The Walking Dead’s 10 Most Annoying Characters Ranked – TVLine

Zombies — or, whatever you want to call them — are all the rage in AMC’s hit series, “The Walking Dead.” Starring Andrew Lincoln as Rick Grimes, the long-running apocalyptic drama follows a group of survivors as they battle the undead and face countless dangers in a brutal, lawless world. Over more than a decade on the air, fans watched Rick and Co. encounter dozens of characters, some heroic, some villainous, and plenty who fell somewhere in between.

Of course, with any show that runs as long as “The Walking Dead,” not every new addition is a winner. For every memorable standout like Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s Negan, there are two or three characters who tested viewers’ patience and made us roll our eyes. Heck, after so many seasons, even a few of the core cast members eventually grow tiresome.

With that in mind, we’ve rounded up the 10 most annoying “Walking Dead” characters — some dating all the way back to the early seasons.

Sam Anderson (Major Dodson) is the first of multiple annoying kids on this list due to his overabundance of helplessness. Sure, he’s in a tough situation, but Sam is almost too innocent and incompetent for his own good. He never learns from his mistakes and doesn’t grow as a character. He’s essentially a sentient bundle of anxiety whose inability to adapt to the new world creates a lot of annoying headaches. In fact, his most memorable moment occurs midway through Season 6, where his incompetence really becomes tough to watch.

In the classic episode titled “No Way Out,” Sam, his mother Jessie (Alexandra Breckenridge), and older brother Ron (Austin Abrams), wander through a herd of walkers alongside Rick, Carl Grimes (Chandler Riggs), and Michonne (Danai Gurira). The flesh-eating baddies don’t see our heroes because they’re covered in walker guts. Then all hell breaks loose — because of Sam.

The youngster spots a child walker, freaks out, and draws the herd’s attention. He’s eaten alive along with his mother, while Michonne kills Ron after he fires a bullet that hits Carl in the eye.

Thanks, Sam.

Yes, he’s a kid, and one could argue that his actions fit his age. Overall, though, Sam is practically worthless, serving mostly as a convenient way for the writers to wipe out leftover characters who had outlived their usefulness so Rick and co.’s adventure can continue.

A common trend you’ll see with this list is that a character starts off strong but grows tiresome the longer they stay around, largely due to redundant writing.

Enter Carol Peletier (Melissa McBride), an abused, hapless woman who evolves into an independent, butt-kicking survivor and one of the show’s most memorable characters. After her steady and believable transformation, however, she falls into an endless loop that undermines her journey.

On multiple occasions, Carol abandons the group, only to return a few weeks or months later. Cue the repetition: she does something brutal to protect people, feels guilty afterward, isolates herself, swears off violence, and ends up killing again. In one episode, she’s taking out hordes of zombies without breaking a sweat, and in the next, she’s emotionally shattered and unable to cope with the world.

She’s also one of the reasons Sam Anderson is so messed up — she uses tough love to try and scare the kid straight, which results in some unintentionally hilarious plot beats.

Later-series Carol simply lacks the punch of early-series Carol despite an abundance of bad wigs and it’s fair to say the writers coast on the goodwill established in those first four seasons. The constant personality resets aren’t exciting, especially when you know they won’t last for long.

Another example of a dumb kid who makes life difficult for the adults is Lizzie Samuels (Brighton Sharbino). This blond-haired dope lives amongst Rick’s crew at the prison in Season 4, spreading her absurd delusions to anyone who will listen.

Lizzie, you see, thinks the walkers are actually still people. She talks to them like friends, refuses to kill them, and even feeds them. Her warped logic certainly adds a unique angle to the proceedings but eventually wears thin.

In one of the darkest moments on the show, Lizzie kills her sister, believing it will somehow “free” her and prove that walkers aren’t dangerous. Carol, as a result, is forced to kill Lizzie, who is clearly too far gone to keep around.

Again, interesting — just not believable. We can buy into a kid experiencing psychological trauma in this insane universe. But Lizzie willingly kills her younger sister Mika (Kyla Kenedy) … with a knife. Her final pleas to Carol are more eye-roll-inducing than tragic because the entire plot feels like manufactured melodrama in a show already packed to the brim with shocks.

