Nicole is a mess. That’s probably the first thing you realize when you boot up SBN3’s visual novel masterpiece. She’s cynical, borderline sociopathic, and possesses a razor-sharp wit that feels like getting slapped with a cold, wet fish. But here’s the thing: Class of '09 characters aren't just there to be edgy for the sake of it. They are a hyper-distilled, localized, and incredibly painful reflection of the late 2000s American high school experience. It’s a "rejection sim," and honestly, the characters are the reason we keep coming back for more verbal abuse.
Most games try to make you like the protagonist. Not this one. This game wants you to realize that everyone is a little bit terrible, especially when they’re trapped in a suburban hellscape.
The Toxic Gravity of Nicole
Nicole is the sun everything else orbits around, but she’s a dying star. If you’ve played through any of the routes—whether it’s the original or the Re-Up—you know her backstory is a grim cocktail of trauma and apathy. After her father’s suicide, she’s moved to a new school in Virginia, and she has zero intention of making friends. She’s the ultimate unreliable narrator. You’re seeing the world through her eyes, which means every adult is a predator and every peer is a moron.
Is she right? Mostly, yeah.
The brilliance of her character design lies in her defense mechanism. She uses her intellect as a weapon to dismantle the social structures around her before they can crush her. It’s why her dialogue feels so authentic to anyone who survived the 2008-2009 era. It was a time of transition, where the internet was becoming a permanent limb and irony was the only currency that mattered. Nicole is the personification of that irony. She doesn’t want to win; she just wants to make sure everyone else loses harder.
Jeannie and the Art of Being a Sidekick
Then you have Jeannie. She’s arguably the closest thing Nicole has to a genuine friend, though "friend" is a strong word in this universe. Jeannie is fascinating because she represents the "average" person who gets sucked into a toxic orbit. She isn't as naturally malicious as Nicole, but she’s impressionable. She’s the Watson to Nicole’s drug-addicted, nihilistic Sherlock.
Their dynamic works because Jeannie provides the necessary friction. Without her, Nicole’s monologues would just be screaming into the void. Jeannie actually tries to engage with the world, even if she fails miserably. When they interact, you see the cracks in Nicole’s armor. It’s subtle, but it’s there.
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Why the Supporting Cast Feels So Familiar
It’s the creeps. Let’s be real. The Class of '09 characters list wouldn't be complete without the rotating door of predatory teachers and delusional "nice guys."
Take Kylar. He’s the peak of the "lacrosse bro" archetype. He’s loud, aggressive, and has the intellectual depth of a puddle. But he’s not a cartoon. We all knew a Kylar. We all knew a guy who thought being "alpha" meant jumping off a roof or harassing girls in the hallway. The game captures that specific brand of 2000s misogyny that was often laughed off as "just guys being guys."
And then there's the Counselor.
The Counselor is probably the most terrifying character in the game because he’s the most realistic. He isn't a monster under the bed; he’s an authority figure with a savior complex and zero boundaries. His dialogue is a masterclass in manipulation. He uses the language of therapy and "support" to corner Nicole. It’s skin-crawling. It’s also a perfect example of why this game resonates with people who felt let down by the institutions meant to protect them.
The Tragedy of Ari
If Nicole is the sharp edge, Ari is the soft target. Her character arc—especially the one where Nicole "pretends" to be a lesbian just to mess with her—is one of the most brutal things I’ve ever seen in a game. It’s hard to watch. Ari is genuinely looking for connection in a place that only offers exploitation.
- She represents the vulnerability Nicole refuses to show.
- Her "bad ending" scenarios are a sobering reminder that Nicole's actions have consequences.
- She’s the only one who seems to have a heart, which is exactly why the game breaks her.
The Cultural Accuracy of 2009
The writers didn't just guess what 2009 felt like. They lived it. From the mention of specific mall brands to the way the characters use early social media, the setting is a character in itself. The recession is looming. The "War on Terror" is a background noise that has desensitized everyone to violence. The Class of '09 characters are products of a very specific, very cynical time in American history.
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You see it in the way they talk about drugs. It’s not "Reefer Madness" style; it’s a casual, bored experimentation born out of having nothing better to do in a strip-mall wasteland. When Nicole and Crispin (the perpetually "friend-zoned" guy) interact, it’s a cringeworthy time capsule of how people communicated before the iPhone changed everything.
