#infinity crusade

[sid-sn]

goddess of resentment

[zandiks-legacy]

[nickmarino]

[tomoleary]

Ron Lim and Al Milgrom - Infinity Crusade #2 Adam Warlock splash page (1993) Source

[miau-exe]

The goddess from infinity crusade. Still haven’t finished the whole saga but I really wanted to draw her. Had a really good time with this one, one of those drawings that totally sucks you in and I haven’t water colored in a while

[treverscottcameron]

[classicmarvelera]

Jim Starlin at Marvel: Cosmic Visions, Death Worship, and the Search for Meaning

📚 Want to explore Jim Starlin’s Marvel work? Check it out on Amazon: Marvel by Jim Starlin on Amazon (Affiliate link — helps support my work!)

When you talk about Marvel’s greatest storytellers, Jim Starlin has to be near the top of the list. Not just because he created legends like Thanos, Drax, and Gamora — but because he dragged superhero comics kicking and screaming into the world of cosmic nihilism, existential dread, and deep religious philosophy.

He didn’t just tell stories about heroes saving the universe. He told stories about why the universe might not deserve saving.

Let’s dive into Starlin’s Marvel career — and how his exposure to religion, war, and philosophy forged some of the deepest characters and stories ever put on a comic book page.

From Catholic Upbringing to Cosmic Doubt

Starlin grew up in Detroit, raised Catholic. Like a lot of kids, he got the rules and rituals hammered into him early — but even as a teenager, he started questioning the whole thing.

By the late 1960s, Starlin was soaking in everything: Eastern philosophy, psychedelia, existentialism, the whole counterculture brew. He also served in Vietnam, a real-world nightmare that reinforced his growing sense that authority — whether religious or political — was a scam.

When Starlin got his foot in the door at Marvel in the early '70s, he wasn’t just bringing pencils and ink. He was bringing serious existential baggage — and he turned that into gold.

First Steps: Birth of Thanos and Drax

Starlin’s first big splash was Iron Man #55 (1973). Here, he dropped Thanos and Drax the Destroyer into the Marvel Universe — and instantly rewired the cosmic landscape.

Thanos wasn’t some petty dictator. He was a death-worshiping nihilist, driven by philosophy, not greed. Drax was a weapon engineered with one purpose: kill Thanos. Right from the start, Starlin was asking bigger questions: Is free will even real? Is purpose something we choose, or something imposed on us?

The seeds were planted: Starlin wasn’t writing just superheroes. He was writing cosmic Greek tragedies.

“Religion, war — they teach you there’s an order to things. Then you get older, you realize: the universe is chaos. My characters are fighting that chaos.” — Jim Starlin, The Comics Journal, 1980

Captain Marvel: Death as a Doorway

When Starlin took over Captain Marvel (#25–34), he threw out the old Earth-bound espionage plots and lit the fuse on a cosmic war between Captain Marvel and Thanos.

But the real fight wasn’t about the universe. It was about the soul.

Mar-Vell’s battles became psychedelic trips into the nature of reality. Starlin, influenced by Buddhist and Gnostic ideas, had Mar-Vell confront death not as an enemy, but as an inevitable truth to be accepted.

When Starlin later wrote The Death of Captain Marvel (1982), he broke all the rules. Mar-Vell didn’t go down swinging against a villain — he died of cancer, helpless and human.

No punches could save him. Only peace.

It was one of the rawest, realest things Marvel ever published — and it hit even harder because it was rooted in Starlin’s own loss. His father had passed from cancer.

Adam Warlock: Christ Without Salvation

Starlin’s run on Warlock (Strange Tales #178–181, Warlock #9–15) is where his religious and philosophical obsessions truly exploded.

Warlock wasn’t your typical hero. He was a genetically engineered god wandering the universe in search of purpose. In his path: the Universal Church of Truth, a twisted religious empire built on hypocrisy and oppression.

At the center of it all? The Magus — Warlock’s own future, corrupted self.

Warlock’s battle wasn’t just against evil; it was against destiny itself. Starlin pulled heavy from existentialism: If your future self is a monster, are you already doomed? Can you ever break free from what you’re meant to become?

In the end, Warlock commits a metaphysical suicide — killing his future self to prevent the Magus from ever existing. It’s dark, complicated, and unlike anything else Marvel was publishing at the time.

