Since 2025, apocalyptic themes have consistently topped the charts on Douyin's comic dramas rankings. According to the DataEye, Douyin Real-time Comic Dramas Chart, as of October 25th, 2025, the top three positions were solidly occupied by survival-challenge and post-apocalyptic feel-good genres. These works do not rely on celebrity casts, intricate performances, or cinematic visuals. Yet, they repeatedly "win attention" within recommendation feeds, becoming the main content that users actively follow and subscribe.
DataEye Douyin Real-time Comic Dramas Chart on October 25th, 2025 (source: dataeye.com)
Domestically, works like Hell Mode: How Many Levels Can You Survive? and Arctic Apocalypse: Who's Afraid with My Mobile Fortress? quickly became the core recommendation upon release, with view counts rapidly climbing to tens of millions. Some have even surpassed hundreds of millions of views, demonstrating strong market appeal.
Hell Mode: How Many Levels Can You Survive? topped the Douyin Real-time Comic Dramas Chart's daily viewership growth ranking by October 25, 2025, with a single-day increase of 29.891 million. Regarding user engagement, the work garnered over 500,000 comments on Bilibili's comment section and achieved a high popularity score of 92 on the NetEase platform. Arctic Apocalypse: Who's Afraid with My Mobile Fortress? also performed impressively: its view count broke 5 million within the first week of release, showcasing a strong market debut. Entering January 2026, this work continued its momentum, securing the #1 spot on the Comic Drama Top 100 Chart with 230 million views in growth. Simultaneously, it ranked third on the Hongguo Comic Dramas Popularity Chart with a heat index of 51.49 million. By February 1st, its heat further increased to 46.54 million, rising to the second position on that chart. Furthermore, the work's social media influence continued to expand. In January, its related hashtag on Douyin surpassed 200 million views, and related topics on Weibo exceeded 150 million reads, achieving cross-platform resonance in popularity.
Posters respectively for Hell Mode: How Many Levels Can You Survive? and Arctic Apocalypse: Who's Afraid with My Mobile Fortress?
The success of these two works is not an isolated phenomenon. I'm the Boss in the Apocalypse; All My Employees Are S-Class Mutants has accumulated over 210 million views. Works like Infinite Refund: I Bought Out the Eerie Apocalypse and Eerie Game: Awakening a Bug-Level Talent from the Start frequently see daily view counts breaking ten million. In what has been called the "Year of AI Comic Dramas" (2025), this track is producing hits with astonishing efficiency.
While AI comic dramas cannot solely rely on feel-good elements to win audiences, it is undeniable that apocalyptic feel-good AI comic dramas have pushed these elements to new heights, providing viewers with a strong sense of satisfaction and exhilaration. So, what allows the apocalyptic feel-good genre to repeatedly gain popularity in AI comic dramas? The answer may lie in their narrative logic.
Posters for Infinite Refund: I Bought Out the Eerie Apocalypse and Eerie Game: Awakening a Bug-Level Talent from the Start
In Hell Mode: How Many Levels Can You Survive? rules replace character-driven narratives, making "how to survive" the sole suspense.
To describe it in terms of traditional film and television language, Hell Mode: How Many Levels Can You Survive? (hereafter referred to as "Hell Mode") resembles an extremely de-emotionalized survival experiment film. This work features almost no character introduction—the first episode presents not relationships, but the rules themselves: the world has been reset to Hell Mode, failure means death, and everyone is forced to become a player.
Rules of the first episode of Hell Mode (Source: Bilibili account "youxuan animated comic")
From a narrative perspective, this accomplishes a crucial substitution: the audience no longer needs to understand "who the protagonist is," but only needs to care about "how to survive in this level." Characters become executors of rules rather than vessels for emotion. The audience does not need to empathize with characters but only needs to focus on "how to leverage the rules to survive." The feel-good element of each episode is essentially a victory at the level of rules. Characters attract attention not through charisma but by driving the viewing experience through "understanding the rules, utilizing the rules, and breaking through the rules."
This shift in narrative strategy precisely aligns with the media characteristics of AI comic dramas: rapid establishment of scenarios, high-frequency creation of feel-good moments, and steady pacing. This is the strength of AI comic dramas. Hell Mode treats "rules" as the protagonist, effectively telling a story in the manner best suited to AI.
The seventh level, "Day Zero Corridor," further strengthens the dominant role of rules. This level consists of countless door panels, each leading to the player's most regretful memory. Emotional breakdown causes the door panels to transform into blades that shred the player. The protagonist, Lin Ge, is forced to reexamine the car crash scene where he sacrificed his girlfriend to save himself, ultimately passing the level using the survival keyword "acceptance of guilt is more effective than repentance." This level contains no bloody executions but uses the extreme stillness of self-torment to elevate the theme to a higher dimension: the true hell is not death but living in denial.
