Apple TV+’s Mythic Quest: Raven’s Banquet Is Not Worth Grinding Through
Photo Courtesy of Apple TV+
Workplace comedies centered around fun rom-com-esque jobs are risky. Sure, it might sound engaging and might convince the execs that those crucial youths will watch your show, but pick something too niche or too limiting and you end up like that Zach Braff podcasting show Alex, Inc.. And once you’ve cleared that hurdle, you have to make it funny. Mythic Quest: Raven’s Banquet, the Apple TV+ series from the folks behind It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, gambles it all on being a hilarious, brash, cool take on the modern videogame industry. It’s almost as terrible as its name.
The show, named after its central MMORPG’s first expansion (more tongue-twister than tongue-in-cheek), sees creators Rob McElhenney, Charlie Day, and Megan Ganz attempt to go both broad and hyper-specific—sillier than Silicon Valley but with nerdy bonafides. I scoured all nine half-hour episodes of its first season on a quest for comedy, finding only squandered potential wandering its depressing office space.
Creative director Ian Grimm (McElhenney) lords over the Mythic Quest team—including souless monetization lead Brad (Danny Pudi), uncool programming head Poppy (Charlotte Nicdao), washed-up writer C.W. Longbottom (F. Murray Abraham), and eager testers Dana (Imani Hakim) and Rachel (Ashly Burch)—who are all ostensibly under the management of wimpy executive producer David (David Hornsby). Ian, ever the rock star with his pickup artist styling and silly name, makes that fantasy immediately transparent. Even David’s scary assistant Jo (Jessie Ennis) gravitates towards Ian’s tech-bro confidence. Each character has a trait, no more no less.
The workplace comedy seems to be attempting a Community feel while replacing that show’s heart with topical, more aggressive attempts at humor. The resulting failure merely flops at a faster pace. It’s the kind of manic rambling tempo that someone like Charlie Day could make into an engrossing vortex with his nails-on-chalkboard whine and endlessly energetic gesticulations, but in any other hands is exhausting. When the jokes aren’t funny and the performers aren’t engaging, this tactic is ironically low-energy.
The first few episodes are so full of smirk-inducing, long-winded bits that stammer on for such prolonged, repetitive back-and-forths that you’d think Judd Apatow let the cast run wild. Close: it’s Your Highness’ David Gordon Green doing the same thing. This pacing sets the tone for the rest of the season, which meanders with the languid leisure of someone confident that it’s working. Those broad characters attempt to satirize an industry’s specific workflow, audience, and ancillary elements, but are always just off the mark. South Park’s groundbreakingly good, Emmy-winning World of Warcraft episode “Make Love, Not Warcraft” got so much right in 2006 that 2020’s attempt at the same material feels shockingly behind.
Terrible (and real) hyper-popular streamer PewDiePie has his own teen counterpart on the series, who is desperately important to the game’s success, but only weathers surface-level jokes about his name, PootyShoe. Online videogame outlets like Polygon and Kotaku are namedropped, but with things like “Kotaku is going to run a front page article on us” being plot points. But Kotaku’s homepage (not front page, because it’s not a newspaper) simply updates with the latest published articles. Mythic Quest is full of that uncanny near-reality, where people still say “noob” and Nazis are something game developers actually try to eliminate from their player base.