We’ve entered the age of Peak Spoiler. Between the dueling endgames of a certain superhero saga and its fantasy counterpart, the plot points of filmed entertainment are being guarded like state secrets. Until the occasional loose lip sinks the ship entirely, that is.
Because we’ve invested years in these stories, the stakes are immense. Our psyches demand proper closure. But we insist on receiving this information at the time and place of our choosing. We seek to control what can’t be fully contained. And it’s as stressful as a third-act battle royale.
In a time of infinite digital chatter, spoilers are a bigger problem than ever. But can we design our way around them?
Many have tried, with varying degrees of success. Responsible critics have adopted a voluntary warning system, loudly declaring some content to be spoiler-free to protect the innocent. Bless them for their contortions, but when reviews contain so little information, they become useless.
And when anyone with a cell signal can become a critic, not all commentators share the same standard of courtesy. An overzealous headline promoted by an uncaring aggregation algorithm creates a recipe for heartbreak.
Other kind souls have designed digital tools to protect us from the details we’re avoiding. We can block notifications, clear caches, and mute sensitive terms all day long. But when one bozo posts a key character’s fate on opening weekend while misspelling his name, all bets are off.
In the non-digital world, such acts of betrayal are not without punishment. Just ask the man who was assaulted in Hong Kong after revealing too much to waiting patrons outside the theater. Or the pizza place employee attacked by a coworker for oversharing.
Some streaming services have made design decisions that can help neutralize spoilers. By releasing an entire season at once, they essentially make everything fair game from day one. But our time-shifting robs us of the communal experience and discussion that art can provide. Our water cooler conversations become as rare as actual water coolers.
It’s sad but true — when information becomes so easy to obtain, avoiding it becomes a real challenge. Constantly swimming in data has made it more difficult for us to find surprise in life. So we’ve resorted to concocting our own artificial surprises. But even a well-intentioned gender reveal party can end up starting a forest fire.
At least one individual has designed a way to suppress juicy details quite effectively. But the tools of an attorney general with a special counsel’s report are hardly available to the rest of us.
So what are we to do? In an uncontrollable world, are we destined for disappointment? Must we resign ourselves to camping out in advance of the first screening, or cloistering ourselves in digital isolation? Those are options, but hardly practical for most.
If nothing else, we can choose to respect good social conventions ourselves, maintaining discretion while avoiding violence and involuntary arson. We can do our best to limit our digital intake during high-risk periods.
And above all, we can remind ourselves that even in the age of Peak Spoiler, life still finds a way of delivering small, pleasant surprises every day. No amount of information overload can deprive us of a stranger’s smile or a double rainbow. Watching for those moments is how we can avenge the spoilers among us — and that’s a game worth playing.
