Thursday, November 29, 2012

Blackout Haunted House 2012 (Special K's Walkthrough)

Now that you've read my walkthrough of Blackout Haunted House, it's time you got a different perspective from Special K, a fellow female Survivor and friend who attended Blackout twice (that's her waiting to go in) She went in late October when Blackout started to mix things up and started to heavy up on the fucked up shit and started playing mind games. It's slightly similar to what happened to me but also far different in the levels of crazy. 

Go ahead and read Special K's walkthrough of Blackout HH NYC. You'll start to see what kind of fear manipulators these guys come up with when the spotlight is shining and Halloween was around the corner.  


It's official, Blackout (quite literally) has my number.  This year marked my third event in two years with them and I found myself simultaneously horrified and charmed to feel new layers of fear. It's true that Blackout's trademark brutality delights and excites me.  But when it comes to legitimate terror, the subtle, introspective moments work more far more effectively.

The moment I enter and survey the setup, I freeze.  I can face naked actors, physical actors or repulsive elements but one of MY deepest, most personal fears IS acting.  Standing alone in a spotlight with all eyes on me and my vulnerable self awareness is NOT. OKAY. 

By the time they call my number, I have no one to look to for comfort.  Suddenly the room seems very crowded.  Where did all these people come from?  I hear the sound of a dull heartbeat and it seems to mirror my own.  I wish for whatever is behind the door to grab me, but it's making me wait, reveling in my fear.  I cannot safety before the show begins!  Oh, but this is their specialty.  Whomever designed this "stage" knew perfectly well what they were doing.
courtesy of Blackout Haunted House Facebook Page

I look sideways. I study my shoes. Only when I look up and notice a half dozen strangers waving, do I smile.  I finally relax.  Not to be outdone, the door slides open and my captor swirls me inside.  For the next thirty minutes, NYC vanishes.  This is the moment I wait for all year, where my dreams and nightmares collide.  I'm in their playground.

Captor 1 has done this before.  I follow his placid instructions and a mask is placed over my mouth and nose.  Then comes one of the highlights of the experience - the hottest frisking ever!  I figure I'm supposed to be scared.  Nah.  I am thankful there is a mask to hide my smile as I close my eyes and instinctively relax my hands from the wall.  Clearly he is not fooled as the scene takes an odd turn of intensity, before it ends all too soon.

I am taken to the next scene (more like pulled up and floated on tiptoe) where I am strapped to a table.  Tuneless, awful heavy metal music is assaulting my ears.  The track ends and the actor restarts it.  I smirk.  He places a metallic hammer on my hand and cold air flutters down the back of my neck.   The only thing I feel here is disorientation - the goggles make it hard to see and the music is distracting from the hammer about to do damage.  I guess if I didn't have such a twisted trust for the people running this, I might have been worried.   

I am waiting in a corner now, "don't fucking move."  Finally, "she's ready for you..."   I enter.  This man is naked from the neck down and stands in the corner boldly posing like Buffalo Bill a la the "would you f*ck me?" scene.  This room is brightly lit and he leaves nothing to the imagination.  I'm trying to be polite, I won't look down.  He won't start dancing until I do.  Finally he does a quick tuck and floats toward me, legs crossed, on perfect point.  With a music box in one ear, his lips right up into the other, we slow dance.  He sings in creepy, soft falsetto and stops midsong, to direct me "DANCE. SLOWER"  Sorry.  Can't imagine why I'm nervous.

His voice morphs into a deep, horrifying growl that I can hear even now. "Goodbyyyyyeeeee."  Cut scene.  And off I go.

Now I am in a room, a very dark room.  A very dark room with a naked man inside and he's… wait… where's the floor.  THIS MAN HAS LIFTED ME OFF THE FLOOR.  I'm trying so hard not to touch the actor but WE ARE TACKLING.  I'm thrown onto a bare mattress.  What kind of crack den is this?  Is that his crotch in my face?  This is rude!  And now my hand is on his bare chest and is he really?  Yeah he's really… jerking off to it.

Now I'm somewhere else and there's a staircase "GO DOWN THE STAIRS." I take off down the stairs like I've stolen something. Another voice, "SLOWER!"  I knock and the door opens into a brightly lit room littered with broken records.  A girl is wearing a hospital gown and she doesn't seem alright.  She starts yanking something out of her vagina.  Not another tampon… No this is, honey, don't you want some privac-  Oh god… no!  No no no no no no… it's a condom and wait, where are you going with that?  Stay back!  Stay back!  No luck there.  She gets very close to my face, drinks the cum inside as if it's killing her, and calls it a day.

