Undead

I’ll admit, I side-eyed the Virtual Voice narration at first. No inflections? No dramatic pauses? But within 20 minutes, I realized Ellis’s writing doesn’t *need* theatrical flair—it’s already punchy enough to carry itself. The narration’s flat affect becomes a strength, mirroring Lyla’s exhaustion and the story’s grim efficiency. That said, if you’re used to voice actors who *perform* every comma, this might feel jarring. The production is clean, though, with no awkward edits or volume spikes, which is more than I can say for some human-narrated indie titles. The story itself is a masterclass in economical worldbuilding. Ellis doesn’t waste time explaining how the undead plague started or why Lyla’s magic works the way it does—you learn by osmosis, through her battles and bitter asides. The fight scenes are *visceral*, but what stuck with me were the quieter moments: Lyla bargaining with a ghost, or the way she treats her undead “allies” like malfunctioning tools. My only gripe? The villain’s motives feel a touch undercooked compared to the rest of the cast’s moral ambiguity. And while the 6-hour runtime keeps things tight, I wouldn’t have minded another hour to let the ending’s emotional beats land with more weight. Still, for a fantasy that’s equal parts grimdark and darkly funny, *Undead* delivers exactly what it promises—no frills, no filler, just a mercenary and her very bad day.