Starlin wasn’t just taking shots at religious hypocrisy. He was showing that even the idea of a “chosen one” can become a prison.

Thanos: The Universe’s Most Tragic Villain

Thanos wasn’t just another bad guy. Under Starlin, Thanos became the most complex villain in comics.

His obsession with Death (literally personified as a cloaked woman) wasn’t metaphorical. Thanos craved annihilation, believing the universe itself was a mistake — an echo of Gnostic Christianity’s idea that the material world is broken.

Gathering the Infinity Gems wasn’t about power for its own sake — it was about earning Death’s love by returning the universe to nothingness.

In The Infinity Gauntlet (1991), Starlin finally let Thanos win — wiping out half the universe with a snap of his fingers. Heroes didn’t save the day with brute force; they won because Thanos, deep down, knew he didn’t deserve what he had taken.

Thanos was the ultimate existential antihero: fully aware of life’s meaninglessness, craving oblivion, and trapped by his own emptiness.

Infinity War, Crusade, and Beyond: Wrestling with Faith

With Infinity War (1992) and Infinity Crusade (1993), Starlin doubled down on philosophical and religious themes.

Infinity War brought back the Magus — Adam Warlock’s dark half — proving that even in victory, heroes can’t outrun their own shadows.

Infinity Crusade flipped the script: Warlock’s “good” side creates the Goddess, who tries to convert the universe into a fundamentalist utopia. Starlin’s message was clear: even pure good can become tyranny when it stops questioning itself.

Religion wasn’t just a backdrop in these stories — it was the battleground.

Art Style: Visual Philosophy

Starlin’s writing was cosmic, but his art was just as essential.

Twisted dimensions, dreamlike death sequences, vast empty space — his panels made the universe feel terrifying and unknowable. Characters were often dwarfed by endless cosmic backdrops, reinforcing how small and fragile they really were.

His color palettes — psychedelic purples, blues, and reds — gave everything a surreal, almost spiritual tone. Starlin wasn’t just drawing fights. He was drawing the soul’s struggle against an indifferent cosmos.

Legacy: Marvel’s Cosmic Philosopher

Without Jim Starlin, Marvel’s cosmic stories would look a lot different — and a lot shallower.

He didn’t just invent Thanos, Gamora, Drax, Pip the Troll, and a dozen other icons. He invented a tone: deep, weird, philosophical, unafraid to ask uncomfortable questions.

He showed that even in a universe of gods and heroes, the real battles are inside — against doubt, destiny, and the quiet terror that maybe, just maybe, the universe doesn’t care.

And yet, through it all, Starlin’s characters keep fighting. Not because they’ll win — but because fighting, questioning, and searching are all they have.

That’s cosmic storytelling. That’s Jim Starlin.

Starlin’s Definitive Marvel Work: Why You Need to Read It

📖 Buy Marvel by Jim Starlin on Amazon

(Affiliate link – I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you.)

If you want to understand why Jim Starlin matters — you need to read two essential works: The Death of Captain Marvel and The Infinity Gauntlet.

These aren’t just great comics. They’re the blueprint for everything Marvel cosmic has done since.

The Death of Captain Marvel (1982) is Starlin at his most raw. No universe-ending battles — just a hero facing death like a human being. It’s honest, heartbreaking, and proves what superhero comics can do when they ditch the tropes and tell the truth. It sticks with you.

The Infinity Gauntlet (1991) is Starlin unleashed at the largest scale. Thanos wipes out half the universe with a snap, battles cosmic gods, and still can’t fill the void inside himself. It’s not just an action epic — it’s a meditation on loneliness, desire, and failure disguised as a superhero event. It’s the story that made Thanos a legend.

Both books hold up today — maybe even more now. In a world obsessed with power and control, Starlin’s work reminds us: death, doubt, and cosmic emptiness are the real opponents. And facing them with courage is the only real victory.

If you’ve never read Starlin’s Marvel work, do yourself a favor. Start there. You won’t see superheroes the same way again.

📖 Buy Marvel by Jim Starlin on Amazon

(Affiliate link – I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you.)

[justdealingwithsomeissues]

This is actually pretty good for a tie-in...