25 Best TV Characters From 1990 to 2015

If this list handed out faux superlatives, Bauer would be the unanimous pick for "Worst Person to Mess With." The unhinged off-and-on federal agent sought justice and righteousness. Sure, sometimes his methods were, best-case scenario, unethical. But he fought and investigated for his family and trusted his gut. In a world of moles, he (and partner-in-crime Chloe O'Brien) was the only CTU employee guaranteed to not be on the take. We owe him eight times over for all his prevention efforts. —Will Robinson

"People can relate to Homer because we're all secretly propelled by desires we can't admit to," Simpsons creator Matt Groening told EW in 2010. "Homer is launching himself headfirst into every single impulsive thought that occurs to him." That's the distinguishing factor that takes Homer from a great character—funny, engaging, complex—to an iconic one. He embodies the well-meaning, frequently misguided approach to life that now defines American culture. Homer barrels into things with an enviable zeal that's equally condemnable and commendable; in harnessing impulse, he blends the line between ingenuity and ignominy. It's not that Homer is an oaf or that he's a genius—he just is, in a way that we all are. —Eric Renner Brown

She died twice and saved the world (a lot!). But aside from Buffy Summers' superhuman strength and responsibility as a vampire slayer, it was her humanity that made her such an amazing character. For seven seasons, fans watched Buffy face an increasingly complex string of villains while also battling the trials and tribulations of everyday life as a teenage girl. Through it all, we watched Buffy's failures, sacrifices, and dilemmas, but mostly we saw a powerful girl take control and conquer everything that life threw at her. The character completely turned the ditzy blonde stereotype on its head and gave girls everywhere a confident, badass action hero and role model that they could be proud to admire. —Dylan Kickham

The shrink-visiting mobster was the founding antihero of modern television. By any objective moral standard used to assess Tony's quality as a human being, he fares worse than Anthony Jr. in school. He's a lovable, sickening contradiction: a narcissistic indulgent family man who loves his kids and wife, as long as it doesn't interfere with his wants. He's not admirable—and should be detested—but Tony constantly demanded our attention. —Will Robinson

Love her or love to hate her, Carrie Bradshaw personified a new era for women in the late '90s and early 2000s. The single career woman with no shame in her sexual exploits had more interest in spending money on overpriced designer shoes than on baby booties. Carrie's legacy is so lasting that actress Sarah Jessica Parker has still not separated herself from the role. Living in New York City just as Carrie did, Parker recently went a step further in her evolution to becoming Carrie, when she started her own line of expensive footwear, SJP Collection. —Maddie Boardman

As a set of images, they're recognizable: silhouettes in the woods, a short umbrella beneath a tall one, two flashlight beams crossing in the night. As a set of ideas, they're iconic: the definitive believer and skeptic as we know them now. But the enduring appeal of Mulder and Scully is in the way they complicate their own dichotomy, searching for the truth but finding instead an unexpected common ground with each other. The conspiracy theorist wants to believe but needs proof; the scientist is looking to take a leap. And in the end, neither can trust anyone else—but in the end, we don't need them to. —Kelly Connolly

Whether she's working on her night cheese or attempting to wrangle the biggest egos in Rockefeller Center, Tina Fey's self-deprecating workhorse Liz Lemon was a problem-solving genius and creative comedic force whose logic helped her outwit an industry that thrives on idiocy. Her survival of showbiz is a fable built to sustain and entertain long after 30 Rock's pulse of the oughts. To Fey's credit, the best thing the writer-creator ever did was write Lemon without a shred of vanity, skipping indulgence and giving viewers a flawed woman of failure and persistence. We quickly realized that whatever road of zeitgeisty digression Lemon traveled, we wanted to go to there with her. —Marc Snetiker

Any of Seinfeld's supporting characters could have made the cut, but Cosmo is our man. The wild-haired neighbor of Jerry always moved and talked like he continually battled insomnia with 13 cups of coffee. His inherent off state was good for at least one standout moment, phrase, look, or stolen food item per episode. It's hard to find one signature act because there are so many. Giddy up indeed, Kramer. —Will Robinson

