About “Centaurworld” in a few words:

Centaurworld is an animated musical series on Netflix that follows a horse named Horse as she journeys from the human world to a fantastical realm inhabited by centaurs, unicorns, and other mythical creatures. Along the way, she must learn to navigate this new world and find her way home. The show features colorful animation, catchy songs, and a cast of eccentric and memorable characters.

Meet the characters from Centaurworld

Horse

Okay, Horse is the big-hearted warhorse-turned-singer and honestly I could talk about her forever — tough as nails but also the most adorable emotional wreck when anyone mentions friendship. She’s brave, impulsive, and has this weird combo of PTSD-level serious and candy-level enthusiasm (like, one minute she’s shouting orders, the next she’s teaching everyone to harmonize). She’s also secretly a snack fiend? Or was that a lie I read in a doodle—either way she definitely hoards something. She leads with instincts and a weirdly specific moral compass, and somehow manages to be inspiring even when she’s completely lost.

Wammawink

Wammawink is the ancient, wise, slightly terrifying mentor who speaks in riddles and lullabies and looks like he could bench-press a mountain but also bake you muffins if you asked nicely. He’s calm, deeply patient, and annoyingly competent at magic/guidance/therapeutic yelling — but also has this dry humor that sneaks out at the worst times. I keep picturing him with a teacup and battle scars, and sometimes he talks like a librarian and sometimes like a pirate? It makes no sense but it’s perfect.

Zulius

Zulius is the glittering show-off who thinks the world is his stage and also somehow feels like your most complicated ex who cries during musicals. Flamboyant, theatrical, and full of celebrity energy, he’s the type to choreograph a parade for breakfast and then brood about purpose at midnight. He’s dramatic but with actual emotional intelligence underneath that drama — he cares, maybe too intensely, and collects tiny scarves and regrets. Also, he insists he’s not needy but will absolutely text you at 2 AM to perform a ballad about friendship.

Ched

Ched struts around like the rowdiest bar fight you’ve ever witnessed but then will hand you a bandaid and a muffin like it’s no big deal — tough shell, marshmallow center, honestly iconic. He’s loud, proud, a little aggressive but in that “protector who can’t say no” way, and his loyalty is a physical force (punches included). Sometimes he’s macho bravado and sometimes he’s the one who cries at sunsets; it’s very mood-ring. He also has an inexplicable hobby of making tiny hats for owls? Don’t ask, it’s canon in my head.

Glendale

Glendale is the anxious, overly prepared planner who somehow brings color-coordinated snacks to existential breakdowns and looks flawless doing it. She worries — like, a lot — but her worry is useful because she’s clever, detailed, and notices all the tiny plot holes everyone else misses. She’ll argue with you about strategy while knitting and also has a small collector’s shelf of comforting rocks (yes, rocks). Every so often she surprises you by being ridiculously brave, which makes her adorable and terrifying at the same time.

Durpleton

Durpleton is the gentle giant of dumb luck and accidental wisdom, basically a walking cuddle with very questionable life choices. He’s huge, sweet, and honestly a bit baffled by most things (maps, metaphors, mornings) but will defend his friends with a single melodramatic roar. He loves hugs, snacks, and apparently believes pebbles are currency sometimes — charmingly inconsistent. Also he hums songs that make plants grow? Or maybe he just hums, who knows.

Rider

Rider is the stern, mission-obsessed human who shows up with a laser focus and then somehow gets emotionally hijacked by a chorus line of centaurs — it’s the best arc. He’s disciplined, haunted, and painfully determined, but also slowly learns to laugh (and cry) in inappropriate places, which is my favorite. He collects maps and regrets in equal measure, and will probably lecture you about strategy before giving you a backhanded compliment. Somewhere beneath the armor he’s a softie who keeps one ridiculous souvenir from home — a tiny button or a rock — that he’ll deny owning until the end of time.