War of the Worlds: bacteria, body-snatching, and the 1988 TV comeback (video).

Gather around, earthlings and extraterrestrials alike, because our damn fine Stam Fine is about to regale you with the tale of a TV series that boldly attempted to pick up where a certain 1953 Martian-invaded, germs-conquered blockbuster left off. Yes, we are talking about none other than War of the Worlds, the late 80s television extravaganza that took a nostalgic nod to H.G. Wells and ran with it—straight into the realm of syndicated science fiction infamy.

Let’s set the scene: It’s 1988, a time when neon was a primary color and shoulder pads could double as flotation devices. The small screen is hungry for a hit, and along comes War of the Worlds, rising from the ashes of the Cold War and the remnants of our collective fear of the Red Planet’s little green men. It’s like somebody found a box labeled “Do Not Open Until Halloween,” and inside was a TV show that nobody knew they wanted until they got it.

In a twist that would make M. Night Shyamalan raise an eyebrow, the show posits that the seemingly defeated aliens from the iconic film were not dead but just taking a long nap in drums of toxic waste. Because where better to store your defeated alien foes than in the equivalent of cosmic Tupperware? Fast forward to ’88, and it seems the aliens were just waiting for a splash of radiation from some terrorists to hit the snooze button.

Now, one might think that being out of the loop for 35 years would leave our Mor-Taxan friends a bit behind the times, but no. They wake up and immediately start taking bodies and names. It’s Airbnb gone wrong on a galactic scale—these uninvited guests take possession of human hosts faster than you can say “invasive species.”

And who are we mere humans to stop them? Enter Dr. Harrison Blackwood and his band of merry scientists, the Blackwood Project. Think of them as the A-Team with PhDs, minus the van. Their mission? To stop the invaders who view Earth like a fixer-upper property. The aliens want to renovate, and humanity is the outdated shag carpet they’re itching to rip out.

But what’s a sci-fi show without a little extra-terrestrial in-fighting? Enter Quinn, an alien who’s been Earthbound since the ’50s, playing both sides for his own benefit. Think of him as the interstellar embodiment of “keep your friends close and your enemies within tentacle reach.”

The show is a beautiful disaster of 80s special effects, where the aliens’ demise is often portrayed as a meltdown akin to leaving your action figures on the radiator—messy, gloopy, and utterly fascinating. And the cherry on top of this otherworldly sundae? The aliens’ death throes often come courtesy of a third arm that shoots out of their chest like an R-rated jack-in-the-box. By the time the second season rolls around, War of the Worlds decides to switch gears faster than a UFO on a joyride. Goodbye, ’80s camp; hello, “Almost Tomorrow,” a dystopian future that’s as cheerful as a tax audit. Our alien adversaries have leveled up to the Morthren, and they’ve brought with them a cloning machine that could put any office photocopier to shame—minus the paper jams, of course.

Despite the second season’s valiant efforts to redefine “grimdark,” the series was eventually sent to the great TV graveyard in the sky. Yet, like the tenacious aliens themselves, War of the Worlds refused to go quietly, gifting its die-hard fans a proper finale and a catchphrase—”To Life Immortal”—that could either inspire a toast or serve as a battle cry for those who rally behind cult classics.

Now, let’s have a moment of silence for the show that taught us that the only thing scarier than an alien invasion is ’80s fashion. And to War of the Worlds, we salute you. To Life Immortal, indeed.