Star Trek, Lost in the Stars: A Fan’s Lament on Substance Over Spectacle

Before anyone fires up the phasers, let me establish this clearly:

I am a huge Star Trek fan.

I grew up with it. I was raised on it. Star Trek wasn’t just something I watched—it helped shape how I think about the future, ethics, leadership, and humanity itself.

In grade school, I entered a writing contest in the mid-90s and won first place for a piece about Gene Roddenberry, Star Trek, and his legacy. That wasn’t a fluke—it was the result of being fully immersed in this universe at a young age. Since then, I’ve written Star Trek fan fiction, built Trek-themed RPG campaigns, played the games, and blitzed through the lore across every series and era.

I hosted Star Trek trivia night for the Michigan Science Center’s After Dark series in 2018. I’m still an avid Star Trek Online player—despite the plot being frankly dismal over the last five years thanks to the Discovery-era add-ons. I’m even trying to restart a Star Trek podcast, because I want to believe in this franchise and talk about it with the care it deserves.

So no—this isn’t coming from someone who “doesn’t get Trek.”

This is coming from someone who knows it too well.

Loving Trek Doesn’t Mean Loving Everything With the Logo On It

I’m not trying to hate on Star Trek. But Starfleet Academy? I genuinely don’t know what I watched. And Section 31 isn’t far behind.

Let’s get this out of the way: the issue is not politics, representation, or social commentary. That is Star Trek. Always has been. Trek challenged norms, explored differences, questioned authority, and pushed boundaries decades before it was safe or popular to do so. It was teaching you how to think, not what to think. It was also the exploration of the human element.

The problem is far more basic—and far more damning.

The story, writing, and characters are… garbage.

What Old Trek Did Right

Classic Trek—especially The Next Generation and Deep Space Nine—understood that Star Trek is about ideas first.

Those shows made you think. They explored moral ambiguity, cultural conflict, scientific curiosity, and the weight of command. They trusted the audience’s intelligence. They didn’t spoon-feed answers or rely on shock value to stay interesting.

They were also grounded.

Problems weren’t solved because a character was “special.” Solutions came through failure, debate, teamwork, and persistence. The technology wasn’t magic—it had rules. The universe felt lived-in, functional, and believable.

Visually, it helped that Trek wasn’t drowning in CGI sludge. Fewer glowing metal hallways. Less absurd lighting. More practical sets that looked like places people actually worked. The restraint helped the storytelling instead of smothering it.

Modern Trek: When It Works—and When It Really Doesn’t

To be fair, modern Trek hasn’t been a total disaster.

• Strange New Worlds mostly understands what it’s supposed to be.
• Picard Season 3 absolutely nailed it.
• Lower Decks somehow manages to parody Trek while respecting it.
• Prodigy delivered more genuine Star Trek storytelling than expected.
• Even Discovery had moments—decent ideas, inconsistent execution.

So yes, modern Trek can work.

Which makes the failures even harder to excuse.

Where It’s Going Off the Rails

Starfleet Academy and Section 31 feel like they fundamentally misunderstand Star Trek’s core identity.

Star Trek was never meant to be:

• CW-style melodrama
• Low-effort, low-IQ dialogue
• Excessive swearing, sex, vulgarity, and gore
• Characters acting like they stepped out of a present-day drama instead of a future civilization

If this is the future, it should feel evolved.

Old Trek portrayed people who had grown beyond pettiness. Conflict existed—but so did professionalism, restraint, and mutual respect. There was a sense that humanity had matured.

Modern Trek too often trades that in for spectacle:

• Big moments without buildup
• Galaxy-ending crises solved in minutes
• Characters who are never allowed to truly fail
• A single “main character” instead of a balanced ensemble

And that last point matters.

Star Trek thrives on ensemble storytelling. Picard wasn’t TNG. Sisko wasn’t DS9. Every character mattered, had agency, and contributed to the whole. Main-character syndrome kills that balance every time.

The Opportunity They Ignored

The most frustrating part? The path forward was obvious.

Star Trek: Legacy should have been greenlit.

It offered a new frontier while respecting the old. It allowed continuity without being trapped by nostalgia. It created room for growth, evolution, and earned cameos instead of gimmicks.

Terry Matalas proved he understood Star Trek—its pacing, its tone, and its soul. He showed that you can move Trek forward without forgetting what made it work in the first place.

Instead, the franchise seems obsessed with production value over purpose.

Why This Matters

Star Trek used to stand for something.

It had values:

• Respect
• Responsibility
• Professionalism
• Hope
• Determination

Characters struggled. Growth was earned. The future felt aspirational, not chaotic or juvenile.

If Star Trek continues down this road—spectacle over substance, noise over nuance—I don’t know if I can follow it anymore.

Star Trek shouldn’t feel lost.

It should know exactly who it is.

Right now, too often, it doesn’t.

Computer, End Program.