Deceased and desist: Why ‘death marketing’ is overdone

In what’s starting to feel like an industry-wide case of copy-paste marketing, brands are faking discontinuations and rebrands just to watch the internet spiral into chaos.

It all kicked off with Lipton Iced Tea’s viral stunt the other week, where they claimed they were discontinuing their beloved Peach Iced Tea. Naturally, the internet exploded. Outrage. Grief. Panic buying akin to toilet rolls in March 2020. And then, less than 24 hours later, a plot twist: it was all a joke.

On the surface, it’s a masterclass in engagement. Maximum eyeballs, zero ad spend. The Peach Iced Tea is now cemented as a cult favourite. But was it smart marketing? Or just lazy ragebait?

Because Lipton’s not the only brand pulling this move.

Lynx quickly followed with its own “we’re discontinuing Lynx Africa” stunt. Aldi, at least self-aware enough to poke fun at the trend, announced their infamous middle aisle was no more.

This weekend, Sour Patch Kids jumped on the trend, rebranding as “Just Patch Kids.” Walkers Crisps too announced a death of sorts: a switch-up of their iconic crisp packet colours – Salt & Vinegar in blue, Cheese & Onion in green – sending the British public into a meltdown. Cheese & Onion should be blue, if you ask me.

It’s official. We are living in an era of death marketing, and frankly, it’s annoying.

At its core, this kind of ragebait marketing is psychological, preying on the idea of scarcity and loss aversion – the concept that people fear losing something they love more than they enjoy gaining something new. It provokes an intense emotional reaction – usually anger – to drive engagement. In the digital world, engagement is currency. The more comments, shares, and heated debates a post sparks, the more visibility it gains. And outrage spreads faster than delight.

By pretending to discontinue Peach Iced Tea, Lipton exploited this exact mechanism. It triggered a panic response, playing into people’s attachment to the product and their fear of missing out. It wasn’t just scarcity marketing, it was forced scarcity, a fabricated crisis designed to get people talking.

But is deliberately deceiving your audience an effective long-term strategy, or just a short-term engagement hack?

In my opinion, it’s deception dressed as strategy. Manipulation masquerading as marketing. Faking scarcity to provoke chaos feels like a cheap trick that mistreats the emotional connection people have with a product. And yes, quite clearly my emotional connection to peach iced tea is long running and deep rooted.

Besides, why is success always measured by how much noise you make or how fast you sell? Some of us are here to plant seeds, not chase virality. Hype doesn’t build legacy, and once a customer feels manipulated, it’s harder to win them back.

To be fair, I suppose not everything is a moral crisis. This approach from brands tests demand in a kind of market research manner while also delivering some PR gains. And, sometimes, we should accept these stunts as a bit of fun.

However, are these particular stunts fun or even funny? No.

Are they painfully obvious copy-paste jobs? Indeed.

“Oh, but the return on investment!!!!” I hear some marketeers shout.

Yes, if we’re being fair there’s a reason brands keep doing this. Lipton’s stunt, for example, inspired emotional engagement and thus user-generated content, with fans flooding Instagram stories and TikTok with reactions, creating an organic surge in Lipton mentions and account engagement. The post became the brand’s best-performing EVER and saw daily searches for Lipton up 2,900%.

Just because something “works” doesn’t mean it’s good marketing.

Lynx, Sour Patch Kids, and Lipton aren’t being clever, innovative, or bold. It’s the same cheap shock factor over and over again, designed purely to drive up social media metrics.

Compare this trend to what Duolingo pulled off in February this year. Instead of faking a discontinuation, Duolingo staged the “death” of their iconic mascot, Duo the Owl, in a dramatic, multi-phase campaign. They released astatement of death, teased a murder investigation, held a funeral, and then unveiled the twist: it was all a ploy to get users to complete their daily language lessons. Even the CEO got involved.

The final piece of the campaign – a community-driven mission to earn 50 billion XP to “bring Duo back to life.” The world joined in. It was ridiculous but, crucially, completely aligned with Duolingo’s unhinged brand identity.

This is how you do viral marketing. Instead of taking something away to generate outrage, Duolingo gave their audience something fun to engage with. They were creating a moment, not a mess.

Marketers… do better. In the meantime, if you’re looking to build lasting positive influence in your comms plans instead of fleeting outrage, let’s chat over coffee – or perhaps a peach iced tea.