In 2025, there's a very good reason for spoilers.

If you're the kind of person who flips to the last page of a novel, or frantically reads the Wikipedia plot breakdown before you decide whether to watch a movie, you're not an impatient weirdo. 

You're a story manager. And in the high-stakes, high-stress world of 2025 prestige television, you're the smartest one in the room.

The popular cultural consensus is clear: a spoiler is a narrative crime. The term itself is designed to make you feel guilty for ruining the experience. But what if the experience was already under threat — not from a single plot detail, but from your own anxiety? 

For a significant number of viewers, the act of consuming high-stakes fiction can trigger intense feelings of dread, which some psychologists call 'story anxiety'. I'm one of them. 

Watch: The trailer for Stranger Things season 5. Article continues after video.

The tension isn't thrilling; it's a knot in my stomach. The moment a character I care about is placed in mortal peril, my enjoyment flatlines, replaced by anticipatory grief. I'm not watching the show. I'm bracing for impact. This is where spoilers come in. 

Seeking out that crucial plot point acts as a powerful psychological release. It's an emotional spoiler shield. By knowing the destination, you're free to actually enjoy the journey. 

A groundbreaking 2011 study by psychologists at UC San Diego found, counterintuitively, that participants who were spoiled before reading a short story reported enjoying it more than those who weren't. Why? The researchers suggested it comes down to what's known as processing fluency. 

The unspoiled brain is working overtime on what is going to happen, trying to piece together clues, manage suspense, and constantly re-evaluating theories, which is exhausting. When you're spoiled, the cognitive burden is lifted. You know the "what," so your brain can relax and focus on how the story is being told. 

Image: Netflix

You can savour the artistry, appreciate the character dynamics, and notice the subtle foreshadowing that was otherwise lost in the panic. In short, knowing the ending allows you to stop worrying about the scaffolding and start enjoying the architecture.

Take the final season of Stranger Things. The show has spent years raising the stakes to almost unbearable heights. Audiences are no longer just rooting for a ragtag group of kids; they're watching them fight a world-ending entity. A character death feels not only likely but narratively necessary for the drama — and that's terrifying. 

Not to mention, all the glaring warnings that the show's creators, the Duffer brothers have shared. 

"I would say season five is not as violent as season four, but it has the most violent death of any season," Matt Duffer told The Times. 

Yeah… it's a no from me. Honestly, the reason I've stayed away from watching high stakes dramas like Stranger Things and Game of Thrones is because of this very reason. 

Image: HBO Max

For me, the thought of watching a four-hour finale with a racing heart, just waiting for the other shoe to drop, is a total deterrent. If I know my favorite character makes it to the final frame, I can spend those four hours actually seeing the performance, the cinematography, and the brilliant script work, instead of waiting for a tragedy. 

In my opinion, it's time for a rebrand when it comes to spoilers because, for some of us, they don't spoil the stories we love. They enhance them.

The next time someone scolds you for asking about the ending, smile and explain that you're not "spoiling" the story — you're just optimising your enjoyment. 

You're choosing depth and appreciation over stress and blind guessing. You are, simply, consuming content in a way that respects your own mental health. 

And in 2025, that's not a luxury — it's a necessity.

Feature Image: Netflix.