Time magazine famously placed responsibility for the death of feminism on Ally McBeal's tiny shoulders in a 1998 cover story, but there was more to her than her occasional ditziness and outrageously high hemlines. Ally (Calista Flockhart, in a breakout role) charmed the viewers who joined her on her ongoing hunt for her soul mate, offering regular glimpses into her overactive, dancing baby-filled imagination along the way. And hey, forget professionalism—there's nothing more feminist than a woman being allowed to wear whatever she damn well pleases! —Mary Sollosi

Part of the fun of watching Stephen Colbert—the real one, not his conservative alter ego—take over the Late Show has been learning which aspects of his Comedy Central persona were ginned up purely for his nine-year-long gag. And, while Colbert has proven himself to still be the quick-witted, nerd-savvy ball of enthusiasm viewers have long known and loved, the comedian has also illuminated just how thorough and multi-faceted "Stephen Colbert" was. The fake right-wing pundit sounds like a half-baked character dreamed up in a college dorm, but Colbert approached it with all the rigor his theater background would suggest: creating a separate lexicon, routinely breaking the fourth wall, and, when in doubt, improvising like no other. —Eric Renner Brown

The characters and worlds we see on television are so often crafted and stylized to a point where it all feels so fake. Just look at the perfect hair and makeup on any teen drama, or the spotless Hollywood backlot sets meant to represent the streets of New York. One of the first shows that dared to be dirty was Roseanne, and at the helm of the filth was the unapologetic comedian herself: Roseanne Barr. As Roseanne Conner, the middle-America mother of three troublemaking children didn't sugarcoat any of the hard truths of life, and it made for hilarious, poignant, and sometimes painful television that you couldn't look away from. —Dylan Kickham

The college years are filled with discovery. For four years, college students discover their career goals, the loves of their lives, and who they truly are. It's a lot to condense into one universal character, but that's exactly what Felicity did with its eponymous protagonist. Felicity Porter realistically portrayed the tough decisions, earnestness, and melodrama that anyone trying to find themselves in their early 20s experiences. Sure, her late-'90s-early-'00s world is notably dated, but Felicity left a mark on the pop culture landscape that is timeless. Her baggy, often-androgynous wardrobe influenced a generational style trend, her series-long love triangle can still prompt a heated Noel-or-Ben debate, and her curly locks inspired widespread TV character hair envy—before they were famously chopped off, that is. —Dylan Kickham

The master of illusion was the master of delusion. GOB's inability to handle a simple task or even complete an act of defiance (see: his attempt to throw a letter into the sea) was delightful; witnessing his shoddily constructed façade cracking open at odd times was crazy joy (you really should, should, should remember this). Cruising selfishly through life on a Segway, GOB teetered on the edge of insanity and inanity while remaining grounded in pathos. And even in defeat, he would prove the punchline victor. What's that? You didn't include GOB on your list of favorite characters? Well, then I'd say that you've made a huge mistake. —Dan Snierson

There is only one Olivia Pope. (Just ask Fitz.) She's the gladiator of all gladiators. She doesn't run from crisis, but toward it. She does what it takes to get things done, and you better believe she's got things handled. —Sam Highfill

He's a giant-headed animated baby who curses in a British accent and schemes to rid himself of his mother. ("Damn you, vile woman!") Is there anything about Stewie that isn't hilarious? Babies who plot are much more interesting than babies who just lounge around looking cute. —Megan Lewis

In a sea of vibrant characters, Omar remains The Wire's most unique: a gay, scarred, shotgun-slinging Robin Hood who steals money from drug dealers while whistling "the Farmer in the Dell." The sight of him swaggering down the street while little kids scamper screaming "Omar comin'!" is unforgettable. Omar was an honorable man in a dishonorable world; he kept to his code and protected his friends, and even earned Obama's seal of approval. —Christian Holub

