I willingly joined a clown cult led by a serial killer named Carnage in an abandoned circus prop warehouse and had the time of my life scaring visitors out of their minds as they walked through the newest Fright Fest maze at Six Flags Magic Mountain.
Six Flags invited me to dress up like a maniacal clown for the night and spend a few hours working as a “scareactor” in the new Carnage haunted house during the annual Halloween event running on select nights through Nov. 2 at the Valencia amusement park.
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I started my night with a walk-through of the Carnage maze in my street clothes to get an understanding of the backstory of the newest Fright Fest haunted house.
The Fright Fest creative team designed the Carnage maze to help establish the origin story for the clown-themed City Under Siege scare zone located just a few steps away in the DC Universe area of the park.
Carnage has turned an abandoned circus prop warehouse on the edge of the small town of Green Willow into a fortress for his ever-growing killer clown cult, according to the backstory.
Inside the Carnage maze, visitors pass through the warehouse and enter a security room where the clown kingpin urges them to join him now — or die. In an operating room, a mad doctor performs plastic surgery to turn new recruits into killer clowns.
The clown cult gathers in a dive bar to plot their attack on the unsuspecting citizens of Green Willow. The plan: Approach through the sewer system filled with clown graffiti and pop up in town where Carnage will be waiting to dispatch them on their mission.
After the tour, I headed backstage to the Fright Fest wardrobe and makeup department to be transformed into a killer clown so I could join the maze.
My costume made me look like a background dancer from a 1980s Vanilla Ice music video: Purple parachute pants and a black cape-like jacket over a simple t-shirt with green-and-black striped arm warmers, fingerless leather gloves and a pair of combat boots.
Makeup artist Bobbie Eller spent 45 minutes transforming me from a mild-mannered reporter into a hot-headed clown with a thirst for vengeance.
Step one was fitting a neon green wig on my head before adding a prosthetic chin, nose and forehead to give me an elongated face.
Everything on my head was covered except for my eyes and mouth. I told Eller I felt very confined and focused.
“Are you claustrophobic?” Eller said. “Some people feel that way once they get on all the prosthetics and makeup.”
I felt transformed. Like I was getting my game face on. The prosthetics and makeup helped me get into character and prepare for a night of fun and terror.
Eller had done my clown makeup last year when I worked for a night in the City Under Siege scare zone. This year I wanted to try working inside a maze.
It was time for a pep talk and review of the rules with Fright Fest event producer Colin Orr.
“You’re one of Carnage’s attack clowns now,” Orr said. “You’ve been recruited into the army and you’re testing the mettle of the new recruits.”
The rules were simple: Do your best to scare people while keeping an arms-length distance.
There were about 100 people in line for the Carnage maze as I headed for the entrance. Every single one of them looked at me as I passed with a mix of dread and glee. I felt like Cleveland Indians pitcher Ricky Vaughn walking from the bullpen to the mound as “Wild Thing” played over the stadium speakers in the 1989 “Major League” movie.
My big entrance was delayed by an alarm that forced the temporary evacuation of the Carnage maze.
The delay allowed me to meet my fellow clowns on the backside of the warehouse in the scareactor break area. My fellow cult members were anxious to meet the new guy.
Stiltwalking clown Connor Breen shook my hand and welcomed me to the team.
“What’s your name?” Breen asked.
“Disco is my clown name,” I said, feeling a little proud and mostly ridiculous.
I’d listened to a 1970s dance music playlist on my drive to Magic Mountain and had decided to adopt Disco as my nom de clown de cirque to help me get into character.
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All of the clowns introduced themselves one by one and offered encouragement and support.
As you might expect, my clown brethren were the nicest people you’d ever want to meet — until they headed back into the maze after the alarm and turned back into a raving pack of lunatics.
I was assigned to a spot in the maze just before the final scare featuring Carnage standing atop a smashed and graffitied police car.
My job was to wait in a hidden alcove behind a fake wall and jump out and scare people just as they spotted Carnage.
A billboard-sized video projection of anarchic clowns playing on the wall nearby would serve as a distraction.
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The plan was to work in this spot for 30 minutes or so before moving to a new location in the maze.
I could peek around the fake wall and see my fellow clowns scaring people in a city section with a pawn shop and comic book store.
I kept banging my protruding chin and extra-long nose against the wall as I waited for my next prey.
