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It's an all-too-familiar feeling. The second series of your top TV show has just begun streaming, and optimism runs high. The initial run ended with such precision: future plotlines were teased tantalisingly, and a main character had – cliffhanger! – been offed (or had they?). After the season wrapped, you scoured online forums with other hardcores to uncover hidden hints illuminating what would happen next.

But the new season opener falls flat. It feels like the entire writers’ room has been fired and replaced by artificial intelligence. By the next installment, your favorite cast member has done something that viewers recognize as jarringly uncharacteristic. As the story progresses, it becomes obvious the creators forgot around the storylines aggressively signposted in season one. By the lackluster conclusion, you silently wish that the show had just been cancelled.

The Downside of Too Many Seasons

Regretting a show's continuation is hindsight; most fans protest when their favorite shows are canned before they can get off the ground. Look at Kaos, a clever mythological satire with Jeff Goldblum, which was binned by Netflix due to low viewing figures. Yet audiences can console themselves that their enjoyment of the series won’t have been muddied by a sophomore slump.

Reflecting on Yellowjackets, I currently desire it was a one-season story. The debut offered a richly imaginative setup, and every episode hit the right marks. A 1996 plane crash strands a female soccer team in wilderness. Skilled performers (featuring Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) portrayed the team then and now. Numerous awards recognition occurred, and the showrunners proudly announced there would be five seasons to fully explore the narrative. Recently, news broke of a season four conclusion. And as a fan, I let out a sigh of relief.

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

Plot twists have diluted the essence. In place of exploring post-rescue life, and watching how they deal with their horrific new secrets, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. This involved a wearying pattern of introducing peripheral figures (including the flat character Callie) who did nothing for the broader story. It's disappointing, and witnessing a great series decline into annoyance is disheartening.

An Increasing Pattern

Yet this issue extends beyond Yellowjackets. Series like Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things no longer surprise audiences, and embraced predictable tropes. Sometimes shows need to quit when they are ahead.

Actually, benefits come from self-contained series. Looking at 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, originally a limited series, come back for more and more with diminishing returns. Perhaps Adolescence's team reconsidered a second season.

The Ideal Model

I preferred Yellowjackets as a limited run, living rent-free in our imaginations, mysteries intact. My top series ever followed this pattern. My So-Called Life, the quintessential youth program, ran for just one year yet felt epic in scale: the personalities were complex and inconsistent, the filming captured a fall aesthetic, and the scripts transcended typical youth dialogue. The conclusion provided no neat resolution, but this reflects truth appropriately of never having real, definitive answers to the open-ended questions from your teenage years. Following 18 excellent installments (plus one weak one), I mourned its end and drafted follow-up stories to resolve lingering mysteries. Despite existing on obsolete equipment, but it speaks to how deeply TV shows can chime with us.

The Unique Connection

When producers honor the special viewer-program bond, more programmes can bow out when the time is right.

• Priya Elan covers entertainment and style.