Superhero stories are kind of weird when you think about them. Unlike most stories that have a beginning, middle, and end, superhero stories are built not to end. They start with an origin—maybe a radioactive spider bite or a planet exploding—but after that, it’s just an endless middle. And there’s a reason for that. Sure, these stories are meant to teach us lessons and entertain us, but they also exist to keep the lights on. If a superhero’s story ever really ended, so would the business around it. The way these stories are structured means people in entertainment get to keep their jobs, and we, the audience, get something to escape into when life is hard.
Marvel knows they can’t just wrap up Peter Parker’s story—it’s too iconic—but there’s only so many times you can retell or tweak the same origin story before people start losing interest. So instead, they’ve found a way to keep things feeling fresh by introducing new characters who share enough similarities with Peter (Miles Morales) to feel familiar but are different enough to hook a new generation of fans.
Spider-Man’s origin is timeless, so, of course, it keeps getting remade. He was the first superhero to really take kids seriously. He wasn’t some sidekick or 'Spider-Boy'—he was Spider-MAN. Stan Lee wanted people to take him seriously, which is exactly what every teenager wants. To be seen as someone capable and important. For a lot of kids, Spider-Man is their first introduction to superheroes because 1) he’s the most popular superhero, so he's everywhere, and 2) he’s the youngest. He’s the one kids can see themselves in. That’s why his story keeps getting retold—it’s for the next wave of kids who are just discovering comics for the first time. Stan Lee had this quote: 'Every comic is someone’s first comic.' Which is why I am a rabid origin-retelling fan. Yeah, it can be repetitive, and sure, older fans might groan about seeing Uncle Ben die again, but that just means those versions aren’t for you. They’re for the kid who’s about to become the next lifelong fan.
I know a lot of people say the MCU did a great job with Spider-Man by not retelling his origin story, but I don’t think they did. For me, his motivation in Captain America: Civil War was hard to connect with. When Peter says to Tony, "When you can do the things I can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen—they happen because of you," I got what he was saying, but it didn’t hit me emotionally.
There was nothing to tie that line back to, no moment or memory to make it stick. It felt... meh. We still don’t have a clear understanding of why MCU Peter does what he does. That line needs context, and I kept hoping that when Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man was announced, it would connect those dots, but it won't. And that’s a real letdown.
Spider-Man’s whole thing—the core of his character—is tied to a death, and the lesson about responsibility. Having Aunt May die in No Way Home, years after Peter’s already been Spider-Man, just confuses everything. Like, why did Peter even decide to become Spider-Man in the first place? What drove him to put on the suit? What bad things is he talking about? He was tearing up when he said that line, clearly something happened. Without that motivation known or context for it, his story feels disconnected and, honestly, kind of sloppy.
Spider-Man: Chapter One paved the way for Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man
I'm building to a point, but we need to talk about Spider-Man: Chapter One first. That comic was supposed to reboot Spider-Man's mainstream story and retcon the original comics by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko. But, as things often go in comics, that change was eventually rolled back, and the original timeline was restored. And Chapter One ended up becoming its own separate reality.
What made John Byrne’s Chapter One interesting, though, was that it was the first real-time Spider-Man’s origin story was “changed.” Comics have always had a sliding timeline, where things shift around, but this was the first time Marvel straight-up announced they were officially changing Spider-Man’s canon. It was a big deal at the time.
The late ’90s were a weird time for comics. Marvel was in a slump—sales were way down after the boom of the early ’90s, and the bubble had finally burst. Even Spider-Man, their bread-and-butter character wasn’t safe. His books just weren’t selling, and the stories weren’t connecting with readers the way they used to. They tried swapping Peter Parker out for Ben Reilly, and while I was here for it didn’t land for most fans. So the powers that be at Marvel decided it was time to hit the reset button and go “back to basics.” They brought in John Byrne, who had crushed it with Man of Steel in 1986. That comic basically reinvented Superman for a new generation, so Marvel thought maybe it could work for Spider-Man.
For the most part, Chapter One doesn’t mess with Spider-Man’s origin. Peter Parker is still a high school kid, bitten by a radioactive spider, and the usual stuff happens. But Byrne made this one little tweak that stuck with me: instead of Uncle Ben buying Peter a microscope, he buys him a computer. And honestly? That blew my mind a little. I’ve been reading comics for years—even way before 1998—and I can’t think of another time when someone deliberately updated a hero’s origin to fit the times like that.
Sure, you’d see modern touches here and there—like computers replacing typewriters at the Daily Planet or Gotham City’s streets having cars from the ’70s instead of the ’40s. But those were just background updates, nothing anyone drew attention to. This was different. Byrne was like, “Hey, this is not the origin you know anymore and we've shifted the timeline.” It was the first time, at least in my memory, that a creator said, let’s take this classic origin and actually make it modern. It might seem like a small thing, but to me this was huge.
