Dispatch Review – Season 2, Please

Having played every episode of Dispatch from start to finish, and then returned to explore every alternate path and find every hidden scene, I can finally draw a line under my experience with AdHoc’s superhero sitcom. In my episode reviews, I’d already cautiously suggested that this might be the best interactive series in recent years—but now, having reached the finale, I’m ready to cast all reservations aside. It truly is.

• Developer: AdHoc Studio
• Publisher: AdHoc Studio
• Platforms: PC, PlayStation 5
• Release date: October 22, 2025

Dispatch isn’t just another superhero parody, relying on tired jokes about people in tight suits. Instead of poking fun at genre cliches, AdHoc digs deeper: exploring the burden of superpowers, weaving romance and personal drama into the narrative, and seasoning everything with a healthy dose of irony. The result is an atypical, uncluttered, yet surprisingly captivating animated series that’s downright impossible to put down.

Robert Robertson, the game’s protagonist, is a retired superhero who has lost everything. Fate unexpectedly grants him a second chance, albeit in a rather dubious package: he’s now a dispatcher at SDN, a company specializing in “villain re-education.” His charges, the so-called Z-Team, are a hodgepodge of the most unpredictable and emotionally explosive former supervillains. Robert must bend over backwards to guide these characters to accomplish missions for the good of society, a task not for the faint of heart.

Over the course of eight episodes, the Dispatch writers reveal the lore with exquisite delicacy. Scene by scene, line by line, the game builds character depth with tiny touches—through an action, a barely perceptible gesture, a casual comment, or the way a character reacts to Robert’s words. From these masterfully orchestrated details, a gradual understanding emerges: Z-Team aren’t cardboard comic book villains , but living people (or almost people) with their own baggage, histories, and personalities, all developed with astonishing depth.

Nevidiva tirelessly displays a rebellious streak and disdain for rules—but behind this facade lies a desperate desire to do everything right just once and be told “good job.” Flambé flares up at the slightest provocation, is stubborn and blunt—but his anger reveals the defense mechanisms of a man who’s been burned too many times. Sonar is a strange, eccentric individual with his own quirks, but it’s precisely his eccentricity that makes him so charming.

Malevola is a walking manifesto of brute force, making the contrast between her might and the unexpected gentleness with which she empathizes all the more touching. Golem initially seems like a simple brute, but you quickly realize: yes, he’s big, stone, and unwieldy, but beneath that bulk beats a kind heart. He’s a brute who strikes out and tackles problems head-on, but he has an ironclad inner integrity. Mercenary Kupe prefers silence, but when she speaks, she always gets to the point. And Prisma is simply convinced she knows better than anyone how to make things beautiful—and, characteristically, she’s often right.

The plot unfolds through a series of brief but powerful character clashes. Each episode is structured so that sooner or later, each character gets a chance to take center stage, even if only for a moment. Sometimes this happens in the heat of conflict, sometimes through a brilliantly executed mission, or, conversely, through a failure that has repercussions later in the story. Dispatch doesn’t turn this into a tragedy or a fatal outcome, but it subtly shows how even a player’s insignificant choices can change the atmosphere within the team and tip the scales one way or the other. And although this is an interactive series, you gradually begin to feel as if you—as Robert—are truly influencing the fates of these people. By the season finale, this feeling reaches its peak.

By the midway point of the show, it becomes clear that a far more serious story lies behind the frivolous façade of an office sitcom. The team is gradually drawn into events rooted in Robert’s past—the dangers he once faced. The main antagonist, Robert’s sworn enemy, logically closes the season with the hero’s central motive—his thirst for revenge for his father’s death. As the show approaches its climax, the tone intensifies, but the essence remains the same. This is still a story about people who continue to do their jobs , even as the world around them slowly but surely collapses.

The episodes are structured in such a way that the comedy gradually fades into the background, giving way to a full-fledged story about a team of misfits no one believed in. There’s a sea of ​​dialogue, and in each, the characters, in their own way, try to find the words to express what’s going on inside. There are no flawless characters in Dispatch: everyone breaks down, everyone makes mistakes, has bad tempers and sharp tongues, and no one magically transforms into a paragon of virtue. That’s why their moments of triumph are so heartwarming. You feel responsible for these people. You begin to love them, take pride in their victories, and experience their failures as if they were your own. You watch these eccentric oddballs—yes, they still bicker, interrupt each other, and manage to destroy half a room with a single awkward gesture—and you realize: you want to stand by them like a rock, until the very end.

It’s fascinating to watch how the game treats your decisions in the finale. Most of your choices are subtle, but their cumulative effect creates a compelling sense that Robert truly had a chance to change things within the team, and even in his personal relationships. One moment, you help Nevidiva understand the cost of her impulsiveness. Another, you come face to face with Flambé’s aggression, only to discover the complexes beneath. Another, you discover that Fenomacho’s pompous exterior conceals a timid and sensitive personality. And there are many such moments, sometimes occurring casually, but ingrained in your memory, piercing you to the core.

Throughout all eight episodes, the writers of Dispatch managed to avoid overwrought pathos and ridiculous humor. Toward the end, your team reaches its breaking point, and Robertson faces off against the main adversary, doing everything he can to keep the team from crumbling to dust. The writers trust the players, avoiding tears while cranking up the drama to its limits. The story unfolds in an atmosphere of understated tension and steadily builds to a logical conclusion.

As the credits roll, two lasting feelings remain. The first is that AdHoc clearly understood what they were doing. They clearly weren’t aiming for a grand epic, but within the confines of their chosen task, they executed flawlessly—to tell an honest story about people accustomed to living as they were, yet still searching for a path to a better version of themselves. It’s a sincere story, and it’s that sincerity that captivates them most.

And the second, even more poignant feeling is this piercing bitterness that it’s all over. And for me personally, this is the main criterion that the project has struck a chord with me.