10 Things We Won’t Miss About Stranger Things

On New Year’s Eve 2025, “Stranger Things” finally comes to an end after almost a decade (during which many other shows have begun and ended), though the story told by the Netflix series only spans four years. The Hawkins gang, along with the extended family and friends they made along the way, will presumably have their final showdown with Vecna, and perhaps finally graduate high school now that they look too old to actually be there.

It’s been a long journey full of twists, turns, ’80s references, cameos, and pop culture moments; Kate Bush surely appreciates the new royalties. We’ll miss it being a part of our lives, as many Netflix shows don’t seem to go beyond three seasons, let alone make it to five. “Stranger Things” as a brand is surely not done: There are spinoffs in the works, and we can undoubtedly expect more video games and comics as long as the market will bear them. Still, once that core story is over, it’s over… at least until a reboot or legacy sequel comes along.

While the end of the Vecna arc may leave fans feeling that absence, we’ll be glad to see some aspects of the franchise hit the door. In the nearly 10 years since “Stranger Things” premiered, many things surrounding the project have made us cringe, groan, and roll our eyes. Here are 10 things about “Stranger Things” we absolutely will not miss.

It’s difficult to walk into a Walmart or Target nowadays without seeing entire branded areas for “Stranger Things” T-shirts, toys, and posters. However, after a decade, it feels like the merchandise doesn’t fly off the shelves like it used to. How many different versions of a Demogorgon action figure does any collector need? Unlike, say, Marvel superheroes, who alter their costumes in each sequel, the signature “Stranger Things” monsters are naked and look basically the same every season. Netflix has tried to shake things up by crossing over the brand with other toy lines, so there have been “Stranger Things” Ninja Turtles, Care Bears, Transformers, and Masters of the Universe. No Eleven Barbie yet, but Jazwares has produced plush Squishmallows made to look like living ice cream flavors from the show’s Scoops Ahoy! store, and even Bath & Body Works carried “Stranger Things”-related scents.

Since the show’s aesthetic doesn’t change that much from year to year, though, the merchandise doesn’t either. Does anybody need more than one shirt with Dustin’s face on it? Is anything featuring Eddie still in demand now that he’s dead on the show? Is an ugly holiday sweater with the alphabet Christmas lights on it still a conversation piece after nine Christmases? Based on what’s clogging store aisles these days, a saturation point may have been hit a while back.

The strawberry Chips Ahoy cookies were tasty, but we’ll gladly sacrifice them if the rest of it can go.

Do the now-young adult characters of “Stranger Things” ever get embarrassed that when they were younger, they gave goofy “D&D” creature names to actual, life-threatening monsters? Maybe not, since they all still play. Nonetheless, some of us viewers cringe for them. The lead kids are also canonically “Ghostbusters” fans — if the monsters had waited until summer of 1984 to break through, might they have been dubbed Gozer, Vinz, and Zuul instead of Demogorgon, Mind Flayer, and Vecna?

Nerds are pedantic, and nerds of the ’80s were especially so. It’s a wonder they don’t spend more time arguing over the names, or at least arguing with other “D&D” lovers who have a problem with their fantasy faves being used to name real monsters that are really killing people. Fans of fantasy role-playing games had enough problems in the real ’80s from conservative evangelists complaining that the creatures in them represented real demons. Blurring the lines between fictional monsters and actual interdimensional murderers risks proving such people almost right.

Mostly, though, it’s really annoying for “D&D” players trying to Google details about the monsters in the game, only to come up with endless “Stranger Things” references instead.

Netflix didn’t invent the midseason finale. However, its “Stranger Things” rollout strategy has been especially egregious for the fifth and final season. Four episodes were released on Thanskgiving, three more will drop on Christmas Day, and the series finale hits on New Year’s Eve. This means that anyone who wants to avoid spoilers altogether had better not have any plans for the holidays, unless it’s with friends who also love “Stranger Things.”

Even “Squid Game” waited until the day after Christmas to release Season 2. “Stranger Things” is Netflix’s metaphorical 500-lb gorilla, or Demogorgon if you prefer, and they’re staking out holiday dates because they can. They know whenever the show drops, it’ll be the center of pop cultural discussion that day. It’s a pain, but here’s the upside: How many Netflix shows even get to five seasons to earn that kind of scheduling power? The split seasons for “Wednesday” seem downright quaint by comparison. 

