Cork-born Roger O’Sullivan has arrived at the Fringe like a debut you didn’t see coming. The road here may have felt like a series of side-quests—every comic knows the trials of just getting to Edinburgh—but once the show begins, it’s clear: this is the main campaign. Fekken is sold out, the buzz is high, and O’Sullivan plays it like he’s holding the only controller.

He opens with a brilliant 90s-inspired VT: pixelated graphics, retro arcade-fighter bravado, the blocky chaos of an era where even Lara Croft’s polygons could spark a teenage crush. It’s nostalgia with purpose—an origin cutscene that drops us into his world before the first punchline even lands.

At the heart of the show is O’Sullivan’s Cork childhood and his farmer dad, recalled with the kind of detail that turns everyday life into hidden levels worth exploring. Mundane moments—family routines, clunky first brushes with technology—become golden coins scattered through his set, gleaming when he scoops them up for punchlines.

The hour plays out as a series of smart, funny missions: teenage infatuation with video game heroines, Dragon Ball Z nostalgia, audiobook voiceover gags so good they feel like cheat codes for laughter, even a séance with a Ouija board that has the room howling. Add in his riffs on sharp-edged family remarks and you’ve got a set that swings between personal and surreal with ease.

What makes O’Sullivan stand out is his style of play. He’s not button-mashing to get laughs—he’s deliberate, precise, and confident, knowing when to jab with a one-liner and when to unleash a combo that floors the room. No cheat codes, no shortcuts: just craft, timing, and a deep love of the game he’s playing.

Fekken isn’t just a debut—it’s a level-up. Roger O’Sullivan feels like the freshest new player on the Fringe, storming through with swagger and skill. Tonight’s game may be over, but trust me—he’s Player One, and he’s just reached the next stage.