I used to live inside Stargate Atlantis. Whether it was following Carson and Beckett on an off-world adventure, a quiet side story unfolding on Atlantis itself, or a gut-punch episode where the crew recorded goodbye messages to send back to Earth — those extra episodes between the big arcs had heart.
Each season had depth. Time. Breathing room.
I got to know these characters, not just watch them. They had mini-arcs, callbacks, and side stories that stretched across seasons. You could skip an episode without breaking continuity, but you’d lose something — a layer of who they were.
And it wasn’t just Atlantis. The same went for Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Arrow, and The Flash — shows that built worlds one episode at a time.
That era of TV is long gone.
Today, a “full season” often means ten episodes — if we’re lucky.
So what happened to long TV seasons?
Let’s dive in and see how we went from twenty-two adventures a year… to barely ten.
The Era of 22 Episodes and Syndication Dreams
TV seasons with 22 episodes are a relic of the old media world.
In the early 2000s, everything started shifting — from watching whatever was on when you turned on the TV to being able to stream exactly what you wanted, whenever you wanted.
The first spark was YouTube in 2005, which proved that video could live online forever. Then came Amazon Unbox (later Prime Video) in 2006, and Netflix’s streaming service in 2007, moving beyond its DVD-by-mail roots. With faster internet speeds like ADSL2+, streaming became mainstream.
Before all of that, TV shows were built for reruns. The more episodes, the better — networks had time slots to fill and ads to sell. You couldn’t have a blank screen at 8 p.m., so long seasons were essential.
Schedules were also unpredictable: news events could interrupt programming, so producers avoided long, serialized arcs. They made self-contained adventures that could air in any order.
That’s why classic seasons felt padded with “filler.” But that filler had a purpose — it kept the lights on and gave audiences time to live with the story.
Filler, Bottles, and the Joy of Breathing Room
“Filler” and “bottle episodes” get a bad rap, but together they gave shows space to breathe. And breathing room equals connection.
Remember Stargate Atlantis: Thirty-Eight Minutes? The entire episode takes place inside a stuck puddle jumper while Sheppard slowly dies from a bug bite. That’s a textbook bottle episode — small budget, massive tension, and unforgettable character work.
Filler episodes were bigger in scope but lighter on plot — side quests, quiet moments, personal detours.
Bottle episodes were their smaller cousins, confined to a single set.
Both gave us what modern shows rarely do: time with our favorite people on screen, even when nothing galaxy-shattering was happening.
Then Came Game of Thrones (and Prestige TV)
Game of Thrones was the first global giant of the new era. Based on A Song of Ice and Fire, it exploded into mainstream culture almost overnight.
Then came Breaking Bad, Mad Men, and a wave of shows branded as “prestige TV.”
The format? Fewer episodes, higher budgets, tighter stories. Everything mattered. If it didn’t, it was cut.
Game of Thrones helped prove that global simulcasts worked — viewers from London to New York City could watch the same episode the same night. It looked cinematic, felt premium, and suddenly the old 22-episode model felt outdated.
Other networks followed suit. “Less is more” became the new gospel.
The filler episode became extinct. Every moment had to serve the plot.
Streaming Changed the Math
Netflix was one of the first services to drop entire seasons at once. Suddenly, people started watching more than ever — and binge-watching was born.
Traditional TV revolved around time slots and ad breaks. Streaming didn’t care. Want to watch your favorite show at 1 A.M.? Go for it. On your commute? Sure. Prime time didn’t matter anymore — you were the scheduler.
Amazon Prime Video and Disney+ followed suit, premiering new shows online first and airing them later on cable.
For audiences, this was freedom.
For streamers, it was a gold mine: constant engagement, endless ads (or subscription upsells), and no limits on when people could watch.
But while streaming looked like progress for viewers, it quietly rewrote the economics of making TV.
Instead of 22-episode seasons that kept writers, actors, and crew employed most of the year, streamers began commissioning shorter runs — usually 6 to 10 episodes — at roughly the same per-episode budgets. Shows looked bigger and slicker, but everyone behind the scenes was suddenly working less and earning less overall.
Writers’ rooms shrank into mini-rooms that lasted only weeks.
Actors got trapped in exclusivity clauses between uncertain renewals.
And because streamers don’t rerun episodes, the old residual system — the lifeline of working actors — all but vanished.
That tension between creative freedom and labor exploitation finally boiled over.
The 2023 Hollywood strikes happened largely to modernize these outdated contracts for a shorter-season world.
The Problem With Perfection
Prestige TV looked gorgeous — but it came at a cost.
Game of Thrones was cinematic, yet shallow in places. Want to know what life was like in King’s Landing or Winterfell between wars? You’re out of luck.
The same goes for many modern series: streamlined plots, no breathing space.
Take The Witcher. Rumor has it Henry Cavill clashed with writers who diverged from the books, condensing rich lore into a faster, binge-friendly format.
Shorter seasons mean less time for nuance — and more frustration from fans who fell in love with the source material.
Binge releases also changed how we watch.
The weekly episode debate, the memes, the water-cooler theories — gone.
Now we get season breakdowns instead of episode recaps. Only die-hard fans still talk about a show week to week.
Would Stargate Survive Today?
Honestly, Stargate would have to evolve to capture today’s viewers.
The last season of Stargate Atlantis aired in 2006 — before the first iPhone even launched. Stargate Universe arrived in 2009, just as smartphones were starting to change everything.
A modern Stargate would need to respect today’s technological world while keeping the soul that made it great.
Maybe a middle ground — not 22 episodes, but not just eight either. Enough space for the magic between the missions.
And yet, the fandom still thrives. The Stargate subreddit is full of new fans discovering the series for the first time — proof that the old format still resonates.
So yeah, Stargate would survive. It would just need to adapt without losing its heart.
Why Atlantis Still Feels Like Home
Shorter seasons made TV sharper and easier to binge.
But they also took away that rare feeling of living with a show — of knowing the characters like neighbors instead of guests.
To me, Stargate Atlantis will always have a place because it made me feel seen by characters I’d call friends. It gave me time with them — in the quiet, human moments between the chaos.
My favorite episode is from season one, when the team discovers an “Ancient” left behind in stasis — only to learn she’s actually Dr. Weir from the past. It’s technically a filler episode, but it deepens everything: Weir’s character, the mythology, and the city itself.
That’s the kind of breath a shorter season would never have.
What Do You Think?
Would you trade twenty-two episodes of comfort for eight perfect ones?
Or do you miss the days when shows gave us time to just… exist with them?