Let's be real for a second. If you grew up watching the gang sit in a circle in Point Place, you probably wanted to be Steven Hyde. Or at least, you wanted to be his friend. He was the guy who had it all figured out, even when his life was objectively a mess. With the aviators, the Led Zeppelin shirts, and that "the government is watching us" smirk, he was the glue that kept the basement from feeling like just another suburban cliché.
But things are different now.
Watching That ’70s Show in 2026 feels like a weird exercise in cognitive dissonance. You see Steven Hyde on screen, the philosopher-king of burnouts, and you want to laugh at his "burns." Then you remember the real-world headlines, the courtrooms, and the prison sentence given to the man who played him. It’s a mess. Honestly, it’s a heartbreak for fans who saw Hyde as the one character who actually had a soul underneath all that denim.
Who Was the Real Steven Hyde?
Basically, Hyde was the anti-Kelso. While Kelso was falling off things and Eric was whining about Donna, Hyde was the one dealing with actual, heavy-duty life problems. He didn’t have a "Kitty and Red" at home—at least not at first. His mom, Edna, was a lunch lady with a mean streak and a disappearing act, and his "dad," Bud, was mostly a memory until he showed up later to prove he wasn't much better.
He was the "Poor Sweet Hero" of the group.
Think about the moment in Season 1 when his mom just... leaves. No note, no money, just an empty house. That’s heavy for a sitcom. When the Formans take him in, Hyde doesn't suddenly become a choir boy. He stays a conspiracy theorist who thinks the car that runs on water is being suppressed by "the man." But he also starts paying rent. He works at the Foto Hut with Leo (the legendary Tommy Chong). He grows up.
The Hyde and Jackie Paradox
We have to talk about the relationship that nobody saw coming but everyone ended up rooting for. Jackie Burkhart and Steven Hyde should not have worked. She was the quintessential disco-loving, status-obsessed cheerleader. He was the Zen-like rocker who thought disco was from "the lame-ass part of hell with the accountants."
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Yet, they were the best couple on the show. Period.
Hyde made Jackie a better person, and Jackie made Hyde realize he was allowed to care about things. He wasn't just a "hired gun" or a lone wolf. He was a guy who would take the fall for her when she got caught with weed because he knew his record was already shot and hers wasn't. That’s not just "cool guy" behavior; that’s integrity.
The Conspiracy Theorist Who Was Right (Sorta)
Hyde’s obsession with "the man" wasn't just a gimmick. It was a reflection of the actual 1970s psyche—Post-Watergate, Post-Vietnam, and deeply cynical. He was the only one in the group who looked at a Xerox machine and saw a tool of oppression.
While the other kids were dreaming of "making it," Hyde was content with:
- Led Zeppelin on the 8-track.
- A cold beer (stolen from Red’s stash).
- His friends.
He was the smartest person in the room but refused to apply himself because "the system is rigged, man." There’s actually a bit of lore suggesting Hyde was a child prodigy. Remember the story about Eric breaking a science project and Hyde taking the blame? It basically set the trajectory for his entire "tough guy" persona. He accepted the world’s low expectations of him and turned them into armor.
Why Steven Hyde Isn't in That ’90s Show
This is the elephant in the room. When That ’90s Show dropped on Netflix, every original cast member made a cameo. Eric, Donna, Kelso, Jackie, Fez—even Leo showed up. But the basement felt half-empty because Steven Hyde was missing.
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There was no "he moved to Vegas" or "he’s in jail for a protest." There was just... silence.
The reason is dark and well-documented. Danny Masterson was convicted in 2023 on two counts of forcible rape that occurred during the height of the original show’s run. He was sentenced to 30 years to life. Because of the nature of the crimes and the involvement of the Church of Scientology in trying to silence victims, the producers of the sequel series made the only choice they could: they erased the character.
It’s a bizarre feeling for a fan. You can love the character of Steven Hyde—the loyal friend, the foster brother, the guy who gave Red Forman a run for his money—while acknowledging that the actor is someone who belongs behind bars.
Separation of Art and Artist?
It's a tough debate. Some fans on Reddit argue that "Hyde would have kicked Danny’s ass," creating a head-canon where the character exists independently of the person. Others find it impossible to watch the "Circle" scenes anymore without feeling a bit sick.
Honestly, both views are valid. Hyde represented a specific kind of 70s rebellion that felt authentic. He was a protector. He stood up for Fez when jocks picked on him. He stayed with the Formans to help pay bills when Red lost his job at the plant. He wasn't a predator; he was the guy you wanted in your corner.
The Legacy of the "Zen" Burnout
What made Steven Hyde different from every other sitcom "rebel" was his nuance. Usually, the tough kid in a comedy is just a bully or a caricature. Hyde was an intellectual. He read. He had opinions on globalism. He treated Red Forman with a level of respect that Eric never could, mostly because Hyde knew what life was like without a father figure.
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If you’re looking to revisit the best of Hyde, stick to these pivotal moments:
- The Pilot: Where he establishes the rules of the basement.
- The Prom: Taking Jackie just so she wouldn't have to go alone.
- Hyde Moves In: The moment the Formans officially become his family.
- The "Car That Runs On Water" Speech: Peak 70s paranoia.
What We Can Learn From the Character Now
If there's any "actionable" takeaway from looking back at Steven Hyde, it's the importance of a support system. Hyde was a kid who was written off by society. He was "trash" from the wrong side of the tracks. But when one family—the Formans—decided to give him a basement room and a place at the dinner table, he became a business owner and a loyal brother.
It's a reminder that people are often the products of their environment, but they don't have to be victims of it. Hyde broke the cycle of his parents' neglect.
For those who still want to enjoy the show, focus on the writing and the chemistry of the ensemble. The character of Hyde was a collaboration between writers, directors, and the other actors like Kurtwood Smith and Topher Grace. You can appreciate the "burns" and the 70s vibes while remaining fully aware of the reality behind the scenes.
The best way to engage with the legacy of the show today is to support the victims of real-world abuse and recognize that while a character can be a hero, the human playing them is a different story entirely. If you're rewatching, do it for the memories of Point Place, not for the man in the glasses.
To dive deeper into the history of the show's production, you should look into the oral histories provided by the creators, Bonnie and Terry Turner. They’ve often spoken about how the character of Hyde was meant to be the "moral compass" of the group, ironically enough. Understanding the intent behind the writing can sometimes help bridge the gap between the character we loved and the reality we now face.