Resident Evil Storyboard Artist Denies AI Claims, Says Early Movie Art Was Drawn by Hand

Storyboard artist Simeon Wilkins has directly pushed back against claims that artificial intelligence was used to create early visual material for Zach Cregger's Resident Evil movie. The discussion began after a selection of storyboards made its way online, prompting some viewers to question whether the rough images had been generated with AI rather than drawn by an artist.

Wilkins, who worked with Cregger on the film's development, shared a sample of his boards and gave an unambiguous response to the speculation. He said that there was "not an ounce of AI" in the work and described every drawing as hand-drawn.

The clarification matters in part because storyboards occupy an unusual place in a film's production pipeline. They are practical planning documents, often produced quickly, revised repeatedly, and built around clarity of movement, framing, scale, and pacing rather than polished presentation. A board may use simplified figures, loose perspective, heavy shadow, visual shorthand, or exaggerated expressions to communicate a scene efficiently to a director and crew. To viewers who mostly encounter finished concept art or final screen images, that roughness can sometimes look unfamiliar.

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In this case, the online reaction turned a small batch of pre-production artwork into a wider debate about authorship and AI use in major entertainment projects. Wilkins' statement establishes his position clearly: the Resident Evil storyboards in question came from traditional hand-drawn work, not a generative AI tool.

For useful background on this topic, read Steven Adams Jokes GTA 6 Could Cause a November Slump Across Pro Sports.

Why Storyboards Can Be Easy to Misread

Storyboarding is one of the clearest examples of art created for function first. Before performers arrive on a set and before effects work is completed, filmmakers need a shared blueprint for what a sequence is supposed to accomplish. Storyboards can map out where characters stand, when a camera moves, how a creature enters a frame, and where a cut may land. For horror, they can be especially important because suspense frequently depends on controlling what the audience does and does not see.

A Resident Evil sequence involving a dark corridor, a sudden zombie attack, or a chaotic escape may need multiple panels just to establish geography. The artist has to communicate whether a character is isolated, where the nearest exit sits, how far away a threat is, and how a camera angle changes the emotional effect. Those requirements often produce compressed, stylized visual decisions that are very different from promotional illustration.

Loose line work is not evidence of automated generation. Neither are unusual proportions, abstract backgrounds, incomplete details, or a panel that prioritizes a camera direction over anatomical precision. Storyboards are part of a living process. Directors, cinematographers, production designers, editors, stunt teams, visual-effects artists, and actors can all use them as a starting point, then alter the plan as production develops.

That context has become increasingly important as audiences scrutinize creative work for signs of AI. Public concern is understandable: generative systems have raised major questions about labor, consent, ownership, training data, and the value of human creative roles. But those conversations also demand care. Treating every rough or stylized image as suspicious can obscure the real work of artists whose drawings are designed for speed and production utility.

A New Resident Evil Story Rather Than a Direct Game Adaptation

Cregger's Resident Evil does not adapt one specific game entry. Instead, the film tells a new story within the franchise's broader world while taking place at the same time as Resident Evil 2. That approach gives the movie room to engage with familiar places, threats, atmosphere, and lore without simply recreating the exact plot beats that longtime players already know.

The film follows Austin Abrams as Bryan, a medical courier tasked with delivering a package to Raccoon City General Hospital. What is supposed to be his final job of the night becomes a nightmare when he is drawn into a full-scale zombie apocalypse.

The premise immediately positions Bryan differently from many of the franchise's most famous playable heroes. He is a courier rather than an established police officer, special agent, or veteran survivor. That perspective can support a more vulnerable kind of horror: a protagonist navigating an escalating disaster without the confidence or institutional knowledge that iconic Resident Evil characters often bring to the screen.

It also reflects a recurring strength of the games. Although Resident Evil has major recurring figures and a dense timeline, its most memorable scenarios frequently begin with ordinary objectives that become catastrophically dangerous. A routine trip through a city, police station, laboratory, mansion, village, or hospital can turn into a fight for survival as bio-organic horrors overwhelm the setting.

Fan Debate Has Extended Beyond the AI Rumors

The storyboard conversation is not the first point of friction surrounding Cregger's interpretation of the series. Some fans were unhappy when they learned that Leon, one of Resident Evil's most recognizable protagonists, would not be the lead of this particular story. Leon's absence has been a notable concern for viewers who hoped to see a direct adaptation centered on the character.

Yet a film set alongside the events of Resident Evil 2 does not necessarily need to retell that game from Leon's point of view. A parallel story can offer another angle on the collapse of Raccoon City and potentially make the setting feel larger than a single familiar route through it. The creative challenge is ensuring that any additions feel compatible with the series' identity rather than merely borrowing its name and iconography.

Cregger has been described as a committed player and admirer of the games, with the movie drawing inspiration from across the wider franchise. For adaptations of long-running game series, that kind of familiarity can be valuable, but it does not eliminate disagreements over what should be preserved, changed, or expanded. Fans often want faithfulness to specific characters and moments, while filmmakers may seek the flexibility to make a story that functions as a standalone movie.

Neither priority is automatically wrong. A scene-for-scene adaptation can satisfy players who want to see beloved material recreated, but it can also feel overly familiar to those who know the game inside out. A new story can create uncertainty and surprise, though it risks alienating viewers who see core characters and recognizable plotlines as essential. Resident Evil's long history makes both camps understandable.

Strong Early Reception for the Horror Adaptation

Despite the debates, Cregger's Resident Evil has made a strong early impact. The movie has a 95% score on Rotten Tomatoes and earned $100 million internationally during its opening weekend. Those figures point to considerable interest in the film, particularly for a property whose screen history has included several very different interpretations.

The response has highlighted the movie's blend of scares, humor, and graphic violence. That combination is closely associated with Resident Evil at its best. The games have always moved between tense survival horror and heightened, sometimes knowingly excessive action. A successful movie needs to understand that the series can be sincerely frightening without becoming humorless, and it can be outrageous without losing all of its dread.

Its setting around Raccoon City General Hospital also suggests a location built for that balance. Hospitals are already potent horror spaces: they contain sterile corridors, limited visibility, impersonal rooms, medical equipment, and a constant sense that help should be available even when it is not. In a Resident Evil scenario, those familiar elements become even more unsettling once emergency systems collapse and the infected take control of the environment.

Human Craft Still Matters in a Digital-Era Production

Wilkins' response is a concise one, but it lands during a period when artists are increasingly expected to verify that their work is human-made. That burden can be frustrating, particularly in fields like storyboarding where the work is intentionally rough, fast, and iterative. The accusation itself may spread faster than the explanation of what a storyboard artist actually does.

For the Resident Evil team, the immediate point is straightforward: the early boards being discussed were hand-drawn. That does not settle every larger industry conversation about AI, nor does it need to. It does, however, draw an important line around the creative contribution of the artist responsible for this material.

As the film continues its theatrical run, audiences will ultimately judge the finished result on the screen: whether Bryan's night in Raccoon City delivers memorable scares, whether its new perspective earns its place in the franchise, and whether the movie captures the particular mix of dread, bloodshed, and dark energy that defines Resident Evil. The boards that sparked the debate are only one early step in that much larger filmmaking process.

Resident Evil is currently playing in theaters.