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This scenario is painfully common. The follow-up season of your favorite TV show drops on your platform, and your mind is full of hopeful expectation. Season one ended with such precision: narrative threads were dangled enticingly, and a main character had – cliffhanger! – been offed (or had they?). After the season wrapped, you were perusing Reddit threads with fellow enthusiasts to uncover hidden hints pointing toward upcoming twists.

But the new season opener falls flat. It feels like the entire writers’ room has been fired and replaced by artificial intelligence. Cut to the second episode, your favorite cast member has done something that viewers recognize as jarringly uncharacteristic. As the story progresses, it’s clear that the showrunners have had collective amnesia concerning narrative arcs clearly established previously. As the underwhelming ending arrives, you privately hope it had ended sooner.

The Downside of Too Many Seasons

Wanting a series to end early is often late realization; audiences frequently rally against early axings. Look at Kaos, a delightfully satirical take on Greek mythology featuring Jeff Goldblum, axed by Netflix because of weak audience numbers. But perhaps these fans will rest better with the knowledge the show's quality wasn't tarnished by a weak follow-up.

Considering the thriller Yellowjackets, I now wish it had been a limited series. Season one had a creatively abundant premise, and every episode hit the right marks. A 1996 plane crash strands a female soccer team in wilderness. Excellent actors (with Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) depicted the survivors in dual eras. Several prize nominations followed, creators confidently planned five seasons to tell the story in necessary detail. However, a season four finale was just confirmed. I felt grateful as a viewer.

Young actors prepare for Stranger Things' next chapter.

Story decisions have weakened the core. Rather than leading with the girls’ return home, and watching how they deal with their horrific new secrets, the story grew padded and excessive. This involved a wearying pattern of introducing peripheral figures (like the underdeveloped daughter Callie) who added little to the overarching plot. It’s frustrating, and as a viewer, it is depressing to see your favorite show morph slowly into a hate-watch.

An Increasing Pattern

However, Yellowjackets isn't alone. Programs including Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things no longer surprise audiences, and fallen headfirst into expected or comfortable cliches. Sometimes shows need to quit when they are ahead.

Actually, benefits come from self-contained series. From Sharp Objects to I May Destroy You to Adolescence, writers understand when narratives find completion. However, the magic fades with series like Big Little Lies, initially a one-season story, come back for more and more with diminishing returns. Hopefully, Adolescence’s producers have thought twice about that rumoured season two.

The Supreme Instance

I preferred Yellowjackets as a limited run, living rent-free in our imaginations, cliffhangers and all. My favorite TV show of all time has played out like that. This beloved 90s drama, the quintessential youth program, concluded after a single run but achieved film-like breadth: the personalities were complex and inconsistent, the filming captured a fall aesthetic, and the conversations avoided cliched adolescent writing. The ending left questions unanswered, but this reflects truth appropriately of adolescent uncertainties remaining perpetual. After 18 great episodes (and one mediocre), I was heartbroken and took to writing season two fan fiction myself to address unfinished business. Despite existing on obsolete equipment, it demonstrates television's powerful connection.

The Special Relationship

If TV creators can remember the sacrosanct relationship between viewers and shows, more shows can end gracefully.

• This writer focuses on cultural topics.