Indie animation studio One-Eyed Rat is what we’ve missed in the moonlight

FEATURE | ISSUE EIGHT | SCREENS

Written by Liam Hansen (they/them) | @liamhanse.n | Associate Editor

Between the corporate skyscrapers of Wynyard Quarter sits Media Design School at Strayer, the polytechnic that has spent the century so far cementing its place in the resumes of animators, game developers, and designers. From an outsiders perspective, it does the trick - like the other creative schools across Aotearoa, the amount you put into your education determines what you get out of it, and while UoA students continue to pretend they’re somehow above those at polytechnics, or god forbid former polytechnics, the truth is there’s a wide range of highly skilled lecturers and administrators working hard to get students into the industry despite the difficulties. Everyone has been through the same battle, but no one has seen the media, design, animation, compsci - any industry as they have now. 

I came across One Eyed Rat Studios as organically as you can in 2026, with enough engagement from my friends in artsy circles to push their Instagram reel shitposts onto my feed with various iterations on the PinkPanthress 'Illegal’ handshaking schtick. They kept showing up as their relatable shorts sharing the trials of unemployment and shitty animation software pushed them into international animation circles, building a substantial following for an account active since February, with a couple posts hitting six digits in views.  

Despite the shitposting, people are sticking along for their journey as they’ve detailed pre-production of Things We Miss In The Moonlight, a 3D-animated short film inspired by Wall-E and Robots. Their crowdfunding campaign for the film on Boosted has already surpassed half of its goal, providing the team with the tangible ability to complete, distribute, and market the film - but they still need the extra push to get over the mark and see the film to fruition. Thankfully, they have the support of their community, their volunteer team of animators, and their alma mater. 

I showed up to Media Design School without any semblance of place or orientation, texting OER Director Sophia (Fifi) Kwon to helplessly ask for directions. I had made contact the day before, because I knew from prior experience that I would need help figuring out where the fuck I was going. 

“Do u see the grass? Or maybe u are on the other side of the building!” 

I looked through the window at the other end of the MDS lobby to see Sophia and producers Adriana Martinez and Tayla Randall waving me over. We had planned to take a quick look at their new studio on campus, but there was some light miscommunication, and they had to call in their lecturer to let them into the building. In the meantime, we went around the corner to Fat Puku’s Smashed Burgers Wynyard - a spot that became a frequent haunt of theirs in between classes. 

“I wanted to do a fun portfolio piece with my friends. You know, one last hurrah,” said Sophia as our food arrived. “We can make it two minutes to three minutes. Something super simple; let's just have two characters, in one location, and we won't have to make much of anything. And then we can do this in three months, and then we can go our merry ways, add whatever we want to our portfolio, and try and get a job.”

“And then in come Taylor and me,” says Adriana. 

The team isn’t just MDS grads - they’ve got members of the team from across Tāmaki Makaurau’s creative schools, like Yoobee, the University of Auckland, and our very own AUT. Beyond our shores, a couple of Americans are helping out on the project remotely while new members join the team via social media, friends of friends, and a general need for something to do post-graduation. 

The irony of producing a film about adorable robots making friends as the animation and media industries become ever more impossible to enter due to the forced integration of AI isn’t lost on the trio. Adrianna added, “A lot of industry professionals are adamant, saying, ‘No, AI is going to become a tool. It's going to help us. It's not going to replace us.’ On the other hand, other industry people are like, ‘No, it's really bad.’ There's like no work, and so you get all these mixed messages.” 

Ultimately though, the robots aren’t representing a dystopian future. They’re reflecting us, in the present.  “The story has become an allegory of loss. Adapting and finding yourself after a bad event through the lenses of these little robots. We talk a lot about programming and triggers, reverting you to the worst parts of yourself that you try to hide.” 

I asked if they felt that allegory was representing their degree as well, as underemployed helplessness has become the norm amongst graduates. “The thing is, the other option isn't that great either.” 

In animation, computer science, art, design, and every other discipline, the security once offered by full-time work is gone. Despite the long lunches, staff parties, and higher salaries enjoyed by much of Wynyard Quarter, there’s a tangible anxiety in the air as each staff member of a major corporation knows that their ability to live freely could be revoked at any moment - by a staff restructure, the end of a contract, or your workplace simply going up in flames. “You know that quote, that really sappy one, where the state of the world is so unstable right now. We truly have no choice but to chase our dreams.” 

Their lecturer messaged soon after, and we made our way back to Media Design School, where they were still setting up shop. “The only class here is a morning class, so we’re here from noon til late.” Currently, it’s not decked out - there were some mood boards for the film strewn across tables and whiteboards, but the walls were still ripe for the taking. “This was our first 3D classroom as well, so it’s very nostalgic.” 

Luke helped them reach out to the school's administrators to secure the studio space, hammering in the value of shifting the Aotearoa mindset of ‘do it yourself’ to ‘do it together’. It’s echoed by their team, all working voluntarily with a clear understanding of their own expectations and freedom to step back from the project if needed. “We said it quite clearly from the beginning that we wanted it to be a revolving door, where you come in and come on as you please. And so far, it's worked out beautifully.” 

There are obvious goals for the studio - moving out of campus to get their own space, building up the capital to function as a business, and looking into new intellectual property to come together and work on. For now, though, they’re just getting the film done and seeing how the film festival circuit treats them. With their Boosted campaign closing up on the 8th of August, you can contribute to the film via thearts.co.nz/boosted/projects/things-we-miss-in-the-moonlight.