Two families lined up across a bright, spinning-topped set, a host reading a survey question, and everybody at home shouting a guess at the screen a half-second before the buzzer. “We surveyed 100 people…” In the 80s, Family Feud took the simplest premise imaginable — guess what other people said — and turned it into daytime gold.

Family Feud pits two families against each other to guess the most popular answers to survey questions posed to 100 people. In the 80s it was defined by host Richard Dawson, whose showmanship — and famous habit of kissing contestants — made him a daytime star, before a hit 1988 revival brought on host Ray Combs. It was one of the most quotable game shows of the decade.

“Survey says!” and the perfect format

The beauty of Family Feud is that anyone can play it. There’s no trivia to know — just a feel for what regular people would say. Name a reason you’d call in sick. Name something you find in a purse. Contestants guessed, the board revealed the survey’s top answers with that satisfying ding, and the host’s “Survey says!” turned every reveal into a little drama. Two wrong answers from a stealing family and the round flipped. It was social intuition as a game, and families at home played right along, arguing over every answer.

Richard Dawson, the kissing host

For most of the 80s, Family Feud was Richard Dawson’s show. The British-born host — already famous from Hogan’s Heroes — brought a lounge-singer charm, a quick wit, and one very memorable habit: he kissed nearly every female contestant, often on the lips, as a good-luck greeting. It was his trademark, controversial even then, and utterly inseparable from his era of the show. His warmth with contestants and his command of the studio made him one of the definitive game show hosts of the decade.

Remember when a contestant would blurt out a wild, obviously-wrong answer, the host would repeat it deadpan to the studio, and everyone held their breath waiting for the board — before that big red X and the buzzer dropped and the whole family groaned? Those gloriously bad answers were half the reason to watch.

The reboot and Ray Combs

Dawson’s original run ended in 1985, but the format was too good to stay gone. In 1988, Family Feud came roaring back with a new host, Ray Combs, whose energetic, comedic style won over a fresh audience and kept the show a fixture into the 90s. (Dawson would even return briefly.) The late-80s revival proved the Feud engine could outlive any single host — a lesson the show has demonstrated many times since.

Why Family Feud still surveys

Family Feud turned out to be one of the most resilient formats in television, revived again and again with new hosts for new generations. But the 80s gave it its identity: the survey board, the two-family showdown, “Survey says!”, and Richard Dawson’s charm (and kisses). Every version since is playing the game those years perfected.

FAQ

How does Family Feud work?
Two families compete to guess the most popular answers to questions asked of a 100-person survey, racking up points and stealing rounds from each other.

Who hosted Family Feud in the 80s?
Richard Dawson hosted through 1985, and the show was revived in 1988 with host Ray Combs.

Why was Richard Dawson famous on the show?
For his charm and quick wit — and for his trademark habit of kissing female contestants as a greeting, which became inseparable from his era.

What’s the show’s catchphrase?
“Survey says!” — the host’s cue as the board revealed whether a guess made the survey’s top answers.

When was Family Feud revived?
In 1988, with Ray Combs as host, after Dawson’s original run ended in 1985.

Do you need trivia knowledge to play?
No — the game rewards guessing what ordinary people would say, not knowing facts, which is a big part of its wide appeal.

Family Feud was one of the most quotable great 80s game shows — see the whole lineup there, or come on down to The Price Is Right next.

A furry, wise-cracking alien with a snout and an appetite for house cats crash-lands his spaceship into a suburban family’s garage — and then just… moves in. ALF was one of the strangest premises ever to become a mainstream hit, and for a few years in the late 80s that sarcastic little puppet was absolutely everywhere.

ALF premiered on NBC on September 22, 1986, and ran for four seasons until 1990. It followed the Tanner family, an ordinary suburban household hiding an alien — Gordon Shumway, nicknamed ALF for “Alien Life Form” — after he crashes into their garage. Created by Paul Fusco and Tom Patchett, it became a merchandising juggernaut and one of the decade’s most recognizable characters.

