Players: One of the best shows we never watched.

Let’s just get this out of the way—Players might be one of the smartest, funniest, and most heartfelt mockumentary comedies in recent memory… and somehow, almost no one’s talking about it. Yes, it’s technically about esports. Yes, it’s fictional. No, you don’t need to know a single thing about gaming to love it. And if you do know gaming? Prepare for a parade of painfully accurate personalities that will have you screaming with laughter and then immediately questioning your life choices. Think The Office and Ted Lasso had a baby, raised it on Doritos and G-Fuel, and taught it how to talk trash online—that’s Players. It’s sharp. It’s chaotic. It’s surprisingly tender. And it’s criminally under-watched.

The Premise That Shouldn’t Work But Absolutely Does

On paper, the idea is absurd: follow a fictional professional League of Legends team, “Fugitive Gaming,” as they chase the championship that’s always eluded them. The star? Creamcheese. Yes, that’s his actual in-game name, and yes, you will get over it—because this walking bundle of ego, insecurity, and self-delusion might be one of the greatest comedic characters since Michael Scott.

Creamcheese (played with god-tier comedic timing by Misha Brooks) is a relic in esports years, 28, and already considered ancient. He’s the guy who’s been in the game forever but can’t quite let go of being “the guy.” Watching him navigate the arrival of a new prodigy teammate, Organizm (Da’Jour Jones), is a masterclass in petty, insecure, laugh-out-loud sabotage. And the beauty? Every single character is perfectly cast. From the perpetually stressed coach to the corporate PR person who clearly regrets every career choice, the show nails the “documentary crew capturing dysfunction” vibe without ever feeling forced.

Here’s the secret sauce: Players isn’t really about gaming. Sure, there’s jargon and tournament footage, but at its core, it’s about ego, teamwork, generational clashes, and the absurdity of chasing greatness in a niche sport that’s dead-serious to insiders and hilariously bizarre to outsiders. If you’ve ever worked with that coworker who insists they’re the backbone of the company while actively making everyone’s life harder, you’ll understand Creamcheese instantly. If you’ve ever been young, talented, and stuck under the thumb of someone who refuses to pass the torch, you’ll feel Organizm’s pain. It’s sports storytelling, office comedy, and reality TV parody all mashed together—and somehow, it works.

Where Players really shine is in how painfully real the comedy feels. It’s not wall-to-wall zingers—it’s awkward silences, overblown tantrums, and moments of pure cringe that feel like they were ripped from a real esports doc. A sponsorship deal involving a mattress company that spirals into petty chaos. A practice-room meltdown over “team synergy” that’s basically a middle-school group project from hell. The absolutely deranged ways Cream Cheese tries to stay relevant, from ridiculous pep talks to forced “mentor” moments. It’s not just funny—it’s believably funny.

The wildest part? This show will actually make you care about these people. Somewhere between the roast-worthy moments and absurd conflicts, Players slips in genuine emotional beats. You start to root for Creamcheese, even when he’s an insufferable jerk. You want Organizm to succeed. You feel the stakes when the team hits a slump. By the finale, you might actually find yourself fist-pumping like it’s the Super Bowl. For a show about fictional League of Legends players, that’s a magic trick.

Here’s the thing: Players should have blown up. It’s tailor-made for meme culture, has stellar writing, and delivers some of the most quotable lines in years. And yet… it kind of slipped under the radar. Maybe people thought, “Eh, esports, not my thing.” Maybe Paramount+ isn’t exactly where people go hunting for their next comedy obsession. But that’s exactly why it’s worth championing. Shows like this—smart, original, risky—don’t come around often. And if we keep sleeping on them, we’ll get another endless wave of half-baked reboots instead. Players is an absolute riot—sharp, absurd, heartfelt, and endlessly quotable. It’s the kind of show you start thinking you’ll just sample, only to binge the whole season in two nights and then aggressively recommend to your friends like you’re in a cult. Whether you’re a gamer, a comedy lover, or just someone who enjoys watching ego-driven chaos implode, this is for you. And if you are a gamer? Prepare for some uncomfortable self-recognition. I only wish I saw this when it came out.

Players on Paramount+ + Final Grade: A