This review contains spoilers.

Video games have been a massive part of my life for as long as I can remember. Whether it be building massive dirt houses in Minecraft, spending countless hours grinding in Metin2, or playing Heroes of Might and Magic III for half a day without taking a single break, these moments are something I'll cherish till the end of time. And it's that sense of unfiltered marvel, never-ending curiosity, world-bending control and non-stop fun that countless anime and manga (or, in this case, manhwa) have been effortlessly and desperately trying to replicate, yet to no avail. As a result of their clumsy and unsuccessful attempts, the video game genre in animanga has morphed into a disgraceful, repulsive laughing stock that's synonymous with paper-thin characters, one-dimensional plot, repetitive action, laughable developments, and a general lack of wit.

Why am I even bringing all this up? Well, the answer's pretty obvious: Solo Leveling is the textbook example of how egregious the concept has become and how low the writing can sink when sucking off the main character is the only thing it has going for it. It's beyond infuriating, but anyone with a working keyboard can say this much. To really grasp what it does wrong, I need to put on my imaginary diving suit and dive deep into the absolute abyss that's the anime's narrative.

But, hold your (sea) horses just yet. Before I venture into these crushing depths, I need to go over the positives first. Yes, despite my low score and extremely negative stance on Solo Leveling, I must admit that it's not completely devoid of merit. There are three elements worthy of commendation for their quality, albeit their positive effect on the series is overshadowed by the vomit-inducing odour of the other components: the voice acting, the action sequences and, more or less, the production values.

Although I rarely mention voice acting in my reviews, in this case, it's pretty much mandatory. While every actor involved in the project brought their A-game, Taito Ban went above and beyond and crushed all the expectations. His visceral screams, delicate whispers, and chilling talks are so fantastic that listening to his performance was pure joy, and I could barely hide how in awe of his talent I was during every episode. Even if the script he was supplied with is awful on every level, he poured his heart into the role, and I have nothing but respect for him and the rest of the seiyuu.

When it comes to the production values, the situation gets a little bit more hectic, as they're simultaneously impressive and inconsistent.

While the visuals are insanely energetic and bombastic during the numerous fight scenes that take place in the show, they're completely lifeless outside of them. The character designs are uninspired and boring, the colours are horrendously bland, the background art looks generic beyond human comprehension, the art style does not come even remotely close to the art of the source material (which is its biggest strength) and it looks very unimpressive, the animation fluctuates between being fluid and smooth like butter and chaotically rigid and stiff, the lightning is lifeless, the editing is mostly solid and the camerawork is pretty inoffensive as well. Overall, our eyes are either treated to a zany and zappy showcase of talent and passion, or a tiring and tasteless blend of colours, shapes and figures, which doesn't instil excitement in the audience one bit (basically anything that doesn't involve duking it out).

Thankfully, I have nothing but praise for Sawano's soundtrack, as his tracks make every moment in which they appear ten times better. It's genuinely impressive how much energy these simple tunes carry on their backs, and Solo Leveling desperately needs them to be in top shape to squeeze as much excitement out of its fight scenes as possible. What more can I say, really? The man just doesn't miss.

On the topic of action segments, they're the last component I can say is well-executed, well-organised and packs a wallop. Although their quality varies from one encounter to another, it's safe to say that they're, at the very least, competent in what they deliver. Take, for example, the fourth episode's clash between the protagonist and the snake boss. Despite some of the hiccups here and there, it's a really decent watch. On the other hand, the showdown between Jin-Woo and Igris that takes place in the eleventh episode is absolutely terrific on all fronts, as the visuals and the soundtrack amped its batshit crazy energy to a whole new level.

And, thank God these scenes are this cool-looking because everything that leads up to them is, to put it politely, horrendous and tedious as hell.

Firstly, there's the story, and it's quite a doozy. The entire premise of the series revolves around the sudden appearance of otherworldly portals throughout the world, and alongside their arrival came the rise of hunters, who are, essentially, human beings with access to magical spells and abilities. Among them is the protagonist who, in the beginning, is a complete loser, but, thanks to a weird happening, he expectedly (because the synopsis spoils this development, duh) gains the ability to "level up" (i.e. get more powerful with each enemy slain, duh²) and his reality becomes something akin to a video game.

