Mr. Robot is a must-see series. It dives into life of Elliot Alderson, a hacker and cybersecurity engineer. He gets tangled up in a plot to bring down a shady corporation. Along the way, he deals with complicated relationships- like his childhood friend Angela and his mysterious boss, Mr. Robot. Expect plot twists, unique visuals and sharp takes on capitalism, tech and mental health. You won’t want to miss it!

Meet the characters from Mr. Robot

Elliot Alderson

Elliot is this quiet, twitchy genius who lives inside his own head and hacks like it’s breathing — seriously, he thinks in code and coffee stains. He’s painfully empathetic but also suspicious of everyone, which makes him both heartbreaking and kind of heroic in a weird, exhausted way. He mumbles to himself a lot (honestly, sometimes you forget if it’s muttering or actually talking to someone), and he has these tiny rituals — late-night cereal, awkward hoodie, headphones always — that feel like armor. There’s this constant tension where he wants to disappear and also to save people, which is probably why he never sleeps and always looks like he’s five minutes away from solving or imploding.

Mr. Robot

Mr. Robot bursts in like a sneer with a mission; he’s charismatic chaos with an agenda and the kind of old-school punk energy that makes you follow him whether you want to or not. He’s loud where Elliot is quiet, theatrical and stubborn and convinced the system must burn — but sometimes he softens in ways he’d never admit (and then denies he softened). Cigarette in hand, ranting about capitalism and vintage records, he’s both father-figure and saboteur and, yes, kind of terrifyingly persuasive. You get the sense he’s always playing several moves ahead, even if the rules keep changing.

Darlene

Darlene is all spark and wires — quick-tongued, fearless in the middle of chaos, and somehow both gritty and adorably chaotic (like she’ll be hacking mainframes and then forget her keys). She’s fiercely protective and has this punk-rock bravado that masks a softer, watchful core; she jokes, she argues, she absolutely will drag you into a plan at 2 a.m. There’s a diva energy but also a real loyalty — messy, stubborn, and absolutely unreliable in the best way when it comes to normalcy. She loves the adrenaline and hates being coddled, but also secretly cherishes the tiniest comforts (coffee, old hoodies, the one playlist she won’t share).

Tyrell Wellick

Tyrell is a polished, sharp-edged ambition machine wearing an immaculate suit and a low simmer of desperation, like a chess piece that once fell in love with the idea of winning. He’s obsessive about control — posture, image, power moves — and also has these weird flashes of vulnerability that make him disturbingly magnetic (and a little scary). He’s the sort of person who plans his smile and times his steps, but then there’s a dramatic, almost theatrical side that erupts when things go off-script. Sometimes he seems completely cold-blooded and other times shockingly tender; it’s wildly inconsistent but also why you can’t look away.

Angela Moss

Angela presents as composed and career-driven, with this soft-spoken intensity that hides an iron will — she’s corporate perfect on the outside and quietly revolutionary in the inside, or so she tells herself. She wants to believe in doing the right thing and keeps second-guessing what that even means, which makes her both relatable and maddeningly complicated. She loves old movies and has this neat habit of folding napkins just right when she’s thinking, which is adorable and also slightly controlling. There’s a streak of idealism that keeps clashing with the world she works in, and she keeps getting pulled in different directions (and wears the look of someone who’s decided to stop asking permission).

Phillip Price

Phillip Price is the satin-gloved ruthlessness of corporate power — calm, cultured, terrifyingly strategic, and with the confidence of someone who’s seen every playbook. He runs rooms with the kind of measured voice that makes people bend without realizing they’re bending, and he collects leverage like it’s an art form (he probably has a teak box for it). There’s a gentlemanly polish — cigars, tailored suits, that odd patience — but don’t mistake it for warmth; he’s affectionate on his own terms, which is rarely comforting. He believes in his own rules and will rewrite the rules for you if it suits him.

Dominique DiPierro

Dom is tenacious in a way that feels both tired and relentless, like she runs on stubbornness and too much coffee but somehow always nails the detail everyone else missed. She’s skeptical, smart, so observant she notices the most random little clues (shoe scuffs, a missed eyebrow raise), and she masks deep insecurity with a steady, dry wit. She alternates between being baffled by office politics and utterly ruthless in pursuit of truth — also, she has a sneaker obsession and an unexpectedly sweet voicemail voice when she’s off duty. There’s a warmth that sneaks through her professional shell now and then, which makes her human and terrible at letting people off the hook.