This was dark, fun, and unapologetically morbid; Ashley is a brutal, fascinating main character. After surviving horrific childhood abuse, she’s carved out a life as an assistant coroner where death is routine and control is finally hers. The morgue becomes her playground, her coping mechanism, and her way of reshaping trauma into something she owns.
What really stood out was how the story balances horror with agency. Ashley isn’t written as someone we’re meant to pity. She’s unsettling, sharp, and deeply intentional in how she navigates the world. The alkaline hydrolysis angle adds an extra layer of discomfort that feels both modern and gross in the best way, leaning hard into the whole saving the planet, one dissolved body at a time vibe. Reduce, reuse, recycle… apparently that applies to corpses too.
Short, nasty, and oddly empowering, Soup knows exactly what it wants to be. It doesn’t moralize, it doesn’t soften the edges, and it lets its main character take control of her narrative in the most disturbing, eco-friendly ways possible.