- Written by: Joe Kelly
- Art by: John Romita Jr., Scott Hanna
- Colors by: Marcio Menyz
- Letters by: VC’s Joe Caramagna
- Cover art by: John Romita Jr., Scott Hanna, Marcio Menyz (cover A)
- Cover price: $4.99
- Release date: December 24, 2025
Amazing Spider-Man #18, by Marvel on 12/24/25, asks you to care about Norman Osborn’s existential crisis while the actual plot shuffles between a corporate mycology experiment and a surprise therapist-turned-villain reveal with all the momentum of a shopping mall escalator.
First Impressions
The opening pages featuring Jameson and Norman’s conversation in the office feel conversational and grounded, but that tone evaporates the moment we cut to the underground lab where excitement about a mycological experiment gets interrupted by workplace squabbling. The gut reaction is neither excitement nor dread, just a flat sense that we’re watching scenes from three different comics shuffled together. This opening doesn’t signal stakes so much as it signals fatigue.
Recap
In Amazing Spider-Man #17, Peter’s space crew crashed on an uncharted planet after Nial sabotaged the ship because he wanted the group to be a “little family.” During the chaos, Peter and Raelith had a romantic conversation where she warned him that relationships with her were fragile and he might get hurt because he was a “man-child.” When a telepathic figure called Nikodimu of the Pinnacle arrived and psychologically dominated Raelith, Peter responded with genuine anger and defiance. He told her a story about a candy store owner named Mr. Grasso who had abused him as a child, emphasizing that you have to take big swings to get the life you want. Raelith, empowered by his honesty, stood up to Nikodimu and reclaimed her dignity. The crew prepared to leave, but the issue ended with uncertainty about whether they were actually staying or leaving.
Plot Analysis
Back on Earth, Norman Osborn sits in J. Jonah Jameson’s office with a bleeding head wound, asking if he’s lost his mind again. The conversation dances around Norman’s guilt over impersonating Peter, cutting Peter off from his relationships, and his desperate need for someone to tell him whether he’s sane or psychotic. Jameson, ever the truth-teller, admits that he and Norman have both come to care for Peter like a son and that Peter’s unwavering belief in people’s capacity to be better has genuinely changed them both. The moment carries weight, but it’s confined to one scene in a single room.
Elsewhere, in a research facility, Brian Nehring running a first mycological trial on something called a “mycoteria.” “Peter” is late to the lab, so Brian, the team biologist, immediately gets defensive about his position on the project. There’s petty workplace conflict about whose research takes priority. When Peter doesn’t show up, Brian decides to run the experiment on his own. When the experiment suddenly fails, it’s because the support engineering infrastructure Peter designed couldn’t handle the mechanical load. The failure is catastrophic.
On the rooftop of an office building, multiple Spider-Heroes (Miles Morales, Silk, and a new character called Captain Kintsugi) are staking out Norman’s place. There’s awkward chatting between Miles and Kintsugi, combined with casual Spider-banter about team structure and whether they actually have a headquarters. The sequence exists to establish that Norman is being protected, that the Spider-Family doesn’t have formal leadership, and that there’s new blood on the roster.
Late in the issue, a woman identified as Dr. Myrna Saldano, a Manhattan therapist, is revealed to be something far more sinister. Someone enters her office and addresses her by another name: Ashley Kafka, the Queen Goblin. The mysterious figure, a mechanized, spider-like android, attacks the Queen Goblin. Elsewhere, J. Jonah and Norman continue their chat with comments about Spider-Man’s sacrifices. J. Jonah delivers a monologue about how Peter Parker is a perpetual screwup who’s destroyed his own life and relationships for the sake of helping strangers. He concludes by telling Norman that he now knows exactly how it feels to be Spider-Man. The issue ends Norman returning to Oscorp to find the spider-like robots evolved into humanoid form with an announcement that “they’re hunting goblins” and “they’re hunting us,” leaving ambiguity about who “they” are and what the actual threat is.
Writing
Dialogue is scattered across five different locations and tone-shifts like it’s changing costumes. Jameson’s monologue to Norman is sincere and well-crafted, landing emotional beats without melodrama. But the lab scenes bury meaningful character conflict under vague scientific jargon (“support energy micro-load engineering failure,” “mycoteria”), making workplace tension feel like reading a deleted scene from a corporate training video. The rooftop Spider-Family banter is quippy and light, designed to establish chemistry, but it has zero relevance to the actual plot. The most interesting material, Kafka’s entrance and monologue about Spider-Man’s sacrifice, reads like a therapy session interrupted by a crime boss. Pacing is the real killer; the issue spends roughly equal real estate on four completely disconnected storylines, none of which gets enough runway to develop momentum. The final reveal (a mysterious threat hunting goblins, Norman in some kind of distress) arrives without setup or context, leaving readers guessing at what just happened rather than feeling dread about what’s coming.
