Spoiler Alert!
A Eulogy for Surprise, Suspense and Shared Shock
I’ve been a fan of Marvel ever since I was a kid, reading my favourite Spider-Man and Fantastic Four comics when I got home from school. I grew up with them through dog-eared comic books, through toys, through Saturday morning cartoons and deep into the cinema experience I enjoy as an adult. I loved the stories they’d tell week-by-week in an age when you had no idea what was coming next and no way to find out even if you wanted to.
You can see that marvellous affection in my office and around my house today. Proof, if proof were needed, I have two life-size Infinity Gauntlets (well one is technically a Nano Gauntlet) in my living room… with lights and everything! You’re right, I need to get out more. In fact this weekend I’m going to see the latest MCU (Marvel Cinematic Universe) film, Thunderbolts*. I’m very excited about it.
With that in mind, I’ve been spending the last week, and will spend the next few days, trying to avoid people online, i.e. complete strangers, doing their best to spoil the movie for me before I’ve even watched it. In many cases, it’s their job to do that. Avoiding them is easier said than done!
I want to go into the cinema knowing as little as possible, so I can enjoy it as much as possible.
I’m sure we all remember the last time the internet absolutely wrecked a movie or TV show for us. It was probably last Tuesday.
Maybe you were casually scrolling ‘X' or Facebook when some ‘friend’ in your feed dropped a major character death like it was nothing.
Maybe YouTube’s algorithm, in its infinite wisdom, decided you needed to know the ending of The White Lotus before you’d even finished your breakfast, or maybe you made the fatal mistake of Googling an actor’s name mid-season, only to have “Does [Character] die in Series 2?” autofill like the universe itself was taunting you.
My point is, we’re living in the godforsaken golden age of spoilers - where surprises don’t stand a chance, where twists get dissected before they’ve even aired, and where “just don’t go online, bro” is somehow considered reasonable life advice.
So let’s pour one out for the fallen soldier: the simple, beautiful joy of not knowing what the hell happens next. This eulogy even has a post-credits scene, so stick around for that. Oh, wait, was that a spoiler? ;-)
SIDE NOTE - If you haven’t seen The Sixth Sense or The Empire Strikes Back, then I am going to spoil them both later, so be warned, but if you haven’t seen them in 2025, then you should be ashamed of yourself. And no, you weren’t going to watch them tonight.
Dearly beloved,
Ladies, gentlemen, and those of you who already Googled the ending five minutes into the film, we gather here today - not in mourning, but in outrage - over the slow, painful death of one of life’s greatest joys: experiencing a story without already knowing how it ends.
Once upon a time, we lived in a world where twists were shocking, deaths were devastating and post-credit scenes were actual surprises.
Now?
The second a major movie or TV episode drops, the internet collectively loses its mind, blasting spoilers into the digital stratosphere like confetti at a funeral - our funeral. The funeral of not knowing things.
We come together today, not in a cinema, not around a living room TV, not even on a midnight release thread - but here, digitally strewn across a million tabs, to mourn this great loss. One that has touched us all, abruptly, mercilessly and usually right before we pressed “Play” or got comfy.
Today, we say goodbye to something precious: the element of surprise in modern entertainment, affectionately known as Spoiler-Free Viewing.
She was a generous soul. She gave us gasps. She gave us shrieks. She gave us wide-eyed glances exchanged between friends as the credits rolled. She gave us genuine moments. And now… she’s gone.
Slain in broad daylight by a thousand trending hashtags, a million YouTube thumbnails and that one guy at work who just couldn’t help saying “Oh my God, I didn’t expect [insert death/twist/alien invasion] in the end!”.
She didn't stand a chance.
So let us take a moment to reflect on what we’ve lost, who took it from us and whether there’s any hope of getting it back from the dead.
The Golden Age of Unspoiled Entertainment
There was a time - a simpler, purer time - when you could walk into a cinema, sit down with your suspiciously overpriced snacks and have no idea what was about to happen.
I’m old enough to remember when The Sixth Sense came out (it was 1999). People who saw it in the cinema gasped at the twist. People who saw it later only gasped if they’d somehow avoided the 50,000 “HE WAS DEAD THE WHOLE TIME” references in pop culture. I told you I was going to spoil it.
