Written by: Deniz Camp
Art by: Stipan Morian
Colors by: Matt Hollingsworth
Letters by: Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou
Cover art by: Stipan Morian (cover A)
Cover price: $3.99
Release date: February 11, 2026
First Impressions
This reads like Warm Bodies’ (2013) weirder, meaner cousin, where the zombies already won and only now realize that might be a problem. The big hook is Poke’s literal heartbeat kicking in during a flashback massacre, which reframes every panel of casual cannibalism as evidence in an internal ethics trial the main character does not want to hold. The execution is clever and funny in spots, but the issue leans so hard into narration and conceptual musing that it often feels like an essay with pictures instead of a story that happens in front of you.
Plot Analysis (SPOILERS)
The issue opens with a group of human survivors running from a zombie horde, including a man in a hospital gown who falls and is devoured while the sound of a heartbeat builds over the attack. The narration pivots to the “complicated” nature of the human heart as we meet Poke, a blonde zombie with a flower sprouting from his head who secretly discovers his own heart beating inside his chest. Poke is part of the Brain-Splashes-and-Sizzles-on-Hot-Rocks Horde, a nomadic zombie society that treats human hearts as a gourmet delicacy and has built a culture, crude ethics, and in-group rituals around eating the living. He trades banter and body horror with his best friend Mush, a fungus-covered zombie whose mushrooms “speak” to him and who cheerfully shares scraps while noticing that Poke has gone off his feed.
The narration spends time defining different members of the horde by their descriptive “names” that double as rap sheets, from spectacle-chasing performers to a pariah who ate his whole hiding family alone. Poke reflects on how names in this world are punishments that lock the dead into their worst acts, which bothers him more than he admits. He also recalls how he first met Mush when the other zombie wandered into a wildfire and had to be manually extinguished, piece by piece, leading to a symbolic arm swap that sealed their friendship. This backstory frames Mush as loyal and simple, while hinting that Poke has always been the one who notices when something is wrong, even if he cannot articulate it yet.
Poke and Mush then head toward a suburban enclave, rhapsodizing about why zombies “love” suburbs: hidden basements, secrets under floorboards, and the sense that something is always being concealed. As Mush jokes about a found axe belonging to a mythical zombie hunter, the narration cuts to a previous suburban raid where Poke first noticed his “problem” in a chapel-adjacent neighborhood. A flashback shows a family hiding in a basement, the father using rare bullets to kill his own children before the horde can get to them, their veins bulging and faces flushed as they scream. When the zombies finally overrun the parents and eat them alive, Poke feels something moving in his chest as he watches the father’s desperate acts and decides it must be love stirring a dead organ.
In the present, that memory feeds Poke’s growing guilt and unease as he questions whether the zombies are actually evil, given that they have “pretty much exterminated the living” and wiped out ten billion people. Mush brushes off the concern, framing their behavior as simply what they are, and suggests Poke’s refusal to eat is misplaced guilt rather than a meaningful change. Poke becomes fixated on the houses around them, on the fact that people built them and that zombies used to be those people before the world died, while his heart continues to pound louder in panel after panel. The issue ends with Poke standing in a doorway, heart pounding and hand on the knob, confronted by a terrified living woman pointing a gun at him as the “LUB DUB” effects fill the page, setting up his choice for the next chapter.
Writing
The script is high-concept and wordy, committed to building an undead sociology class around Poke’s heartbeat instead of rushing to action. The pacing is front-loaded with narration that defines zombie culture, ethics, and naming conventions, which sells the premise but often slows page-turn momentum since scenes are described as much as they are dramatized. Dialogue between Poke and Mush is snappy and casual, with Mush’s oblivious cheer bouncing nicely off Poke’s creeping anxiety, yet most emotional shifts still arrive through captions rather than spoken exchanges. Structurally, the issue hangs on a clean spine: present-day hunt, extended worldbuilding tour, origin of the heart problem, then a choice at the door, and that clarity helps the conceptual density go down. The downside is that several pages read like an illustrated monologue dissecting zombie society, which undercuts immediacy even as it deepens the world.
Art
Stipan Morian’s art walks a line between grotesque and slightly cartooned, which keeps the gore graphic without tipping into pure misery. Character designs are distinct and readable at a glance, from Mush’s fungal overgrowth to Poke’s lanky punk profile and the exaggerated body types of the horde’s side characters, so you rarely lose track of who is who even when panels get crowded. Page compositions lean on strong diagonals and big reaction panels, especially in the wildfire flashback and the basement massacre, which gives otherwise talky pages some visual punch. Matt Hollingsworth’s colors shift from sickly greens and corpse blues in the horde scenes to warmer, more human tones in flashbacks, which tracks the emotional pivot when Poke’s heart first stirs. The heartbeat sound effect, “LUB DUB,” is integrated aggressively into layouts, sometimes almost cluttering the page, but it does succeed at making the heart feel like a physical presence in the art rather than just a line in the script.