Crispin: The "Nice Guy" Blueprint
Crispin is a masterpiece of character writing. He thinks he's the protagonist of a romantic comedy. He’s the guy who thinks that if he just hangs around long enough and "listens," he’ll eventually be rewarded with sex. Nicole sees through him instantly. Her takedowns of Crispin aren't just funny; they’re a critique of a very specific type of entitlement that was rampant in the mid-aughts.
He’s not "evil" in the way the Principal is, but he’s exhausting. He represents the banality of social desperation.
The Voice Acting is the Secret Sauce
We can’t talk about these characters without mentioning the voice work. Elsie Lovelock’s performance as Nicole is legendary. She manages to make a character who says objectively horrific things sound... relatable? It’s all in the delivery. The deadpan "I don't care" vibe is hard to pull off without sounding bored, but she makes it sound like a tactical choice.
The fact that the game is fully voiced is what separates it from 99% of other visual novels. It gives the characters a weight that text on a screen just can't achieve. You hear the sneer in Kylar's voice. You hear the pathetic quiver in the Counselor’s tone. It makes the world feel inhabited and dangerous.
Common Misconceptions About the Characters
People often think Class of '09 is just a "meme game." It's not. While the TikTok clips of Nicole being a savage are what get the views, the full experience is actually pretty depressing. People assume Nicole is a "girlboss" or a feminist icon. She’s really not. She’s a victim of her environment who has decided to become a predator to avoid being prey.
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Another misconception is that the game hates its characters. I'd argue the opposite. The creators clearly have a deep, albeit twisted, affection for these archetypes. They understand them too well to hate them. You don't write dialogue that specific unless you've spent a lot of time observing people exactly like that.
- Nicole isn't a hero. She’s a survivor with a scorched-earth policy.
- The adults aren't caricatures. They are reflections of real systemic failures.
- The humor is a shield. If the game weren't funny, it would be a psychological horror.
How to Actually Understand the Branching Paths
If you want to see the full depth of these characters, you have to play the "wrong" way. Most players try to survive. But the real insight into Nicole’s psyche comes from the endings where she goes completely off the rails.
The "suicide" ending in the first game is a gut-punch that recontextualizes every joke she made leading up to it. It reminds the player that her cynicism isn't a personality trait—it's a symptom. The game rewards you for being a "bad person," but then it forces you to sit with the aftermath. It’s a brilliant bit of narrative design.
Finding Value in the Nihilism
So, what's the point? Why do we care about a bunch of high schoolers from fifteen years ago?
Because the Class of '09 characters represent a truth that most media avoids: sometimes, there is no growth. Sometimes, high school is just a gauntlet you barely survive, and you come out the other side more jagged than when you started. There’s something cathartic about seeing that acknowledged. It’s not "inspiring," but it’s real.
The game acts as a mirror. If you find Nicole hilarious, what does that say about you? If you find her terrifying, what does that say? The characters don't change, but your perception of them does as you explore different timelines.
Actionable Insights for Fans and Writers
If you're looking to dive deeper into this style of storytelling or just want to get more out of the game, here’s how to approach it:
- Pay attention to the background art. Many of the environmental details in the school and Nicole’s house tell a story about the economic status and neglect the characters face.
- Contrast the two games. The Re-Up leans harder into the absurdity, but the original has a more grounded sense of melancholy. Seeing how the characters react to different levels of "weirdness" reveals their core values.
- Study the dialogue rhythm. If you’re a writer, notice how Nicole never uses five words when three will do. Her brevity is her power.
- Look up SBN3’s interviews. Understanding the developer's background in the early internet "flash" culture explains a lot about the game’s aggressive, fast-paced humor.
- Play the "Flip-Side." The newest entry focuses on Jeannie, and it completely shifts the perspective on Nicole. It’s a masterclass in how a protagonist changes when they become a secondary character in someone else's story.
The world of Class of '09 is ugly, loud, and often unfair. But the characters are some of the most "human" figures in modern gaming, precisely because they aren't afraid to be unlikeable. They don't owe you a happy ending, and in 2026, that honesty feels more refreshing than ever.