If you have been reading any of the “content” on this blog thread text thing. I really don’t know what it is or where it goes. I’m pretty sure someone here just puts this stuff in a drawer. Anyway. They ask. I deliver. Usually with resentment and an intention to subvert any actual intent at marketing.
This time though. They asked an actual question. There was no ROI or keyword talk. These fools asked me. Listen to this. They asked me, “What even is a ‘dark ride’?” And dear reader... I about lost my sh*t. Everyone knows what a dar... What? What’s that? You also don’t know what that phrase means?
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. OK. I do that. I count to 10 when I’m seriously starting to shut down as a human because I have to go so low in the stack.
Well then. Fine. If we’re going to do it. Let’s do it.
I, some guy, present a non-definitive definition of the dark ride.
I know you at least know what the words dark ride mean. Yeah? Dark. Ride. So we’re off to a good start. I should get this out of the way up top though. A dark ride does not explicitly have to be dark. Or even a ride. But for the most part, yeah. You’re on a thing that moves. And the room is sort of dark, probably.
The history of dark rides.
We can skip the boring stuff, right? I mean, go to Wikipedia. Or type something into that box that goes and reads Wikipedia for you and gives you the even shorter summary. It’s like the Idiot’s Guide to the Cliff’s Notes of Cliff’s Notes. But you do you. Not literally. I just mean like. Never mind.
Here’s the short version:
Tunnel of Love. — A carnival thing where a little car went through a tunnel and teens did what teens do. But in 60-second, slightly bumpy intervals. Usually they were lightly themed. They did not need to be heavily themed. Because nobody was looking.
I decided to add some images for the cheap seats. Is that still legal on the internet? Just like getting an image? No idea. I linked it so I’m sure that’s legal. Moving on.
These little rides would sometimes inspire other genres of experiences. Like Christmas-themed versions or everyone’s favorite—the Spook House or Wacky Shack version.
This was usually the same said teens above, but this time not on the ride. But employed to stand in the dark corners and then jump out and scare the bejesus out of the small, bright-eyed children who will definitely be scarred by the experience. They become the person who puts their hand on their chest and says, “You scaaared me,” because you... walked through the kitchen? Yeah. Former Wacky Shacker.
That image is supposedly the Coney Island one. I’m gonna say it’s been repainted a few times since the ’50s. Who knows. Maybe spray-paint gradient blends were big back then and I just don’t know.
This is exhausting. I should have packed a lunch. This is the hardest I’ve worked on anything at this job since being employed. Let’s get to the end.
Blah blah blah. Walt Disney. Everyone’s favorite good-hearted tycoon. He saw those rides and had an idea to make a place where people would go ride shaky and shifty little cars also. But his version would be decorated with themes from his own movies! It’s cheaper that way because the art is already licensed and the stuff is lying around already.
So the story goes that they, Disney the company—not the guy, sans OSHA—welded together a bunch of tracks, put little cars on them, barely tested them, shoved a bunch of “painted flats” (which was a nice way of saying a wooden board with a picture on it) and scary mannequins into a warehouse and drove unsuspecting families through it.
Uncle Walt. (He is your actual uncle, by the way. I asked your parents.) With a twinkle in his eye and a small tear leaking down, a dreamy ethereal thought bubble floating over his head with a $150 admission ticket in it, launched what we now know as the “Theme Park.”
Skip over the next couple paragraphs. I was going to take them out but a couple parts of it made me laugh.
Not a filthy carnival. Not “Thrill Rides.” No “barkers” trying to get you to play rigged games while they eye up your wife and daughter. Hey! She’s 14! You so-and-so. Come on, honey, let’s get out of this place! Brenda, come along, you’re not leaving the house again till you’re 25.
And... scene. I get into improv in this stuff. Do you do that? Like suddenly you’re in a whole-ass scene. I had voices for the characters and I was imagining Brenda’s sweater. It was one of those ones with her initial on the chest.
Do you know other places I could work have editors? They would cut almost all of this. Then you wouldn’t be wading through it. Like now. How many levels of interruption meta am I at this point? I interrupted a point to make a point and now I’m talking about the interruption to the first point, which nobody was reading anyway. Because this is in a drawer, or posted somewhere on “the internet,” which I’m not convinced is actually a thing anymore. Prove it! Prove the internet exists! You can’t, can you? See.
Not a roller coaster!
That’s it. After all of this nonsense. That’s it. That subhead. A dark ride is like a slow roller coaster. Usually no hills. No scares. No upset tummy. Yes, I call it my tummy. Shut up. But better than all of that. It’s themed. It’s dark in there. Air-conditioned probably. Smells weird, definitely. And there are cool things to see, barely. Little harmless scares. Little stories you’re in.
It’s like being a kid. And if you are a kid, it’s kid squared. (I couldn’t find the little 2 thing on the keyboard. I think mine is broken.) Fun. Slow. Harmless. Nice. Family. Story.
Oooh. I should do that from now on. Just one-word sentences.
Dark. Motion. Scary? Boat? Robot? Zig-zag! Story. Songs!! Robots! Trickery. Smells!
The Feline Fix
Anyway. Go play the new update. It’s not a dark ride, so congratulations, you learned all of that for nothing. It is, however, a proper theme-park-y thing: a mysterious scavenger hunt where you poke around, find clues, and fix some cats. Go do that.
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