This is something that’s always bugged me because it messes with my sense of how these characters and their worlds are supposed to work. Superheroes have been around since 1938, and we’ve kind of just accepted that most of them don’t really age—at least not in a way that lines up with reality. For example, if Lois Lane was born around 1910, she’d have been about 20 when she started at The Daily Planet in the 30's. By 1960, she should’ve been 50 or 60, but comics don’t work like that. Time just kind of... bends.
By the ’90s, Comic logic keeps her more like 40 in 1960 and somehow 50 in the 1990s, even though she'd be in her 80's. For adult characters, it kind of makes sense; time slows down as an adult so it doesn’t feel unnatural for their timeline to be skewed. But Spider-Man? He’s different. He was introduced as a teenager, and youth goes by fast. His life was tied to time in a way other superheroes’ lives weren’t. He graduated high school and went to college. His story felt rooted in very specific milestones people reach at certain ages—like we were growing up with him. By the 2000s, though, it got weird.
We’re still supposed to believe Peter Parker is in his early 20s and that it’s only been five years since he was bitten by a radioactive spider, despite having 40 years of adventures behind him. It’s a stretch. And look, I know this doesn’t actually matter in the grand scheme of things. People are out here dealing with real-world problems, and I’m sitting here obsessing over Spider-Man’s timeline. But these stories reflect bigger ideas about growth, change, and how we make sense of time (more on this later). From a writing perspective, though, things got tricky when the creators introduced such a thing as canon and continuity it both limited things as well as made things coherent and accessible.
One of the other things Chapter One did was tie Doctor Octopus's origin to Spider-Man's. The same radiation accident that fused Otto Octavius's arms also led to Peter Parker getting bitten by the radioactive spider. Plus, the burglar who kills Uncle Ben sees the computer that Uncle Ben bought for Peter and targets their house because of it. I thought that was a pretty interesting change. In the original version, it always felt a bit random that the burglar just chose the Parker household. There's also a moment where Spider-Man and the burglar meet, and the burglar suggests they team up, which really ticks Peter off. That moment drives home the whole lesson about responsibility and power in a way that feels more direct than before.
There are also some smaller changes in Chapter One that stood out. For example, Chameleon's motivations in his first appearance are tied to Dr. Doom’s later story. Mary Jane appears much earlier and figures out Peter’s secret identity way before she does in the original comics. The aliens from the Tinkerer story aren’t really aliens, just hired goons in costumes.
The Vulture wears a green tuxedo with wings, and Electro gets a blue suit instead of his usual green with the yellow bolts mask (probably done to make them seem more realistic, like how creators love to make things feel more realistic and less gaudy). Electro’s origin even gets tied to Norman Osborn, and Flint Marko, aka Sandman, turns out to be Osborn’s cousin (because, let's be real, anyone with that kind of hair must be related). Bryne also took the time to explain the blue spider insignia on Spider-Man’s back, originally, it was a printing error at the time, but he explains that it turned red because Peter ran out of blue dye for his costume.
Most people did not like these changes, and Marvel slowly reversed these ideas shuffling them under the rug like they never happened, and at some point saying Chapter One all happened in an alternate universe.
Speaking of alternate universes… Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. When Marvel first dropped the news about Spider-Man: Freshman Year, a lot of people thought it was going to be a "year one" or "chapter one" for the MCU’s Spider-Man — showing us what we didn’t get to see before he showed up in Captain America: Civil War. But now, it’s clear that’s not what this is. It’s just another retelling of Spidey’s early years in a non-canon, alternate universe timeline. I won’t lie, I’m a little bummed that it’s not the story I was hoping for. But I have to remind myself about my earlier words, that maybe this one isn’t for me. It’s for the new wave of late Gen Z and early Gen Alpha folks getting into superheroes. And you know what? I should be stoked about that because the more fans they have, the more stories that will keep getting made.
Lets bring this in for a landing
This brings me back to something I said earlier: "These stories reflect something bigger: how we embrace time, growth, and change in our lives."
When Joe Quesada reversed Peter Parker and Mary Jane’s marriage in 2007 to keep Peter stuck in an eternally young state to keep him relatable to younger audiences, it really hurt. I was in my late twenties at the time, and I was ready to move forward in life, ready to get married, but they wouldn’t let Peter do the same — Peter was someone I’d grown up with, and I wanted to continue to. It was like they were keeping him in a holding pattern, never letting him age or mature.
That’s one of the reasons Harry Potter resonated with so many people — not me, but people who grew up with Harry, they saw him go through the same life changes that they were experiencing. But when Peter's marriage was wiped out, it felt like a slap in the face. In some sort of cruel Mel Blanc / Daffy Duck / Duck Amuck fashion, his "parker-luck" extended beyond the fourth wall into real life, and he still couldn't catch a break. He was stuck in this never-ending adolescence, constantly being denied the chance to grow up. It’s kind of like Peter Pan syndrome, where the person stays emotionally stuck in childhood, avoiding responsibilities and commitments and always wanting to stay young and carefree. It’s a complex where you don’t grow, and you leave the hard decisions to others. And it’s not just about refusing to grow up — it can overlap with more unhealthy behaviors like narcissism.
