I’ve got to be straight with you, fellow sci-fi junkie. Ever since I wrapped up the latest season of Pluribus, I’ve been wandering around in a bit of a daze. That show is the absolute bee's knees right now—the toast of TV Land, and for good reason. It’s got that classic Vince Gilligan DNA, proving the mastermind behind Breaking Bad hasn’t forgotten his X-Files roots one bit. But let’s face it, waiting for new episodes to drop can be a real pain in the neck. If you’re chomping at the bit for more extraterrestrial mind-benders with a darkly comic streak, I’ve got a gem for you that practically falls into the same quirky, brilliant vibe: Resident Alien, ready and waiting for you on Netflix.

I dove headfirst into Pluribus when it premiered on Apple TV back on November 7, 2025. The premise hooked me immediately: Rhea Seehorn absolutely kills it as Carol Sturka, navigating a world where almost everyone has been snagged by a single, chilling extraterrestrial hivemind. It’s unsettling, it’s surprisingly funny, and it keeps you guessing. After that finale, I was scratching my head for something with the same energy. That’s when a buddy of mine clued me in, reminding me that Resident Alien isn’t just a show about a guy acting weird—it’s a masterclass in a similar kind of storytelling. The parallel isn’t just slapdash; it’s baked right into the DNA of both series.

The setup for Resident Alien is so deliciously twisted, I can’t help but chuckle. The amazing Alan Tudyk stars as Harry Vanderspeigle, but here’s the kicker—he’s not the Harry Vanderspeigle. That poor bloke was the town doctor in Patience, Colorado, who had the epic misfortune of being the first human the real alien (taking the name Harry) bumps into after crash-landing. Without missing a beat, our extraterrestrial visitor offs the real doc and subsumes his entire life, look, and career. His mission from the get-go is a big one: wipe out the entire human race. It’s all systems go for planetary destruction, until something genuinely unexpected starts gumming up the works. The more he infiltrates human life, eating our food, solving our medical mysteries, and listening to our trivial problems, the more he involuntarily begins to form actual human emotions. It’s like the old saying goes: you are what you eat, and Harry is slowly dining on humanity.

This is precisely where the two shows start singing in perfect harmony for me. Both Pluribus and Resident Alien brilliantly put the foibles and problems of humanity on trial. You watch these vastly powerful, logic-driven entities stumble over the messy, illogical, and utterly beautiful chaos of being human. In Pluribus, a hivemind forces a global confrontation with individuality and morality. In Resident Alien, a lone assassin starts to realize that his cut-and-dry mission might be fundamentally, deeply immoral. It’s a humbling journey for these extraterrestrials. They arrive thinking they’ve got the universe all figured out, only to discover they don’t know the first thing about love, friendship, or why a good piece of pie matters. The shoe ends up on the other foot as the humans, with all their flaws, come to realize the more important and admirable traits of their species. It’s a proper empowerment arc, but for all of us muddling along on this spinning rock.

Now, let’s chew the fat about tone, because this is what makes both shows absolutely sing. Gilligan’s worlds, as grim as they can get, are also laugh-out-loud funny. Pluribus has a black comic streak that is so overt, it sometimes feels like a prankster lurking in the shadows. There’s an unnerving, almost delightfully cruel tone that I just find wildly entertaining to watch. Resident Alien takes one more step up the comedy ladder, but don’t think for a second it’s all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a little lighter in its step, sure, but the darkness is right there from the opening scene. I mean, the show literally starts with the “main character” getting killed! That sets a brilliant precedent: the stakes are real, and tragedy can wear a clown’s mask. The performances from both Rhea Seehorn and Alan Tudyk are a masterclass, essentially making both shows must-watch events for any true sci-fi fan.

The supporting casts in both worlds are also not just window dressing. In Resident Alien, the town of Patience is filled with a bunch of oddball characters who inadvertently teach Harry about humanity’s core. Asta Twelvetrees, played wonderfully by Sara Tomko, becomes the emotional anchor that the alien never saw coming. The show, which ran from 2021 to 2025 across USA Network and SyFy before landing on Netflix, had a stellar team of directors and writers like Robert Duncan McNeill and Chris Sheridan, who kept the vibe perfectly pitched. Looking at Screen Rant’s own rating, the show pulls a solid 9.5 out of 10 stars—a score I can totally get behind. It really is the bee's knees.

So if you’re sitting there with a Pluribus-shaped hole in your viewing schedule, pull the trigger on Resident Alien. They operate on slightly different comedic scales, but the core is cut from the same intergalactic cloth. It’s an exploration of what it means to be human, taught by the visitors who vainly thought they could outsmart our mess. You’ll watch Harry go from a cold-blooded killer to a guy who maybe, just maybe, cares about the fate of his new, utterly ridiculous, and wonderfully human friends. Give it a go, and you’ll see exactly what I’m banging on about.