The rules of the seventh level in Hell Mode
Furthermore, the work's design of "survival keywords" deeply binds rules with self-awareness. For instance, surface-level rules often serve as misdirection; the true path to survival is hidden within keywords requiring profound self-awareness. These keywords are often contrary to the surface rules, forcing players to constantly question themselves, their teammates, and even the audience. This design not only drives the plot but also reinforces the core position of rules within the narrative.
Works like Arctic Apocalypse construct narrative tension through the emotional code of "security differential."
If Hell Mode emphasizes the survival contest which "everyone suffers", then Arctic Apocalypse: Who's Afraid with My Mobile Fortress? (hereafter referred to as "Arctic Apocalypse") offers a different emotional formula: when the world spirals completely out of control, only I possess certainty.
Arctic Apocalypse builds unique narrative tension and audience immersion through the emotional code of "security differential" which manifests in the following core aspects: extreme contrast between environment and resources, the rebirth premise and the privilege of informational advantage, the concrete presentation of sensory details, and revenge narratives with power reversals.
Extreme contrast between environment and resources. The work repeatedly reinforces the harshness of the external environment versus the absolute safety of the protagonist's space, creating a strong discrepancy. For example, in Arctic Apocalypse, the power outages, hunger, and chaos of the extreme cold apocalypse stand in stark contrast to the stable energy and abundant supplies within the protagonist's mobile fortress. This binary structure of "external chaos vs. internal control" is constantly strengthened through scene switching, allowing the audience to derive psychological satisfaction from a sense of "relative safety" with each comparison. A similar technique is seen in I'm the Boss in the Apocalypse, represented by the adversariality between the zombie-ridden external world and the "safe haven" constituted by the protagonist's S-Class mutant employees.
In Arctic Apocalypse, the stark contrast is vividly drawn between the extreme cold of the doomsday setting outside and the abundant resources inside the protagonist's mobile fortress.
The rebirth premise and the privilege of informational advantage. Arctic Apocalypse creates a security differential through the protagonist's "omniscient perspective". The protagonist leverages memories from a past life to avoid crises. This setup allows the audience to feel like to be the role of the "controller", experiencing a sense of mastery over fate through the protagonist's "foresight." In this work, the protagonist's mobile fortress becomes a symbol of the "safe house," with its reserves and defensive capabilities directly reflecting the survival advantage gained from informational disparity.
Concrete presentation of sensory details. The work enhances the contrast between "safety" and "danger" through sensory descriptions. For instance, Arctic Apocalypse uses visual and tactile details like "piercing cold," "power outages," and "darkness" to depict external threats, while employing details like "warm light inside the fortress" and "the aroma of food reserves" to build internal security. This technique of "sensory anchoring" allows the audience to perceive the emotional differential through concrete details rather than relying on abstract descriptions. A similar approach is seen in Eerie Game: Awakening a Bug-Level Talent from the Start, manifested in the sensory contrast between "bloody game scenes" and "protagonist skill effects".
Screenshots from Eerie Game: Awakening a Bug-Level Talent from the Start
Revenge narratives and power reversals. In Arctic Apocalypse, the protagonist, betrayed in a past life, uses the rules of the apocalypse to seek revenge in the present. The process of transforming from underdog to a winner provides the audience with the pleasure of "power compensation." This narrative converts feelings of helplessness in reality into a sense of control within the apocalyptic setting. For example, in I'm the Boss in the Apocalypse, the protagonist rises from the underdog to become a power wielder by managing a team of mutants.
Psychological Compensation: How Apocalyptic Feel-Good Narratives Respond to Contemporary Anxieties
The anxieties of Generation Z exhibit new characteristics, further shaping the formation of apocalyptic narratives. Growing up in an environment of information overload and multiple mental pressures, this generational cohort's expression of anxiety differs significantly from that of their parents. Multiple research findings support the link between Gen Z anxiety and a preference for apocalyptic narratives. A 2021 global survey by the University of Bath showed that 75% of respondents aged 16-25 found the future frightening, and 56% believed the end of the world was inevitable. Research from Tsinghua University's Sociology Department found that in spring 2023, 68.4% of Chinese undergraduate students felt anxious about employment, and 84.7% believed competition would be "extremely intense." Neuroimaging studies indicate that social anxiety is associated with activity in brain regions like the insula and parahippocampal gyrus, while the rule-based logic of apocalyptic themes might alleviate anxiety by reducing activation levels in these areas.