In other words, we like the concept more than the execution but would have preferred to see Lizzie understand and learn from her screwed-up delusion rather than die in such a ham-fisted way for the sake of shock value.

The funniest thing about the early seasons of “The Walking Dead” is that they take place across roughly eight to 10 months, during which society apparently collapses into utter chaos. Murderous biker gangs rule the forest-lined roads, and just about every person Rick and co. bump into winds up trying to kill them or pulling them into some sort of violent conflict.

Enter the Governor (David Morrissey), a popular villain whose antics drag past the point of effectiveness. Early on, the ruler of Woodbury behaves like a rational human being, intent on restoring order by any means possible. He’s quietly threatening and charismatic enough to make you believe he’s capable of overseeing a massive, peaceful community.

Somewhere along the way, the writers turned him into a screaming lunatic prone to over-the-top cruelty and silly antics that made him more of a mustache-twirling villain than a captivating leader.

And he doesn’t go away.

The Governor hangs around for a long time. He loses, returns, loses again, and returns. Each appearance feels less impactful than the last, especially since he’s driven mostly by revenge (yawn) and lacks the nuance that initially made him appealing.

Thankfully, the villain takes a sword in the back courtesy of Michonne in Season 4, finally putting an end to his ridiculous antics once and for all.

Eugene Porter (Josh McDermitt) is another unique character that the writers unfortunately bungle. Adorned in a mullet and speaking in awkward metaphors, this hardcore redneck convinces everyone that he’s the smartest guy on the planet. For a short while, we believe him — mainly because, well, it’s his only defining characteristic.

See, Eugene claims he’s a scientist who knows how to end the apocalypse. And so, our “Walking Dead” crew goes out of their way to protect him, believing he’s too important to lose. To be fair, Eugene makes a believable MacGyver-style smart guy, capable of concocting science experiments and bombs from basic household ingredients.

However, once the truth comes out that he actually doesn’t have the cure, the writers don’t seem to have any idea what to do with him. Sure, he matures into a more capable fighter, but his journey is painfully slow and fraught with setbacks that are more grating than interesting. If anything, he morphs into comic relief, making dumb jokes before panicking and doing something stupid like firing a machine gun at a perfectly usable truck.

His relationship with Tara Chambler (Alanna Masterson) delivers a few fireworks, but overall, Eugene contributes very little to the overarching plot. The fact that he survives long enough to have a family while better characters die is even more grating.

Rick Grimes (Andrew Lincoln) is undoubtedly one of the best characters on “The Walking Dead,” evolving from an emotionally rational individual into a battle-hardened soldier over the course of several seasons. At a certain point, however, the writers seemed to run out of ideas, leaving the character floundering until his sudden departure in Season 9.

Early in the series, Rick comes across as believable and unique, preaching peace and mercy. After several tragedies, he shifts into ruthless dictator mode … but then reverts to his peaceful ways after realizing his error. His character’s evolution feels realistic and earned, anchoring the show with a finely tuned moral compass.

Still, by Season 7, those once powerful, long-winded speeches become slightly exhausting amidst the endless war against the Saviors. Here, all of the character’s worst tendencies hit at once. From this point on, he stops growing, stuck in a perpetual cycle with no clear direction. But really, where else can he go? Rick experiences extreme trauma. He loses his wife, loses his friend, loses his son, makes bad decisions that get many killed, and consequently emerges as a hardened leader. A show can only mold a character for so long before running out of meaningful ways to push them forward. Thankfully, Rick’s storyline continues in the spin-off series, “The Ones Who Live,” giving the character more meat to chew on.

Growing up in an apocalyptic world is no doubt tough. That said, it’s hard to feel much sympathy for pint-sized Carl Grimes when nearly every reckless decision he makes winds up getting someone killed.

Stubborn to a fault, Carl thinks he’s wiser than the adults, including his father, and ignores their constant warnings. He wanders off alone without protection and usually winds up in some sort of trouble that requires others to put themselves in harm’s way to rescue him. Like Sam Anderson, his behavior feels engineered to stir up trouble rather than reflecting how a kid would realistically act in this environment.

In Season 2, he sets out to kill some walkers, finds one stuck in the mud, but fails to take action. The walker eventually breaks free and kills Dale (Jeffrey DeMunn), a frustrating development that, admittedly, leads Carl to incur some character growth.