More recently, The Red Wedding episode of Game of Thrones in 2013 invoked that if you hadn’t read the books, your soul left your body. If you had read the books, you spent years smugly waiting for the moment your friends would experience true horror.
Even as far back as 1980, no-one around at the time (myself included) could forget seeing The Empire Strikes Back for the first time. Somehow, for years, “No, I am your father” remained a genuine shock because people didn’t immediately spoil it for clout.
What did these moments have in common? They were surprises. Not just for the characters on screen, but for us. The audience. The people who were supposed to be along for the ride, not racing ahead to the last page like over-caffeinated maniacs.
But then… the internet happened.
An Untimely Death, But Not Unexpected
Some say her death was long foretold. That was when the first social media platform allowed “trending” topics, her fate was sealed.
But the final blow? That came swiftly and suddenly, about three nanoseconds after any major TV finale aired.
Remember when we used to live in a world where people respected time zones? Where spoilers waited 24 hours, like decent guests?
When saying, “No spoilers, please” was treated as sacred instead of laughed at like a punchline from a burnt-out TikTok comedian?
Ah yes, those were the days.
Back when streaming was something you did with a river and YouTube videos had titles like “Top Ten Movie Endings You’ve Probably Seen.”
Now?
Now they go by “BREAKING: MARVEL KILLS OFF [INSERT CHARACTER] AND HERE’S WHY IT SUCKED (EXPLAINED).”
All thanks to Greg with 47 subscribers and a deadline.
The Rise of the Spoiler Industrial Complex
Somewhere along the way, we decided that knowing things first was more valuable than experiencing things well and thus, the 'Spoiler Industrial Complex was born; a vast, unfeeling machine designed to strip stories of their mystery before most people have even hit ‘play’. I know them. You know them, there are:
1. The "First to Post" Parasites (Looking At You YouTube & Social Media)
These are the people who treat entertainment like a competitive sport. Their mission? To be the first to explain, dissect, and - most importantly - spoil every major moment in a piece of media.
Their YouTube thumbnails are a war crime against subtlety:
“[MAIN CHARACTER]’S DEATH SCENE BROKE ME (FULL BREAKDOWN)”
“SECRET ENDING OF [MOVIE] EXPLAINED – YOU MISSED THIS!”
“WHY [TWIST] WAS OBVIOUS FROM THE START (EVIDENCE)”
And the worst part? These videos aren’t even for people who’ve seen the thing!
They’re for people who haven’t, because the algorithm, in its infinite cruelty, shoves them into your feed the second you so much as think about the movie.
2. The "I Just Have to Talk About It" Offenders (X, Reddit, Group Chats)
These people aren’t evil. They’re just… terminally online. They can’t help themselves.
The second they finish an episode, they must announce their feelings to the world, consequences be damned.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE [CHARACTER] DIED. #RIP” (Thanks, now I can’t believe it either.)
“That cameo in [Insert Movie Here]? Chef’s kiss.” (What cameo? WHAT F*%KING CAMEO?!)
“Just finished [Insert Show Here] S2E3. Wow. Just… wow.” (Wow what? Be more vague, I dare you. I double dare you!
And don’t even get me started on Reddit. The second an episode airs, every discussion thread is a minefield.
“Theory: [Character] isn’t really dead.” (Oh cool, so I guess they do die. Thanks.)
“Did anyone else notice [obvious foreshadowing]?” (Errr no, because I haven’t seen it yet.)
3. The Deliberate Spoiler Trolls (The True Villains)
Then there are the true monsters - the ones who enjoy ruining things for others.
They lurk in comment sections, reply to unrelated tweets with major spoilers, and, in extreme cases, will DM you plot twists just to watch you suffer.
These people are the reason we can’t have nice things.
They’re the people who wake up and choose violence. The people who live to ruin. Who walks into an office, sees your headphones in and shouts, “Can you believe they killed him off?!”
Scientists are still debating whether they’re born without empathy or if they sold their souls for the fleeting high of being the absolute worst.
4. The Rise of Professional Spoilers: Leaks as "Journalism"
Somewhere along the way, we normalised an entire industry built on spoiling things.
We now have self-proclaimed "insiders" and "scoopers" whose entire job is to dig up - or often, make up - plot details, casting rumours and script leaks, then package them as "exclusive news."