Once “Stranger Things” is done, here’s hoping Netflix quits with the chaotic release schedules. 

In the first season of “Stranger Things,” Shannon Purser’s Barb was the first victim of the Demogorgon, after having been treated pretty badly by most of the other major characters. Fans weren’t happy about this turn of events, starting a #JusticeForBarb hashtag and insisting there must be a way that she’s actually alive.

In “Stranger Things” Season 4, Joseph Quinn’s Eddie Munson, an abrasive metalhead and “D&D” player with a secret heart of gold, sacrificed himself by playing Metallica’s “Master of Puppets” to distract the hellbats of the Upside Down into coming for him instead of Dustin and friends. Fans liked him so much that popular theories arose as to how he could still be alive, possibly as a vampire. He’s the reason you see so much “Hellfire Club” merchandise in stores.

Now, while superhero movies and soap operas have conditioned viewers to think nobody ever stays dead on TV, the Duffer Brothers have been pretty clear that dead is dead on their show. Unless they pull a massive last-minute swerve, Barb and Eddie are not being resurrected. Besides, Purser and Quinn have both gone on to bigger careers, ironically as comic-book characters: She became Ethel Muggs on “Riverdale,” while he’s the newest Johnny Storm/Human Torch in the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Fan theories are fun, but when they’re patently ruled out while overwhelming the rest of the discourse, they’re annoying. Enjoy a show where death actually means something.

We get it: The ’80s were a great time for pop culture. Special effects had progressed to a point of being pretty convincing, and with Steven Spielberg at the helm, the decade became a golden age of kid-friendly fantasies with an occasionally adult edge, from “E.T.” and “Back to the Future” to “Indiana Jones,” “Ghostbusters,” and “Gremlins.” The PG-13 rating was literally invented for these properties. Many of them have received sequels and reboots, and continue as franchises to this day; those that haven’t (“Goonies,” “Big Trouble in Little China”) are still praised.

Let’s get real, though: The ’80s were 40 years ago. We’ve been nostalgic for them for four times as long as they actually existed. Can we maybe move on? A whole generation of ’90s kids would like to see their time get its cinematic nostalgia due. Where are the Nicktoons-inspired movies and TV shows? The Kurt Cobain and Scott Weiland biopics? The adventures set at the original Lollapalooza? Throwbacks to the likes of “Married… With Children” and the original, edgier “The Simpsons”? Proper adaptations of Image Comics superheroes? Heck, if Marvel could even do the live-action X-Men in their actual ’90s costumes, that’d be a good start — and not just Deadpool and Wolverine! And yet…

Damn it, “Stranger Things,” why do you have to make us sad about things from that great bygone time? You made us miss “The Neverending Story” by having characters sing the theme song aloud, and nostalgic for a time when Kate Bush’s “Running Up That Hill” could be a kid’s favorite hit song. Most egregious, though, is Season 3, which has the kids hanging out at the mall and its multiplex over summer break. Multiplexes nowadays are often awful, understaffed havens of terrible behavior, and malls as places to hang out barely even exist any more.

The Cold War forced all who lived through it to consider the possibility of imminent nuclear annihilation — but hey, cinematically, it gave us easy bad guys, which “Stranger Things” took advantage of by sending Hopper to a Soviet gulag. Global conflicts have become messier and more divisive since then. Nobody misses the danger, but we miss the days when the USSR could be the Washington Generals of cinema.

Also, remember that time “Stranger Things” briefly brought back New Coke? What a cruel, nostalgic tease. Once the series is done, maybe we won’t be constantly reminded of the things we can’t have anymore.

On “Stranger Things,” the name “Hellfire Club” is used by Eddie Munson’s “D&D” club in the most boring way possible: It’s a scary name — to cultural prudes and the very religious, anyway — that sounds totally metal. Naturally, much of the “Stranger Things” merchandise has rolled with that, no doubt hoping to make product from a massively expensive corporate show feel transgressive. That does a disservice to the actual origin of the term.

