Superman didn't kill. Spider-Man didn't kill. Batman and Robin didn't kill. Even in Western comics, there wasn't much killing. The only place I can think of was in war comics... Sgt. Rock, Sgt. Fury, Hans von Hammer - all killed because that's what war was about. But it also showed it in as bad a light as possible, I think.

As I recall, the comics code put a stop to it, and books from the 60s through the 80s pretty much followed that. There were the rare exceptions - Dark Phoenix, Elektra, probably one or two others. But not often.

I guess DC vioalted this concept wholesale in "Crisis on Infinite Earths" (another topic I could write pages about), and maybe that weakened that "no deaths" idea. When you're destroying whole universes, who cares if you kill the Icicle or Alexi Luthor?

It seemed obvious to me that if, for example, Batman killed the Joker, then A) it violated him being a hero, and B) what would be done when a story required the Joker?

It led to resurrections, and I thought those were damned sloppy. It led to the main question about death in my mind - if you need to resurrect a character, why kill him in the first place? An ambiguous "death" scene could have the same effect without actually having to bring someone back from the dead. As noted under separate cover, Mr. Byrne once killed Dr. Doom - destroyed his body and all - and STILL found a way to bring him back.

But I know that more recent stories (since the early 90s, so only 30 years ago!!! :) :) :) have gone to killing is okay. I think it seemed to weaken stories, but it obviously was a direction that readers appreciated.

Also, I started reading comics in the 60s. I know that originally, in the Golden Age*, heroes did indeed kill villains - but it seems that they quickly got away from that.

*I except Captain America and Bucky, the Boy Commandos, etc. from this because they were in the war, and so, death happened.

That's my take - what do you all think of death in comics? Acceptable or is it the wrong venue?

No.

Eric mentions death as exceptions in origin stories (the aforementioned Batman, Superman but also Uncle Ben), but we also have Bucky, Sharon Carter, Walter Langowski, Gwen Stacy and Norman Osbourne dying before this 'modern' demarcation of the 90s (all since undone).

Further to that, though, death is a frequent plotpoint that propels a story. In FF233 the Torch investigates whether an executed inmate actually committed the murder he was convicted for. In FF239, a townful of people have literally dropped dead from fright. In FF258, Doom bombards a lacky with the deadly energy from his faux-power-cosmic machine. Deadly Ernest in Alpha Flight killed people with his touch. I've read loads of Batman stories where he is investigating murders. Nothing wrong with that.

Touché.

Perhaps an Origins-Exception -- provided those dead stay dead!

Comics for teenagers or adults, deaths OK, but superheroes should never kill, or just on highly rare and exceptional occasions.

"Murder She Wrote" and its ilk are among the most innocuous TV fare available and yet they depend upon the crime of murder to propel every episode. Super-heroes should certainly avenge the deaths of innocents but they should not be instruments of death themselves.

It's weak, unimaginative, and cowardly to kill your opponents, especially when a plethora of other options exist. It is, unfortunately, also incredibly popular and, in real life, very effective. Real people don't do that Joker-thing where their motorboat explodes while they cackle on in mid-sentence and then show up a few months later, hale and hearty, with a brand new, underground lair brimming with death traps to try out. 

Many fans today came aboard during Punisher/Wolverine/Ghost Rider era when blood, guts, and gore were tres' chic and everyone just couldn't get enough of those wickedly clever serial killers we all adore and admire. Serial killers are all SO amazing, why wasn't every single member of the Flash's Rogues Gallery one? Y'know what? We'll fix that! They WILL all be giggling, perverse, sadistic serial killers because, hey, that's what the audience wants, and WE are a company that cares.

That apocalyptic landscape shown in Miracleman #15 became the holy grail for every creator working it seemed, each jockeying to come up with something MORE grotesque, MORE depraved, and well, just MORE MOORE! That story seared itself into the industry consciousness and suddenly every book on the stands was soggy with the blood of the innocent and guilty alike. Bad guys were eating Spidey's eyeballs and the lovable ol' Hulk was ripping people in half. Wonder Woman, princess of peace, tolerance, and submission to loving authority, was snapping necks and chopping up baddies left and right, because, f*ck, Marston didn't know anything! Amazons are slaughter-loving wild women with a permanent hard-on for murder! Hack and slash, baby! Hack and slash!!