It's the very premise of the show that's a giant eyesore. Why's the basis of the story so weird and out of place? Why does the power the protagonist obtains have to be video-game-based? Why does it have to be here in the first place? The answer is simple: it's much, much easier and more advantageous to adopt a concept based on something as universally beloved as video games than to create one entirely from scratch, without relying on the already existing appeal of something. However, as beneficial as it is to the popularity of the series, it's extremely detrimental to the plot itself for it's horribly implemented, ill-conceived and hilariously half-baked. Think about it like this: one of the hooks of the premise is the fact that contemporary society gets invaded by monsters from a completely alien dimension, and people need to defend themselves and their homelands from the invaders by using their newly acquired powers and resources they gather from these portals and the monsters' remains. That alone sounds interesting enough to offer an ample dose of brainless yet charming entertainment. Better yet, you can take that extremely simplistic foundation, mould it in an infinite number of ways, and morph a simple notion into something truly special. So why tarnish it with some gamer-tailored bullshit that doesn't fit the established, real-world-like setting one bit? Why blend a reality-based plot with a YouTube let's play when these two mix together about as well as water and oil? A more organic power progression system that doesn't have to rely on video game gimmicks to "make sense" would've been far more fitting and conceptually sound for the narrative. What if the protagonist got possessed by an ancient spirit or his hunter abilities mutated due to an unknown power found deep within the double dungeon? I think these alternatives would be a lot more exciting and compelling to see than resorting to relying on half-witted RPG-inspired elements that take you out of the experience completely. However, it seems the anime perceives its audience as simple-minded gremlins that eat, breathe and sleep video games, and so we're stuck with this cringeworthy, tacky hogwash that prioritises pandering to "epic gamers" over being logical and well-fitting within the confines of the setting and the story.

But does it really matter if this whole game-like power is well-integrated into the series' DNA when it exists solely for Jin-Woo's sake? Does anything matter when the world, its inhabitants, and everything else are nothing more than his belongings and props? This is Jin-Woo's sandbox, and, as you have probably realised, he's the show's most prominent issue by far. He's the type of main character I vehemently hate with all my being. He's not merely a person who pushes the plot forward through their actions and is the talking point of the series; he's a parasitic, Gary Stu-esque self-insert that hijacks and steals screen time and importance from everything else, dooming other characters to be nothing more than background noise. At first, he's a massive pushover, and his fellow hunters make his life hell (of course, in an extremely cartoonish and laughable manner because who cares about nuance, right?). They constantly call him weak, laugh behind his back and remind their colleagues that he's a worthless E-rank nobody who'll amount to nothing. After the infamous incident that happens in the first two episodes, the plot literally bends over and lets Jin-Woo clap its cheeks for hours on end. Regardless of what gets thrown at him, he always emerges victorious with minimal or zero damage to speak of. Is he tired or injured? Nah, don't worry because the epic gamer system (which only he can access and exploit) can conveniently heal his wounds and instantly eliminate his exhaustion. Does an entity that's technically more powerful than Jin-Woo attack him? Haha, no biggie; he wins no matter how immense the gap between their power levels is, and the wretched creature that dared to treat him as something lesser than a God (with capital G) is humiliated, put into their place and turned into a joke. Does the situation seem dire, almost impossible to resolve? Pfft, the second he arrives at the scene, the problem disappears like a fart in the wind. The real question here is: why ought I to give a flying fuck about someone that doesn't face any challenges, hardships, perspective-altering experiences or personality-defining moments at any point? I shouldn't, and neither should you; a series with a deity-like being at its centre will always be utterly devoid of stakes and thrill. Whether it be the protagonist's arrival at the test dungeon in episode 4, his attempts to enter the demons' castle, his fight with Igris or his encounters with other hunters (generic bad guys, duh) that were out to get him, Jin-Woo's never truly in danger because the show always discovers some bullshit way to make him come out on top... or he simply pretends to struggle for shit and giggles. At no point during the season's run are the viewers ever concerned about the well-being of the main character, nor do they question whether he's strong enough to take on the enemy at hand. Time and time again, we're shown that he's basically a gamemaster who'll get whatever he pleases with the minuscule effort put in.

Sure, in the beginning, he undertakes tasks aimed at making him stronger (though they're absolutely ludicrous in their difficulty since hunters are, essentially, superhuman beings, so doing the whole OPM-esque training regime feels like a fucking skit instead of something honestly demanding), yet the whole process is contained and wrapped up in about two episodes. By the fifth episode, we reach a point where the protagonist always reigns at the top of the food chain, much like an apex predator, and every entity within his vicinity should bow down to his super shredded, gigachad physique (which he conveniently gains for no apparent reason) and his totally "badass" powers. He can proclaim that someone's stronger than him all he wants, but that's true for a brief, fleeting moment; the pace at which his power grows is so asinine that opponents who once surpassed him in strength and ability are now nothing more than a bunch of objectives he needs to nonchalantly reach and clear. Whenever he defeats a stronger enemy, the show remains quick on its feet and masterfully bullshits its way out of the situation by throwing around random excuses like "Oh, he was merely lucky," "If he didn't dodge this, he'd be dead meat," or "He barely won." Such a scenario can be tolerated if it happens maybe once or twice, not when it's a constant occurrence that's not even once questioned or transformed into something more believable. I definitely blame the pacing for this, as it's yet another issue that stems directly from Jin-Woo's presence, but it also makes him somehow worse. Solo Leveling fails to grant any of its ideas, plot points or characters the breathing room necessary for them to develop organically and prosper, which, as I've alluded earlier, turns them into mere background noise. The episodes are either stretched so thin that they lose their impact (episode 1 and episode 2 are a great example of this because, for some unknown reason, the double dungeon incident is bogged down by the horrendous exposition dumps and clumsy, awkward attempts at worldbuilding) or they progress so quickly and contain so much cramped content that they feel too overstuffed (we don't need to learn about the Jeju Island expedition when the protagonist's in the middle of a fight; this merely ruins the already non-existent tension even further). Of course, the rapid growth of the protagonist doesn't help the situation one bit, as each episode rapidly raises the bar higher and higher as if the show wanted to conclude the entirety of its content ASAP. However, having read the source material, I know this is merely the beginning of the long and drawn-out showcase of Jin-Woo's supposed amazingness, and soon his cult of followers will have millions of worshipers, begging him for a crumb of attention.

