Contrary to your common movie villain, the walking dead are simple, primal, and animalistic.
Still, there are all kinds of complex mysteries surrounding their abilities and tendencies
that tend to get glossed over or go completely unexplored.
When we think of zombies, we tend to think of shambling undead corpses that ravenously
hunt for human flesh all day and all night… a habit that will continue unabated so long
as they're still hooked up to those all-important brains.
Are you with us so far?
Sure, it's disturbing… but it's also just kind-of confusing.
Sometimes, we'll see zombies that are deformed beyond recognition but are still quite snappy
and energetic.
And sometimes, highly decomposed zombies can still move with the same vim and vigor they
once demonstrated in gentler, less zombified times.
In fact, some zombies seem to move even faster than when they were alive.
"As zombies began to outnumber humans, well that's when you had to cut all emotional ties."
These idiosyncrasies can be somewhat explained when a film is constrained to a very specific
timeline.
I Am Legend is set three years after the initial outbreak, and it doesn't stray too far from
there, allowing for some continuity in regards to those dastardly Darkseekers.
But in shows like The Walking Dead, the issue of deterioration has become a challenge.
Much like the act of watching The Walking Dead has become a challenge.
To give you an example, let's compare and contrast.
Here are some terrifyingly low-key zombies from Season One of The Walking Dead:
And here are some zombies from Season Eight of The Walking Dead:
Yeah, they look a little worse for the wear, but they move like they've hardly aged a day…
so what exactly is their secret?
Olay?
"Vitamin enriched, fights seven signs of aging.
In four weeks, skin looks up to 10 years younger."
As the years pass us by and the seasons drag on and on and on, it raises an obvious question:
How and why are these jerks still moving around at virtually the same speed as when they first
turned into zombies?
Anyone?
Every movie seems to have its own origin for the zombie plague — if they bother to explain
it at all.
But none of them try to answer the most basic question: What exactly goes on in these zombies'
heads?
When it comes to brain function, there's absolutely no consistency in the world of these cold,
clammy, bloodthirsty creeps.
Some zombies move with superhuman speed and are capable of effortlessly lifting people
into the air with their bare hands.
Meanwhile, other zombies are seemingly incapable of even taking a brisk afternoon stroll.
For every goal-oriented zombie with drive and determination…
"Brains!”
... there's a whole mess of zero-ambition zombies who can barely keep it together.
No dreams.
No ambition.
This raises more puzzling questions: What level of brain function do these undead shambling
nightmares operate on?
Are some zombies smarter than others?
"... More brains."
And if these zombies are technically dead, how do they have any brain function in the
first place?
Any insights?
Sorry, here's something else that really bugs us: Some zombies have the wherewithal to be
fast as hell, bounding about like young gazelles.
Other times, they're just shuffling along, slow as snails and twice as slimy.
Like these boring zombies.
If there really are a few rudimentary thoughts still floating around inside these zombie
brains, where exactly is the line drawn?
Do all the same rules apply to mean-spirited zombie monkeys?
What about majestic zombie horses?
And some zombies are apparently MENSA material.
Remember that scene in World War Z, when the undead hordes built a towering zombie ladder
to scale the wall?
Yeah, that's not the kind of thing you can just build on pure instinct.
Even for a zombie movie, that type of behavior is kind of a stretch.
Here's something else about zombies that we're just supposed to accept … because we're
never given any kind of rational explanation at all.
Why do zombies always want to eat human beings?
It's so excessive.
We're not talking about some desperate compromise made in order to survive on a lifeboat.
Not that zombies don't like to go on a sailing expedition every once in awhile.
When it comes to zombies and their love of human flesh, we're talking about a culinary
preference like no other.
Whenever someone turns into a zombie, it usually takes only a matter of seconds before they
start munching on the nearest person they can find.
Why do zombies like human flesh and not, say, fast food?
“I want my Whopper."
In a moment of weakness, why can't your standard-grade zombie just engulf a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos
like everybody else?
Frankly, this unending quest for fresh human flesh gets to be rather one-note.
And what's worse, these unstoppable killing machines are often willing to devour the nearest
member of their family in the name of a good old-fashioned blood meal.
“Come on, mom… come on, mom… ahhhhh!"
Enough is enough.
Can we please get some concrete answers as to what makes these unspeakable monstrosities
tick?
"Brains!"
"Help!
Help!"
Apparently when humans die and become zombies, their first instinct is to gather in herds.
At least, that's the takeaway from pretty much every show about these grim, ungodly
ghouls.
Sure, there's still the occasional solo zombie straggler that pops up from time to time,
but that's usually just for the sake of a jump scare.
The really serious threat arrives when a gigantic group of zombie deadbeats stumbles onto the
scene.