An alien from Melmac with an attitude

ALF wasn’t a cuddly E.T. He was a middle-aged, cynical smart aleck from the destroyed planet Melmac, forever cracking jokes at the family’s expense, causing chaos, and eyeing their cat Lucky as a snack — because on Melmac, cats were a delicacy. That mix of adorable puppet and sarcastic, slightly menacing personality is exactly what made him funny. He was a houseguest who would never, ever leave, and never stop insulting the drapes.

A puppet that took over a studio

Behind the scenes, ALF was a genuine production headache — an elaborate puppet operated largely by creator Paul Fusco from beneath the set, with much of the furniture built on raised platforms to hide the puppeteers. Scenes took forever to shoot. But the payoff was a character so alive that audiences completely bought him as a member of the family. Fusco performed and voiced ALF himself, and that single-minded creative control is a big part of why the character had such a specific, consistent personality.

Remember when ALF would sneak into the kitchen at night, corner the family cat Lucky, and the whole running joke was whether he’d finally eat him — while the Tanners kept catching him mid-stalk? That cat-hunting gag ran the entire series and somehow never crossed the line from funny to disturbing.

Merchandise mania

For a stretch, ALF’s face was on everything: plush dolls, lunchboxes, T-shirts, a Saturday-morning cartoon, comic books, records, and a legendary run of appearances where the puppet “hosted” and ad-libbed at other celebrities. He guest-“interviewed,” crashed talk shows, and became a marketing machine. The character arguably got bigger than the show itself — which is why so many people who never watched a full episode can still picture him instantly.

Why ALF still lands

ALF is pure 80s in a way few things are — a bizarre high-concept idea, executed with total commitment, wrapped around a wise-guy character built for the merchandise aisle. He’s been revived, rebooted, and endlessly memed. That furry face from Melmac, forever plotting against the family cat, is baked into the decade’s pop-culture DNA.

FAQ

When did ALF air?
It premiered September 22, 1986, on NBC and ran for four seasons, ending in 1990.

What does ALF stand for?
“Alien Life Form” — the nickname the Tanners give their houseguest, whose real name is Gordon Shumway.

Where is ALF from?
The planet Melmac, which was destroyed, leaving him stranded on Earth.

Why does ALF want to eat the cat?
On his home planet Melmac, cats were considered food — so the family cat, Lucky, is a constant temptation and a running gag.

Who created and voiced ALF?
Paul Fusco co-created the show and performed and voiced ALF himself, operating the puppet from below the set.

Was ALF hard to film?
Yes — the elaborate puppet and hidden puppeteers made shooting slow and complicated, with sets built to conceal the operators.

ALF was one of the weirdest, biggest characters of 80s TV — meet the rest of the gang in our 80s pop culture icons guide, or drop in on The Golden Girls next.

Two teams of kids, a trivia question, and a way out: if you didn’t know the answer, you could “dare” the other team, they could “double dare” you back, and eventually somebody had to take the physical challenge — which almost always meant getting absolutely covered in slime, whipped cream, or something worse. Double Dare was every kid’s fantasy: a TV show where making a giant mess was the whole point.

Double Dare premiered on Nickelodeon on October 6, 1986, hosted by Marc Summers. Two teams competed by answering trivia and taking on messy physical challenges, culminating in an elaborate, gunk-filled obstacle course for the grand prize. It became Nickelodeon’s signature show and helped define what 80s kids’ television felt like — loud, gross, and gloriously fun.

Dares, double dares, and the physical challenge

The rules were pure playground logic. A team faced a trivia question; if they didn’t want to answer, they could dare their opponents to do it for more money. The opponents could double dare it back. When the dares maxed out, the team stuck holding it took a physical challenge instead — some ridiculous, timed, messy stunt like passing an egg down a line using only their chins, or fishing a flag out of a giant nose full of goo. Getting the answer wrong had never looked so appealing.

The obstacle course finale

The whole show built to the finale: the Double Dare obstacle course, eight stations of pure mess that the winning team raced through against the clock to grab flags for prizes. The One-Armed Bandit, the Sundae Slide, and — most famously — the giant human nose you had to reach into and pull a flag out of a wall of green snot. Kids in the studio ended each show soaked, slimed, and grinning. Every kid watching at home desperately wanted a turn.