Still, he reverts back to his old ways mighty quick, disregarding orders, arguing with his dad, and behaving like a mopey, brooding teenager. Bizarrely, the writers occasionally have him deliver grandiose speeches that clash with his moody attitude. Moreover, Carl never seems to suffer any long-term consequences from his poor decisions. Instead, he makes a grievous mistake that causes short-term chaos, and then his character seems to reset as though nothing had happened.

In a show that often excels at delivering character growth, Carl is unfortunately stuck in the mud before his abrupt death in Season 8. 

Frustratingly, Andrea Harrison (Laurie Holden) starts off pretty great before devolving into a blundering fool remembered more for her dumb decisions than anything else.

Early on Andrea emerges as one of the few characters who understands and adapts to this strange new world. She learns how to shoot a gun, pulls her own weight around camp, and supports more aggressive survival tactics.

Then she meets the Governor, who somehow transforms her into a complete idiot. For starters, she immediately supports him despite the abundance of red flags, suddenly buys into the idea that peace and civilization can be restored, and distances herself from Rick’s group, believing their methods are too harsh. When the Governor turns out to be a psycho, she convinces herself that she can reason with him or somehow change him.

Shockingly, her actions and inexplicable new attitude indirectly cause the deaths of good people like Milton Mamet (Dallas Roberts) and many at the prison. She fails to inform Rick’s crew of the Governor’s incoming attack, leading to countless deaths and, most egregious of all, doesn’t kill the Governor when she has the chance.

Basically, every decision Andrea makes is the wrong one, right down to siding with Shane Walsh (Jon Bernthal). She trusts the wrong people, doesn’t act when given the opportunity, and ultimately pays the price. Her death lacks any real aura of tragedy simply because it stems from stupidity.

“The Walking Dead” enjoyed a lengthy run and spawned a batch of highly regarded spin-offs. With that kind of longevity, it’s inevitable that the writers would push new ideas that didn’t always align with earlier plot lines or established character beats.

Case in point: Morgan Jones (Lennie James), the kindhearted survivor who helps a confused Rick after he awakens from his coma and stumbles into the walker-filled streets of Atlanta. Introduced alongside his son Duane (Adrian Kali Turner) Morgan initially comes across as cool, compassionate, and resourceful.

Later, the character resurfaces as a broken man — his son long dead at the hands of his zombified wife — who now takes grim satisfaction in killing. It’s a dark but compelling evolution.

Unfortunately, in Season 6, Morgan undergoes yet another drastic shift, reemerging as a pacifist after being “saved” by Eastman (John Carroll Lynch), a former psychiatrist who teaches him that all life is precious. From that point on, Morgan refuses to kill even the most dangerous enemies and spends the majority of his screen time delivering lofty lectures about peace and balance.

Thus begins a frustrating pattern with the character. Every tragedy pushes Morgan toward a new extreme ideology — he’s peaceful, then violent, then somewhere in the middle, then back to peaceful, then back to violent. Pick a side, man!

Morgan transformed from one of the most compelling characters on “The Walking Dead” into a caricature whose personality shifts depending on what the writers need from him that season.

Finally, the absolute most annoying character on “The Walking Dead” is Lori Grimes. Now, this isn’t a knock on actress Sarah Wayne Callies. For all intents and purposes, she did a fine job in the role, conveying the proper amount of grief, pain, and fear that come with a basic zombie-infested apocalypse.

Unfortunately, the writers did Lori few favors, saddling her with a wildly inconsistent character whose motivations change depending on the needs of the plot. During the season 2 farm episodes, for example, she urges Rick to step up and be ruthless, only to scold him shortly thereafter for becoming cold and authoritarian.

Later, she berates Rick for killing Shane, her actions directly contradicting earlier scenes where she clearly asks her husband to deal with her crazed former lover — a baffling contradiction that frankly boils down to sloppy, plot-driven writing.

Beyond the Shane mess, Lori frequently loses track of Carl, lashes out at allies like Glenn when they try to help, randomly flips cars on empty roads, and spends a great deal of time undermining Rick. Rather than evolving, Lori is constantly repositioned to serve whatever moral argument the writers need, and that lack of consistency cements her as the most annoying character on the show.