It used to be so simple.
You went into the local 7-11, or drug store, or any of a number of other stores, and you would find a spinning rack of comic books. Bright colors, catchy titles, and often some snappy dialogue to get your attention. And you knew what you were getting. If you bought a comic book featuring Batman, he would be Bruce Wayne, he would live in a mansion in or near Gotham City, he could drive a crazy car, and maybe a plane, or a helicopter, or some funny looking thing that looked like someone stuck a house fan up over a wheelchair. No, seriously. They called it a “Whirly Bat!”
Look out! It’s the
Whirly Bat!
This was true for other characters. Superman’s alter ego would always be Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter for the Daily Planet. Spiderman would always be Peter Parker, a nebbish kid who managed to land a job doing freelance photography for the newspaper. (I wanted the job, not his superpowers.) So on and so on for all the major superheroes, and their villains would pretty much stay the same, too. You could depend on it.
Now, not so much. It seems like the racks at the comic shop (because you can’t just buy comics in a drug store or convenience store anymore) are loaded down with alternate versions of most of the major characters. Some are familiar, and even remain so for more than a few months at a time. Some hardly bear any resemblance to the characters you know and love. Many are created for a single issue, or a 3-6 issue miniseries, only to be forgotten shortly afterward. Apparently, at this time, there is a series out featuring multiple versions of characters meeting up, sometimes to help each other, sometimes to fight. It’s hardly unique, but this one is combining characters from different genres, including comic books, cartoons, and other mediums.
So, is this a bad thing? It is if you like a strong sense of continuity. But, be honest, is there any such thing anymore. I mean, the publishers pay some lip service to the idea, but between multiverses, alternate dimensions, disruptions in the space-time continuum, and plain old bad writing, continuity is about a solid as a soggy tissue. One good sneeze, and it’s all gone.