Remember when a contestant had to dig through a giant papier-mâché nose oozing with green slime to find the flag, coming out dripping head to toe — and the entire studio of kids went absolutely wild? That messy obstacle course finale was the reason a whole generation begged their parents to get them on the show.

Marc Summers, ringmaster of the mess

Host Marc Summers was the perfect ringmaster — quick, energetic, unbothered by the chaos, and always ready with the rules and a grin. What almost nobody knew at the time is that Summers privately struggled with obsessive-compulsive disorder, which made hosting the messiest show on television a genuinely difficult act of will. He kept it up for years, becoming one of the most recognizable faces on kids’ TV and forever tied to the green slime.

Why Double Dare still sticks

Double Dare basically invented the template for the messy kids’ game show and made slime a permanent part of Nickelodeon’s identity — a legacy that runs straight through to the Kids’ Choice Awards. It was revived multiple times across the decades because the core idea never gets old: give kids trivia, dares, and a giant nose full of goo, and you’ve got television magic.

FAQ

When did Double Dare premiere?
It debuted on Nickelodeon on October 6, 1986, hosted by Marc Summers.

How did the game work?
Teams answered trivia or “dared” each other; whoever got stuck took a messy physical challenge, and the winning team ran a gunk-filled obstacle course for prizes.

Who hosted Double Dare?
Marc Summers, who became a defining face of 80s Nickelodeon.

What was the obstacle course?
An eight-station messy race — including the famous giant nose full of green slime — that the winning team ran against the clock to grab flags for prizes.

Why is Double Dare so associated with slime?
Its messy challenges and gooey obstacle course helped make green slime a signature part of Nickelodeon’s brand for decades.

Was Double Dare ever revived?
Yes — it returned in multiple later versions, including revivals decades after the original run.

Double Dare was the messiest of the great 80s game shows — see them all there, or test your luck with Press Your Luck next.

You set the alarm yourself. You crept out before your parents were up, poured a bowl of something sugary, sat cross-legged three feet from the TV in your pajamas, and didn’t move for four straight hours. For kids in the 80s, Saturday morning wasn’t a time slot — it was a sacred weekly ritual, and the cartoons were the whole religion.

80s Saturday morning cartoons were a block of animated programming the major networks aired every Saturday, and for a generation of kids it was the highlight of the week — a lineup of colorful, toy-tied, wildly imaginative shows watched over cereal in pajamas. It was appointment television before anyone used the phrase, and it’s one of the decade’s most fondly remembered institutions.

The lineup that owned the morning

The 80s were arguably the peak of Saturday morning animation, and the shows came fast and bright. The Smurfs was a Saturday juggernaut for years, a whole village of little blue creatures that dominated the block. Muppet Babies reimagined Jim Henson’s characters as toddlers in a nursery, powered by pure imagination. Alvin and the Chipmunks brought the singing rodents back. The Real Ghostbusters spun the hit movie into a beloved animated series. And glam favorites like Jem and the Holograms packed music videos into every episode. Whatever you were into, the morning had a show for it.

Toys that became TV — and TV that became toys

A defining feature of 80s cartoons was the tight bond between shows and toy aisles. Transformers, G.I. Joe, He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, My Little Pony, and Care Bears all existed in a loop where the cartoon sold the toy and the toy sold the cartoon. Regulators and parents debated whether these were “programs” or “half-hour commercials,” but kids didn’t care — they just wanted more Optimus Prime. That business model defined the decade’s animation and produced some of its most enduring characters.

Remember when the networks would air those “coming this fall” preview specials hyping the new Saturday morning lineup — and you’d study it like a battle plan, mapping out exactly which shows you’d watch and in what order before the season even started? Planning your Saturday was half the fun.

Cereal, commercials, and the whole experience

Part of what made it magic was everything around the cartoons: the sugary-cereal commercials with their own cartoon mascots, the “the more you know”-style public-service spots, the toy ads that doubled as wish lists. It was a complete, self-contained kid universe that existed only for those few hours on Saturday. When the last cartoon ended and the sports or infomercials came on, the spell broke — and you started the countdown to next week.

