Overshadow

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at first. *Another* ‘scientist regrets his life’s work’ story? But *Overshadow* disarmed me within an hour—not with twists, but with how *unapologetic* Regan is. This isn’t a man seeking forgiveness; he’s a narcissist who *knows* he’s brilliant, and that’s his tragedy. Tristan Morris nails this balance, delivering lines like ‘I didn’t *mean* to end the world’ with the same flat affect you’d use to admit you forgot to take out the trash. It’s chilling, darkly funny, and exactly what the story needs. The production is clean, though I’d have loved a touch more atmospheric sound design in the transition scenes—this is a story about *silence* after all, and some subtle audio cues could’ve amplified the dread. The middle act drags slightly when the plot pivots to the ��new world’ dynamic—Peed’s strength is psychological tension, not myth-building, and the shift feels abrupt. But the final third more than compensates, especially in a confrontation where Regan’s hubris collides with his creation’s cold logic. Morris’s performance here is stellar, his voice dropping to a rasp as Regan’s certainties crumble. What lingers isn’t the sci-fi spectacle (though the robot designs are creepily inventive) but the question: Can a man who sees people as variables ever truly *change*? For fans of *Blade Runner*’s philosophical bite or *The Murderbot Diaries*’ morally gray protagonists, this is a must-listen—just don’t expect easy answers.