About “Invader Zim” in a few words:

Invader Zim is an animated television series that first aired on Nickelodeon in 2001. Created by Jhonen Vasquez, the show follows the misadventures of an alien named Zim who is sent to Earth by the Irken Empire to conquer it, but his plans are constantly foiled by his arch-nemesis, Dib, a young paranormal investigator. The show is known for its dark humor, surreal visuals, and quirky characters, and has developed a cult following over the years.

Meet the characters from Invader Zim

Dib Membrane

Dib is the hyper-focused paranormal hunter who thinks every shadow is part of an alien conspiracy. He’s brilliant in that obsessive-janitor-turned-detective way—slides of evidence, tin-foil hats, dramatic monologues at 3 a.m.—and he will NOT let go once he’s got a theory. Socially awkward? Completely. Brave? Absolutely—somehow tragic and heroic at once. He claims not to sleep but also takes catastrophic, very emo naps under his bed, and yes he’s constantly writing angry margin notes on everything.

Zim

Zim is a tiny tyrant in a pink suit with delusions of grandeur so big they need their own zip code. He’s loud, single-minded, wildly theatrical and diplomatically terrible—his plans are bold, bizarre, and usually end in self-inflicted disaster. He insists he hates humans but also keeps a weird scrapbook of their manners or maybe it’s just photos of shoes, who knows. There’s this glorious toy-soldier energy about him—always scheming, always dramatic; also kind of insecure and prone to overacting (he absolutely did that thing with the dramatic fog once, you remember).

GIR

GIR is the gloriously chaotic robot sidekick who is basically a walking sugar rush wearing a paper bag sometimes. He adores tacos, hugs, sparkly things, and the concept of work only when it involves pressing buttons that go beep beep; he’s also the most unpredictable emotional support animal you never asked for. He can be bafflingly useful (once he inadvertently saved the day with a noodle) and also staggeringly incompetent five minutes later, which is kind of his whole vibe. Sweet, ridiculous, and utterly sincere, GIR is the show’s adorable sledgehammer—soft and chaotic but somehow effective.

Gaz Membrane

Gaz is the deadpan gamer princess who treats the world like a background noise level set to “annoying.” She is sharp, quietly fierce, protective of Dib in the way that involves a lot of scowls and very occasional snacks, and she will absolutely destroy anyone who messes with her arcade machine. Under that stoic exterior there are tiny soft spots—she loves her cat (and maybe some very niche horror novels) and sometimes sneaks smiles when no one’s looking. She’s a master of one-line annihilations and eye-rolls, but also suspiciously good at video game lore and probably keeps a list of best boss fight strategies.

Professor Membrane

Professor Membrane is the absent-minded, genius inventor who talks like a million patents exploded into a personality. He’s brilliant, a little aloof, and obsessed with progress—laboratories, inventions, the works—he’s the kind of dad who will build a quantum toaster because he forgot how to make regular toast. He genuinely cares about his kids but expresses it through lectures and odd gadgets, and sometimes forgets lunch while inventing a machine that sings to houseplants. There’s a pompous, showman streak—awards, dramatic reveals, a tendency to monologue—but also this sweet, earnestness underneath, like a nerdy grandfather who collects circuit boards and weird hats.

Ms. Bitters

Ms. Bitters is the perpetually gloomy teacher who looks like she’s seen too many school plays and chosen despair as a lifestyle. Deadpan, ominous, and slightly terrifying, she patrols the classroom with the energy of a storm cloud and the patience of a slightly annoyed statue. Rumor has it she collects tiny broken crayons and writes sarcastic poetry about recess, and occasionally (rarely) a small, secret smile slips out, which is catastrophic to everyone present. She’s the show’s perfect embodiment of cynical authority—unmoved, mysterious, and also somehow strangely compelling.