These aren’t just random trolls; these are people with followings, with Patreons, with careers built on ruining surprises before they even happen.
Take superhero movies, for example. It’s not enough to wait for the trailer; now, entire plot summaries leak months in advance, thanks to "trusted sources" who may or may not have just made it all up for a laugh.
By the time the movie actually releases, half the audience already knows every beat because they’ve been force-fed "leaks" disguised as hype. And God forbid a major studio changes something last-minute - then you get months of angry fan debates over "false advertising" because some guy on X with 200K followers swore up and down that Wolverine was definitely in the new James Bond movie.
Even worse? These leaks are often wrong, but because they spread like wildfire, they warp expectations.
Perversely, when a movie doesn’t include the thing that was "100% confirmed", people feel cheated, not because the story failed, but because some rando on the internet lied for clicks.
We’ve reached a point where actual marketing teams have to debunk leaks, where directors beg fans to stop reading spoilers, and where "spoiler-free" reactions are a rarity instead of the norm.
It’s one thing when a friend accidentally blurts out a twist. It’s another when an entire media ecosystem exists to strip stories of their surprises before they even exist, all under the guise of "keeping fans informed."
There are also once respected news outlets, formerly bastions of journalistic integrity, now gasping for clicks, reduced to headlines like “Stranger Things Star Talks About Their Shocking Death” while the episode’s still buffering.
At what point did "news" about entertainment become synonymous with ruining entertainment?
Finally, how can we forget about those Facebook relatives who still think it’s 2011 and start every status with “OMG just watched this show...” followed by a full synopsis.
To all these people, we say this: May your milk always go sour the day you buy it.
We Tried to Save Her
Don’t get me wrong. We tried to preserve her legacy. We begged. We typed in ALL CAPS. We whispered, “No spoilers, I haven’t seen it yet” like it was a prayer.
We muted keywords. We went offline. We avoided group chats. We dodged the internet like Neo in The Matrix, all in pursuit of one clean, untainted moment of surprise. Just one.
And yet. AND YET. It was never enough.
Because Spoiler Culture is now an economy. A race. A quasi-Olympic event with gold medals for "first to ruin it." Influencers scream, “I stayed up all night watching the entire season so YOU don’t have to!” and then spoil every twist. And we just… kinda let them.
Why? Because content. Because clicks. Because engagement. Because we now consume reaction videos to trailers that were themselves leaked three weeks early via blurry potato-cam footage from a Comic-Con panel in Lithuania.
Spoiler-Free Viewing didn’t die peacefully. She died whimpering in the comment section of a teaser trailer for a full trailer posted before the film’s even finished post-production.
The Death of Collective Surprise
Remember when Avengers: Endgame came out, and for weeks, people whispered in hushed tones to avoid spoiling the big moments?
That kind of collective restraint is gone.
Now, the second a major plot point happens, it’s either memed into oblivion, turned into a TikTok trend or discussed in 47 different thinkpieces before you’ve even had dinner.
We used to experience shocks together. Cinemas full of gasps. Office canteen debates the next day. Now? If you don’t watch something immediately, you’re playing spoiler roulette every time you open your phone.
And let’s talk about release schedules.
Streaming services drip-feed episodes to “build hype,” but all it does is stretch out the spoiler minefield.
Meanwhile, movies hit some countries weeks before others, ensuring that half the planet already knows the ending before the other half can buy their tickets.
Why Not Knowing Is Better
There’s something magical about going into a story blind.
Think about the thrill of a twist you never saw coming. The devastation of a death you weren’t prepared for. The joy of realising this whole time, the story was playing you.
When we spoil things for ourselves (or let others spoil them), we rob stories of their power.
A twist isn’t shocking if you’ve seen it in a thumbnail. A character’s death isn’t tragic if you’ve spent three weeks reading theories about how they’ll come back.
We’ve become so obsessed with consuming media that we’ve forgotten how to experience it.
We Can’t Have Nice Things
You see, we used to share things. And I don’t mean retweets and “leaks.” I mean moments.
Spoiler-Free Viewing brought us together in ways that algorithms never could.
Remember gathering with family or friends on a Sunday night for a new episode? The anticipation? The hush that fell over the room as a scene turned intense? The collective gasp?
