What happens when you take the superhero training academy trope and give it actual teeth?
Look, I've consumed enough X-Men adjacent content to last several lifetimes. The whole "young people with powers go to special school" thing has been done to death, resurrected, and done to death again. So when I started Super Powereds: Year 1 during a particularly slow shift at the library, I was bracing myself for derivative background noise. Twenty-six hours later, I'm eating my words. And honestly? They taste pretty good.
Drew Hayes does something clever here. The Powereds—people with abilities they can't control—aren't just a plot device. They're a fully realized underclass, treated as burdens, as less-than. And our five protagonists? They've been secretly "fixed," turned from Powereds into Supers, and now they're infiltrating the Hero Certification Program with secrets that could destroy everything. This understands that horror isn't about gore—it's about dread. And yeah, I know this isn't horror, but that same principle applies. The tension of discovery, of being found out, of not belonging—Hayes weaponizes it. Revelations plays with that same fear of exposure, though it takes a darker turn with it.
The Voice in My Head (For Better and Worse)
Kyle McCarley. Here's the thing about him—he commits. That's rare. When he's hitting his stride with the male characters, you can immediately tell who's speaking. The emotional beats land. There's this earnestness to his delivery that matches Hayes's accessible, character-driven writing.
But.
(You knew there was a but coming.)
Some of those female voices? Yikes. I'm not going to sugarcoat it—a few of them veer into parody territory. Like someone doing an impression of a woman rather than actually voicing one. It's not constant, but when it happens, it pulls you right out. And there's this weird thing he does with dialogue tags. Every "he said" and "she whispered" gets this emphasis that starts to feel like someone poking you in the ribs every thirty seconds. Jarring doesn't cover it.
The nasal quality some listeners mention? I noticed it less as the hours went on. Either I adjusted or Stockholm syndrome kicked in. Honestly could be either.
Where the Training Arc Actually Works
Here's what kept me listening through a full week of closing shifts: Hayes genuinely cares about his characters. This isn't just power escalation porn (though there's plenty of that too). You get five distinct people with five distinct traumas, all navigating a world that would reject them if it knew the truth. The found family vibes are strong. The rivalries feel earned. What Alice Forgot has that same earned emotional weight, though it's working through identity loss instead of identity secrets. The slow burn of competence development—watching these former Powereds actually learn to be heroes—scratches an itch I didn't know I had.
My podcast listeners are going to love this because it does what good genre fiction should do: it takes its premise seriously. The worldbuilding around Supers and Powereds, the hierarchy of the Hero Certification Program, the politics of who gets to be a hero—it's all there, and it's all consistent.
At 26 hours, this is a commitment. There were moments in the middle where pacing dragged—some training sequences that could've been tightened. But when it clicks? Time evaporates. I missed my bus stop twice.
Who's This Actually For?
If you're sensitive to exaggerated voice work, especially for female characters, sample first. Seriously. Some people can't get past it, and I get that. The dialogue tag emphasis thing is a legitimate annoyance that doesn't go away. Skip this one if that's a dealbreaker for you.
But if you can roll with those quirks? If you're a sucker for superhero training arcs and character-driven narratives? If you've got a long commute and want something that'll make you actually look forward to traffic? This is your book.
Someone in the reviews compared it to My Hero Academia meets Harry Potter, and honestly? That's not wrong. It's got that same earnest energy, that same investment in watching underdogs become something more. Superhero fiction that actually respects the genre.
Shirley Remains Unimpressed
My cat was unmoved by the whole thing. But she's unmoved by everything that isn't 3 AM zoomies, so her opinion is noted and dismissed.
I'm already eyeing Year 2. That's either a recommendation or a warning, depending on how you feel about 100+ hour series commitments. For me? Worth it. Absolutely.