"B-but what about other characters?" I've said it like fifty times already, but there are no other characters besides Jin-Woo. Obviously, it's a factually incorrect thing to say since, as you can see on Solo Leveling's page, there are plenty of other hunters and non-hunters within the story. However, even though they have different names, faces, abilities, and whatnot, they hardly classify as living, breathing beings. They're just a bunch of toys the protagonist plays with, human-shaped obstacles he needs to overcome, figures that he needs to surpass in prowess in the shortest time possible, background props, exposition-spouting machines, yesmen that love every fibre of his being, moustache-twirling, zero-dimensional evildoers who are introduced only to be soundly defeated by him, and female orbiters that exist solely to be his love interest and have nothing else to say or show. It's fucking nauseating how little all these different "people" (can hardly call them that when their personalities, motivations, goals and ideals don't exist) matter in Solo Leveling's eyes, and it's frustrating how mistreated, underutilised, and poorly written they are. Why even introduce a slew of characters when you're unable and unwilling to make a single one of them feel like an actual person, and not an NPC constructed to fill up space and yap? So that the self-insert protagonist is constantly validated, praised and commended for his actions and strength or doubted and underestimated just so he can prove the "haters" wrong? That seems to be the case here, and I can't just ignore this hilarious, ever-present circlejerk. On the topic of yapping, the dialogue mirrors the quality of the caricatures that deliver it. It's riddled with bizarre and awkward exposition dumps, repetitive sentences that constantly remind the viewers how great the protagonist is/how weak he used to be, and hilariously inept statements that either: A) exist solely to trick the viewer into believing there are stakes present (e.g. "He's much stronger than me!" or "I only won because I was lucky!") OR B) attempt to breathe life into its cast but fail miserably since actions speak louder than words/a few sentences murmured under one's breath hardly constitute apt character development (e.g. "The stronger I get, the more I feel something inside of me falling apart."). The dialogue is as nuanced and subtle as a sledgehammer, and listening to these atrocious lines makes the already piss-poor experience somehow even worse.

All of these factors come together to form the ultimate reason why I genuinely dislike Solo Leveling: it's boring to an absurd degree, and watching it all happen in front of me was incredibly unpleasant. Although I never discuss my enjoyment in my write-ups because I deem it unnecessary (my arguments already spell it out for the reader), in the case of this anime, your enjoyment is more crucial than the story or the characters. It, essentially, defines the show's worth; Jin-Woo and his crew pray day in and day out that you'll forgive them for their sinful flaws and enjoy their antics from start to finish. If Solo Leveling is the type of series that lives and dies by the hype and entertainment value, then, naturally, as someone who wasn't charmed by the one-dimensional protagonist or the fundamentally atrocious foundation on which the plot stands, I didn't find any enjoyment here. The fight scenes might look awesome and have insane tracks attached to them, but they evoke as many emotions as reading the ingredients on the back of a bottle of chemicals you picked up because you forgot to bring your phone to the bathroom. The production values might be impressive when the situation calls for it, but I don't appreciate any of the elements that constitute them, and I'd much rather chew on a copper wire than watch the first episode or listen to the exposition dumps again. To top it all off, the main character is such an aggravating snowflake that observing the constant glorification of his shallow character makes me want to pull my hair out and eat it. There's absolutely nothing engaging here, and I couldn't find a single thing to be excited about. No stakes, no consequences, no thrill and no fun; that's what Solo Leveling amounted to.

Sigh...

Before you stab me with your rusty pitchforks and burn me at the stake for this blasphemous write-up, let me clarify that this isn't a ploy to dissuade anyone from watching this show. If you genuinely sense it'll be a great time, then, by all means, I urge you to give it a go and see for yourself how much it's actually worth. That being said, it's quite obvious how I feel about it as a whole, so I'll spare you the long-winded conclusion I envisioned in my mind and keep these closing remarks as short as possible. To sum it all up, Solo Leveling embodies the idea of mindless entertainment to a tee, and its fate depends heavily on your ability to shut down your brain and let your eyes and ears have all the fun. If you are able to do that, then this one will be a total blast. Otherwise, well, the series will be as pleasant as sticking your head into a washing machine, turning it on and cranking up the spin cycle to the max.

And I reckon I don't have to tell you which one of these applies to me...

I am getting dizzy... Can someone turn this thing off...