Why we still miss Saturday mornings

The ritual eventually faded — cable, 24-hour cartoon channels, and later streaming made cartoons available every hour of every day, which is wonderful and also quietly killed the specialness. That’s exactly why 80s kids remember Saturday mornings so vividly: the shows were great, but the scarcity made them an event. For one generation, the best part of the whole week arrived with a cereal bowl and a theme song.

FAQ

What were the most popular 80s Saturday morning cartoons?
Favorites included The Smurfs, Muppet Babies, The Real Ghostbusters, Alvin and the Chipmunks, and toy-tied hits like Transformers, G.I. Joe, He-Man, My Little Pony, and Care Bears.

Why were 80s cartoons so tied to toys?
Many shows were created alongside toy lines, in a loop where the cartoon promoted the toys and vice versa — a business model that defined the era and sparked debate over “program-length commercials.”

When did kids watch Saturday morning cartoons?
Networks aired a block of cartoons on Saturday mornings, typically for several hours, which kids watched over breakfast.

Why did the Saturday morning cartoon ritual fade?
The rise of cable, 24-hour cartoon channels, and later streaming made animation available all the time, removing the scarcity that made Saturday mornings feel special.

Were the cartoons only on one channel?
No — the major broadcast networks each aired their own competing Saturday morning lineups, and choosing between them was part of the ritual.

Saturday mornings were the heartbeat of 80s kids’ TV — explore more of the decade in our 80s pop culture icons guide, or tune into Jem and the Holograms next.

There’s a look people mean when they say “the 80s” — the pastel blazer over a t-shirt, the loafers with no socks, the neon skyline, the stubble. Half of that look didn’t just appear in the 80s. It came out of one TV show, on one night, on NBC.

Miami Vice premiered on September 16, 1984, and ran five seasons until 1989. It followed two undercover detectives — Sonny Crockett (Don Johnson) and Ricardo Tubbs (Philip Michael Thomas) — busting drug runners across a sun-soaked, pastel-drenched Miami. Created by Anthony Yerkovich and driven by executive producer Michael Mann, it didn’t just air in the 80s. It defined how the decade looked, sounded, and dressed.

“MTV cops” — and they meant it as a pitch

The legend is that the show started from a two-word network memo: “MTV cops.” Whether or not that’s exactly how it went, that’s exactly what landed on screen. Mann took big-screen production techniques — real film stock, real Miami locations, moody lighting — and pointed them at a Friday-night cop show. Nobody had done that. Television suddenly looked like cinema.

And it sounded like nothing else on TV. Miami Vice spent up to $10,000 an episode on original recordings, dropping tracks from U2, Todd Rundgren, and Frankie Goes to Hollywood straight into the action. Instead of a score telling you how to feel, you got the actual hits of 1985 scoring a speedboat chase. Jan Hammer’s pulsing synth theme became a genuine chart-topper — a TV instrumental that people bought on purpose.

Remember when the pilot let a Ferrari cruise through the Miami night while Phil Collins’ “In the Air Tonight” played almost end to end — no dialogue, just mood? That scene is the moment TV realized it could be a music video and get away with it.

The style that escaped the screen

Don Johnson’s Crockett walked out of the TV and into every mall in America. The unstructured blazers, the t-shirts underneath, the pushed-up sleeves, the deliberate stubble, the no socks — men who had never heard of Armani were suddenly dressing like a Miami vice cop. The show’s palette (flamingo pink, teal, white) got painted onto everything from bedrooms to actual buildings.

That’s the rare TV show that didn’t just reflect the culture — it handed the culture a wardrobe and a color scheme and said here, wear this for a decade.

Why it still feels like the 80s in a bottle

Later cop dramas spent years trying to recapture what Miami Vice did by accident: the marriage of music, style, and city into one unmistakable vibe. Few ever got close. Watch five minutes of it now and you’re not watching a rerun — you’re watching a time capsule with the lid off. It’s the show that made the 80s look like the 80s.

FAQ

When did Miami Vice premiere?
It premiered September 16, 1984, on NBC and ran for five seasons, ending June 28, 1989.

Who starred in Miami Vice?
Don Johnson as Detective Sonny Crockett and Philip Michael Thomas as Detective Ricardo Tubbs, filmed on location in Miami.

