Warning: Major spoilers for The Walking Dead and Game of Thrones ahead.
This should come as no surprise to anyone: television shows are informed by the state of the world. When The X-Files began airing in the nineties, people were still feeling the effects of the Watergate scandal. The X-Files gave them two characters that both worked for and worked against the ever-looming, ever-untrustworthy government. Likewise, shows like House of Cards play into our continued distrust in our elected officials. Everyone lies. Everything might be a conspiracy. The world is a dark, dangerous place.
And because we are so much more cynical, happy endings are harder to find on TV. Our cynicism has given rise to the “anyone can die” mantra spouted out by so many shows nowadays, a mantra that owes its prevalence to two cable giants – The Walking Dead and Game of Thrones.
Arguably, both shows have earned “anyone can die.” One show takes place in an apocalyptic universe flooded with the undead and we have to assume even the strongest characters can be victims of accidents, bad luck, or stronger foes. The other show exists in a land of magic, dragons, and the scariest thing of all, bloodthirsty politicians. In an age without the proper execution of law and order, poisonings and deaths on the battlefield reign supreme. Both shows have made a theme out of “anyone can die.” It’s the way of the world – if not ours, than theirs. However, that’s become the problem for shows that brag about having the freedom to kill off any character – the shows want to reflect the real world concept that anyone can die at any moment while still telling a story. Unfortunately, often in narratives not just anyone can or should die.
Though this problem has popped up on Game of Thrones from time to time, it is most prevalent in The Walking Dead. Unfortunately, the show has fallen victim to a problem that any apocalypse show will run into if it’s on for too long: it’s become cyclical. Rick and his gang are on the road, Rick and his gang find a safe haven, the safe haven turns out to have a major ideological problem or person residing in it, the gang fights, the gang wins but loses allies, the gang moves on again. The show runners have to keep coming up with bigger and better bad guys, but these bad guys all inevitably represent the same thing, man’s capacity for evil. That’s been The Walking Dead’s thesis for a while now. Fight the dead, fear the living.
Because the show is cyclical and the themes are constantly recycled, The Walking Dead now relies a lot on shock value. Kill a main character to remind the audience of the fragility of humanity. The problem? It’s very hard to invest in characters that may get senselessly ripped away a season or two later.
That was the huge problem that The Walking Dead faced in their season six finale going into the season seven premiere. They left us on a cliffhanger: who did the new big bad Negan kill? This sparked a whole Internet debate on who it could and couldn’t be. Yet, with all the evidence people scrounged up, there was a repetitive theme. “You can’t kill this person or this person because no one is going to care! It has to be Rick or Glenn or Carl or…” The characters introduced in later seasons of the show just don’t have the personality and shine the first season characters have.
You could argue we care about the season one characters more because we have been with them for so long. But that’s exactly the point. We care because we have bought into their narrative. We want to see the characters grow, succeed, lose a battle, but win the war. Though we may love the blood and guts when the characters kill a few zombies, we need to love the characters more or else the show amounts to torture porn a la the Saw franchise.
Characters like Sasha, Abraham, and Eugene introduced in later seasons got shortchanged, partially because the focus remained primarily on original cast members and partially because they entered the story after “anyone can die.” So, we see these new characters and think, “they’re bound for death.” Why care? Even as they continue to stick around, they always feel like the soldiers on the front line, the first to go when the zombies close in.
To be fair, character death is difficult. There needs to be the perfect balance of what’s good for the character, what’s good for the narrative, and what’s good for the audience. If a creator favors what’s good for the character, there may never be death even when the show demands it (and The Walking Dead does demand death). If a creator favors the narrative, characters with room to grow could land on the chopping block prematurely. If a creator favors the audience’s potential reaction, the story becomes a slave to fan favorites who may no longer add anything to the narrative. Ideally, a good character death does justice to the character’s story, furthers the plot of the show, while still shocking, saddening, and exciting the audience. See how that can be hard?
However, Ned Stark’s death in Game of Thrones is the perfect example of an effective character death that still allows creators to brag about killing off a main player. His death ended the character’s arc in an effective way that stayed true to who Ned was as a person. His death sparked plots and rebellions that still affect the story today. And his death shocked viewers who thought the show would never kill off Sean Bean. Everyone wins.
Everyone won when Shane died on The Walking Dead. Everyone won when Lori died (kind of). I’m not sure who won when T-Dog died or when Beth Greene died. Can we say those deaths have had any lasting effects on the storyline? Did they have any lasting effects on us?
You could consider this a reaction to Glenn’s death in the season seven opener - “anyone can die” at its worst. That was a death that could have meant something. We cared about his character arc, we cared about his future, and ripping it away from him, from Maggie, from us does make a statement about the cruelty of the world. However, using his death as a pointless cliffhanger is a rating’s ploy and an emotional cheat. It adds nothing to the story other than cheap shock value.
The audience deserves better. Storytelling deserves better. It’s time to stop lauding “anyone can die” as realistic. Let’s acknowledge it for what it really is: the lowest common denominator way to get viewers.
