Obscura Horror’s Sabbath Offers a Bold New Voice in Extreme Horror

What am I doing here?

If you’ve ever attended an extreme haunted attraction, this question has undoubtedly crossed your mind seconds before the chaos ensues.

Still, it could be argued that when you’ve flown and then driven to the outskirts of Tulsa, Oklahoma and are standing alone outside a blacked-out storefront as an unfamiliar breeze batters you, this question has new significance. The conundrums of “trust” hang in the air. Who are Obscura Horror, anyway? They’re collaborating with veteran fear-purveyors Heretic, so everything must be on the up-and-up, right? But…what if?

There’s always too much and not enough time to mull over these thoughts. All too quickly, you fall into a routine we all know well — or at least some variation of it: Knock three times. Walk into the dark. Stop. Wait.

This was how my Sabbath began, an introduction to a bold new voice in extreme horror simulation: Obscura Horror. This particular production, Sabbath, a partnership of both ideas and talent with Heretic, offered an hour-long, highly personalized, more physically aggressive extended iteration called the “Director’s Cut.” Who can say no to that? This review speaks to this longer variation, although it sounds like Obscura did an admirable job even in the “base model” of delivering intensity, immersion, and personalization.

With only a smattering of knowledge from what appeared to be a highly exhaustive and mind-bending ARG, plus one paranoia-inducing phone call, the experience was relatively — by my own doing — without context. Nevertheless, what followed in Sabbath delivered a visceral, creative, and unrelenting entry to the form. A tangible promise of living out your own, personal horror film. Notes of cult classics like The House of the Devil were apparent, but this was truly a beast with its own coat of blackness.

Out of this blackness, first, came the waiver process, which was conducted by flashlight and presided over by [at least one] looming real female mannequin. Smartly, even the little moments of form filling and medical interrogation felt like part of the experience, rather than operational appendages. Head paper-bagged, voices swirled around and around as I was transported, until one familiar voice emerged: that of Heretic’s infamous Los Angeles-based leader, Adrian Marcato. Several states away from home. The familiarity did not last long. Although Marcato played himself, he was thoroughly initiated into this shadowy group. Part of the Obscura machine, it was clear Adrian was not here for comfort. He was here to terrify.

After being cleared for the “real” experience to begin, I was dragged into a maze of deception, decision, and violence in three flavors: witnessed, enacted upon me, and enacted by me upon others. It would be a disservice to the experience to recap each and every detail. These productions need to be seen, felt, tasted, smelled in the flesh. However, some key moments emerged from the fog.

The first true encounter in Sabbath’s Director’s Cut was, surprisingly, a face of kindness, albeit with a tinge of the weird. An old man named Christopher, allegedly pulled too far into his investigations of a cult of deviant women. With a flashlight, Christopher revealed my photo among his discovery of the coven’s materials. It seemed I was already too deep, as well. Indeed, only seconds later I became intimately familiar with the cult members themselves, trapped in a web spun in collaboration with the perpetually-sunglassed TC Mortem himself, the man who brought us all here. From this point on, the personalization was caked and smeared into nearly every minute of the nightmare. This core group of performers were adept at taking any information I provided in the moment and running with it. There was a clear desire to get into each participant’s head and under their skin.

I was directed to select a bizarre photo from a gruesome set arrayed on a table. My choice was an archival image of a Rothschild party, one of the partygoers adorned with an eerie stag head. While it remained a mystery how much this decision altered my path of varied torments, it set the tone for what waited in the dark. With TC’s radio call to initiate “Heretic 1” – a Heretic-designed feature segment – I was taken for a turbulent ride on an office chair and deposited into the den of Marcato and a hulking, long-haired beast, who will be familiar to any past Heretic simulation attendees. According to Marcato, this was to be his way of getting his aggression out. Oh goody. Thrown headfirst into the brutal physicality we’ve come to love, dread, and expect from Heretic, I was once again impressed by the complete control demonstrated, even in the wildest moments. The professionalism and inventiveness in physical handling should be considered industry standard.

The skillful weaving of Heretic tormentors into the mix was a highlight. These two recognizable faces only served to emphasize how well others were cloaked, either completely hidden or recognizable only in the very last seconds of the experience. The end effect was, I believe, ideal: it was hard to tell where Obscura ended and Heretic began.

A great deal of up-close-and-personal time in Sabbath was spent with a new face: a man who seemed to really, really, really like me. Either to kill me or have sex with me — or both — his intentions were a blur. In truth, I mildly struggled to understand his place in the story of the experience, but wasn’t too distracted: our moments were engaging enough to fill any gaps. A relatively light-hearted “mirror game” – instructed to physically mirror this man’s every movement – turned into my hands choking him against my will, which then led into an impromptu round of Russian roulette. Then before long, once again, shuttled into the darkness.

Another highlight of Sabbath was a play on sensory deprivation, in an industrial room where something always seemed to be dripping or clanking somewhere in the background. Shoved down onto the ground, looking desperately through a tube to see what a cult member was asking me to see…then receiving an eyeful of water. This unexpected inclusion of water contact has lingered, essentially refashioning the skeleton of a comedic water gag into a device of horror and story immersion. And while I ended up using a “slow down” safe word moments later — yes, I used a safe word…I’m not ashamed to admit it — after a session of prolonged fingers-down-throat gagging, this sequence of rooms was memorable.

Look, here’s a thing on gagging, just like any extreme technique. While it was personally unpleasant (and I appreciate the sweet irony of female tormentors enacting it on male participants who expect these kinds of “activities” easily from the opposite sex), it was also difficult to understand its place in the story. An earlier instance was much more story-motivated, and it’s worth encouraging all extreme events to work a little harder to ensure things like gagging, electrocution, and waterboarding (the latter two of which were not utilized here) feel integrated and necessary to the experience. It’ll be much easier to…well, swallow.

After one more strong act upon a mattress, where the whole ensemble got in on the personalized, physically-intense action — I still have the marks on chest, back, and under fingernails — there was a final sequence of cinematic awe: fogged goggles from two scenes prior removed, the walls arrayed with staring white masks and draped robes. Somehow, I had been selected to become an apostle of those who had tormented me. The closing ceremony was visually striking and grotesque; robed, masked, clothes all in tatters. Lighting candles amid taxidermied dog feet.

Obscura Horror got me. Even as the first “Director’s Cut” participant, witness to a show still working through its final timing and flow modifications, I was impressed by the level of synergy among crew members and performers. Each reacted quickly to their peers in turn, ensuring a propulsive, tight premiere. Elements like lighting and sound felt competently directed throughout, thick with atmosphere. Even more sound design variation could be considered in the future, but texturally there is some robust thought in play here.

During the experience, many times the question was posed: What are you doing here? A good answer never came to mind, not until long afterwards on the flight home. Still receiving strange messages from TC Mortem and Adrian Marcato that only prolong the paranoia, it’s clear: visitors to Sabbath came for a chance to be batted back and forth by the paws of masters old and new in extreme horror. With a show entitled Afflictus entering beta testing in 2018, fans of the genre should be eager to see what Obscura Horror’s hallucinogenic, demented future holds.