Utopia follows comic book fans who stumble upon a manuscript for a graphic novel. This manuscript predicts real-life disasters. As they dig deeper into its secrets, a shadowy organization chases them, desperate to keep its truths hidden. Conspiracy, paranoia and messy lines between reality and fiction fill this show. It’s a wild ride, trust me.

Meet the characters from Utopia

Dr. Kevin Christie

Dr. Kevin Christie is the kind of scientist who looks like he stepped out of a cracked ethics textbook — brilliant, clinical, and secretly sentimental. He runs things with calm, bureaucratic ruthlessness but will also pause to explain a virus diagram in a trembling, almost proud whisper. You get this weird mix of father-figure and lab dictator, someone who genuinely believes the ends justify extremely cold means. He collects children’s drawings (yes, really) and keeps them in a drawer next to his spreadsheets, which is adorable and terrifying at the same time. He’s quietly charismatic, annoyingly convinced he’s doing the right thing, and totally capable of turning moral panic into policy — and yet he sometimes hums pop songs while working, which makes no sense.

Becky

Becky is scrappy in that “I’ll break into a government building with a hairpin and a smile” way. She’s funny and blunt and somehow endlessly practical, but also carries little nervous rituals — like tapping the same rhythm on tables — which she swears isn’t a superstition (but maybe it is). She can be affectionate and reckless in the same breath, fiercely loyal one minute and quietly suspicious the next. Also, I’m pretty sure she has a secret stash of snacks that she guards like it’s a national treasure, which is very relatable.

Ian

Ian is the anxious tooth of the group — always worried, always thinking, and kind of a walking panic button but in a lovable way. He obsesses over details, writes lists, and can turn a shopping trip into a full forensic audit of canned goods. At the same time he has this weird streak of bravery where he’ll do something absurdly brave because he read a forum post once (don’t ask). He’s awkward and earnest, prone to saying exactly the wrong thing and then apologizing in a spiral of facts. Also he inexplicably hates olives but will defend your weird opinions like a knight, which is oddly endearing.

Wilson Wilson

Wilson Wilson — yes that’s his real name, and yes it gets repeated in the show — is a hulking, taciturn ex-military type with a soft spot for comic books. He is competent, terrifyingly efficient, and completely incapable of small talk unless you bring up superheroes (then he’ll talk your ear off). There’s this half-joke vibe around him: he’s the muscle but also the one quoting poetry under his breath when no one’s looking. He looks like a wall, acts like one, but will drop everything to protect someone he barely knows, which makes him both predictable and unpredictable. Oh, and he makes tea like a granddad — strong, weirdly ceremonial, and possibly medicinal.

Grant

Grant is the smooth, quietly nervous cog in the machine — the kind of bureaucrat who can sign away ethics while polishing his cufflinks. He’s pragmatic, sometimes cowardly, but also oddly tender in private; he keeps voicemails he never listens to, for reasons he’d deny. On paper he’s a department man through and through, but you occasionally catch glimpses of someone who still cares about people, which is confusing. Also he chain-smokes (in his head, he tells himself) and owns a suspiciously large mug collection that he uses to measure out compromises.

Alice

Alice is the restless, wired heart of many scenes — curious, a little reckless, and caffeinated by nature. She’s both cerebral and hands-on: she’ll sketch out conspiracy maps and then climb a fence to get closer to the truth, sometimes barefoot, which is a mood. She’s empathetic but can flip into icy focus when needed; think street-wise researcher with lipstick on. She collects cassette tapes for reasons that make sense only to her and occasionally forgets names but remembers exact details like license-plate numbers. There’s this charm where she’s both chaotic and meticulous, which makes her impossible to predict and very fun to watch.

Thomas Christie

Thomas Christie is the glacial, confident mastermind — soft-spoken, terrifyingly patient, and genuinely convinced he is improving the world. He’s this unnervingly calm presence; he talks quietly while arranging horrors like they’re art, which is of course chilling. There’s this weird paternal warmth to him — he can be oddly tender one moment and doctrinaire the next, like a professor who grades souls. He loves children’s art (keeps it pinned in his office), believes in grand narratives, and wears his moral certainties like a uniform. Basically he’s charismatic in a way that makes you want to listen and then slowly realize you should probably run — or at least not make eye contact.