400 Boys

Ove, Death & Robots is no stranger to pushing the boundaries of sci-fi storytelling, and Episode 4 of Volume 4, titled "400 Boys," is no exception. Directed by the distinctive Robert Valley-known for his angular, graphic-novel-inspired animation style-this episode dives into a dystopian world where style, attitude, and resistance collide in a chaotic, yet emotionally grounded short.

Set in a post-apocalyptic future dominated by urban decay, violent youth gangs, and looming "god-things," "400 Boys" presents a city teetering on the edge of collapse. The titular gang is more of a myth than an organized crew, a symbol of defiance amidst hopelessness. As rival factions fall, strange otherworldly beings enter the scene-giant, spectral forces that may be divine, alien, or something altogether unknown. The surviving youth, driven by loss and instinct, must find unity in chaos if they want to stand a chance.

What immediately sets "400 Boys" apart is its visual style. The 2D animation is bold, kinetic, and unmistakably the work of Robert Valley. Long, exaggerated character limbs, sharp shadows, and jagged lines give the episode a graphic-novel aesthetic, one that feels simultaneously gritty and otherworldly. The color palette is moody, drenched in purples, oranges, and steel blues, reflecting both the intensity of battle and the emotional toll of survival. Fans of Valley's work in "Zima Blue" or "Ice" will feel right at home, yet "400 Boys" carves its own niche with a more visceral, anarchic energy.

But this episode isn't just a visual feast-it's an emotional story, even with minimal dialogue. The characters barely speak, yet their motivations, frustrations, and pain come through loud and clear via movement, posture, and facial expressions. One of the most powerful figures is an older woman-possibly a leader or mother figure-who rallies the remaining youth with a hauntingly simple call: "Nothing ever ends." It's a moment that resonates, encapsulating the core of the episode's message: survival is cyclical, pain is shared, and unity is a form of resistance.

The sound design and music play a vital role in heightening the emotional beats. The score shifts from low, brooding electronic tones to an almost spiritual, percussive rhythm during the climax. It mirrors the characters' emotional arc-despair transforming into defiance-and underscores the tension between mortality and transcendence. The episode ends not with a conclusion, but a freeze-frame that dares the viewer to imagine what comes next.

Narratively, "400 Boys" doesn't over-explain itself-and that's part of its strength. It trusts the audience to pick up on visual cues and piece together the world's logic on their own. There are no exposition dumps or lengthy backstories. Instead, we're dropped into a lived-in world, where allegiances, hierarchies, and survival rules already exist. This approach may frustrate viewers looking for clarity, but it rewards those who appreciate nuance and emotional subtext over literal answers.

Thematically, "400 Boys" touches on survival, trauma, resistance, and youth rebellion. It's not just about sci-fi aesthetics or cool fight scenes (though those are great); it's about what happens when people who've lost everything choose to stand and fight anyway. The gang isn't "400" in number-they're unified in spirit. The title becomes symbolic of a shared cause: to resist, to endure, and to reclaim power in a world designed to crush them.

In a volume full of oddities and experimental narratives, "400 Boys" shines as a raw, emotional, and stylistically fearless entry. It manages to be both abstract and intimate, confusing and cathartic. It doesn't offer closure-but it doesn't need to. Instead, it offers a feeling, a punch to the gut, and a reminder that even in the darkest places, defiance can still burn bright.

Do you have to know the back story behind everything before you can enjoy it? I don't understand the universe; I don't understand the human race; I don't even understand myself; yet I am KICKING ASS and having a BLAST! That's the backstory of this episode. Shockingly stylish. Brilliant. This episode stands out in a stand out series. Don't try to understand; just enjoy; just feel; tune in to the vibes; see the sights; hear the music; revel in the chaos; let the philosophy inspire you beyond any scientific detail. You don't have to know everything; you don't have to understand everything; just know that nothing ever ends.

Robert Valley never disappoints with his unique, striking art style, though I'm not sure if this episode was a complete hit like the Zima Blue, which is already very high bar to climb over, and ICE, which had a very heartwarming story along with great character development, not to mention the visuals.

400 Boys doesn't bother explaining what's going on, you're dropped in the middle of it with nobody holding your hand, which, in my opinion, hurts the narrative a bit. One thing I love about LD&R is the amazing stories they tell, whether they be grounded in reality or absolutely bonkers. There might be no point in trying to find any symbolism or any story, which might be refreshing for some, but it left me wanting more. Unlike Zima Blue and ICE, the characters are a bit lacking, you don't know much about them until you see them die in the final battle.

Overall, it's, for me, the weakest of, but still an amazing experience.

The animation, voice acting, STYLE, soundtrack and setting create such a unique tone right out the gate for 400 boys. I had a hard time taking my eyes off the screen even If everything on screen was crazy.

Watching this short made me really want to go look up the animation team behind it, or whoever was responsible for the visual style because it was that unique.

This is one of those Love Death and Robot shorts that definitely leaves an impression after viewing it. 400 boys is a unique short that is tense, weird, cool and somewhat horrifying in a way. What a trip!

Now off to watch the rest of the season.

In the ruins of a post-apocalyptic city, several rival gangs band together to fight, well, I'm not sure what. But they're big and destructive.

Robert Valley definitely has a preferred style. Zima Blue was amazingly striking, kind of like how Peter Chung's work came out of nowhere to grab me in the 90s. All those weird angular shapes and dark shadows everywhere. It's so stylistic that you can see a short sample and immediately identify the team behind it.

400 Boys drops you into a story that makes little sense. It's basically like if a demented writer recalled the crazy dream he had after watching The Warriors and Attack the Block, and an equally demented team of artists worked as hard as they could to make it into an episode of LD&R.

I have to wonder if more worldbuilding would have spoiled the weirdness. The character designs were interesting, and I liked how each character seemed to have a scene where they shined. There's a bit of dialogue to set things up and establish who you're watching, so you're never completely lost.

The meat of the episode, though, is the climactic fight. It's a pretty brutal fight, full of stylistic violence. If you're into violent, stylistic weirdness, I think you'll like it. If you're looking for something more traditional, where everything makes logical sense, it might be a pass.