Wise, steadfast, revered leader and Moses figure who faithfully guides the survivors of the colonies through the wilderness of space towards the "promised land" of Earth. Also bears an uncanny resemblance to Bonanza's Ben Cartwright.
|Admiral Bill Adama|
Growling, cynical, hard-nosed, foul-mouthed, techno-phobic military man struggling mightily to adapt to the political realities of leading a civilian population. No resemblance to Ben Cartwright whatsoever.
Gushes idealism, radiates loyalty, practically oozes moral character. In a universe where the good guys are super-good and evil guys are really evil, I mean nasty evil, this guy here is the Eagle Scout of the good-guy camp.
|Major Lee "Apollo" Adama|
Smarter, more idealistic, and a lot more politically savvy than his father. Loyalties are sort of all over the place. Romantically, a total chump. Still, he's the closest thing this cynical lot have to an actual conscience, and one of the few who actually deserve to live.
Cigar chomper. Womanizer. Gambler. Womanizer. Hotshot viper pilot. Womanizer. Dirk Benedict. In short: Everything you ever wanted in a space hero, right down to the silk-lined brown suede cape.
|Lt. Kara "Starbuck" Thrace|
Cigar chomper? Gambler? Hotshot pilot? Check. "Man-izer"? Frak yes. Also add alcoholic hothead, loose cannon, obsessive visionary, impromptu artist, general lunatic, and possibly even a Cylon, and you're just starting to scratch the surface.
Honest and reliable, clever and brave, canny and very, very cool. The ultimate wingman. Putting your team together? Boomer here is your number-one draft pick.
|Lt. Sharon "Boomer" Valerii|
T-r-o-u-b-l-e. Bad at relationships. Can't land a raptor without banging it all to hell. Frequently loses her mind. Has no clue who she is or what she believes in. Just cannot be trusted. Don't let that sweet face fool you.
The universe's #1 Number One. Tough and cranky and efficient, he keeps the trains running on time. Probably drives him crazy that the Commander's grandson is always hanging out on his bridge with that damned monkey-dog robot of his.
|Colonel Saul Tigh|
Total madman. Outdrinks Starbuck, outcurses Adama, and can bug his eye out like nobody's business. What do you do when you're married to Lady Macbeth and fate has made you the poster boy for cruel reversals? Have another drink and savor the irony.
Very bad man. Very very bad man. Even his eyebrows are evil. Spends a lot of time alone in the throne room on his ridiculously elevated pedestal, just waiting for some underling to enter so he can swivel around ominously.
|Dr. Gaius Baltar|
Genius or coward? Prophet or pimp? Humanity's messiah or Worst President Ever? Pathetic self-involved sleazebag or perennial victim of circumstance? With Gaius W. Baltar, you get all of the above, and so much more, bless his wretched little soul.
Pretty officer who types things on her Commodore 64. Wears a headset, looks worried, and is pretty. Got thrown over by Starbuck for Cassiopeia, despite being pretty. Eventually supplanted by Sheba, who was pretty and also could act.
|Lt. Sharon "Athena" Agathon|
The good Sharon, the one who learned about loyalty and honor and family and sacrifice. The one you can trust. Probably would have been a good idea to tattoo an "A" on her forehead so you could keep track of her amongst all those other tricky 8s.
Galactica's Chief Exposition Officer. The man with the info. The Cylons are coming, the vipers have launched, the fire is spreading, we're picking up a signal. Without him, both the Galactica and the plotline would just sit there.
|Lt. Felix Gaeta|
DRADIS cruncher, FTL spooler, Condiition-One-Throughout-The-Ship setter. Beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Poor guy just can't seem to catch a break. Or back a winner.
|Flight Corporal Rigel|
"Launch when ready." It isn't exactly "All ships standby to jump on my mark," but it still beats the hell out of "Hailing frequencies open..."
|Petty Officer Anastasia Dualla|
A ship's communications officer finally gets something interesting to do, yet still finds time to catch the eye of the President's aide and the Admiral's son.
