#phantom pulse

Audio quality in the earlier seasons is more than a little shaky, an especially glaring flaw in season one. Microphone types tend to vary from person to person—audio pops are relatively frequent, there are quite a few noticeable echoes, there are some downright baffling editing choices that border on jarring, and the inconsistent volume can have you debating whether or not it's a deliberate decision for the framing device or just something overlooked in the editing process.

And even with some minor improvements, this isn't a problem that truly goes away, even in later seasons, which makes any imperfections in the narration either manifest on behalf of the sound mixing or make the most minor of mistakes more noticeable.

It also sometimes feels like the acting was done in one take, and I've noticed more than one actor seeming to stumble or speed through the script when I knew a perfect line delivery could have been possible. This can make for some awkward line deliveries at times, not at all helped by some sometimes over enthusiastic acting, which can really throw you off from the narration that dictates seasons five through six.

And it's a shame that these factors tend to muddle the storytelling so much because there are some genuinely intriguing concepts in Wolf Mountain that I especially think horror, thriller, and psychological fiction fans can get a kick out of.

"The Homebody" segments in season one feature an interesting lead who struggles to comprehend the world beyond his incredibly black and white, and discerningly naive perspective. His commitment to a strict, almost puritanical Christian outlook is challenged over and over again as the weight of the apocalypse starts to weigh on his psyche, and it's a genuinely compelling bit of storytelling.

Season six has some rather solid writing and unnerving imagery to offer, steady and methodical in its pace and build up all throughout, making it easily the most atmospheric and melancholic entry.

My other favorite was "The Park Within The Dome" which takes placed during the seventh season of Wolf Mountain.

You remember that one game that came back in 2016, We Happy Few? Wait, no, I can do a much less dated example to farm clicks. You know that one show out right now, Pluribus?

There's a weird part of my brain that really vibes with that forced happiness trope. I ate it up with Desert Bluffs in the Night Vale universe, and I more or less enjoy the execution here.

It's one of the shorter entries, but the concept is what really intrigued me, and I could definitely see a longer, more fleshed out take on this idea that pushes the narrative to even further depths, especially since I was interested in the societal implications the dialogue hints at. There's nothing I love more than an "implied dystopia", a little trope term I learned recently, offering just enough details to keep you invested in the world without saying too much.

I'd definitely say the show is at its strongest come the eighth season, a delectably toxic sapphic not—quite love story that details a fairly well—written, rather tense relationship between two women that just continues to build and escalate at the perfect pace.

I found myself really enjoying the combination of two opposing narrators in this, arguably an improvement over season six's take on this idea, allowing you to get into the heads of both characters as they process the same events so differently. You'd think this style of storytelling would be rough and disorienting, but the alternating voices mesh perfectly and really add to the tense atmosphere.

It's undeniably the bright spot of Wolf Mountain, both on a storytelling and technical sense, showing the evolution of the writing, acting, and production that makes it into a solid, if somewhat brief, psychological trip. It's easily my favorite.

I would still say Tales From Wolf Mountain is still a bit of an acquired taste, especially if you're a quality over quantity kind of person, but I can't deny the fact that its special brand of weirdness that gives it stories its defining edge isn't at least worth a look just out if curiosity.

I think it presents some layered characters, some interesting dynamics, situations that test the leads and offer an engaging outsider's perspective to some very complex, if deeply bizarre, worlds and circumstances.

Tales From Wolf Mountain has a few unexpected peaks and valleys, which is common in these kinds of anthological projects, which, while it makes the low points more obvious, makes the narrative highs all the more potent.

Tales of Wolf Mountain is packed with some of the most creative ideas I've heard in a long while, even if occasionally the execution falls flat.

Every so often, its little flaws start to pile up and become more and more cumbersome, difficult to ignore as repeated mistakes rear their heads again and again, actively fighting against the writing quality that shines on its own, and yet the bright spots that overcome this beam their brightest when they're given the room they need to breathe.

My advice is that Tales of Wolf Mountain would greatly benefit from a more methodical approach in its presentation—more particular, more exact, more sharp and polished so that even listeners looking for story over sound design can get the full package.

Tales From Wolf Mountain is as ambitious as they come, a love letter to bold ideas and daring concepts, and while this mountain has its share of scenic views, I wish the terrain were just a little less rocky.