I quickly realized my hiding spot wasn’t very secretive — thanks to my giant poof of green hair. People walking through the maze were pointing at me and warning their friends.
My initial plan was to serve as Carnage’s carnival barker by jumping out and loudly announcing his almighty presence.
“Here is Carnage,” I yelled.
“Our one and only leader,” I screamed.
“The one you’ve been waiting for,” I hollered.
I was pretty proud of my rotating catalog of Terminator-style catch phrases. But I wasn’t scaring people as much as surprising them.
A maze manager stopped by to see if I wanted to change spots. I asked to stay put. I was just starting to figure things out.
I liked my spot. It was a good location. I just need to improve my scaring techniques — in part because I was getting really hoarse from all the yelling.
I tried a new tactic. I watched the groups as they pulsed through the maze. It didn’t really matter if the first person in the crowd spotted me. I was after the person who was scared, jumping and screaming at anything that moved. They wouldn’t see me coming because they were too busy looking over their shoulder.
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I waited for the maze veterans to pass and then singled out the scaredy-cats.
The plan worked to perfection. Focusing solely on the weak link generated screams that delighted the whole pack of friends and family. Separating the weakling from the herd only heightened their fear.
I dropped the catch phrases and switched to personalized attacks on the easy targets.
“Why are you hiding in the back?” I asked.
“I always go after the one in the middle,” I said.
“Your boyfriend can’t help you now,” I whispered.
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The pace of the groups slowed down as the evening wore on. The lack of conga lines common at Knott’s Scary Farm and Universal’s Horror Nights made for better scare opportunities.
I used the down time to interact with the other scareactors in the maze. I asked Carnage how I was doing and if I should try anything different.
“Keep doing what you’re doing,” Carnage said.
A maze manager stopped by again to see if I wanted to change spots. I didn’t want to go anywhere else. Disco was finally in the groove. I knew when to pounce, when to wait and how to approach each new victim.
Feeling confident, I changed up my approach again. I would pick off the sheep and cater my scares to them whenever the opportunity arose. When a pack of wolves pulsed through I would switch to proudly and loudly introducing Carnage. And I mugged for the smart phone cameras when the wanna-be influencers determined to act brave and jaded walked through taking video.
It was hot in the maze. Streams of sweat dripped from my wig down my back. Everything I had on was soaking wet. But I didn’t seem to care. The maze managers brought me a small cup of water each time they stopped by.
It was also loud. Constant police sirens blared throughout the maze. Carnage would step on a pedal every few minutes that triggered the horn on the police car. I had a throbbing headache, but it didn’t seem to bother me.
I was focused on the next scare. I learned to listen for screams coming elsewhere in the maze — like an early warning system. I could follow the screams as they grew increasingly closer to me. The screamers were easy to spot once their group emerged from the sewer onto the city block right before my hiding spot.
There was no need to jump out for the scare. I emerged slowly and confidently.
“Which one of you is the screamer?” I asked.
Their so-called friends always gave them up and pointed them out immediately. I was happy to give them their money’s worth.
“You’re separated from the group,” I told the screamer. “Now what are you gonna do?”
It took only a heartbeat to get the response I wanted. They’d run screaming out of the maze to the delight of their party. There’s no better advertising for a maze than to have people running out and screaming at the top of their lungs.
After three hours my night was finally over. I walked past the Carnage entrance and saw a dozen teenagers trying to persuade one of their friends to go inside the maze. She couldn’t take her eyes off me.
I pointed directly at the poor woman.
“No, no, no, no, no,” she cried.
She ran behind a friend who was more interested in helping me than her.
I walked toward her and smiled a wicked grin.
“Get away,” she yelled. “Help me.”
Her friends laughed their heads off as she ran away into the City Under Siege scare zone toward a giggle of raving mad clowns. There would be no escape for her.
My night ended the same way it started in the director’s chair with Bobbie Eller taking off my clown wig, makeup and prosthetics. Removing everything took about half as long as putting it on.
Fright Fest event producer Colin Orr stopped by again to congratulate me on a job well done. He’d been able to watch my performance via a surveillance camera mounted over Carnage’s shoulder. I was welcome to come back and work at Fright Fest anytime I wanted.
I’ll be back next Halloween season — and I’ll be sure to bring some ear plugs, Tylenol and a big bottle of water.