About “Preacher” in a few words:

“Preacher” is a supernatural drama TV series based on the comic book of the same name. The show premiered on AMC in 2016 and ran for four seasons before concluding in 2019. The story follows Jesse Custer, a troubled small-town preacher who becomes possessed by a powerful entity known as Genesis, giving him the ability to command anyone to do his bidding. Together with his ex-girlfriend Tulip and an Irish vampire named Cassidy, they embark on a journey to find God and confront him about his actions. Along the way, they encounter various enemies, including a secret organization called the Grail, and face their own personal demons.

Meet the characters from Preacher

Jesse Custer

Jesse is this combustible blend of preacher and outlaw, all righteous fury wrapped in a denim jacket and a nagging conscience. He’s stubborn to the point of self-destruction, furious about injustice but also weirdly soft with people he barely tolerates. There’s a cosmic thing inside him (yes, that thing) that makes him more than a small-town pastor, but honestly he still worries about whether his sermons are boring. He’s violent, funny, earnest, and somehow keeps surprising you — like someone who swears he hates puppies but will rescue three in a row.

Proinsias Cassidy

Proinsias Cassidy is the gloriously messy, whiskey-soaked Irish vampire you can’t help loving. He’s charming, profane, and devastatingly loyal, which is to say he’ll crack jokes one moment and then cut deep (literally) the next. He keeps terrible secrets, loves music and cigarettes, and also will pet a cat in the middle of a bar fight — this is not a contradiction, it’s Cassidy. Underneath the swagger is a man who’s tired, nostalgic, and secretly sentimental about things he refuses to admit are sentimental; also, he thinks about the perfect pint a lot.

Tulip O’Hare

Tulip is pure adrenaline with impeccable hair — a professional badass who can disarm you and make you feel guilty about it afterward. She’s smart, fiercely loyal to Jesse (and exasperated by him constantly), and has zero patience for moralizing or slow drivers. There’s tenderness buried under the guns-and-sarcasm routine; she likes old movies and maybe keeps a plant alive, occasionally. She’ll plan a perfect heist and then insist she hates planning — classic Tulip.

Cassidy

Cassidy (yes, again — because he deserves it) is more than the comic relief; he’s a walking ballast of regret and reckless joy. He drinks like it’s his job and loves badly but fiercely, and those two habits tend to wreck evenings and sometimes entire decades. He’s sentimental about stupid things (postcards, moustaches, definitely moustaches) and also inexplicably brave in tiny moments. You’ll laugh at his one-liners and then feel terrible for laughing — complicated emotional hangover, signature Cassidy.

Arseface

Arseface is tragic and hilarious and deeply human in a way that makes you ache. He’s got the kind of face you don’t forget and a voice that becomes a weird symbol of resilience — and he takes to music like oxygen. He’s naive and stubborn and wants more than people give him, but also he’s clownish sometimes (bad pranks, questionable hair choices). There’s this weird blend of hope and self-loathing, and you can’t decide whether to cheer or cry when he’s on stage — also, pretty sure he collects badges? Buttons? Something shiny.

The Saint of Killers

The Saint of Killers is unrelenting, silent, and basically a walking judgment day with a cowboy hat. He doesn’t emote (like, at all), but his presence says everything: slow, steady, and absolutely inevitable. Weapons are extensions of him — guns that whisper apocalypse — and he won’t stop for prayer or pity. He’s terrifyingly simple and somehow oddly poetic, like a grim line of scripture you can’t unhear.

Herr Starr

Herr Starr is the bureaucrat of horror: meticulous, cold, and obsessed with control (and paperwork — lots of paperwork). He runs operations with the smile of a man who uses chess pieces as human props, and he has this annoying habit of liking classical music while planning atrocities. There’s an odd, childish streak under the iron — he collects tiny rituals, wears immaculate suits, and occasionally plays with a matchbox like it’s a riddle. He’s terrifying because he believes in systems and order more than people, and that makes him efficient and utterly ruthless.