Now it’s just one guy on Discord watching it early because he VPN’d into New Zealand and felt entitled to post screenshots in the group chat.
Viewing with innocence was the great unifier.
She didn't care if you were watching on your nan’s CRT TV, your mate's iPad, or a dodgy website with 17 pop-ups and a Russian roulette of buffering. She brought us together. She gave us those quintessential ‘watercooler moments’. Now the watercooler is full of spoiled milk and ruined finales.
We don’t get shared shocks anymore. We get shared shrugs. Because by the time we watch it, we already know the ending, the mid-credits scene and who dies in the next episode based on a Funko Pop leak.
The Irony of Connection
You’d think in this hyper-connected world, we could share joy. That we could protect the surprise. That we could revel together in the wonder of the unknown.
But instead, we weaponised connection.
We prioritised being “first” over being kind. We decided sharing meant telling you how it ends, not inviting you to experience it with us. Somewhere along the way, we forgot that sometimes not knowing is a gift.
Remember screaming at Lost as smoke monsters and time jumps twisted your brain? Remember seeing Endgame in a full theatre and the collective howl when Cap lifted Mjolnir?
Spoiler-Free Viewing gave us awe. Now? Now we get trailers that show Act 3 and “recap explainers” before Episode 1 has aired.
We don’t have to be connected to share good things. That’s the irony. Connection isn’t real when it’s just the race to ruin a story. Connection is pausing to say, “You’re gonna love this. I won’t spoil it.”
That’s love. That’s friendship. That’s what Spoiler-Free Viewing stood for.
It seems we don’t experience stories anymore. We dissect them mid-delivery.
Is There Any Hope?
Can we reclaim the element of surprise? Maybe.
Start by muting everything like your sanity depends on it (because it does). If you’re on X, mute the show’s name, character names and any related hashtags.
On YouTube, click “Not Interested” on every spoiler-heavy video and if you’re on Reddit, unsubscribe from fan communities until you’re caught up.
If you truly care about spoilers, log off until you’ve watched it. Yes, this is extreme. No, I don’t care. Avoid the internet like it’s 2003.
It’s also time to stop feeding the spoiler beast. Don’t post immediate reactions. Let people breathe.
Use spoiler tags properly (not “OMG [SPOILER] JUST HAPPENED”) and if someone says they haven’t seen something yet, please shut up.
Let me leave you with this. Try watching one thing completely unspoiled. No trailers, no theories, no reviews. Just you and the story. Trust me, it’s liberating.
Spoiler Alert: A World Without Surprise Is a Dull One
So as we lay her to rest, may we take a vow.
May we pause before we post.
May we mute before we ruin.
May we remember that knowing less is sometimes a blessing, not a burden.
Let us live in the mystery. Let us walk into stories blind. Let us, for the love of plot twists, hold our tongues for 48 blessed hours.
Because life, like your favourite TV, books or movies, is just better with surprises. Because sometimes, not knowing is what makes it magic.
So here we are. The element of surprise is on life support, and we’re all to blame. We traded shock for immediacy, mystery for memes and collective gasps for clout.
But maybe - maybe - if we try, we can get some of it back.
Maybe we can relearn the joy of not knowing. Maybe we can let stories surprise us again.
Or, you know, we can just accept that the internet has ruined everything and start watching movies with the sound off and a blindfold on.
Rest in peace, to the element of surprise, to Spoiler-Free Viewing, we didn’t deserve you, but oh, how we’ll miss you… and if you haven’t seen [Insert Latest Big Thing] yet - sorry, someone in the comments probably already ruined it.
Amen.
.
.
.
Post-Credits Scene
Wait.
Don’t go.
There’s a twist.
Spoiler-Free Viewing might be gone…
But you can be the plot twist.
Be the person who doesn’t ruin it.
Be the cliffhanger they never saw coming.
Be the hero who, when asked, “Have you seen it?” simply smiles and says
“I won’t say a thing. You need to see it for yourself.”
Fade to black.
Thanks for taking the time to read my post. I hope you liked it. Sorry if I spoiled The Sixth Sense or The Empire Strikes Back for you.
I’d be interested to know; does this kind of thing bother you? How do you avoid it? What was the biggest plot twist that you didn’t see coming? (or did see coming). Cryptic comments only below. Thanks and take care.