Likely Normal

The Alien franchise is essentially a 40-year-long cautionary tale about why humanity has no business exploring space. From the moment the crew of the Nostromo decided violating quarantine protocols to poke at suspicious alien eggs was a good idea, we’ve been treated to a masterclass in poor decision-making. The original 1979 film set the tone perfectly—a group of blue-collar space truckers ignore all common sense, bring a facehugger aboard their ship, and quickly learn that HR’s “mandatory crew bonding” policy doesn’t cover chestbursting incidents. By the time Sigourney Weaver’s Ripley is the last one standing, we’ve learned three universal truths: corporations are evil, androids can’t be trusted, and space is just waiting to kill you.

Aliens (1986) doubled down by introducing us to the Colonial Marines—a squad of heavily armed, deeply incompetent soldiers who somehow make the Nostromo crew look like geniuses. Between Hudson’s panicked meltdowns, Gorman’s useless leadership, and Burke’s corporate treachery, it’s a miracle Ripley had time to power-load a grenade launcher and fight a xenomorph queen in a forklift suit. The prequels (Prometheus and Covenant) then took this legacy of bad choices to new heights by featuring scientists who, upon discovering an alien planet, immediately rip off their helmets to sneeze on mysterious black ooze. Meanwhile, Michael Fassbender’s android David spends his free time composing flute solos and committing interstellar war crimes, because apparently synthetic life forms don’t get ethics updates.

Then there’s Alien 3, the franchise’s middle finger to optimism, where every character you loved from Aliens dies unceremoniously before Ripley belly-flops into a molten lead baptism. Resurrection somehow made things even weirder by introducing a clone Ripley with acid blood and a maternal soft spot for a grotesque xenomorph-human hybrid. And let’s not forget the Alien vs. Predator spinoffs, which answered the age-old question: What if we took two perfect horror monsters and turned their fight into a WWE match in an Antarctic pyramid?

Through it all, the Alien series has taught us invaluable lessons: never trust a company that prioritizes profit over your survival, never let an android name your child, and if you hear something skittering in the air ducts—for the love of God, stop investigating. At this point, the real horror isn’t the xenomorphs; it’s humanity’s stubborn refusal to learn from its mistakes. But hey, if we had learned, we wouldn’t have these gloriously tense, gory, and occasionally ridiculous films. So really, our stupidity is our greatest gift. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go scream at a fictional crew to stop opening the damn eggs.