Whether we're talking about an intimate group of like-minded zombies gathering in a safe
environment, or a mega-herd of zombies come to eat everyone's brains this very instant,
the burning question remains the same: Why is this supposed to be the natural behavior
of zombies in the first place?
They're not getting more food this way.
Just look at them.
They're going to be hungry all the time if they insist on traveling in those kinds of
numbers… because zombies are greedy and selfish.
"It's weird, eh?"
Whether it's the creatures in I Am Legend or those horrific monsters in Zombieland,
these creatures almost always succumb to a herd mentality.
Not that anyone really ever bothers to explain why.
The closest we ever get to a concert answer is this:
For a moment, let's turn our attention from the undead to the living.
At their root, zombies are a bonafide medical curiosity that cause uncontrollable outbreaks
and exhibit horrific symptoms that worsen over time.
Some shows like The Walking Dead never confront the quarantine issue by making the zombie
virus some sort of blanket sickness that everyone eventually contracts.
But more often than not, containing and controlling the outbreak is the core plot point in a zombie
film.
Take the movie Quarantine, for example.
So here's a question: if a zombie outbreak affects continents and eventually the entire
globe, what happens to the people who live on remote islands?
Sure, it's easy to rule out the bigger players like Great Britain.
After all, the film 28 Days Later takes place on that particular island nation.
But what about smaller, more out-of-the-way locations — like that faraway island in
the life-affirmingly awful film House of the Dead?
Does Hawaii remain an island paradise… or does everybody who live there also get infected
in the event of a zombie virus outbreak?
What about Madagascar… is this cute little guy gonna get turned into a zombie?
Oftentimes, a zombie outbreak is shrouded in secrecy at the beginning of the story.
In order to ratchet up the tension, the protagonist is often left completely in the dark regarding
the increasingly undead state of the world around him or her.
"No, I haven't got any change."
Sometimes, it seems like the zombie apocalypse took place while a healthy chunk of the world
was getting some good old-fashioned shut-eye.
“Sweetie, are you okay?"
Sure, that totally works for zombie stories that came out before social media was a thing,
but films and television shows that take place after the rise of Mark Zuckerberg needs to
start taking Facebook into account.
Let's get real here: What if this woman was loitering around your neighborhood?
Imagine if these ghouls spontaneously erupted from the soil of your local cemetery.
Wouldn't someone try capturing these precious moments on their smartphone?
Wouldn't a few folks decide to share the spooktacular sights on Instagram?
What we're trying to say here is: The idea of a zombie apocalypse that isn't thoroughly
trumpeted on social media is patently absurd.
Not to mention totally unrealistic.
Here's another aspect of zombie anatomy that's hard for us to wrap our heads around: They
basically live off of nothing, all the time — and seemingly forever.
But even after they've just enjoyed some human flesh, they still act like they're totally
starving...
They even act that way after a gosh-darned, bonafide feeding frenzy.
Like, all these zombies literally just ate.
This zombie didn't even finish eating the nice old lady, and now he's making moves on
this other dude?
Such a waste!
What we've learned from all of this is that zombies are basically impossible to satisfy.
"Joey, I am not into dead guys!"
"Huh?"
Is there any rhyme or reason to this zombie bloodlust?
Let's think rationally about it for a second.
If eighty or ninety percent of the population are turned into zombies, it makes sense that
fresh human flesh would be a hot commodity indeed.
But a few years down the line, it would be nearly impossible for these zombies to find
any food to shovel into their bellies.
They evidently don't need to eat people in order to survive — they're dead! — so
why are they always so pumped to be eating everybody anyway?
And yet, there they go, skulking around in search of another bite.
But if zombies are willing to snack on the occasional dead deer like this gentleman here,
why this obsession with eating people?
And after they've chomped on an unlucky human, do zombies ever crave something ice-cold and
refreshing to wash it all down with?
You can see the problem here.
These guys must be extremely dehydrated.
Once again, the question of nutrition becomes particularly sticky with long-running shows
like The Walking Dead.
All these years later, how are the walkers even moving at this point?
We're all familiar with the sight of a bloody zombie.
In fact, no one even bats an eye at the sight anymore.
But what about all those uninfected people who accidentally get covered in zombie blood?
The Walking Dead literally has their heroes cover themselves in zombie guts to sneak through
the undead zombie gridlock undetected.
How on Earth is that safe?
We know that a zombie bite is almost always fatal and will almost definitely turn you
into a zombie.
Even a zombie scratch can become a health hazard.
“Mark?"
"Wait…"
So how and why is it OK to be covered in fresh zombie blood?
Why don't those humans get infected?
They're bound to have a little scratch on them where the zombie blood can get in, right?
In the end, it's never going to make total sense.These are all just movies about silly
made-up monsters.
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