In the dark, cobwebbed corners of Staten Island, where the only thing scarier than vampires is the rent prices, four undead roommates (and one very tired human) are just trying to get by—immortal style.

There’s Nandor the Relentless, former warlord, current disaster dad, whose idea of leadership mostly involves long-winded speeches no one listens to. Laszlo Cravensworth, a shameless hedonist with a flair for the dramatic (and an unfortunate habit of turning into a bat at inconvenient moments). Nadja of Antipaxos, a seductive, knife-wielding menace who takes no nonsense (especially from Laszlo) and occasionally chats with the decapitated head of her old lover, Gregor.

Then there's Colin Robinson, an energy vampire—because, yes, that’s a thing—who thrives on the slow, painful drain of awkward small talk and corporate buzzwords. Unlike the others, he doesn’t drink blood; he just makes you wish you were dead.

And finally, Guillermo de la Cruz, Nandor’s long-suffering familiar-turned-vampire-hunter-turned-sort-of-vampire. He started out hoping to become one of them, only to realize he might be better at killing them instead. Oops.

Together, they fumble through immortal life, dealing with rival vampire gangs, supernatural bureaucrats, and the occasional werewolf turf war (they’re not fights, they’re negotiations). With a documentary crew filming their every misstep, it’s less "terrifying creatures of the night" and more "undead idiots with centuries of bad decision-making."

Because at the end of the night, immortality isn’t about power, blood, or world domination—it’s about roommate drama, cursed hats, and way too many séances gone wrong.

And honestly? That’s just another night in Staten Island.