We've come a short distance back from those days, but not as far as some think. It isn't death itself that needs to be avoided. It's as valid a starting point as any other for a story. Tone, texture, context, and the thought process behind the storytelling matter. 

Whitney Ellsworth, head of National Periodical Publications, came into the office a year or so after Superman's debut and made the pronouncement that DC's heroic characters would no longer kill. There had been, until that time, a sort of laissez-faire acceptance that what was good for the Pulps was good for the comics. The characters were largely built upon the same principles, their methodologies were largely the same... But Ellsworth recognized that the pictorial nature of the medium was much more appealing to kids and that the imagery was much more readily assimilated. 

It's one thing to read that the Spider has spun his web of justice, unleashing a hail of lead upon the Bronson Gang, laying each one low, and sparing the city the depredations of that lawless band... It's another to see Batman take a machine gun to his enemies and watch them dance and splatter as they die. Ellsworth's concerns were informed by experts who advised him to publish at a slightly higher level than pure blood and guts. These characters could do more; be more. They had begun to represent something to their readership, mostly children. Couldn't they represent something better than pulpy crime drama? Couldn't they engage their young readers in a more imaginative and inspiring manner? Ellsworth believed they could. Moreover, he would see to it that they did.

Superman does not stand for Truth, Justice, and the American Way if he's also a petty thug who guns down and shatters the necks of his foes. Which is he going to be? Batman is not a gallant avenger and an example of what one can accomplish through dedication and training if he's also a gun-happy murder-loon, just like the bozos he's plugging full of bullets every month. 

Comic book super-heroes started off in the tradition of the pulps, but they quickly and decisively moved away from that example towards something better. The late Eighties and Nineties gleefully and with utter abandon reveled in their adult fanbase and celebrated the scarcity of underage readers by happily wallowing in the lowest, sickest, most twisted garbage the creators could dream up. That legacy is with us today in far too many books still. 

That lack of conscience and morality is what we need to avoid; not death itself. Yes, it's overused and becomes a punch line when the creators stupidly use it as a sales hook and a revolving door. Death should be used only occasionally for those reasons, yes, but the main concern, moreso than verisimilitude or restraint, is the general tone we want the characters and the industry to set. 

Are we any better than common thugs and murderers as a species? As a society? If you think we are not and that we have no hope to be anything better than slightly educated murderbeasts, then hey, bring on them Punisher and Red Diana, She-Amazon with a Sword, books. Let's all giggle ourselves silly alongside Cletus Kassiday and whichever goofy Central City Rogue made a deal with Neron last as they chop, dice, and make julienne fries out of a grade school class or rape a nun to death with an electrical boomerang. 'Cause that's fun, right?

For all too brief a time there, comics used to be about something better. I liked those books. I believed in what they taught. 

I honestly don't know what they believe in anymore, if anything. It can't just be sales. They apparently don't seem capable of those, so much so that I don't believe they're even trying. So if not that, then what? 

Death itself as a cheap gimmick isn't the problem. It's the cynicism, apathy, and emptiness that informs the books these days that's the real enemy. 

I only know little about what happened to comicbook characters after I stopped being a reader in the very early 80s. But I do know enough about that time to affirm something else that JB has said (I'm not quoting), namely,  that once Jean Grey was ostensibly permanently killed, Chris Claremont seemingly could not resist any chance to mention her. Even when death is meant to be permanent, merely keeping "alive" the memory (so-called) of the character appears to be an irresistible temptation for some. Not to single out Mr. Claremont for this, but surely his choice to have readers who came to the X-Men long after Jean Grey's demise find that knowledge of her and the events around her death indispensable to the comicbook and the other characters, what really was left to do except... bring her back?