In pop culture, the term often refers to an elite organization of villains in Marvel Comics. Featuring many high-profile evil mutants as members, the group was introduced as antagonists during the iconic Dark Phoenix saga in 1980. Realistically, Eddie and the main kids of “Stranger Things” would have known that, though they never mention it.

However, the comics characters were named after an episode of TV’s “The Avengers” — not related to the Marvel team — which in turn was inspired by elite groups of the 18th century. Those exclusive Hellfire Clubs were exclusive meeting places where high-society libertines could engage in immoral behavior. The ruins of one such structure are now a tourist attraction in the Dublin Mountains of Ireland. 

The term’s use on “Stranger Things” as the name of a gathering of uncool kids who are actually heroes is contrary to its established and historical meaning. We won’t miss people misunderstanding that fact.

Eleven’s psychic powers take a toll on her, and in case we couldn’t deduce that from Millie Bobby Brown’s acting, she gets a nosebleed to demonstrate the fact. Okay, we get the point. Does every action figure also have to have a painted-on nosebleed? Every poster? Does every other character with psychic powers also have to get nosebleeds to show they have the same level of powers? It’s gross and unpleasant to look at.

Like counselor Troi’s horrible fake alien accent on “Star Trek: The Next Generation,” we might have hoped that the nosebleeds would gradually phase out across the course of the franchise, as all involved realized it’s no longer necessary to make the dramatic point. Sadly, no: Will just got his first psychic nosebleed midway through the fifth and final season.

Think about the cosplayers, too. It’s so much easier to dress as your favorite “Stranger Things” psychokinetic without having to stick a perfect mini-stream of fake blood to your upper lip. We’d seriously get the point if the characters just fainted instead.

Eggo waffles. New Coke. Peanut Butter Boppers. “Stranger Things” characters talk about their favorite junk foods more than real kids do, and it doesn’t seem accidental, given that there are promotional tie-ins every time. It all feels like a not-so-clever way to sandwich in some extra ads, even though Netflix already has a subscription tier that includes commercials. When “Stand By Me” mentioned cherry flavor Pez in passing, that felt natural. When Eleven keeps eating Eggos, and characters mention them by name, it feels like corporate consideration paid for by Kellanova, even if it isn’t in reality.

The Duffer Brothers might argue that it’s a way to ground everything in the ’80s, but come on. A few fictional products wouldn’t hurt suspension of disbelief, and might even add humor. Think of Eric Cartman’s Cheesy Poofs and Snacky Cakes on “South Park,” or Bart Simpson’s favorite Squishees. Even Beavis and Butt-head, who canonically love nachos, have resisted ever endorsing any actual brand.

The one time “Stranger Things” got it right was with the Scoops Ahoy! ice cream parlor and its USS Butterscotch sundae. It felt like something that would be right at home in an ’80s mall, yet exaggerated enough, with the staff sailor suits, to be funny. Then Baskin Robbins cashed in with Scoops Ahoy!-themed flavors anyway.

There’s a tough needle to thread when casting TV shows for and about teenagers that appeals to adults, too. For example, the ’80s references in “Stranger Things” were clearly there for Gen X’ers, while the young protagonists were meant to draw in viewers of a similar age. Millie Bobby Brown was 12 years old when she first appeared as Eleven, and as the show’s success soared with each season, so did adoration of Brown from viewers her own age, which was expected. Adults acting creepy toward a young up-and-coming actor was not.

The show didn’t affix any kind of uncomfortable gaze on her the same way a movie like “The Professional” did to Natalie Portman. When Brown got a little older, Eleven’s age-appropriate kissing scenes with Mike were as pointedly weird to most older viewers as they were in-universe to her adoptive dad Hopper. Yet whenever Brown dressed up for premieres or posted on her social media, many so-called fans always seemed ready to sexualize the actress. As had happened before with the Olsen twins, among many others, web forums counted down the days until she would turn 18, thereby allegedly making her objectification more acceptable.

Now that Brown is a married adult and a mother, the creepy fan factor is less of an issue, but all of us should be glad to see the end of it.