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This scenario is painfully common. The follow-up season of your favorite TV show has just begun streaming, and optimism runs high. The debut season ended flawlessly: future plotlines were teased tantalisingly, and a protagonist met a mysterious end – or so it seemed. In the months since the finale, you delved into fan discussions with fellow enthusiasts to decode subtle references shedding light on future developments.

And then season two’s premiere is a damp squib. It seems as if the creative team was swapped for algorithms. In episode two, a beloved actor's character acts in a way that you and Reddit user Fishy2345 agree is totally out of character. Halfway through the season, the writers appear to have memory loss around the storylines aggressively signposted in season one. As the underwhelming ending arrives, you long for an earlier termination.

The Downside of Prolonged Runs

Regretting a show's continuation is hindsight; audiences frequently rally against early axings. Consider Kaos, a delightfully satirical take on Greek mythology starring Jeff Goldblum, axed by Netflix because of weak audience numbers. However, supporters might find comfort knowing the show's quality wasn't tarnished by a weak follow-up.

Reflecting on Yellowjackets, I now wish it had been a limited series. Season one had a creatively abundant premise, and its 10 episodes were note-perfect. A 1996 plane crash strands a female soccer team in wilderness. Top-notch cast members (including Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) depicted the survivors in dual eras. Several prize nominations followed, producers originally mapped out a five-season arc to fully explore the narrative. Recently, news broke of a season four conclusion. This news brought me relief.

Gaten Matarazzo, Finn Wolfhard, Caleb McLaughlin and Noah Schnapp in the forthcoming fifth season of Stranger Things.

The show has made narrative choices that have undermined its heart. Rather than leading with the girls’ return home, and their struggle with traumatic memories, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. This involved a wearying pattern of bringing in and focusing on new characters (such as Shauna’s two-dimensional daughter Callie) who did nothing for the broader story. It's aggravating, and watching a beloved program become tedious is sad.

A Growing Trend

Yet this issue extends beyond Yellowjackets. Shows such as Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things no longer surprise audiences, and settled into familiar patterns. Occasionally, series should end on a high note.

Indeed, pleasures exist in single-season stories. Considering Sharp Objects, I May Destroy You, and Adolescence, TV creators know when to stop when the story has naturally reached an endpoint. But the game is over when shows such as Big Little Lies, first conceived as self-contained, return repeatedly with declining quality. Perhaps Adolescence's team reconsidered a second season.

The Perfect Example

I desired Yellowjackets as a single-season show, living rent-free in our imaginations, unresolved threads included. My top series ever followed this pattern. My So-Called Life, the perfect 90s teen dramedy, lasted for only one season but was cinematic in its scope: its characters were difficult and contradictory, the filming captured a fall aesthetic, and the conversations avoided cliched adolescent writing. The conclusion provided no neat resolution, but this reflects truth appropriately of adolescent uncertainties remaining perpetual. Following 18 excellent installments (plus one weak one), I mourned its end and drafted follow-up stories to answer some of those questions. It might only live on an old hard drive, but it speaks to how deeply TV shows can chime with us.

The Special Relationship

If writers recall the sacred audience-series connection, more programmes can bow out when the time is right.

• This writer covers entertainment and style.