Culture / March 15, 2020

When Simping Goes Wrong

The tale of a groyper artist, his dream project, and a deal with an e-girl gone wrong.

“And who. The fuck. Is Ender?” asks Martina Markota near the beginning of a brutal 3-hour stream in which she attacks her former groyper-ally and business partner. “Can anyone tell me who Ender is?” 

In reality, Markota ought to have known very well who Ender was, considering her months-long plans to take credit for their joint-venture art magazine, Metacog—a project conceived as a way to capture and crystalize the vibrant aesthetics of underground right-leaning creators. 

Among the contributors enlisted for the magazine’s maiden issue were esoteric illustrator Owen Cyclopes, fringe musician School Shooter, and wholesome memer Peter Cozy.  


The initial arrangements of the magazine were simple: Martina would use her e-clout to garner contributors and publicize the project. The magazine would be published under her brand, Magnum Opus Productions, and she would use her social media following to promote it. Ender and the art director (the magazine’s third collaborator), meanwhile, would do just about everything else: the layout, the copy, the submissions, the feature articles, etc. All the actual creative labor required to bring a magazine to fruition. 

Seems like a win-win, right? Perhaps. Only one problem: e-girls often can’t fathom arrangements of mutual benefit. Most E-girls only understand parasitic relationships with their simps. And now that Ender had entered into a good faith working arrangement with Markota, he was promptly filed into that “simp” category. 

As work continued, Ender’s updates to Martina on the content of the magazine continually went unanswered. Her presence in the project became entirely absent. 

“No response to your emails means nothing,” Markota later declared when confronted on her lack of input. “My boss used to ignore me all the time.” 

Also absent was the promotion of the project Martina had promised. Though Martina acquired several large media interviews during the time of the magazine’s production, she repeatedly failed to mention the mag, preferring to use the spotlight to endlessly retread her sad pity-party victim narrative (TLDR: NYC stripper burlesque dancer can’t find work because she’s MAGA). In short, she used the platforms to attract more white knighting simps, not to put more eyeballs on the artists she was supposedly supporting through the magazine. 

Despite Martina’s numerous shortcomings as the “Editor-in-Queef,” the product continued to develop by the sweat of Ender’s and the art director’s brows. As contributions were compiled and a concept began to take shape, Martina would use the tangible progress to declare herself QUEEN of the dissident-right art scene. Behind the scenes, she would finally offer some “input” on the direction of the mag. She would demand that pictures of herself be used exclusively throughout its pages and the cover, while pictures and articles featuring other women be removed. 

At this point, the non-artist known as Lady Alchemy had begun to weave her disgusting form of alchemical transmutation: redirecting the energy of the magazine and its artists into refined SIMP fuel for her e-clout. The hard work and talent of actual creators was to be tossed into the furnace of her e-fame like so many lumps of coal. 

In spite of all of this, balances were stricken. The mag was rebranded and reformatted several times—all with almost zero help from Martina. Eventually, the time came to order physical proofs, which Ender put forth his own funds to pay for, lacking any further financial support from the woman who planned to take credit for the project. 


Now that all this work at last existed in physical, verifiable form, guess who finally comes knockin? Guess who’s now extremely concerned with the product? Martina.  

A massive blowout ensues over the fact that Martina hasn’t been sufficiently credited in the front matter of the book. Martina immediately threatens to end it all unless she can claim full ownership over the magazine. 

The magazine’s art director offers a solution. Nobody “owns” the magazine. The front matter “who did what” shit gets cut entirely in favor of giving more kudos to the contributors themselves. Any potential profits can be split three ways between Martina, Ender, and the art director, but all the accreditations for the editorial staff will be discarded to the cutting room floor. 

Ender immediately agrees to the proposition but, needless to say, it’s not enough for Martina. She demands full ownership of the project. When Ender refuses to give her full credit for absolutely EVERYTHING, Martina switches tactics to her next modus operandi: a thief-in-the-night style hijacking of all social media accounts associated with the magazine. This is followed by the beginnings of a public slander campaign against Ender. 

The slander campaign goes on for nearly a full week. Amidst two three-hour livestreams and dozens of tweets bashing Ender, Martina once again sings her go-to victim narrative of being tricked, lied to, and abused by her former collaborator—all with zero accountability on her part. Any hope Ender might have held for a career in the magazine industry is soiled alongside his reputation. All because he made the mistake of doing work for a traitorous e-girl. 

It’s interesting to note that, during this week, Martina put forth more effort into bashing Ender than the total sum of all her effort put toward actually building up or promoting the magazine. 

On his twitter, Ender eventually laid out a full account of the dispute that arose when Martina’s lack of measurable action toward the project came to a head. His full side of the story is embedded below. 

“Did he expect a salary for putting pictures into adobe?” Markota later asks in her Ender-blasting livestream, dumbstruck over the proposition that an artist be compensated for his work.


So where are we now?

The Magazine – The magazine is dead, and the near-40 artists that would have been featured to an audience of over a million people when combining the total following of all the contributors to the magazine (a number exponentially greater than any attention Martina could garner on her own) remain firmly underground and unappreciated. 

The E-girl – If one were to go look at Martina’s social media right now, one would discover she’s embroiled in a new conflict, virtually identical to the one described here: a creative project wherein all the work was done for her, only for all that work to be burned and transmuted into a victim narrative to prop up Martina’s shortcomings. Notice a pattern here? Perhaps the entire right-wing art world isn’t comprised of grifters looking to take advantage of poor Martina. Perhaps Martina herself is the common denominator here. 

The Enablers – And why was this all allowed to happen in the first place?

The answer is simps. Beneath every lie of an e-girl, a small but dedicated army of simps, orbiters, and paypigs blindly amplify their lies to create a protective echo chamber around the bullshit, thus allowing a criminally untalented e-girl to run the same grift on up-and-coming underground artists again and again with impunity—artists who trade their talent, time, and work for the promise of exposure, only for all their effort to be sacrificed on the altar of her ego.