He was the guy in the basement. Steven Hyde, played by Danny Masterson, wasn't just the resident burnout of Point Place; he was the cynical, conspiracy-theorist soul of That '70s Show. For eight seasons, he stood as the antithesis to Eric Forman’s neuroticism and Kelso’s vanity. But looking back now, his character is a fascinating, messy contradiction that feels even more relevant today than it did in 1998.
Let’s be real. If you grew up watching the show, you probably wanted to be Hyde. Or you were intimidated by him. Or you just wanted his sunglasses. He was the "cool" one, but it was a specific kind of Midwestern, blue-collar cool that felt attainable. He didn't have the money or the stable home life, yet he had the most respect in the circle.
Why That '70s Show Hyde Became the Ultimate Anti-Hero
Hyde wasn't supposed to be the heart of the show. Initially, the spotlight was firmly on Eric and Donna’s "will-they-won't-they" dynamic. Yet, Hyde stole every scene by doing almost nothing. His stillness was his power. While everyone else was flailing—Kelso falling off things, Fez trying to understand American culture—Hyde just sat there, arms crossed, judging.
It’s about the philosophy. Hyde represented a very specific 1970s disillusionment. Think about the era. Post-Watergate, post-Vietnam. Trust in authority was at an all-time low. When Hyde talked about "the man" putting a chip in your head or how the government was monitoring everything, it wasn't just a stoner gag. It was a reflection of the genuine paranoia that defined the decade.
He was the working-class philosopher.
His backstory was bleak. Abandoned by his mother, Edna, and never knowing his father (at least until later seasons), Hyde was essentially raised by the Formans. This created a beautiful, unspoken tension. He was Eric's best friend but also his surrogate brother. Red Forman, a man who despised "slackers," saw something in Hyde that he didn't see in Eric: toughness. Red respected Hyde’s ability to take a hit and keep moving. That dynamic—the hard-nosed veteran and the rebellious kid who actually understands discipline—is one of the most grounded parts of the series.
The Jackie and Hyde Era: A TV Accident That Worked
Nobody saw it coming. The idea of pairing the shallow, pampered Jackie Burkhart with the grungy, "power to the people" Steven Hyde sounded like a disaster on paper. It should have been a one-off joke. Instead, it became the most emotionally resonant relationship in the history of the show. Honestly, it ruined other sitcom couples for a lot of fans.
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Why did it work? Because they challenged each other's core identities.
Jackie forced Hyde to admit he actually cared about things. She poked holes in his "I don't give a damn" armor. Conversely, Hyde gave Jackie a backbone. He taught her that status wasn't everything. Watching Hyde—a guy who literally lived in a basement and wore the same Led Zeppelin shirt for three days straight—actually fall in love was a massive character arc. It wasn't some polished, Hollywood romance. It was messy. They fought constantly. They broke up over stupid things. It felt like a real high school relationship where neither person knows how to handle their feelings.
Breaking Down the Wardrobe and Aesthetic
If you want to understand Hyde, look at his clothes. It wasn't just "70s fashion." It was a uniform.
- The Band Tees: Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Santana. Hyde wasn't just a listener; he was a disciple of rock.
- The Sunglasses: Those aviators were a shield. They allowed him to observe without being observed.
- The Hair: The "perm" look was a staple of the era, but on Hyde, it just looked like he hadn't found a comb in three years.
Everything about his look screamed "I’m not trying," which, as we all know, is the hardest look to pull off. It’s the reason why, decades later, you still see people at Halloween parties trying to replicate the "Hyde vibe." It’s an attitude as much as an outfit.
The Complicated Legacy of the Character
We have to address the elephant in the room. It is impossible to talk about That '70s Show Hyde in 2026 without acknowledging the real-world events surrounding Danny Masterson. For many fans, rewatching the show is a bittersweet experience now. There’s a cognitive dissonance that happens when a character you loved is played by someone who has been convicted of serious crimes.