Screenshot from the University of Bath's 2021 Global Survey
When Gen Z faces complex realities like global conflicts, climate crises, and economic turbulence, fragmented information flows tend to amplify individual insecurity. UN data indicates that 75% of young people are extremely worried about climate change. This widespread anxiety crystallizes into a self-deprecating collective mood among the post-00s generation—they define life's main quest as "surviving".
In this context, apocalyptic-themed narratives offer a unique emotional outlet. Unlike the fragmented and chaotic information in reality, these works construct a "sandbox framework" for processing uncertainty through clear, rule-based logic. In apocalyptic narratives, people form equal and united communities driven by the common goal of survival. This scarce sense of belonging and collectivist storytelling precisely counteracts the feelings of isolation and helplessness experienced in reality, thereby resonating deeply with Generation Z.
Apocalyptic themes ignite intense curiosity about survival, human nature, and the unknown, captivating audiences with their sense of novelty. Amid growing real-world pressures and widespread anxiety about the future, apocalyptic themes provide a space for release and reflection.
At a deeper level, these feel-good apocalyptic stories satisfy the audience's need for "vicarious gratification." In reality, people often face workplace grievances and situations where effort yields little reward. In contrast, plots where protagonists quickly rise to power and defeat antagonists allow audiences to project themselves into the story, compensating for desires that are difficult to achieve in real life.
As researchers have pointed out, feel-good apocalyptic stories give audiences a sense of "relative happiness." This happiness emerges both from the backdrop of a harsh environment and through comparison with others: others die while the protagonist survives, others starve while the protagonist enjoys abundance, others struggle for survival while the protagonist has a safe haven. Happiness in an apocalyptic world is derived from contrast, much like the pain often experienced in the real world arises from similar comparisons.
How Technology Drives the Narrative Logic of Apocalyptic Themes: Making the "Apocalypse" a Low-Hanging Fruit
In terms of content production, the application of AI technology has fundamentally transformed the creation of apocalyptic themes. Traditional apocalyptic productions faced challenges such as high visual effects costs, complex practical set construction, and lengthy production cycles. However, in the AI era, whether the themes involve icebound landscapes, torrential rain, zombies, or post-apocalyptic wastelands, a single person with a single machine can manually generate materials—an approach perfectly suited for small screens.
AI technology also enables "micro-innovations" within established genres. Iterating on settings within mature frameworks carries lower risks and higher success rates compared to developing entirely new themes. For example, I'm the Boss in the Apocalypse blends "zombie" and "management" elements, while Infinite Refund introduces the logic of a "refund system." Both represent effective "micro-innovations" within existing genres. This model of micro-innovation aligns particularly well with the content generation capabilities of AI technology, as AI can learn patterns from existing works to quickly produce new content that fits specific narrative frameworks.
Poster for I'm the Boss in the Apocalypse; All My Employees Are S-Class Mutants
From the perspective of dissemination characteristics, short video platforms emphasize instant appeal and fragmented consumption, requiring creators to capture the audience's attention in an extremely short time. The tendency of apocalyptic themes to place gratification elements upfront perfectly aligns with this demand: by directly presenting rules instead of character relationships, they quickly establish scenarios; by frequently creating moments of gratification, they maintain audience interest; and by maintaining a steady pace, they avoid sluggishness caused by lengthy emotional buildup. For instance, the 3–5-minute episode design of Hell Mode, combined with its rule-driven narrative structure, is highly compatible with the dissemination characteristics of short video platforms.
From the audience experience perspective, technological empowerment allows apocalyptic narratives to offer more immersive experiences. AI-generated apocalyptic scenes are more realistic, and the presentation of rule systems is more intuitive, enabling audiences to engage more deeply with the narrative logic. For example, through VR technology, audiences can directly "enter" apocalyptic scenarios and personally experience rule-based challenges. Such immersive experiences further enhance the appeal of apocalyptic comic dramas.
Conclusion
At least for now, feel-good apocalyptic stories + AI comic dramas have achieved something very important—they have moved from the experimental stage to a phase of repeated validation. As demonstrated by Hell Mode: it does not attempt to be a "well-made apocalyptic drama" but is acutely aware of what the audience truly needs in the context of short-form content—sacrificing complexity for efficiency, abandoning emotional depth for pacing control, and forgoing world-building completeness in favor of a singular focus on "I want to watch the next episode."
In an era where attention is infinitely fragmented, this "clarity" may be the true key to its popularity. Feel-good apocalyptic themes are not new, but they are exceptionally clear about their purpose—at the intersection of content efficiency, user psychology, and technological conditions, they have found their niche. This path may not remain effective forever. What will truly create differentiation will be works that can master pacing, gratification, and emotional control with greater precision within this structure. But for now, they have already accomplished a significant leap: transitioning from a spark of chance into a replicable formula for success.
