't let out, and became a master linguist, tactician and fighter. Most evidently he developed his titanic muscles. However, due to hard training, learning and stress, he lost all his hair. He fought during the Iraqi crysis in 1991 and soon became Colonnel, at the age of 33. With that rank he could easily sit behind an ancient oak desk, instead he decided to keep on fighting on the battlefields. He also fought in latter conflicts, such as in Kossovo and Afghanistan, earning medals until his overmuscular chest couldn't hold anymore. But he's also the one who bombed Moscow with "Gabriel", the most powerful nuclear aircraft-mounted missile ever made. Still, he doesn't regret it. He always loved fiery mushroom clouds raising high in the skies, and he's never been afraid of nuclear holocaust. He was strong enough to survive the most disastrous condition.
After the war, he became a brigand, collected some fortune but as soon as the P's empire was beginning to expand its influence over America he became a even more ferocious brigand, concentrating his pillages on empire cargos and troops. Then he left US to reach the heart of P's empire. One day, while assaulting a bank, supposedly to belong to the empire, he was stopped by Jack, Vandal, Cera and the others, who spared his life and had him join the group. They soon became friends, sharing common hobbies and studies, the same taste for justice and money and a common goal: get rid of the P's influence, or better, the Poggianti herself. Though somewhat silent and introverse, he is humorous, hard willed and good hearted. His thundering voice and titanic constitution makes his enemy flee in panic, while boosting his friends' morale. He's always ready to help his friend when it comes to kick ass or training in the arts of war and killing. But his very best friend is gunpowder. Military training and philosophy burned in his mind the most valuable of human virtues: honor. He always swore allegiance to his friends till their death, and now the allegiance is sworn to the group that gave him a shelter and a nice standard of living. He never liked to be alone...
hoose? We don't even know which station is gonna be attacked! Can't we simply go to the pub with the others instead of fuckin' around with loads of ammo?" ...because they know they can count on each other... "It wouldn't be the first time if we go there unprepared, thanks to you, so don't fool around and get those goddamn guns on the car, and don't forget ammo, as you usually do." ...thus managing to live in comfort... "The shit-pit is full again... We'll have to call the Shit-World guys tomorrow, to have it emptied. Hope to get the reward for that bounty soon, otherwise they'll leave us in the shit, literally." ...and, though mother earth no more bears resources, to guarantee goods of vital importance... "Where the fuck did I put my cigarettes? I can't go out tonight without my cigarettes! Motherfuckers, who the fuck stole my fucking cigarettes!??!" [Post Fiction by D.U. - De Arte Necandi by 3V] 
