Meet the Cast
Unbothered, unfiltered, and trending before sunrise.
Penny the Chicken
Penny’s rise to fame began with a viral reel titled Cluck It, I’m Doing Me. Now she struts around the yard like the algorithm owes her royalties. Greta calls her captions “derivative,” and they haven’t shared a pond since. Still, Penny’s convinced that confidence is content — and if the farm doesn’t like her new brand partnership with the feed company, they can unfollow.
Serene on the surface, savage in the sponsorships.
Daisy the Cow
Daisy’s brand is serenity — oat-milk baths, slow mornings, and “self-care but make it pastoral.” Yet beneath the gentle moo lies a ruthless streak in the farm’s influencer economy. Ever since her face appeared on that artisanal cheese label, she’s been utterly insufferable — and completely booked for brand deals until harvest.
Dependable to a fault, loud when uncredited. Emotional labor in four hooves.
Oliver the Donkey
Oliver’s motto: “Work hard, bray harder.” He’s dependable, charming in a scruffy way, and perpetually under-credited in the group projects of farm life. He swears he’s over being called a jackass, but bring it up once more and you’ll hear a TED Talk on emotional labor.
Short, sharp, and always counting his kernels.
Lloyd the Duck
Lloyd runs the farm like a Fortune 500 pond. Small, loud, and obsessed with metrics, he measures success in corn kernels per minute. A natural-born capitalist with feathers slicked back like a bad stockbroker, he’s been known to sell out the hens to the geese and call it “market diversification.” Lloyd insists it’s all just business—and when things get messy, he lets the fox handle it. The geese haven’t forgiven either of them since the great feed shortage of last spring.
self-made, cold-blooded, and proof that success can rotfrom the inside out.
Jim the Fox
Jim came from nothing—a hill-country upbringing, a scholarship earned by grit and luck, and a knack for talking his way into places he didn’t belong. Lloyd saw something useful in him: hunger. Under the duck’s feathered empire, Jim climbed fast, smiled wider, and stabbed quicker.
When his best friend started climbing faster, Jim went after the one thing that could break him—the girl. He made him choose: love or the job. The friend kept
the job. The girl left them both. Twenty-five years later, Jim’s wife is gone, his kids won’t take his calls, and he still insists AI is a fad—like shoulder pads. Some men never learn.
Poet. Puddle enthusiast. Calls it art when he splashes tooloud.
Fergus the Frog
Fergus insists he’s “not like other frogs.” He writes poetry, wears a beret (made of a leaf), and critiques the pond’s acoustics. Still, he’s never met a puddle he didn’t leap into headfirst. It’s giving tragic hero meets splash zone.
Conniving, ruthless, and never above a little collusion.
Ruth the Goat
Ruth knows every clause in the Barnyard Code — and how to twist them. Once the pride of the debate corral, she now moonlights as the pasture’s legal strategist, specializing in ethically gray areas. When Maggie the Pig came calling, Ruth saw not a case but a stage. Together they rewrote the rules, lining their troughs with loopholes and leaving the rest of the farm bleating for justice.
Policing the farm one honk at a time.
Greta the Goose
Greta isn’t technically in charge — she just acts like she is. The self-appointed head of Barnyard Compliance, she files imaginary paperwork, calls meetings no one asked for, and wields moral superiority like a broom. After Lloyd’s latest “efficiency initiative,” she’s been honking about
ethics, though her motives have more to do with attention than justice. She adores a scandal — especially when she’s the one cleaning it up (and she loves that for her).
Charm, cunning, and a taste for convenient truths. Don’t let the gloss fool you—she’s got history.
Maggie the Pig
Maggie is deep in her Atonement Era, curating redemption one filtered mud bath at a time. Don’t let the pink cheeks fool you — she’s as calculating as she is charming. When she isn’t posting affirmations about forgiveness, she’s orchestrating quiet scandals with Ruth’s “legal advice,” forged feed contracts, and a few favors run through Lloyd’s fox. She calls it crisis management; everyone else calls it manipulation.
Every day’s a relaunch, and she’s digging it.
Cleo the Rabbit
Cleo calls it “rebranding,” not running away. Sixteen new burrows this month, all in the name of fresh starts. Equal parts charm and chaos, she’s the kind of girl who says “soft launch” while holding a shovel. The farm never knows whether she’s digging for opportunity — or just an escape route.
Gossip’s fastest messenger. Pretends to “graze mindfully” while collecting tomorrow’s headlines.
Shirley the Sheep
Shirley insists she’s not one to follow the herd — which is true, unless the herd’s heading toward gossip. She’s the farm’s unofficial news network, spinning tales faster than her own wool. You’ll spot her pretending to “graze mindfully” while collecting intel for her next story drop.