About “Krapopolis” in a few words:

‘Krapopolis’ is set in a fantastical ancient Greece, bringing to the fore a quirky family comprising humans, gods, and monsters. Together, they endeavor to establish one of the world’s inaugural cities, navigating the myriad challenges and hilarious predicaments this entails. The show masterfully marries the mythical with the modern, underlining the timeless nature of societal struggles and familial ties.

Meet the characters from Krapopolis

Deliria

Deliria is the kind of chaotic sparkle-bomb character who bursts into a room and rearranges everyone’s expectations — and their cushions, sometimes literally. She’s equal parts mischievous schemer and affectionate mess, like a trickster goddess who also bakes terrible cookies (but insists they’re “art”). You will catch her giving wise, fevered monologues one minute and misplacing her crown in a fountain the next; she cares very deeply about tradition but also once tried to start a spa for statues. Honestly, she feels like three moods at once and that’s exactly why you can’t stop watching her, even if she keeps contradicting herself about whether she hates olives or collects them.

Shlub

Shlub is the lovably awkward, soft-hearted lug who seems to have emerged from a pottery wheel and a philosophy book smashed together. He spills soup on his tunic, apologizes to the bowl, and then drops an unexpectedly profound line about friendship — it’s his whole vibe, clumsy profundity. Also, he has an odd hobby of cataloguing weird stones and giving them names, which is adorable and slightly concerning, and he insists he’s terrified of baths but will secretly float in the river for hours. He feels simple but keeps nudging you into thinking, hmm, maybe he’s the wisest one in the room, or maybe he just has crumbs in his beard, it’s hard to say.

Tyrannis

Tyrannis is theatrical, loud, and ruled by charm and a mildly terrifying sense of entitlement — like a king who learned drama from a conquistador and a soap opera. He gives grand speeches, demands loyalty, and then secretly practices sincere apologies in the mirror (awkwardly), which somehow makes him less villain and more gloriously fragile. He loves imposing rules but also secretly hates paperwork and will bribe you with gold or interpretive dance to get out of the boring bits, which is very on-brand. He’s intimidating one minute, unexpectedly insecure the next, and if he had a theme song it would be both triumphant and sadly very clarinet-y.

Stupendous

Stupendous is the bombastic show-off who wants to be a hero in the biggest, loudest way — capes, horns, overly dramatic introductions, the works — but also trips on his own shadow sometimes. He’s got a heart of gold under a chestplate of glitter and will explode into a grand gesture that solves a problem, then immediately need a nap (dramatic naps are his specialty). He brags, yes, but with this weirdly sincere wink that makes you believe him, and he has a soft spot for small animals and terrible poetry (both equally important). Basically, he’s loud and kind and a walking contradiction — a hero who can’t help but also be ridiculous, and that’s why he’s great.

Hippocampus

Hippocampus is this weird, dreamy amphibious type who seems like part-sea-creature, part-old-sage, and part-hipster-tour-guide to lost souls — he speaks in riddles and also very practical directions to the nearest tavern. He hoards maps in a trunk (some accurate, some drawn in glitter), collects lullabies from sailors, and has the uncanny habit of giving prophetic advice while chewing seaweed, which is oddly charming. Sometimes he is solemn and deep like the ocean, sometimes he is flippant and forgetful (he may or may not forget your name but will remember your birthday, strangely). He’s mysterious but cuddly if you ignore that he occasionally insists on swimming through your living room, which, yes, he does for reasons that he will explain later — maybe.