What Genre Does 'Infinite Jojo Archive Exe' Belong To?

From what I've gathered, 'Infinite Jojo Archive Exe' is a wild mix of cyberpunk and psychological horror with some dark fantasy elements thrown in. The cyberpunk side comes through in its dystopian tech-heavy world where hacked realities and digital ghosts are commonplace. The psychological horror hits hard with characters losing their minds to glitched memories and existential dread. Dark fantasy creeps in through occult symbols that bleed into the code, creating monsters that shouldn't exist. It's the kind of story where neon-lit hackers might summon demons through corrupted files, and the line between human and AI gets terrifyingly blurry. Fans of 'Serial Experiments Lain' or 'Blame!' would probably vibe with this.

Let me break this down properly because 'Infinite Jojo Archive Exe' defies simple categorization. At its core, it's a cybernetic mystery-thriller with layers of transhumanist philosophy. The protagonist digs through encrypted archives that contain fragmented human consciousness, unraveling a conspiracy that spans multiple simulated realities.

The tech aspects feel like hard sci-fi—quantum servers, neural hacking, AI worship—but the execution leans into surreal horror. Imagine diving into a corrupted database and finding your own dead avatar staring back. The Archive itself is a character, shifting its rules like a malignant god playing with its victims.

Where it gets really interesting is the occult undercurrent. Certain scenes suggest the 'glitches' are actually ancient entities wearing digital skins. The genre-blending reminds me of 'Psycho-Pass' meeting 'The Matrix' with a splash of Junji Ito's nightmare fuel. Definitely not for casual viewers—this one demands your full attention to piece together its fractured narrative.

Honestly? Trying to pin 'Infinite Jojo Archive Exe' to one genre misses the point. It's a genre-fluid experience that morphs as you watch. Starts as a tech noir detective story—all rain-soaked servers and cryptic error messages. Then it flips into body horror when characters start merging with corrupted data streams. By episode 6, you're dealing with full-blown cosmic horror as the Archive reveals its true scale.

The animation style reinforces this genre chaos. Some scenes look like gritty 90s OVA, others morph into abstract data visualizations. Sound design jumps between dial-up modem screeches and Gregorian chants. It's deliberately disorienting.

What sticks with me are the philosophical questions it raises about memory as a prison. Characters literally fight against their own saved states—like if 'Ghost in the Shell' focused less on action and more on digital existentialism. Not everyone's cup of tea, but unforgettable if it clicks with you.