Now there is a bag over my head.  I hear the girl hawk a loogie, my shirt is pulled forward and SPAT INTO.  It feels so realistic.  I gasp and yell an obscenity as I visualize the texture and consistency of whatever's sliding down my chest.  Suddenly my freak out moment is cut short by a kiss on the lips.  It's magic.  What spit?  He stays there for well longer than a minute, nibbles my face and asks me if I like it.  I just want to stay there with him but someone takes me away and the roller coaster twists again - fear, pleasure, now back to disgust. Another woman orders me to squat and yells "It's coming!"  Yes she is giving birth, but not to a human… how do I put this politely?  It's a bucket of shit.  And it smells no less real.  She guides my hand in and swirls it around, asks me to wash her.  Now I'm dry heaving.  It seems to be everywhere.

courtesy of Blackout Haunted House

I make my way down another hall into a scene that would turn out to be my favorite of the night.  "Hello 'K', don't worry. We are going to spend a LOT of quality time together."  I am ordered to kneel with my head on a table, hands out to the side, and told not to move until he gets back.  When the actor returns, we play a game. "Jog in place,"and I do.  "Jog faster."  He grabs my shoulders and we start to spin."FASTER!"  We are spinning for what seems like an eternity, I become dizzier and dizzier.  Finally he stops me.  The room is swirling at warp speed.  I whine a little.  It's brilliant.  "Sit in this chair. I want to see how long you can hold your breath, on the count of three… one…two three" Before I am able to take that breath, his hands clamp down and do not let up even slightly. "I never said I'd let go, K" a sinister voice teases. I suck hard against his hand but no air is getting in.  I am determined not to say safety but wonder briefly if something has gone terribly wrong.  Just when I think I might pass out I am thrown into a wall, strapped in, and (all too happily, with the little air left in my lungs) I scream.  There's the adrenaline.  Pure exhilaration!  I can't breathe, I can barely stand.

I'm in a new room.  Disorienting, bright, flashing lights are coming at me.  I would later to come to think of this as the most cinematic scene all night.  A small figure is taking photos and looking at me curiously. She lets me see that its a camera, and I am directed to kneel sideways.  I look to my right, and am confronted by a full wall of photos with a blank space in the middle (mine?).  The figure giggles maniacally as my confusion turns to fear and understanding that I'm the next victim in her collection.  She says "thank you" with a tone of reverence.  I leave in confusion at her parting words.

Lest I get too comfortable, my deer in the headlights moment is revisited as an aggressively playful actor sits me down and says he is going to ask me some questions.  Already I don't like this.  I look down and fiddle with the walkie talkie in my hands until he tells me to stop.  I'm wearing headphones and it sounds like we are both far away, as if in a game show.  "Requiem for a Dream" with Tappy Tibbons in front of me, here, right now. "Did you have a happy childhood?" "Are you close with your parents?" I giggle and play along but internally squirm and wonder if anyone tells the truth and what would happen.  Whenever Blackout requires answers from me, I freeze.  My boundaries are being pushed again.  I hate this.  I'm scared.  It's so effective.

That scene is where the plot started to turn for me.  No longer am I the victim, but an aggressor with an implicit fucked up past.  This was a place much darker and more intense that I've not yet explored with Blackout.

Finally after this, after all of this, I am handed a pair of pliers. I enter a room and a naked girl covered in blood screams and curls into a fetal position at the sight of me.  I hit my peak of vulnerability as she points to her teeth and shouts "You did this!"

In Blackout's realm, the safe word is not an option, no - my coping mechanism of choice is complete emotional shutdown, and this is the final (but not the first) time tonight I've had to rely on that. I refuse to accept the reality I'm confronted with, only later realizing - I pulled her teeth out?   But I didn't!

Did the photo girl frame me?!  I sink into guilt. Unsure which way this is going, I get into a small tugging match as she tries to pry the pliers from my hands.  Before I know what's happening I am lifted off my feet once again and physically ejected - yes THROWN - from the house.

It takes me a moment to realize where I am.  I stumble, dazed, out into the lobby, finishing in top form by crashing right through the waiting room rope.


October 2011 marked my first taste of Blackout.  I left that year in an adrenaline-fueled high.  This time, 2012, had me in a somber, shell shocked, reflective disturbia that hit a much deeper note.  When I left that night, I was not smiling.

I was shocked by my own reaction to this -  tears, contrary to my nature.  My experiences with this extreme theater group have changed me and oddly enough helped me grow as a person, but never so intensely as this past season.

It's a cathartic process being forced through absolute not-no-but-HELL-NO moments that I never would have explored or gotten past on my own.  Blackout is now hitting genuinely ingrained fears, but I'm still surviving them.  They just tricked me into it by telling me its a horror show.

 Have questions for K? Leave em here and you'll probably get a response.

Blackout Haunted House Reviews and Walkthroughs

Blackout Haunted House Invite Only, Off Season Spring Haunt Reviews and Walkthroughs
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  1. Love that we get a girl's perspective this year!

  2. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

  3. Can you tell me more about the frisking in the beginning?

  4. Ban Suffocation6/05/2019 9:16 PM

    How is this not a scary haunted version of BDSM, and S & M? The hand smothering, and kissing part is so Kinky, and Fetish that it's un believable. Are you meant to be scared shit less, or sexually aroused, and turned on by it? Are you meant to hate it, or enjoy it? How does this differ from a hard core BDSM fan going to a dungeon and having extreme shit dome to them? Also, they say care about safety, and are professionals at it, but how is that possible if they have suffocation in it? Anyone in BDSM knows there is no such thing as "safe" suffocation. Only ways to minimize risks. Black Out is endangering lives by even using any form of suffocation in any way, shape, or form.