Twenty-eight minutes. That's it. That's the whole thing.
I almost skipped this because — who commits to something shorter than my morning skincare routine? But I was between client projects, waiting for feedback on a logo redesign, and Diego was asleep on my keyboard so I literally could not work. Pulled up City of the Dead on a whim, figuring worst case I'd lost half an hour.
Best design break I've taken in months.
Old-School Radio Drama Hit Different When You Weren't Expecting It
So here's the thing — this isn't really an audiobook in the traditional sense. It's a full-cast audio drama from Decoder Ring Theatre, complete with sound effects, music cues, the whole Golden Age of Radio package. Think 1930s pulp serials but produced by people who clearly grew up loving that era and studied it obsessively. The Red Panda is basically a masked vigilante in Depression-era Toronto (Toronto! Not Gotham, not some fictional city — actual Toronto), and the Flying Squirrel is his partner who brings this sharp, funny energy that keeps things from getting too self-serious.
The production quality genuinely surprised me. There's this noir atmosphere built entirely through audio — footsteps on wet pavement, the hum of a city at night, dramatic orchestral stings that feel pulled straight from a 1940s radio booth. For someone who listens to audiobooks all day while pushing pixels around, hearing something this intentionally designed sonically was kind of electric. It's like the difference between a flat logo and one with real depth and texture. You notice the craft.
Compared to most full-cast productions I've listened to — which tend to feel like they're trying too hard to be movies without visuals — this one leans INTO the radio format instead of fighting it. The voice actors aren't doing "audiobook narration with extra people." They're doing radio drama. There's a difference. The pacing is snappy, the dialogue has this rat-a-tat rhythm that reminds me of old screwball comedies, and the comedic timing between the Red Panda and the Flying Squirrel has this easy chemistry that you can't fake. That same crackling back-and-forth between characters who clearly need each other is something I chased all the way through Then She Was Gone, though the emotional register there is about as far from screwball comedy as you can get.
The Flying Squirrel Deserves Her Own Show
Look, I came for the noir vibes and stayed for her. The actress playing the Flying Squirrel has this energy — playful but competent, warm but not soft. She's not the damsel. She's not the sidekick who exists to say "wow, you're so smart." She gives the Red Panda grief, she throws herself into danger with this casual bravery that feels earned, and the banter between them? Chef's kiss. There's a romantic undercurrent that Decoder Ring doesn't hammer you over the head with, but it's there. My abuela would have loved this dynamic — it's pure telenovela energy dressed up in a superhero costume.
The Red Panda himself does this great thing where his "hero voice" is slightly different from his civilian moments — a little more theatrical, a little more commanding. It's subtle but it sells the dual-identity thing without needing visuals.
Now — did I ugly-cry? No. This is not a crying book. It's 28 minutes of pulpy, fun, atmospheric adventure. It's a palette cleanser. It's the amuse-bouche of audiobooks. And sometimes that's exactly what you need between emotional devastation sessions.
Who This Is For (And Who Should Keep Scrolling)
If you need slow-burn romance or deep emotional gutting, this isn't your moment. But if you love old-timey radio drama aesthetics, witty partnerships, noir vibes with a superhero twist, or you just want something SHORT and well-made to break up your listening queue — grab this. It's practically free in terms of time commitment.
Also genuinely great if you're a fellow creative who works with audio or design and wants to study how atmosphere gets built with just sound. I caught myself pausing my actual work to just... listen. Which never happens with something this short.
The Snack-Sized Verdict
City of the Dead is a shot of espresso when everything else in your queue is a full pot of coffee. It won't change your life. It won't make your spreadsheet of cries. But it's sharp, fun, and produced with so much love for its genre that you can't help but smile through it. Twenty-eight minutes well spent — and now I'm eyeing the rest of the Decoder Ring catalogue like Diego eyes an unattended cheese plate.
