If you were watching TV in the late eighties, you probably remember a specific kind of grit. Everything felt a little damp, the lighting was perpetually moody, and the synthesizers were working overtime. Into this world dropped War of the Worlds: The Series, a 1988 syndicated show that basically decided the 1953 George Pal movie wasn't the end of the story. It was a sequel. A direct one. And honestly, it was way darker than any of us expected for a Saturday night time slot.
Most people today think of the Tom Cruise movie or the original Orson Welles broadcast when they hear the title. They've totally blanked on the fact that for two seasons, we had a legitimate, big-budget attempt to turn H.G. Wells’ concept into a weekly procedural horror show. It wasn't just about aliens in tripods; it was about body-snatching, government cover-ups, and a planet that had spent thirty-five years pretending the first invasion never happened.
The 1953 Connection and the Big Lie
The show starts with a massive "actually."
You know how the 1953 movie ended? The Martians died because of common bacteria. Everyone cheered. The world saved itself by sneezing. Well, the War of the Worlds 1988 series tells us that the aliens didn't actually die. They just went into a state of deep hibernation, or "suspended animation." Their bodies were tossed into biohazard drums and buried in various sites across the United States. The government, in a move that feels very X-Files before The X-Files existed, decided to tell everyone it was all just a mass hallucination or a minor event.
By 1988, nobody believes in aliens anymore. They’ve forgotten.
Then, a group of domestic terrorists—totally unrelated to the aliens—raids a government storage facility. During the shootout, toxic waste spills onto the drums. The radiation and chemicals act like a wake-up call for the "Mor-Tax" (the name eventually given to these aliens). They wake up. They’re pissed. And because they don't have their ships anymore, they start taking over human bodies.
It's a gruesome premise. Instead of giant machines, the horror was internal. The aliens would literally melt into a human host, leaving the person's skin looking like it was rotting off a week-old steak. It was gross. It was bold. It was peak 80s practical effects.
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Why the First Season Actually Worked
The first season had a very specific vibe. It was led by Dr. Harrison Blackwood, played by Jared Martin. He was an astrophysicist with a sensitive soul and a very bohemian lifestyle. He was joined by Dr. Suzanne McCullough (Lynda Mason Green), a microbiologist who brought the "science" to the "fiction," and Norton Drake (Philip Akin), a wheelchair-using computer genius. Then you had Ironhorse.
Col. Paul Ironhorse, played by Richard Chaves, was the breakout character. He was a rigid, by-the-book military man who constantly clashed with Blackwood’s pacifist leanings. The dynamic was great. It wasn't just about shooting aliens; it was about the philosophical divide between how we handle a threat we don't understand.
The aliens themselves were desperate. They were dying on our planet, struggling with our atmosphere and our germs, trying to find a way to make Earth habitable for the coming invasion fleet. They operated out of a desert base, using old tech and stolen human resources. There was this constant sense of dread. You never knew if the guy at the grocery store was actually an alien waiting to liquefy and jump into your skin.
The writing in Season 1, spearheaded by Greg Strangis, leaned heavily into the legacy of the 1953 film. They even brought back Ann Robinson to reprise her role as Sylvia Van Buren. Seeing her character deal with "alien-induced" paranoia in a hospital was a legit tether to cinema history that fans appreciated.
The Radical Shift of Season 2: Almost a Different Show
Then came the second season, subtitled The Second Invasion.
Everything changed.
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The production moved, the showrunners changed, and the tone did a complete 180. Frank Mancuso Jr., fresh off the Friday the 13th film franchise, took over. He hated the procedural "alien of the week" feel of the first season. He wanted something "cyberpunk." He wanted "bleak."
He killed off Ironhorse and Norton in the first episode. Just like that. Boom. Gone.
The show jumped forward in time. The world was now a "near-future" dystopia where the economy had collapsed and society was crumbling. This wasn't the 1988 we knew; it was a gritty, rain-slicked nightmare. The aliens changed, too. The "Mor-Tax" were replaced or evolved into the "Morthren." They didn't need to jump into human bodies anymore; they could clone them.
The replacement for Ironhorse was John Kincaid (Adrian Paul, before he became the Highlander). Kincaid was a street-smart mercenary. The show became less about science and more about survival. It was polarizing. A lot of fans hated the sudden shift, but looking back, Season 2 had some incredibly ambitious ideas about identity and the soul.
The Morthren were religious zealots. They worshipped "The Eternal" and had a strict caste system. It was a much more complex look at an alien culture than we usually got on TV at the time. But the lack of a proper conclusion still stings for some. The series was canceled before it could wrap up the massive war it was building toward.
The Legacy of War of the Worlds 1988
So, why does this show still matter? Why are we talking about a thirty-five-year-old syndicated series?
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First off, it paved the way for the "dark" sci-fi of the 90s. Without the bleakness of War of the Worlds 1988, you might not get the same tone in Dark Skies or even early X-Files. It pushed the boundaries of what was allowed on TV in terms of gore and psychological horror.
The practical effects, especially in Season 1, were genuinely impressive. The way the aliens' three-fingered hands would pulse under human skin was nightmare fuel for a whole generation of kids who stayed up too late. It used the concept of "the enemy within" long before it became a tired trope.
Also, it's a fascinating time capsule. It captures that transition period between the Cold War anxieties of the 80s and the technological paranoia of the 90s. It’s a show about losing faith in institutions. The government can’t save you; the military is outmatched; only a small group of outsiders knows the truth.
What You Should Do If You Want to Watch It
If you’re looking to dive back into this world, here is how you should approach it:
- Hunt for the DVD sets: They are out of print in many regions, but you can still find the "Complete Series" boxes on eBay or specialized media stores. Digital rights for the show are notoriously messy, so physical media is your best bet.
- Watch the 1953 Movie first: Seriously. The show loses half its weight if you haven't seen the film it’s sequelizing. Pay attention to the sound effects of the Martian heat rays; the show uses those same iconic chirps and hums.
- Prepare for the Season 2 whiplash: Treat the two seasons as almost separate entities. Season 1 is an 80s action-horror show. Season 2 is a 90s proto-cyberpunk drama. If you go in expecting more of the same, you’ll be disappointed.
- Check out the fan communities: There are still dedicated forums and Facebook groups where people track down the filming locations in Toronto (which stood in for various US cities).
The 1988 series remains a weird, jagged piece of sci-fi history. It wasn't perfect. It was often campy. But it had a gutsy willingness to take a classic property and do something completely unexpected with it. In an era of "safe" reboots, that's something worth respecting.
If you're a fan of the franchise, tracking down the pilot episode, "The Resurrection," is a must. It’s a masterclass in how to restart a dormant story. Just don't blame me if you start looking at green 55-gallon drums with a bit more suspicion afterward.