The Rise and Undeath of “What Was That?” Paranormal TV Shows

The Rise and Undeath of “What Was That?” Paranormal TV Shows
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It was 20 years ago this month that SyFy–then called the Sci-Fi Channel–aired the first episode of a series that would go on to become both a television institution and the archetype around which an entire genre would be built. No, it’s not some great scripted sci-fi series you’ve almost entirely forgotten, like Farscape. Rather, we’re talking about the flash-in-the-pan sensation that was the first season of Ghost Hunters, progenitor of dozens of paranormal investigation TV shows that would follow in its wake, a genre I’ve come to think of as “What was that?!?” television. For two decades, and with morphing targets that have included everything from ghosts to bigfoot, UFOs to ancient buried treasure, these shows have somehow made an enduringly profitable, endlessly recycled model based around the premise of “searching for something, and then never finding it.”

Granted, Ghost Hunters was by no means the first notable bit of paranormal TV programming. Shows like the Leonard Nimoy-hosted In Search of… had explored the same topics decades earlier with higher production values and at least an attempt at documentary style presentation of information from multiple sources. MTV’s 2000 premiere of the reality show Fear is a more likely culprit for directly contributing to the genre that would follow, casting aside any attempt at presenting boring old facts and instead just strapping some cameras on random yahoos in a dark, supposedly haunted place before letting them run wild. But it was Ghost Hunters that fused the reality-style presentation with a sheen of pseudoscientific rigor, the “investigation” angle, while simultaneously introducing a permanent cast of researchers who would become recognizable characters just as much as the leads of a scripted series. They stumbled onto a format that contained exactly the right blend of plausibility, personality and entertainment for the median American TV viewer with some kernel of interest in the paranormal.

Nor are we talking about these types of shows in the past tense, as they have remained effectively bulletproof, leaping from network to network, reboot to reboot over the years. Ghost Hunters has had 279 episodes to date, across 16 seasons and four networks, and finished its latest season in 2023. You want to watch it right now? There’s a 24/7 Pluto TV network running at all hours, just like there are channels playing endless reruns of The Price is Right. Its spiritual successor/dark mirror image Ghost Adventures (hosted by the endlessly punchable Zak Bagans) has been even more prolific, with more than 300 episodes across 26 seasons and two networks, including a season in 2024. Those two have always been the powerhouse franchises of this weird little niche, but there have been plenty of others along the way, from direct competitors such as A&E’s Paranormal State to the numerous spinoffs like Ghost Hunters Academy, UFO Hunters or Kindred Spirits. There’s always more room for another show dedicated to the timeless art of not finding any ghosts.

And that really is the common thread that ties all the shows of this genre together: The part where they don’t find any ghosts. Because if they did ever complete such an impossible task … well, where would there be to go from there? Actually finding the object being searched for would both introduce more competition and effectively put these guys out of a job, which necessitates a tone suggesting that the big, promised discovery is always, tantalizingly just over the next horizon. It’s about the thrill of searching, rather than the letdown of actual discovery. Coupled with the fact that viewers get to know the crews of such shows over the course of multiple seasons, it encourages a phenomenon where a show like Ghost Hunters or Ghost Adventures slowly drifts from its own stated purpose or the task at hand, revolving more around the personalities of the team, their petty squabbles or power plays, or the fallout when one person chooses to leave (or is kicked out) after years of episodes. Forums and fandoms for these shows become divided into bitter camps, each supporting various members in their squabbles, while the ghosts and ghouls remain presumably just out of sight. South Park parodied this shit in 2009, and they’re still doing it in exactly the same way, unchanged, 15 years later.

