Daybreak drops you into a wild post-apocalyptic high school. Josh, an outcast, hunts for his missing girlfriend, Sam. He faces dangers everywhere. Identity, belonging, survival- big themes here. Characters tackle crazy challenges. Unique setting, relatable peeps. Daybreak hooks you, keeps you guessing.

Meet the characters from Daybreak

Josh Wheeler

Josh Wheeler is the kind of grumpy, wisecracking leader you can’t help but root for. He barks orders, makes terrible jokes at the worst possible times, and is somehow the emotional center of this whole post-apocalypse mess. He’s rough around the edges — he eats questionable canned food with weird pride and insists he hates soft things while secretly crying at dumb romcoms. Also, he is inexplicably good with animals and bad with spreadsheets, which is the most endearing contradiction and also something I relate to personally, not that you asked.

Angelica Green

Angelica Green is a dazzling, terrifying force of chaos who wears charm like armor. She can smile you into trusting her and then rearrange your life like it was a Pinterest board she doesn’t like — manipulative, brilliant, and unapologetically theatrical. She loves glam and glitter but also has a sharp, clinical brain for strategy, which makes her equal parts terrifying and mesmerizing. She sometimes seems selfish and sometimes weirdly protective of her crew, which makes her impossible to pin down — villain? leader? both? Oh and she keeps weird pets? I think pigeons? Or ferrets? I can’t remember, but it’s iconic.

Samaira ‘Sam’ Dean

Samaira ‘Sam’ Dean is the practical, no-nonsense medic-inventor who quietly holds people together. She’s the brainy type — patches you up, rigs up clever gadgets, and mutters technical insults like terms of endearment. She says she hates fuss but will make you a three-step survival plan and a casserole at midnight, which is such a vibe. Also, she has this tiny collection of novelty band-aids and a secret soft spot for terrible pop songs, yes, really.

Wesley Fists

Wesley Fists is hulking, tattooed, and somehow also the silliest dad-energy character in the show. He punches things when necessary but will also read heartfelt fanfiction aloud if the mood strikes him, so there’s that. Loyal to a ridiculous degree, boringly honest sometimes, and actually very tender under all the brawn. He insists he hates scented candles but owns seven — who is he kidding.

Turbo Bro Jock

Turbo Bro Jock is peak bro: loud, caffeinated, protein-shake philosophy and an “eat the fear” attitude. He’s impulsive, always ready to charge into danger with a stupid grin, and somehow slightly more clever than he lets on. He calls everyone “bro” and wears sunglasses indoors, but he also journals? Like, introspective entries with doodles of pumpkins or something. Terrifying in a mosh pit and oddly sweet when he admits he’s scared of the dark — which he does, ironically, at 3 a.m.

Mona Lisa

Mona Lisa is pure chaotic creative energy with an edge — she’s artistic, dramatic, and kind of deliciously unpredictable. She can craft a masterpiece out of duct tape and gum wrappers and then light up a room by yelling about existentialism, which is my favorite hobby of hers, honestly. She’s flirtatious one minute, ferocious the next, and will stab you with a paintbrush if you hurt her friends, probably metaphorically but also maybe literally. Also, she collects vintage postcards and hates being called sweet even though she absolutely is, secretly.

Eli Cardashyan

Eli Cardashyan is business-suit charisma in apocalypse form: slick, persuasive, and lowkey terrifying. He plays politics like a game and is always thinking three moves ahead, smiling while rearranging the board. He looks pristine even when everything is falling apart, which is unnerving and kind of impressive — hair gel is an apocalypse essential, apparently. He claims he hates attention but then spends an hour picking the perfect outfit, which tells you everything.

Ms. Crumble

Ms. Crumble is the stern, no-nonsense teacher-turned-survivalist with a terrifyingly calm voice. She grades your scavenging skills and lectures you about ethics while cooking stew over a flamethrower, and you’ll listen, because she is that kind of authority. She’s bureaucratic but deeply moral, and there’s something oddly comforting about being scolded by someone who can make you a mean sandwich and a better person in the span of three minutes. She owns an absurdly neat pineapple-shaped pencil case and swears by paper lists, which is the cutest tiny rebellion against chaos.

Michael Burr

Michael Burr is the uptight, rule-obsessed guy who somehow becomes the human embodiment of municipal law in a ruined world. He loves order so much he will make a schedule for grief, and that can be both comforting and deeply weird. He tries very hard to be fair, but there’s a brittle edge that makes his decisions cold sometimes — like a spreadsheet that forgot to be human. Also, he drinks herbal tea and collects tiny novelty staplers, which is both adorable and ominous, for reasons I can’t fully explain.