The man himself once sang it: Barney Stinson: that guy's awesome. The suit-wearing best friend of Ted, Marshall, Lily, and Robin was always prepared to prompt for a high-five or drop the perfect pick-up line. The one-liners Barney quipped were not only creative and hilarious: They infiltrated everyday dialogue. Find someone who says "legendary" like Webster's suggests, and they probably lived under a rock for the last decade. Barney also inspired us to want to suit up when frequenting our own MacLaren's. —Will Robinson

Simply put, there has never been a mother-daughter duo on television like Rory and Lorelai. As Gilmore Girls creator Amy Sherman-Palladino put it: they are best friends first and mother-daughter second. That's what makes them different. Their quick wit and never-ending knowledge of pop culture? Well that's what makes them great. —Sam Highfill

If optimism were her only revolution, it would have been enough. But Leslie Knope made everyone around her optimistic, too, and so she did more—revitalizing her town, inventing a holiday to champion her fellow women, and becoming a White House dream we could all believe in. As an advocate for the virtues of civil service, Leslie earned the praise of the non-fictional politicians she admired—including Michelle Obama, Joe Biden, and Madeleine Albright, all of whom number among Parks and Recreation's guest stars—and made it easier for us all to look into the future and say, "I'm ready."  —Kelly Connolly

In a television landscape packed with dragon-rearing teenage queens and meth-cooking teachers-turned-kingpins, Don Draper should've been the most boring character ever. He's a white dude in a suit who works in midtown Manhattan. Oh, he's also an alcoholic. And he cheats on his wife. There's nothing fantastical or glitzy to Don Draper on paper, but Jon Hamm brought the advertising executive to life with a defining performance that, tangentially, makes the case for eliminating special effects and sci-fi programming. Forsaking cheap gimmicks, Mad Men was as good as character studies come, and Don Draper was its greatest achievement. —Eric Renner Brown

Eric Taylor is a husband, a father, and a molder of men. He's a rarity in the world of television: The genuine good guy. Add on a Texas drawl and an unlimited supply of motivational speeches, and you've got television's greatest football coach. —Sam Highfill

Walter White began as a seemingly lovable dad, teaching high school chemistry and suffering from a recent cancer diagnosis, and ended as a murderous monster obsessed with power. There are hints throughout the series that this was who Walt always was, but the devastating process of his inner villain finally coming to the surface is one of the most fascinating transformations on television, and proved that an evil protagonist can be just as captivating, if not more, than a sympathetic one. —Ariana Bacle

It speaks to Taraji P. Henson's fire that Cookie has made such an impact. The matriarch of the Lyon family earned her release from prison and shot herself into her family's (and our) lives. Cookie never holds her tongue. She's racked up a list of repeatable one-liners in fewer than 20 episodes that starring characters don't have in 100. "The name's Cookie: ask about me," she seethes early in season 1. No one ever has to again. —Will Robinson

Most people, at some point, encounter a wacky boss in their careers—but likely none quite as wacky as Michael Scott, a misguided and misunderstood manager who has a penchant for saying inappropriate things ("That's what she said!") in the workplace. The brilliance of the character, though, is that Michael is both ridiculously annoying and a sympathetic guy who just wants to be loved. In the span of just one scene, he can go from cringe-worthy to heartwarming, a delightfully realistic, complex contradiction that contributes to why Michael Scott's season 7 departure stings even years after the fact. —Ariana Bacle

Rachel Green was spoiled, flighty, shallow at times, and, completely lovable. Famously played by Jennifer Aniston for 10 years, the character who inspired her own haircut was relatable in her early ignorance and missteps. We watched Rachel get her first job, navigate her various tumultuous relationships, and learn to stand up for herself. She grew up with Friends' viewers, evolving from a dependent, uninspired, directionless 20-something on her way down the aisle toward a man she didn't love, to a confident, self-sufficient working mother who went after what she wanted and almost always got it. —Maddie Boardman