Name: Zombieverse
Genre: Reality
Released: 2023-08-08T00:00:00+00:00
Cast: Lee Si-young, Noh Hong-chul, Dex, DinDin, Tsuki

The moment Lee Si-young sprints through Seoul’s neon-lit streets, dodging shambling figures with eerie white eyes, you know Zombieverse isn’t your typical variety show. This Netflix reality series drops its cast into a hyper-stylized zombie apocalypse, blending survival challenges with the undead horde. But beneath the gory fun, there’s a hollow core that leaves you questioning what exactly it’s trying to achieve.

On paper, Zombieverse sounds like a fresh twist on reality TV. Ten celebrities—including DinDin and Tsuki Fukutomi—navigate a zombie-infested Seoul, completing quests while avoiding the infected. The premise leans into the popularity of survival games and zombie lore, but the execution feels more like a theme park ride than a genuine test of wit or endurance. From the outset, it’s clear the cast can’t actually fail; every challenge is meticulously scripted, with pre-determined outcomes that strip away any real tension.

Where Zombieverse succeeds is in its visual flair and production design. The Seoul backdrop is gorgeously shot, blending futuristic cityscapes with eerie abandoned locales. The zombie makeup is impressive—especially Tsuki Fukutomi’s disheveled, green-skinned character, ZombieO—a standout in a sea of generic undead extras. The show also benefits from its cast’s charisma; Lee Si-young and Noh Hong-chul, in particular, bring energy to their roles, playing up the campiness with exaggerated reactions and witty banter.

But the lack of genuine stakes is a dealbreaker. Unlike Squid Game, which balanced brutal survival challenges with deep social commentary, Zombieverse feels like a glorified commercial for Netflix’s special effects team. The quests—such as escaping a zombie-filled maze or solving puzzles to unlock safe zones—are clever but ultimately meaningless. The cast never seems in real danger, and the show’s humor relies too heavily on slapstick rather than sharp writing.

The biggest misstep is the tone. Zombieverse struggles to decide if it’s horror-comedy, survival drama, or just a lighthearted game show. It dips into dark moments—zombies ripping apart fake limbs, cast members screaming in terror—but then undercuts them with over-the-top gags and cheesy one-liners. This tonal whiplash makes it hard to invest emotionally.

The performances are a mixed bag. Lee Si-young and Noh Hong-chul shine as the show’s de facto leaders, their chemistry palpable even in the most absurd scenarios. DinDin and Tsuki Fukutomi bring youthful energy, though their roles feel somewhat one-dimensional. Patricia Thona Yiombi and Park Na-rae, meanwhile, are saddled with less engaging quests that highlight the show’s uneven writing.

The direction is competent but uninspired. The creators clearly prioritize spectacle over substance, filling each episode with flashy set pieces that lack narrative cohesion. The pacing is erratic; some episodes drag as the cast bickers over trivial matters, while others zip by in a blur of CGI zombies and poorly timed jump scares.

Thematically, Zombieverse is all over the place. It hints at deeper ideas—class struggle, the futility of survival—but never commits to exploring them. Instead, it settles for shallow metaphors, like comparing zombie hordes to the pressures of fame or the grind of everyday life. These moments feel tacked on, as if the writers realized too late that their show needed a purpose beyond entertainment.

The biggest missed opportunity is the lack of genuine stakes. In survival stories like Squid Game or even The Walking Dead, the characters face real consequences for their actions. Here, the cast knows they’re safe, and it shows. There’s no desperation in their eyes, no palpable fear—just a series of pre-rehearsed reactions designed to elicit laughs or gasps from the audience.

That said, Zombieverse isn’t without its moments. The final episode delivers a surprisingly emotional farewell, as the cast reflects on their time together and the challenges they’ve faced. It’s a rare instance where the show feels genuine, and it makes you wish the rest of the series had taken itself half as seriously.

In the end, Zombieverse is a visually impressive but ultimately empty spectacle. It’s fun in short bursts, like scrolling through TikTok horror challenges, but there’s no depth to sink your teeth into—literally or metaphorically.