The fact that Archer is dreaming up this world and presumably creating the roles in it means that the characters fall seamlessly into certain detective story archetypes. Cyril Figgis has always been an annoyance to Archer but still could have been charitably described as a comedic straightman or even the audience’s surrogate in this world. But in Dreamland, he is an out and out villain: a crooked cop working for mob boss Len Trexler (yes, Trexler is back and still voiced by Jeffrey Tambor). The new roles suits him perfectly.

As does Cheryl, Mallory, Krieger, Lana, Ray and Lana’s roles. Mallory is Trexler’s rival gang leader, known only as “Mother” and she does all of her criminal work out of the night club she owns, called “Dreamland.” Krieger is a bartender/Nazi scientist there, Ray is a band leader (though his all-Black bandmates disagree with that self-appointed title) and Lana is the sultry lounge singer she’s always been destined to be. As for Cheryl? She has yet another name and Archer’s unconsciousness has cast her in a role that she would undoubtedly be delighted in: damsel in distress.

The most important new characterization in Archer’s fantasy, however, is Archer, himself. There has never been a more heroic interpretation of the spy yet than in Archer: Dreamland. This Archer spends days awake, trying to avenge the death of his loved ones, assist the disenfranchised and struggle through his torturous WWII flashbacks. Of course it would make sense that Archer is the hero of his own fantasy but this version of Archer truly works within the context of the show. Having a real hero grounds the proceedings and makes the story work all the better. He’s still a flagrant, offensive asshole but he also really cares. And it makes the time investment in Archer: Dreamland all the richer.

Sometime between Archer’s debut in 2009 and today, half-hour comedies on TV fundamentally changed. It wasn’t just enough for half-hour comedies to be hilarious by any means necessary anymore, they also had to carry a strange, existential, melancholic weight. Shows like You’re the Worst, Fleabag and BoJack Horseman best illustrate this new concept of “melancholic comedy” (a term that to the best of my knowledge and research was created by The A.V. Club. But if you find someone else who got there first, I’ll be happy to credit them), a kind of comedy where instead of tragedy plus time equaling comedy, it’s just comedy and tragedy existing simultaneously as unlikely bedmates.