“The Nevers” dives into Victorian London, where women with supernatural powers, called “the Touched,” shake things up. Joss Whedon created this wild ride. It tackles power, oppression and societal change while our heroes deal with their new skills and push back against stuffy old norms. Critics love it for strong female leads and a world that feels real. Engaging story? You bet.

Meet the characters from The Nevers

Hugo Swan

Okay, Hugo is this grizzled, no-nonsense type who looks like he’s been through three wars and a scandal and still shows up on time — and honestly I love that. He’s the kind of quiet guardian who does the heavy lifting so other people can have dramatic speeches (but he’ll flash a grin sometimes, don’t let him fool you). Has a soft spot for stray dogs and terrible lampshades, which is both adorable and suspiciously specific. He’s mostly practical and blunt but will surprise you with a messy sentimental moment when you least expect it.

Amalia True

AMALIA is absolutely the show’s brass-knuckle heart, you know — sharp, furious, fiercely clever, and always two steps ahead (and yet she’ll lose a glove every other episode, I swear). She’s a born leader: sarcastic, impulsive, scarred in ways she hides with swagger and leather coats; also very dramatic about her hats. Loves a good secret and hates being told what to do, except sometimes she secretly envies small domestic things like teaspoons and quiet mornings (don’t tell her I said that). She’s complicated, chaotic, and you root for her even when she’s setting everything on fire.

Penance Adair

PENNY is the soft genius who lives in a universe of gears and gentle chaos, the sweetest tinkerer who can fix a heart and a clock in the same afternoon. She’s warm, curious, sometimes painfully optimistic, and likes to experiment on everything (including other people’s prejudices — rude, but effective). She’s clumsy with feelings but brilliant with inventions, and there’s something about her humming to her gadgets that’s both creepily cute and oddly soothing. Also I’m pretty sure she collects improbable ribbons and slightly contradictory recipes for lemon cake.

Lavinia Bidlow

Lavinia is textbook eccentric philanthropist: glittering, proper, and ridiculously generous in both money and unsolicited opinions — she throws marvelous parties but will also quietly fund whatever mad project she believes in. She’s a social whirlwind who loves etiquette manuals yet breaks rules when it matters (wields class like a tool and a cape). Has an old-fashioned moral compass but is oddly modern about who she befriends, which I find endlessly charming. Small quirk: she hoards ridiculous postcards and gives the best bad advice you’ll ever get.

Augustus ‘Augie’ Bidlow

Augie is Lavinia’s dear, bumbling other half — sweet, a little useless in a charming way, and so very devoted, the kind of man who waters the same plant out of affection even when it’s clearly not thriving. He means well, blushes a lot, and has an almost heroic ability to be politely bewildered by drama. Deep down he’s steadier than he looks; he’ll stand by a friend even if he can’t quite name why. Sometimes reads poetry aloud at breakfast (to his cat? to his hat?), which is both terrifying and wonderful.

Lord Massen

Lord Massen is cold, elegant danger in an impeccable suit — the sort of villain who enjoys things tidy and will smile while ruining your life. He’s aristocracy turned clinical, very sharp, very certain, and terrifyingly persuasive (also oddly fond of old books, which is a nice touch of gothic chic). He’s the puppetmaster type who believes in order so much it becomes monstrous; you can almost feel the chill when he walks into a room. Low-key likes expensive tea and tiny impossible moral dilemmas, like a villain with a penchant for table manners.

Annie Carbey

Annie is this small, fierce burst of unpredictability — childlike, stubborn, and somehow both terrifying and adorable at the same time. She’s wild in the best way, speaks blunt truths like they’re snacks, and has this unpredictable bravery that makes you hold your breath. Loves bold colors and sneaking into places she absolutely shouldn’t (and then getting offended about being told off). Also she might hoard biscuits or a glass jar of moonlight, I can’t remember, but it’s charmingly chaotic.

Maladie

Maladie is beautifully unhinged and memorably terrifying — she’s the glamour of madness, theatrical, vicious, and heartbreaking in a way that makes you squirm. She’s chaotic on purpose, a poet of pain who wears scars like jewelry and believes in breaking things to see what’s inside (and yes feels bad and triumphant in weird cycles). You never quite know what she’ll do next, which is the worst and the best part — she’s theatrical but disturbingly sincere. Also, she has a habit of collecting tiny, useless trophies (likely from fights), which makes her feel almost human before she rips your lamp.

Horatio Cousens

Horatio is the pragmatic, quietly decent lawman who tries to hold a city together with paper files and stubborn patience — very buttoned-up, very moral, and secretly fond of crossword puzzles. He’s steady, patient, sometimes painfully formal, and has this weary kindness that makes him reliable in a pinch. Not the flashiest, but he’s the sort of person you’d want on your side when things get ugly. Little hypocrisy: insists on rules but will bend them (just once, cough) for the right reason.

Frank Mundi

Frank is the witty, weary detective type — cigarette-rough voice, sardonic commentary, and the nose for trouble that makes him indispensable. He’s observant, skeptical, and bad at small talk, but will dig until a secret cracks (and then he tells you about it in a tone like he’s announcing bad weather). He’s loyal in a guarded, slightly grumpy way and enjoys a stiff drink and a slower day that never arrives. Random detail: collects mismatched cufflinks like tiny evidence tokens, somehow meaningful.