Picture this: it’s 2017. You’ve just finished binging the latest season of Stranger Things (or maybe you’re still trying to get your parents to understand what a “binge” even is). The mullet-sporting teens and demogorgons feel like a relic of the past, a glorious, neon-soaked memory. But what if, instead of the cozy 80s, our beloved Hawkins crew had to navigate the bewildering world of… 2017? Buckle up, buttercups, because it’s a thought experiment that’s as wild as Dustin’s curly hair and as mind-bending as the Upside Down itself.
First off, the communication. Forget those crackly walkie-talkies. Eleven would have her iPhone 7 (no Face ID yet, bless her heart) and would be mastering the art of autocorrect fails. Imagine her trying to text Mike about a monster sighting: "Mike, the dergog is here. Send help. Also, what’s a ‘Netflix and chill’?" Her understanding of modern slang would be about as clear as a murky bog. Lucas, ever the practical one, would probably be glued to his Snapchat, filtering every Upside Down invasion with dog ears and a questionable amount of glitter. His streaks would be legendary, even if the content was terrifying.
And the research! No more flipping through dusty encyclopedias for clues about interdimensional portals. These kids would be on Reddit, searching obscure subreddits for #UpsideDownTheories and #HawkinsMysteries. They’d be arguing with anonymous usernames about whether Vecna is actually Barb’s long-lost cousin. Google searches would be like: "Can a portal to another dimension be opened with a strong Wi-Fi signal?" or "Signs your basement is a gateway to hell, #askingforafriend." They'd probably get way too much information about conspiracy theories involving lizard people and chemtrails before stumbling upon anything useful.
Nancy Wheeler, the queen of investigative journalism in the 80s, would be running a full-blown true crime podcast. Forget the local paper; she’d have sponsorships from Blue Apron and Casper mattresses. Her episodes would be titled something like, "The Demogorgon Diaries: Unmasking the Monster Next Door" or "Where's Barb? A 2017 Investigation into the Supernatural." She’d be interviewing terrified locals via Zoom, her background a perfectly curated shelf of true crime books and artisanal candles. Jonathan would be her cameraman, exclusively using his DSLR and probably wearing a vintage band t-shirt to every single interview, looking perpetually unimpressed.
Steve Harrington, our beloved babydoll-haired hero, would be struggling to adapt. The days of flipping burgers at the mall and cruising in his Camaro would be gone. In 2017, Steve would be trying desperately to be an influencer. He’d be posting gym selfies with captions like, "Crushing my workout. Feeling the burn. #ScoopsAhoyStrong." He’d be attempting TikTok dances, failing miserably, and then making a series of self-deprecating Instagram Stories about how uncoordinated he is. His hair, though, would still be magnificent. He’d probably have a sponsorship deal with a hair gel brand that promises "demogorgon-proof hold."
Joyce Byers, still the fiercest mom in town, would be a master of online activism. Those Christmas lights? They’d be replaced by a GoFundMe page. She’d be relentlessly sharing news articles and pleas for help on Facebook, her profile picture a determined selfie with Will. She’d be organizing online petitions and spamming local news outlets with impassioned emails. Her ability to connect with people online, even if it meant accidentally liking every embarrassing post her ex-boyfriend ever made, would be her superpower. She'd also probably have a secret Pinterest board titled "How to Fight Interdimensional Creatures on a Budget."
The kids’ gaming habits would also take a serious detour. Dungeons & Dragons would still be a thing, but it would be played online, with avatars that looked suspiciously like they belonged in an MMORPG. The entire party would be coordinating raids on the Upside Down through Discord servers, their headsets probably a bit too tight. Their in-game chat would be a chaotic mix of strategic commands and childish insults. "Dude, use your spell, I’m getting my butt kicked by a Demodog!" Max, being the cool newcomer, would probably be a pro at Fortnite and introduce them to the concept of "flossing."
Will Byers, bless his sensitive soul, would be dealing with a whole new level of anxiety. The Upside Down would manifest in his online life. He’d be getting creepy messages from unknown accounts, seeing disturbing images in his feed, and generally feeling like the internet was watching him. He'd probably develop a severe case of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) from everyone else's seemingly perfect lives online, while he's secretly battling interdimensional nightmares. He'd probably spend hours on TikTok, watching short, unsettling videos that just reinforce his paranoia.
The science nerds, Dustin and Mike, would be geeking out over artificial intelligence and the potential for AI to bridge dimensional gaps. They’d be trying to code their way into the Upside Down, their laptops perpetually covered in pizza grease. They’d be arguing about algorithms and neural networks, trying to explain complex scientific concepts to the rest of the group using hilariously inappropriate analogies. "So, the Upside Down is basically like a really, really bad server crash for reality, you know?" Dustin would exclaim, adjusting his glasses.
Even the music would be different. While the 80s soundtrack is iconic, 2017 would bring a whole new sonic landscape. Imagine the kids listening to edgy indie pop or the latest chart-topping hits while trying to decipher cryptic messages from the Upside Down. They might even try to use music to communicate with the creatures, like a bizarre, interdimensional Spotify playlist. Perhaps a particularly haunting folk song would be the key to opening a portal, or a catchy pop tune would lull a monster into a false sense of security. They'd definitely be debating whether to use Spotify or Apple Music for their doom playlists.
And let’s not forget the fashion. The iconic 80s fashion would be replaced by a more eclectic 2017 vibe. Think ripped jeans, oversized hoodies, and maybe some questionable athleisure wear. Eleven, having escaped the Upside Down, would probably go through a very distinct phase of trying to dress like a normal teenager, which would inevitably involve a lot of awkward fashion choices and a deep dive into Pinterest for "outfit inspo." She’d probably try to embrace the avocado toast trend with the same intensity she fought Demogorgons.
The horror itself would evolve. Instead of jump scares and creepy crawlies, the Upside Down in 2017 might manifest as a more psychological horror. Think deepfakes of the kids’ worst fears, targeted advertising that plays on their deepest insecurities, and online trolls who seem to know their every move. The monsters might not be physical beings anymore, but rather the insidious nature of the internet itself, preying on their vulnerabilities. The concept of a “shadow self” would take on a terrifyingly literal meaning in the digital realm.
Hopper, our gruff but loveable chief of police, would be completely out of his depth. He’d be trying to understand the internet, probably with the help of a very patient Joyce. He’d be scrolling through Facebook with a confused frown, trying to figure out what a "meme" is. He'd probably have a flip phone, stubbornly refusing to upgrade, much to his subordinates' exasperation. He’d be more likely to solve crimes by staking out dodgy internet cafes than by kicking down doors. He might even start attending "Tech for Boomers" classes at the community center, muttering about how things were simpler in his day.
The entire concept of a secret government organization would also be different. Instead of clandestine labs hidden in the woods, we’d be dealing with hackers and data breaches. The people in charge of controlling the Upside Down would be shadowy figures operating from anonymous servers, using sophisticated algorithms to manipulate events. The stakes would be higher, with the potential for global chaos hinging on a few lines of code rather than a flick of a switch. They’d probably be trying to shut down the internet, which would be a whole other level of disaster.
Ultimately, if Stranger Things took place in 2017, it would be a hilarious and terrifying mashup of nostalgia and modern-day anxieties. It would be a world where the supernatural collides with the absurdities of the digital age, where friendships are forged through online gaming, and where the biggest monster might just be a really convincing phishing scam. The kids would still be our heroes, but their battlegrounds would be different, their weapons more advanced, and their understanding of the world… well, it would be a lot more complicated. And honestly? I’d probably be one of the first in line to watch it, probably while scrolling through Twitter and muttering, "Yep, that sounds about right."