Art
John Romita Jr.’s pencilwork is technically sound but tonally flat. The office scene between Jameson and Norman relies entirely on dialogue to generate tension; the panel composition is static, with characters sitting and talking in a room that could be any room in any comic. The lab sequences feature clear linework, but the scientific equipment and test chambers don’t create visual interest or atmosphere. The rooftop scene is rendered cleanly, with good anatomical clarity in the acrobatic poses, but the scene has no visual stakes or tension. The Kafka reveal is the only moment where the art makes a genuine attempt at mood; her silhouetted arrival and the shift to a darker color palette suggest danger. But one moment of visual storytelling across thirty pages isn’t nearly enough. Marcio Menyz’s colors are competent but unremarkable; they fill in the spaces without adding emotional weight. The overall impression is that the art is doing a competent job illustrating scenes that don’t have much to illustrate.
Character Development
Norman Osborn is the only character who experiences genuine growth here. His conversation with Jameson forces him to confront his guilt and his impersonation of Peter, and by the end of that scene, he’s reached a place of acceptance and gratitude. But then the issue abandons him for twenty pages, only to bring him back for a final page where he’s swinging through the night and thinking vague thoughts about being better. It’s character development without consistency or payoff. “Peter” barely appears on panel. He’s mentioned constantly, he’s the emotional center of Norman’s entire arc, and yet we never see him process his own guilt or respond to Norman’s actions. His mechanical engineering failure happens off-page, described in one panel of technical readout. The Spider-Family characters (Miles, Silk, Kintsugi) function as setup for future storylines rather than characters with arcs. Kintsugi is literally introduced for romantic tension with Miles. The scientist characters (Brian Nehring, the unnamed lead researcher) have petty conflicts that never resolve. Dr. Kafka’s entire character is defined by a single reveal panel; her motivation, her plan, and her relationship to anything happening in this comic remain a complete mystery.
Originality & Concept Execution
The core idea of Norman Osborn becoming Spider-Man and struggling with the psychological weight of hero work has potential. Watching him confront his guilt and receive Jameson’s unexpected forgiveness is a solid emotional moment. The concept of a secret villain operating as a therapist, collecting secrets and using them as leverage, is classically sound. But the execution is broken across three storylines with no connective tissue. The lab experiment fails, but the failure has no consequence visible in the issue. The Spider-Family rooftop scene has no narrative purpose beyond setup. The Kafka reveal comes with no context about what she wants, why she’s targeting Norman, or how she fits into the larger story. The final cliffhanger (something happening to Peter) is divorced from everything that came before it. The issue doesn’t execute a coherent premise; it executes five premises at once and hopes readers will figure out which ones actually matter.
Positives
The Jameson and Norman conversation is the only scene that fully commits to a tone and sticks with it. Jameson’s monologue about Peter’s capacity to inspire hope in broken people like himself and Norman is genuine and touching. It works because the dialogue is sharp, the character voices are distinct, and the emotional stakes are clear. Scott Hanna’s inking on this scene adds subtle weight to the frame composition, making even a simple conversation-in-an-office feel significant. For a brief moment, this comic remembers that character and consequence matter more than plot mechanics. The Spider-Family rooftop scene, while tonally mismatched with the rest of the issue, does establish that Kintsugi is a character worth investing in, and the casual competence of the team suggests a functional support structure that could provide interesting dramatic tension if the comic ever focuses on it.
Negatives
The issue sprawls across five different locations without establishing why any of these scenes deserve equal real estate. A workspace conflict in a lab that goes nowhere (the experiment fails, but no one deals with the failure), a therapist whose true identity isn’t revealed until the final pages, and an off-panel disaster that affects Norman but leaves him completely absent from the narrative: these are the bones of an interesting story buried under so much filler that you have to dig to find them. The writing treats pacing as optional; thirty pages are allocated like they were infinite, with scenes that could be two panels stretched to eight and plot developments that should arrive with weight instead arriving wrapped in confusion. Jameson’s monologue is the issue’s only strong moment, and it arrives at the halfway mark, leaving the second half to scramble for relevance. The final cliffhanger about Peter arrives with zero setup, zero context, and zero connection to anything else in the comic. That’s not a hook; that’s a missed opportunity to create genuine dread.
The Scorecard
Writing Quality (Clarity & Pacing): [1/4]
Art Quality (Execution & Synergy): [1.5/4]
Value (Originality & Entertainment): [0.5/2]
Final Verdict
Amazing Spider-Man #18 asks you to pay five dollars to watch a character who isn’t the title character have an emotional breakthrough while a mysterious villain’s identity is revealed with all the impact of a secret being whispered in an empty theater. The Jameson and Norman conversation is genuine, but it’s buried under pacing that mistakes sprawl for depth and treats five separate storylines like they’re chapters of the same book when they’re really just pages torn from different comics.
3/10
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