This kind of “endless mystery” format has proven extremely adaptable beyond just searching for ghosts, theoretically being applicable to subjects as concrete as looking for a 600 lb sasquatch, to something as esoteric as searching for evidence of an ancient (fictional) civilization. All that matters is the continuous teasing that major payoffs will eventually come. Beyond that, you just need a liberal dose of “What was that?!?” shooting in the dark to get from episode to episode, the “stumbling around and saying ‘did you hear that?'” portion of any given episode serving as connective tissue. It served the likes of Animal Planet’s Finding Bigfoot well for an insane 100 episodes and 9 seasons, during which time that intrepid crew very nearly managed to find zero bigfeet. And hell, look at History’s truly diabolical The Curse of Oak Island, which for more than a decade (11 seasons, 205 episodes) has centered around digging holes on a small island off the coast of Nova Scotia in search of buried treasure, which to date has yielded a few discarded coins and small pieces of metal and wood. There’s a community that has watched hundreds of episodes of this and is still clamoring for more scrounging in the dirt. It’s like a workshop on the sunk cost fallacy in action: They’re not about to quit watching when season 12 of the series is obviously about to stumble on the treasure mother lode. It’s so close!

The two decade run of this style of programming has made a lasting impression on both pop culture and the television landscape, contributing in particularly dramatic fashion to the phenomenon known as channel drift/network decay at various cable networks once known for at least some level of commitment toward airing genuinely educational or scientifically valid material. The Discovery Channel made its first forays into this kind of pseudoscience programming in the mid-2000s via A Haunting, and within a few years was airing entire fake cryptid documentaries like 2011’s Mermaids: The Body Found, which as the name suggests was claiming to have found literal mermaid corpses. The History Channel followed suit, airing 260 episodes of Ancient Aliens to date, and various other paranormal fodder, including a documentary claiming to have captured bigfoot in 2015. Travel Channel took up Ghost Adventures and Zak Bagans claiming to be possessed by demons in every other episode. Animal Planet decided that “fictional animals” were just as valid as subjects for programming as actual, living animals, while also airing shows about ghost dogs and cats. Is it any wonder that this period coincided with the cratering media literacy of an entire generation of American TV viewers?


No one harasses a ghost quite like Zak Bagans.

Simultaneously, it should not be lost how radically these shows transformed popular perception of the very idea of “paranormal investigation,” for good or ill. Prior to Ghost Hunters, who had heard of recording “EVP sessions” (electronic voice phenomenon) in potentially haunted locations, conveniently using the scratchiest possible-sounding $10 digital recorders that provide just enough background static to divine supposed dialog that is beyond the human auditory range? Who would have believed that an audience would accept any audio you captured this way, if you splashed the interpreted words on screen and replayed it a couple of times? Who had heard of any of the other suite of commonly referenced ghost-hunting tools, like EMF meters, or the hilariously vague “spirit box,” a device that scans through radio signals and spits out random words, supposedly divining the will of nearby ghosts?

This normalization of what would have been described as quack science prior to 2004 has helped to build paranormal investigation into its own cottage industry in the YouTube era, one with an exceedingly low barrier of entry–you just need a few phones or cameras and audio recorders, a dark room, and you’re good to go. Take a gander through the associated Amazon pages in order to marvel at the hucksters who have realized they can take advantage of this segment, like the digital recorders specifically marketed for ghost hunting purposes, which claim to be “excellent for interacting with ghosts and spirits when asking questions on a hunt.” Or, if you’ve got more coin to drop and want to get serious about your paranormal work, perhaps you’d like to spring for a grid-pattern laser projector, which can reveal “anomalies” in the room, mapping them out in three dimensions. Just think, you could be the first person to collect complete topographical information on a ghost!

One thing is for certain: For the guys who were lucky enough to get in early with the televised paranormal investigation phenomenon, this has been the grift that keeps on giving. Jason Hawes, one of the two original hosts and on-screen personalities of Ghost Hunters, is still uploading 2-hour long YouTube haunted house investigations on his own time, presumably waiting for the Travel Channel to order another season, even as he engages in a legal battle with the paranoid owner of the house from The Conjuring, who rather amusingly claims he’s been trying to assassinate her. Zak Bagans is still out there trying to bully ghosts into revealing themselves by insulting and demeaning them, when he’s not claiming to have demons running through him. An entire generation of acolytes have followed in their footsteps, from the earnestly serious nerds who actually believe they might touch another plane of existence, to … Demi Lovato, singing to the ghosts of “star people.” These shows intrigued viewers of the mid-2000s with the hook of hinting at life after death, but it’s the immortality of the genre itself that has transcended any deserved lifespan.


Jim Vorel is Paste’s Movies editor and resident genre geek. You can follow him on Twitter for more film writing.

 
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