By gods, this ol' war dagget was all man... bedding women half his age, blowing up anything even remotely shiny, talking back to Adama, even giving Starbuck serious competition for Stud of the Fleet.
|Admiral Helena Cain|
When you can't get any manlier than Lloyd Bridges, it's time to go an entirely different direction...
Crusty, grumpy, growly ship's doctor with a heart of gold and ironclad medical ethic.
Crusty, grumpy, growly ship's doctor with a heart of gold and ironclad medical ethic. This one smokes.
Rick Springfield! Dies only 15 minutes into the pilot.
Dies years before the pilot, but gets to have sex with Starbuck in a flashback.
There's always a kid and dog. Always. In this case, a kid and a robot dog with a monkey inside.
Shows up in the pilot, makes friends with Boomer, then vanishes without explanation. Eaten by Muffit?
Something of a cross between Pope John Paul II and the first President Bush. Fails to notice Baltar's evil eyebrows and thus gets suckered into leading the entire human race to its annihilation.
Less papal and more bureaucratic, he's quite possibly the first President to have sex with his successor (at least, let's hope so...)
A portly viper pilot! Who never quite knows what 's going on! Usually played comic relief alongside supercool Boomer... which, it must be noted, is not too shabby a gig.
Got blown up in the very first episode, without even getting to show his face. And that's the story of him.
The pinnacle of 1970s technology. Surely the Soviets knew their days were numbered when they first beheld the engineering marvel that was Muffit. Within a decade, every American household had a Teddy Ruxpin, and the Cold War was over.
Hero of the resistance. Clandestine trafficker of state secrets. Gaeta's only friend. Has no idea why people keep turning his bowl over, but wishes they'd knock it off.
Nothing this awesome, nor this shiny, has happened before or since.
Sort of looks like a classic centurion mated with the killer from Scream. Not very shiny, and never gets any lines. Not so much as a "by your command."
Yes, Galactica 1980 was real. No, it was not just a weird dream you had after a bad plate of SpaghettiO's. And yes, it did introduce "human" Cylons more than two decades before Caprica Six showed up.
He comes in peace.
The original "aircraft carrier in space" sported laser batteries, nukes, fixed landing bays, some seriously big-ass engines, and best-in-class greebling.
Retractable landing pods, massive flak cannons (no lasers here), exposed superstructure, and a new FTL "jump drive" distinguish this warship from its greebled 1978 cousin. Also, this version is ribbed for your pleasure.
They demonstrated the specific seven-switch sequence required to launch these bad boys so often, anybody could fly one. And just how many times are the Cylons going to fall for that "reverse thrusters" maneuver?
The latest incarnation of the Colonial fighter got itself all curvied up, making it look a bit like an Air Force F-16. It can also fly sideways and backwards, which is both new and hot. Should be noted that Starbuck still flies the old school version.
Designed much like a city bus, the shuttle's side-by-side seating (and convenient autopilot) facilitated efficient in-flight expository plot advancement.
This considerably more practical "spacechopper" doubles as shuttle, recon, escort, scout, assault, landing, and rescue craft. It even functions as a field command bunker. If it could transform into a giant warrior robot, it would be the only ship you'd ever need.
You wouldn't think a giant space yo-yo would be a threatening sight, but score it with that ominous four-note Cylon theme, and you get trouble a-comin'.
So the yo-yos become jacks, yet somehow the creepiness is preserved, even heightened. One shudders to imagine what the Cylons would do with slinkys and tinkertoys.
The Cylons also do frisbees. Takes three Centurions to fly them, which is indicative either of Cylon bureaucracy, micromanagement, or labor quotas.
Apparently three Centurion pilots can be replaced by an equal portion of quasi-sentient viscera. One wonders if Cronenberg was their design consultant on this one.