There are countless issues with Starborn. I mean, the thing opens in an alien council—it looks like a mix of Star Wars and fantasy (some big minotaur looking thing)—but my major problem is buying into the story requires the reader to buy into the protagonist’s stupid sci-fi enthusiasm.

The gimmick (the protagonist’s dumb sci-fi novels are really his memories of intergalactic adventures—isn’t that Cyclops, by the way?) is fine. But the reader is supposed to think the idiotic alien universe Roberson comes up with is cool. It’s infantile. The secret sect of scantily clad warrior women? Wow, how awesome! Given Randolph’s art, which sells the cartoonish aspect of the story, one would think Roberson would have tongue firmly in cheek.

Instead, he plays it straight.

This issue loses the charm the first one eventually engendered. It also has a lame resolution to the previous’s cliffhanger.