We kind of let Peter’s flaws slide because, well, he’s a superhero. He has the power to save people, so we think it’s okay if he skips out on time with his aunt or doesn’t show up for his wife. But the problem with this constant push to keep him young is that it sends the message that you can avoid growing up and learning from your mistakes. The real issue with superhero stories, especially when they get stuck in the middle, is that we don’t get to see the full evolution of the character. These stories are meant to teach us something — to show us what we could and should do, and just as importantly, what we shouldn’t.
Your twenties aren’t the end of your story, and neither is getting married or having kids — those are just new chapters. I’m in the minority when it comes to Into the Spider-Verse (I didn’t love it), but I thought the way they handled Peter Parker was fantastic. Seeing him grow, with all his regrets and wisdom, was such a breath of fresh air. It really hit home that growth doesn’t mean losing yourself — in fact, it makes the journey more meaningful, and easier to relate to for those of us figuring things out as life keeps changing.
This disconnect really taps into a bigger cultural conversation about nostalgia and how hard it can be to let go of the past. We hang on to the old version of Spider-Man because, for a lot of people, he’s tied to a simpler time. But as we keep telling his story, it’s worth asking: Are we doing it to create something that resonates with his original purpose, or are we just too afraid to change something that’s become so ingrained in how we see the character to save a buck?
By keeping him stuck in the same place, the story kind of sends a message that it's okay to never fully take responsibility or deal with the challenges life throws at you. It’s a flaw we see in Peter’s life, and it mirrors a bigger issue in society, where we shy away from embracing adulthood and the responsibilities that come with it—especially in a world that celebrates staying young forever. I know many of us struggle with finding and obtaining a career, and in that way, Peter's struggles are relatable. However, he has been a photographer, a teacher, a scientist, and even the CEO of his own company(!), and he has developed an adhesive that could likely save more lives, giving that to science than he could punching a Goblin in the face.
How many times can we watch Peter move in with Randy Robertson, or not be able to hold down a relationship? It makes you wonder: What happens when a character meant to teach us about maturity and responsibility refuses to grow up? Peter’s refusal to age with the world almost undermines the very lessons he was supposed to be teaching us.
The whole point of Spider-Man, at least the way I see it, his credo is with great power comes great responsibility, and the execution of that moral gets muddied if Peter doesn’t grow up. His refusal to move past his 20s messes with the meaning of that responsibility. It’s like he never fully owns the consequences of his actions or inactions because he’s always stuck in that stage where growing up feels like an afterthought. He never has to deal with the real challenges of adulthood—things like marriage, career, and family—so he misses out on the deeper lessons that come with those parts of life.
This brings us back to the real point Spider-Man should be making: growth.
Superheroes aren’t just about powers and costumes—they’re a reflection of the world that created them. Their origins say just as much about them as their actual stories do.
Superman is the classic immigrant story. He’s an outsider from a lost world, trying to fit into a new one while never fully belonging. Batman is all about trauma and obsession—his entire life is shaped by the loss of his parents, and his villains each represent a different side of mental struggle. Wonder Woman was created to challenge the idea that superheroes had to be men, blending mythology with feminism and fighting for justice in a world that often underestimates her. Captain America started as a symbol of wartime patriotism, but over the years, he became more complicated, often questioning the very system he was meant to stand for.
And then there’s Spider-Man. Unlike the godlike heroes before him, Peter Parker was a teenager with real-world problems: school, work, romance, and money. His villains often mirror his struggles—Dr. Octopus is a reflection of Peter’s scientific potential gone wrong, the Vulture represents aging and desperation, and the Green Goblin embodies father-figure betrayals and unchecked ambition. Spider-Man's essence is about science, and what is science? At its core, science is about expanding our understanding of the world around us, discovering new things, refining old ideas, and continually improving our knowledge, in other words... growth.
When you look at Chapter One and Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man together, it highlights the bigger challenge Marvel faces in trying to keep the character fresh. Sure, it’s important to reach younger audiences, but there’s also a chance here to evolve Spider-Man in a way that resonates with everyone, especially the long-time fans who have grown up with him. If not, it’ll just feel like another rehash of what’s been done before, missing the chance to push the character into something more meaningful—something that represents real growth for future generations.
What I feel Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man could've really been was either an origin story for the MCU Spider-Man, a chance to explore Miles Morales's origin (something we haven't much of), or even introduce an entirely new character tied to the Spider-mythos. There’s nothing wrong with revisiting the basics and doing another origin story for Peter like Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man or Chapter One, especially when you think about it from a business standpoint. But emotionally? It’s a hard sell. Fans like me want something that feels fresh and meaningful, not just a retread of what we've seen before. But like I said before, maybe this story isn't for me, and maybe my growth is in understanding, which is okay.