Character Development
Poke has a clear internal arc for a first issue: from a functioning cog in the zombie culture machine to someone who cannot unsee the implications of what they have done. His motivation is not fully formed yet, but we can see the tension between the comfort of the horde and the intrusive thought that maybe exterminating ten billion people is not just “what we are.” Mush works as a foil, a loyal friend whose simple acceptance of zombie nature makes Poke’s doubt stand out more sharply, and his fungus gimmick adds personality even when he is mostly there for reaction shots. The rest of the horde is sketched in through their punitive names and behaviors, which is efficient shorthand, though it also flirts with turning them into walking gags rather than people who might also change. Relatability comes from Poke’s guilt and from the basement father’s desperate choice, but the issue keeps emotional distance by filtering nearly all of it through ironic narration, so you engage with him intellectually more than viscerally.
Originality & Concept Execution
On paper, the hook is a fresh variation: zombies have already won, built a culture, and now one of them suddenly gets his heart and conscience back. That setup absolutely overlaps with Warm Bodies (2013) in broad strokes, since both revolve around a self-aware zombie whose returning heartbeat and budding humanity threaten the status quo between living and dead. The difference is that Bleeding Hearts shifts the focus away from a romance with a specific human toward the moral rot in a triumphant predator society, which gives it a harsher, more satirical edge. Conceptually, the issue delivers on defining what that society looks like, how it polices itself through names, and how normalized atrocity can become background noise until one person cannot ignore it anymore. Where it stumbles is in making that realization feel urgent rather than merely clever, since the heavy narration sometimes keeps Poke’s awakening at arm’s length instead of letting it hit like a gut punch.
The biggest asset here is the fully realized zombie perspective, which flips the usual survival story by making the monsters the default “people” and then quietly asking what that says about them. Poke’s beating heart is more than a gimmick, it locks into the recurring “LUB DUB” visuals, the thematic focus on names as moral branding, and the flashback to the father in the basement to create a coherent argument about guilt waking up late. The art team sells that argument with expressive faces, grisly yet legible gore, and color choices that clearly separate numbed undead routine from the rare moments where emotion intrudes. If you enjoy Vertigo-style horror that doubles as a thesis on culture and conscience, this issue gives you plenty to chew on panel by panel instead of just staging another chase through empty streets.
Positives
The biggest asset here is the fully realized zombie perspective, which flips the usual survival story by making the monsters the default “people” and then quietly asking what that says about them. Poke’s beating heart is more than a gimmick, it locks into the recurring “LUB DUB” visuals, the thematic focus on names as moral branding, and the flashback to the father in the basement to create a coherent argument about guilt waking up late. The art team sells that argument with expressive faces, grisly yet legible gore, and color choices that clearly separate numbed undead routine from the rare moments where emotion intrudes. If you enjoy Vertigo-style horror that doubles as a thesis on culture and conscience, this issue gives you plenty to chew on panel by panel instead of just staging another chase through empty streets.
The script’s love affair with narration is going to be a problem if you want a punchy, event-heavy first issue that shows more than it tells. Several sequences, especially the tour of horde members and the sociological asides about culture forming around carcasses, read like the writer pausing the story to explain the thesis, which can sap tension from the actual hunt setup. Poke’s inner turmoil is interesting but emotionally muted, since his guilt is mostly described at a distance rather than allowed to erupt into choices or conflicts until the final page standoff. The Warm Bodies (2013) overlap is not a deal-breaker, yet readers familiar with that film may feel a sense of déjà vu at the “zombie grows a heart and questions his nature” core, even if the tone and worldbuilding are different. If your priority is kinetic action or a clear human POV to latch onto, this debut may feel like paying for a lecture with great illustrations.
Negatives
The script’s love affair with narration is going to be a problem if you want a punchy, event-heavy first issue that shows more than it tells. Several sequences, especially the tour of horde members and the sociological asides about culture forming around carcasses, read like the writer pausing the story to explain the thesis, which can sap tension from the actual hunt setup. Poke’s inner turmoil is interesting but emotionally muted, since his guilt is mostly described at a distance rather than allowed to erupt into choices or conflicts until the final page standoff. The Warm Bodies (2013) overlap is not a deal-breaker, yet readers familiar with that film may feel a sense of déjà vu at the “zombie grows a heart and questions his nature” core, even if the tone and worldbuilding are different. If your priority is kinetic action or a clear human POV to latch onto, this debut may feel like paying for a lecture with great illustrations.
About The Reviewer: Gabriel Hernandez is the Publisher & EIC of ComicalOpinions.com, a comics review site dedicated to indie, small, and mid-sized publishers.
Follow @ComicalOpinions on YouTube, Facebook, Instagram, and TwitterThe Scorecard
Writing Quality (Clarity & Pacing): [2.5/4]Art Quality (Execution & Synergy): [3/4]
Value (Originality & Entertainment): [1/2]
Final Verdict
Bleeding Hearts #1 is a smart, nasty little thought experiment about what happens when the monsters finally notice the weight of what they have done, and whether that realization matters. The issue gives you dense worldbuilding, vivid art, and a lead whose sudden heartbeat pushes him toward the same moral territory Warm Bodies (2013) walked, only with a colder, more satirical grin. What it does not give you yet is a lot of concrete plot movement or emotionally explosive moments, since it is still busy setting the table and labeling every grotesque dish.
6.5/10
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