The show's legacy has been fractured. When That '90s Show premiered on Netflix, the absence of Hyde was glaring. Every other member of the original "Circle" made an appearance or was at least mentioned. Hyde was erased. From a narrative standpoint, it makes sense—the character couldn't be there—but it leaves a hole in the nostalgia.
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How do we separate the art from the artist? It's a question that comes up with almost every major piece of media lately. Some fans find it easy to keep the character of Steven Hyde in a vacuum. To them, he is a fictional entity, a creation of the writers and the 1970s setting. Others find it impossible to watch his scenes without a sense of discomfort. There is no "right" way to feel about it, but ignoring the situation doesn't help. It’s part of the history of the show now, whether we like it or not.
Misconceptions About Hyde’s "Lazy" Personality
People often call Hyde a loser. That’s a fundamental misunderstanding of who he was. Hyde wasn't lazy; he was disillusioned.
Think about his jobs. He worked at Fotohut for Leo (played by the legendary Tommy Chong). He worked at the grocery store. Later, he managed a record store. Hyde actually worked harder than most of the other kids. He had to. He didn't have a "Forman's basement" to retreat to if things went south—he lived in one, but it wasn't his by birthright. He was always one bad break away from being on the street.
His cynicism was a survival mechanism. If you expect the worst from the world, you’re never disappointed when it happens. This "Zennist" approach to life—as Leo might call it—was Hyde’s way of maintaining control in a life where he had very little.
The Influence of the "Circle"
The "Circle" was the heart of the show, and Hyde was its gatekeeper. He was usually the one sitting in the prime spot. He was the one who distributed the... "supplies." While Eric was the host, Hyde was the leader.
His influence on the group's dynamic was massive:
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- He kept Kelso in check with constant ridicule, which, strangely, served as a form of tough love.
- He mentored Fez, teaching him about American music and (often terrible) dating advice.
- He provided a cynical counterpoint to Donna’s idealism.
Without Hyde, the group would have been too "sitcom-y." He added the grit. He added the edge that made the show feel like it actually took place in a smoky basement in Wisconsin and not just on a soundstage in Burbank.
How to Channel the Hyde Energy (The Healthy Way)
If you're looking to recapture some of that 70s grit without the negative baggage, it's really about the mindset.
- Question Everything: Don't just take things at face value. Whether it's corporate marketing or social media trends, a little Hyde-esque skepticism goes a long way.
- Loyalty Over Everything: For all his talk, Hyde was the most loyal friend in the group. He took the fall for Eric when the police found certain substances. He stayed with Jackie when things got tough. Be the friend who shows up.
- Find Your "Record Store": Hyde loved music. Not as background noise, but as a lifestyle. Find that one thing you’re genuinely passionate about and dive into the deep cuts.
- Keep It Simple: Hyde didn't need much. A good pair of boots, a stack of vinyl, and some friends to hang out with. In a world of hyper-consumption, that simplicity is actually pretty radical.
The character of Steven Hyde remains a landmark in television history because he represented the "outsider" in all of us. He was the kid who didn't fit in, who didn't want to fit in, and who eventually realized that fitting in was overrated anyway. While the real-world context has changed how we view the actor, the character's impact on 2000s pop culture—and our collective memory of the 1970s—is undeniable.
To dive deeper into this era of television, you might want to look into the production stories of That '70s Show or explore how other sitcoms of the late 90s handled the "slacker" archetype. Understanding the shift from the cynicism of Hyde to the optimism of early 2000s characters provides a great look at how our culture changed at the turn of the millennium. You could also compare the writing of the original series to the reboot to see exactly what "flavor" is missing when a character like Hyde isn't in the mix.
Next Steps for Fans and Researchers:
Check out the original scripts from the first three seasons to see how Hyde’s dialogue was initially crafted versus how it evolved through improvisation. You can also look into the fashion archives of the late 90s to see how the show's costume designer, Melina Root, used vintage 70s pieces to define Hyde’s specific look. These details offer a much clearer picture of why the character resonated so deeply with a generation that wasn't even alive during the 1970s.