Welcome to Aspie Planet: Lessons from Mythic Quest

In the Apple TV series Mythic Quest viewers get a front-row seat to a world that feels strikingly familiar to those of us who live or work in NeuroDivergent communities—especially those of us who are NeuroTypical. Though not explicitly labeled, this series functions as a powerful allegory for life on what I call Aspie Planet—a culture governed by the logic, passion, intensity, and blind spots of those with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), or more specifically, what used to be called Asperger’s Syndrome.

Mythic Quest isn’t just a quirky workplace comedy set in a game development company. It’s a mirror held up to a world where emotional reciprocity, intuitive empathy, and relational context—the hallmarks of the Empathy Triad—are eclipsed by single-minded creativity, transactional communication, and obsessive loyalty to “the work.”

The Creatives: Masters of the Aspie Domain

The heroes of Mythic Quest are the creatives: software engineers, designers, and writers whose genius drives the fictional game’s success. They’re eccentric, combative, overworked, and absolutely committed to their art. But they’re also emotionally tone-deaf, socially oblivious, and, dare I say, isolated in their brilliance.

Take Ian, the self-proclaimed visionary who can’t code but demands unquestioning loyalty. He leaves his family because he “wouldn’t have been a good father,” then challenges an anonymous critic to a duel, only to find out it’s his estranged son. His sense of intimacy is warped, filtered through the lens of competition and performance. On Aspie Planet, emotional discomfort is either ignored or gamified.

Then there’s Poppy, the genius coder and Ian’s creative partner. She works long hours, sleeps under her desk, and can’t have a conversation without directing, interrupting, or shutting down. Her breakdowns aren’t treated as mental health concerns—they’re seen as amusing quirks. She’s respected for her skills, not her humanity.

And Jo, the volatile assistant with Midwestern values, channels her obsession with dominance and aggression into idolizing those in power. Jo could be seen as the autistic woman whose masking has turned into mimicry of the very systems that alienate her.

The NTs: Outsiders in Their Own World

The few NeuroTypicals on the show—David, Carol, and Sue—are hilariously out of place. David, the manager, is ridiculed for referencing Brené Brown. Carol, in HR, is begged for therapy while trying to set boundaries she can’t enforce. And Sue, who lives in a basement office with no windows, cheerfully manages violent complaint tickets while being ignored by the company.

Their emotional sensitivity is mocked. Their attempts at relational repair are dismissed. Their authority—nonexistent. They are relics of an emotional world the creatives have little use for.

Aspie Planet and the Illusion of Progress

This is the crux of life on Aspie Planet: emotional needs are not only misunderstood—they’re irrelevant. Friendships outside of work don’t exist. Romantic relationships are either vestigial or problematic. Everyone is “on” all the time, working, creating, arguing, but rarely connecting. When a union is proposed, the only demand is more money—not better work-life balance. That’s not how Aspie Planet thinks.

And what happens when the logic of the creatives fails to account for unintended consequences? In one episode, the game opens the door for a literal Nazi faction to flourish. No one foresaw it. No one knew how to address it. Because on Aspie Planet, the art is the point, not the impact.

Why It Matters

For those of us who are NeuroTypical—and especially those who have spent our lives in NeuroDivergent families—Mythic Quest can feel less like satire and more like a documentary. It’s not that Aspie Planet is evil. It’s that it’s incomplete.

It prizes genius over collaboration. Output over understanding. Vision over relationship.

The show is brilliant in its accuracy, showing how easy it is for NTs to be sidelined, dismissed, or infantilized in a world where emotional intelligence is secondary. And it reveals a critical truth: When you build a culture around transactional logic, people get hurt.

So What Do We Do?

First, we stop mocking the NTs. David’s vulnerability is not weakness. Carol’s exhaustion is not overreaction. Sue’s longing for a window is not a punchline.

Second, we name the dynamic. Aspie Planet isn’t fiction for some of us—it’s family life, married life, community life.

Finally, we build bridges, not walls. That’s what my work, including the 7-Step Interface Protocol, is all about—developing a common language that honors both NeuroDiverse and NeuroTypical experiences.

Maybe Mythic Quest is funny because it’s true. But it’s also tragic—because on Aspie Planet, the cost of brilliance is often lost connection.