Beneath the glitter of Salem’s holiday lights, a chorus of dissent rises from fans and critics alike as they recount the year’s most mortifying storylines. The year 2025 on Days of Our Lives isn’t remembered for its dazzling twists alone; it’s haunted by misfires, questionable choices, and narratives that left long-time viewers sighing in exasperation. The host, Belinda from Soap Dirt, leads the charge, guiding listeners through a catalog of plots that felt more like missteps than magic, more “should-have-been-more” than “would-be-epic.”

First up on the chopping block: Stephanie Johnson’s smutty book. The idea of a spicy, romance-fueled plot around a woman crafting a steamy bestseller isn’t inherently breaking bad—romance and temptation have long lived within daytime drama’s DNA. Yet the execution proved to be a slippery slope. The centerpiece isn’t the allure of erotica itself, but the implausible machinery that wrapped the enterprise around a skyrocketing billion-dollar empire. Stephanie’s “One Stormy Night” becomes a wildfire that inexplicably propels Titan’s fortunes, only to pivot wildly as Stephanie is unmasked as Anastasia Sands, flipping genres to a mystery that fans hadn’t bargained for. The meta moment of watching Stephanie’s parents, Steve and Kayla, read the salacious pages aloud—arguably a cringe-inducing tableau—lends a layer of discomfort that fans described as icky and misjudged. The plot feels less like a bold risk and more like a misjudged swing at relevance in a sea of easily accessible smutty fare online. The verdict, according to devoted viewers, is a hard-won lesson in how big business in a soap—already teetering on a knife-edge—should not hinge on a single, sensational romance novel.

Second on the list is Abe Carver mentoring his son Theo’s high school bully, Liam Sele. What began as a governor’s ally for rehabilitation—the idea of Abe guiding a wayward youth through literacy and reform—quickly spiraled into a muddled miscalculation. Theo’s pain about his father willingly tutoring the very boy who tormented him is palpable; Abe’s intent to heal seems noble, but the collateral wounds cut deep. The plot’s execution feels murky, with a hurried provision of a single tutoring session before Liam slips back into trouble, almost as if the writers were chasing a public service PSA rather than crafting a coherent, emotional arc. The relationship strains tighten around Theo, with Abe’s choices appearing not as protective but as a betrayal in the eyes of the audience. It’s a storyline that leaves a sour taste, suggesting that the path to redemption is unclear and that the payoff for such a narrative is muddled at best.

Third in the lineup are Marina’s bewildering “weird moments.” The return of the Queen of the Night mythology—the enigmatic, mind-bending thread seeded by Stephano’s dark past—promises a mythic grandeur but delivers a fog of red flags. A revival of dream motifs and ominous hints dragging in Stephano’s shadow looms large, only to be punctured by continuity wrinkles and a quiet, disquieting whimper of payoff. The unsettling sense that Marina is teetering on the edge of a demonic or mind-controlled fate never fully materializes into a satisfying arc. Lyme disease diagnosis, introduced as a jolting pivot, lands like a plot device rather than a believably earned turn. The result is a sprawling, unresolved tension that fans feel was built up for spectacle and then left to drown in delay, especially given the show’s months-ahead production schedule. The net effect is a sense of wasted potential: a mythology that could have deepened Salem’s lore instead meanders, dragging momentum to a crawl.

Fourth, the dreaded “Stephano 2.0” becomes a lightning rod for frustration. Hints about a resurrected Stephano—memories, revived venom, a possible revival of his legacy—are teased with escalating intensity across the summer months. Marlena’s Queen of the Night visions, the Arabian Nights imagery, and whispered notes about the Phoenix all fan the flames of anticipation. Yet just as the blaze climbs, the storyline abruptly veers off course, replacing a beloved villain with a new, unclear iteration. The disappointment isn’t merely in a missed opportunity; it’s in the sense that the narrative refused to commit to a singular, satisfying antagonist. Was it a deliberate pivot by new writers? Was it a casualty of showrunners’ planning and production schedules? The chorus of viewers hears only a hollow promise: potential abandoned, leaving behind a ghost of Stephano that never truly materialized into a coherent, gripping arc.

Rounding out the season’s most lamentable plots is the controversial fate of Bow and Hope, culminating in the death of John Black. Here, the show faced a cruelly tragic set of circumstances: the actor’s real-life illness and passing forced a difficult creative decision. The storyline, however, felt like a double-edged sword. On one edge, there’s the inevitable, heartbreaking farewell to a beloved character; on the other, a sense of squandered opportunity for a meaningful reunion or a more impactful narrative arc with Bow and Hope. The sequence that leads to John Black’s demise—an explosion in a drug-lab, a hospital-quiet return, Bo’s slow arc toward fate—becomes a bittersweet confection. The romance that had once offered a beacon of hope after a long separation is instead braided with tragedy that feels more manufactured to serve the larger, darker current of recent years. The public reaction is mixed: some viewers crave closure, others lament the sense of wasted time and the feeling that the reunion was fashioned primarily to justify a tragedy rather than to celebrate enduring love.

The host’s verdict is clear: 2025 offered moments of spectacle that dazzled on the surface, but beneath the glitter lay missteps that roiled fans. Writers and producers, the monologue suggests, are navigating a delicate balance between risk and coherence, between pushing boundaries and honoring long-held character loyalties. The year’s most contentious moments—Stephanie’s provocative book, Abe and Theo’s complex moral tangle, Marina’s precarious flirtation with darkness, the ambiguous resurrection of Stephano, and the emotionally heavy exit of John Black—coalesce into a mosaic that fans debated long after the credits rolled.

If you’re seeking a candid, rousing distillation of Days of Our Lives’ most questionable choices of 2025, this rundown delivers. It’s a reminder that soap opera magic thrives on high-stakes drama, but it also demands careful, purposeful storytelling that respects the history of its characters while delivering fresh, coherent surprises. As 2025 closes, viewers hold their breath for 2026, hoping the next chapters honor the past while forging new, compelling paths forward for Salem’s beloved denizens. Until then, stay tuned for the next chapter—because in Salem, every misstep sparks a conversation, and every revival promises a chance to reclaim the magic that hooked us in the first place.