We’re in an age of sequels, prequels, and networks and streamers wanting to capitalize on IP.
And there’s nothing inherently wrong with that. But what do the kids say? It gets to a point…
Because as Outer Banks closes the curtains on a successful five-year run, there’s a potential prequel on the horizon, and while timely, it doesn’t feel necessary.


Outer Banks captured lightning in a bottle for a young adult series by combining many of the things viewers have long wanted and that have been absent from onscreen.
The series gave us a cast of virtual unknowns and let them have a meteoric ascent into stardom, which is a critical part of producing great series these days and harkens back to the nostalgic run of shows in the past.
Heated Rivalry, The Pitt, Off Campus, and others have also had great success in doing that: creating stars rather than procuring the same familiar faces whose roles start blending together.
Outer Banks also took on an exciting prospect reminiscent of some of the great young adult series from the 90s and early 00s by tackling topics like the class divide and what happens when the working class and the elite have to share a small island as tensions rise.


The series also gave us the genre appeal that’s been lacking, not just for YA content, but across the board, delivering a series filled to the brim with action and treasure hunting that sends ordinary teens jetting around the world.
But the major factor? Outer Banks came at a time when we were locked in our houses during a pandemic, and it provided the type of sun-soaked escapism, nostalgia, and adventure that crossed demographics.
While Outer Banks hasn’t been able to maintain that momentum in terms of story quality, the series is still a massive global success, sparking its own concert events, watch parties, and so forth.
It’s carved out its place in the pantheon of Netflix series with identity, purpose, and stature.
So, it’s not surprising that Netflix wants to capitalize on its success with a new venture (even though the Prime Video series within the same universe, The Runarounds, well, sucked).


But the Outer Banks prequel just promises what feels like more of the same, minus some of the things that hooked people in the first place.
The prequel would explore the deep social and class divide on the island between the Kooks and the Pogues, where it originated, and the rift that sparked the environment John B and the gang spent five seasons navigating.
“It really is the story of how the island split — and it’s particularly relevant in our country right now — how it split into the haves and have-nots, how the Kooks and the Pogues started. How did this rift start?” is how creator Josh Pate explains the project that they’re hard at work on.
And co-creator Shannon Burke also stated that the series will be “seen through the stories of some of the characters you know and some new characters. But they’re 20 years before, so it’s the parents’ generation.”
While I’d love to believe that the divide between these social classes ran much deeper and predated our beloved Pogues’ parents, I also understand how 20 years ago may be more entertaining and sexier than, say, anything beyond that.


However, it also makes me wonder whether this story even needs to be told at this point. Beyond using this opportunity to explore the origin stories of characters like Ward Cameron, Big John, and Luke Maybank, what exactly is the angle here?
The timeline doesn’t even put the parents in their teens, which misses a chance to draw parallels between characters like Kiara, someone who is technically a Kook, who chose the Pogue life, and her mother, Anna, who also fell in love with a troubled Pogue.
Unless they intend to push it back a bit further beyond the 20-year mark, which admittedly may not be a hard line, these characters are around the time they became young parents, not when they were still figuring out their own identities and the shifting social class rankings of Kildare were truly taking hold.
And that’s an issue. The prequel feels more like an attempt to tell the story they often forgot to focus on during the actual series.


I’m on record saying that one of the shortcomings of Outer Banks Season 4 was that it squandered the perfect opportunity to explore the social divide compellingly, now that the teens were old enough for it to go beyond mere rivalries and have real-life, long-lasting impact.
It feels like this prequel concept is a response to such criticisms, maybe even an answer to those craving those nuanced stories, of which I have been a part.
But perhaps the issue is that it was a story that warranted exploration in the present day, not one that requires us to dip into the past to examine characters we barely know or entirely new ones.
This storytelling vehicle also has some redundancy. We knew Ward was someone from The Cut who ascended, became a Kook villain, and then redeemed himself in the end by sacrificing his life to save his daughter.
We’ve already seen enough flashbacks to shape that tale and understand that his upbringing drove him to social climbing. Similarly, we saw the Maybank/Groff story unfold as part of JJ’s story in Outer Banks Season 4.


So what exactly are we learning that we don’t already know?
Prequels are tricky to balance. They require real purpose and intentional storytelling, plus an angle that lets us know this is a story that needs to be told.
It’s why NCIS: Origins struck absolute gold as a prequel, emerging as what is, inarguably, one of the best series I’ve ever watched on primetime in the past ten years. Yes, I love that show that much.
But it’s also why other attempts at prequels can feel more gimmicky and extraneous than anything else. The now-abandoned Virgin River prequel, intended to explore the love story of Mel’s parents, for example.
The question that one constantly circles back to is: is this a story that needs telling?
For Virgin River, it was firmly a “no.”


With Outer Banks? I’m leaning toward that, too, even as I acknowledge that the premise could have some roots.
It’s undeniably timely. We’re in an age when the socioeconomic class divide couldn’t be more vast, and those are stories that feel brutally familiar.
I don’t doubt that it may still feel prescient in the couple of years it could potentially take to get this prequel off the ground, filmed, and on our screens.
But there’s also a structural disconnect. If the intention is to capitalize on the success of Outer Banks and do some world-building, a prequel at this juncture misses the mark.
For what it intends to do, the window for it would’ve been running concurrently with Outer Banks, potentially being a series that aired between seasons, adding that extra bit of lore that padded the primary story with background.


That’s when this story could have enhanced Outer Banks rather than attempting to recreate it after the fact. And that’s where the timing becomes frustrating.
Outer Banks wasn’t solely about exploring themes of socioeconomic disparity; it was pure escapism and adventure, with a sense of hope.
What made it so unique was the friendships, action, romance, and more that went beyond just the Kook/Pogue divide. There’s so much more to the hook of the original show.
A prequel doesn’t promise the same things, and that’s a reason for concern.
So, I circle back to the primary question: will a prequel give us a story that needs to be told? I’m not so sure.


I don’t doubt there are more stories to explore about Kildare, and perhaps the powers-that-be will land on an angle that makes me take back everything I’m saying. I totally welcome that, truly, as a fan of this universe.
But at this point, the prequel feels less like the next great chapter of Outer Banks and more like an opportunistic, albeit thin attempt to find another chapter after the story has already ended.
And I’d rather see the franchise give us something we didn’t know we needed than go backward to tell us something we already feel like we know.
But I’d love your take, Outer Banks Fanatics!
You can stream the final season of Outer Banks on Netflix.