Who created Miami Vice?
It was created by Anthony Yerkovich, with Michael Mann as executive producer shaping its signature cinematic style.

Why was the music such a big deal?
The show spent as much as $10,000 per episode licensing original recordings from major artists — using real hits, not just a background score. Jan Hammer’s synth theme became a chart hit itself.

Why is Miami Vice considered so influential?
It brought film-quality production and a music-video sensibility to prime-time TV, and its pastel-and-no-socks style spilled off the screen and defined 80s men’s fashion.

Miami Vice was one pillar of a golden age of 80s TV — cruise the rest of it in our 80s pop culture icons guide, or shift gears with Knight Rider next.

While every other 80s sitcom was serving up warm hugs and lessons learned, one show gave us a miserable shoe salesman, hand permanently in his waistband, insulting his family from a beat-up couch. Married… with Children was the anti-sitcom — loud, crude, and gleefully mean — and it helped launch an entire television network.

Married… with Children premiered on April 5, 1987, as one of the first shows on the brand-new Fox network. It followed the Bundys — sad-sack shoe salesman Al, his loud wife Peggy, and their kids Kelly and Bud — a proudly dysfunctional family in suburban Chicago. Created by Ron Leavitt and Michael G. Moye, it ran for eleven seasons and became Fox’s first breakout hit.

The family TV said you weren’t allowed to have

The whole joke was a middle finger to the wholesome family sitcom. Al Bundy (Ed O’Neill) hated his job, his life, and mostly his family — a former high school football hero reduced to selling women’s shoes and reliving the four touchdowns he scored at Polk High. Peggy (Katey Sagal) was a big-haired, bon-bon-eating wife who never cleaned or cooked. Kelly (Christina Applegate) was the dim, boy-crazy daughter; Bud (David Faustino) the scheming, luckless son. Nobody hugged. Nobody learned. It was the exact opposite of the Huxtables or the Keatons, and audiences found it hilarious.

The show that built Fox

Married… with Children mattered beyond its laughs: it was foundational to Fox itself. When the fledgling fourth network launched, it needed something loud enough to make people notice, and the Bundys delivered. The show’s crude, working-class edge became part of Fox’s early identity and paved the way for the network’s later willingness to be provocative — a lineage that runs straight to The Simpsons and beyond.

Remember when a protest campaign against the show’s raunchiness — led by an offended viewer writing to sponsors — actually backfired and made Married… with Children more famous than ever? The controversy handed the show a wave of free publicity, and its ratings climbed as the whole country tuned in to see what the fuss was about.

Al Bundy, working-class antihero

Ed O’Neill’s Al Bundy became an unlikely icon — the patron saint of the beaten-down American dad. Everything about him was funny and a little tragic: the Polk High glory days, the loathing for his customers, the way he’d flop onto the couch and stick his hand in his pants like a man who’d given up. He was a cartoon, but a recognizable one, and O’Neill played him with such deadpan commitment that Al outlasted almost every “nicer” sitcom dad of the era.

Why Married… with Children still stings

The show proved there was a huge audience hungry for something that didn’t pretend family life was a greeting card. It made stars of its cast, helped build a network from scratch, and its cheerfully nasty tone influenced a generation of comedies. Whenever a sitcom leans into dysfunction instead of warmth, it’s walking a path the Bundys paved.

FAQ

When did Married… with Children premiere?
It debuted April 5, 1987, as one of the first programs on the new Fox network, and ran for eleven seasons.

Who starred in the show?
Ed O’Neill as Al Bundy, Katey Sagal as Peggy, Christina Applegate as Kelly, and David Faustino as Bud.

What did Al Bundy do for a living?
He was a women’s shoe salesman who constantly reminisced about scoring four touchdowns in a single game at Polk High.

Who created Married… with Children?
Ron Leavitt and Michael G. Moye.

Why was the show important to Fox?
It was one of the network’s first hits and helped establish Fox’s edgier identity in its early years.

Did a protest campaign really boost the show?
Yes — an organized boycott effort over the show’s content drew national attention and ended up increasing its ratings and fame.

Married… with Children was the black sheep of 80s TV — meet the whole family in our 80s pop culture icons guide, or visit the far tidier Keatons on Family Ties next.