That's why the funny-animal aspect of this book is so important. It's a land of make-believe wherein pranks, fart jokes, acid trips, filthy group houses are the only reality that matters. It really does feel like characters from children's literature grew up and partied together. The lighthearted nature of it all makes it feel like an extended, dirty and drug-infused episode of The Monkees. That show had a sense of its own ridiculousness, and it's obvious that Furie isn't presenting any of these characters as anything to aspire to. Indeed, he's constantly and subtly mocking these characters' speech patterns, musical references (e.g., The Black Eyed Peas), jokes, fashion interests, etc. However, he also uses their anthropomorphic qualities as a base for forays into psychedelic weirdness. The cute characters transform into monstrous versions of themselves as they stare off into space, Pepe's eyeballs pop out of his head and slink away, still attached by the optic nerve. Landwolf gets naked and dances with a strobe light flashing, spinning his penis into a circle. Most of the stories are just one to two page vignettes, with the exception of a story featuring Landwolf wanting to commemorate an especially large bowel movement. Furie's skill in being able to draw characters that draw the eye in and won't let go is a big key to the success of the series, and the single-color linework adds a touch of eye candy as the choice of color shifts every few pages. This is certainly a book about bros, but they're by far the most charming and harmless bros I've ever seen depicted.
The Megahex stories are filled with psychedelia, pranks, slacker slovenliness and young people refusing to grow up. While Hanselmann's comic is frequently far funnier than Furie's, it's devoid of the satire Furie employed so deftly in his book. Instead, Megahex is a meditation on the dark side of living this kind of lifestyle. The relationship between Megg (the redheaded witch), Mogg (her housecat and lover, which gets exactly as uncomfortable as one would expect) and Owl (an anthropomorphic Owl who's the only one who has a job and some pretense at trying to grow up) is frequently quite abusive. Werewolf Jones in particular is the epitome of the out-of-control, aimless, obnoxious and ubiquitous asshole who latches on to people, exploits them, abuses them and then is offended when people get angry at him. He initially establishes his worth by providing drugs and outrageous party hijinks, but there's a difference between being amused by someone like that from a distance and actually having them in your life.
The moments that being drunk or high that provide joy, relief and escape are just that--moments. Hanselmann depicts an increasing amount of ennui, paranoia and worst of all--pointlessness. When Owl decides to quit drinking alcohol at one point in the book, Megg and Mogg secretly get him drunk with a "health smoothie", leading to a hilarious and awful sequence where Owl berates a couple in a video store for their choice of movie and then laughs off a punch in the face. Owl's flaw is that he's driven by fear, especially a fear of his own success. Like the others, he drowns out the buzzing feeling of self-hatred in his head through stoner and drunk rituals, until the end of the first book when he's decided he's had enough abuse at the hands of his so-called "friends". It's an interesting character moment, because it was made clear in the second book that Megg & Mogg are essentially helpless without Owl at least partially tethering them to reality.
The structure of the book, sliced into vignettes, means that Hanselmann can simply reset and choose any road to go down with regard to the emotional content of the strip. In a given story, you might see a short gag, a longer vignette focusing on the darker side of one of the characters, a story that ties into the overall emotional continuity of the book, or a spectacular visual sequence that embraces the psychedelic aspects of the narrative. The magical realist nature of the characters allows Hanselmann a great deal of leeway here, as the initial premise of the book and its characters is highly elastic. It's easy to snap back to the three housemates sitting in their living room at the beginning of a story without taking the reader out of the narrative. The same is true for Hanselmann's visual approach to his stories, as he has a central style that features an 8 - 12 panel grid, a fairly thin line weight and and an active (if muted) use of color. Depending on the mood and demands of the story, he might switch to a 16 or 20 panel grid (he had 35 panels on a few pages!) in order to accelerate the narrative, which usually zips along pretty quickly for a comic where a lot of people sit around on many of its pages. The color in some of the stories is richer and more vivid than in others, but Hanselmann never lets things get too far away from his template. Even the guest artists like Furie himself and Sammy Harkham fit right into Hanselmann's overall aesthetic.