Universal Horror Unleashed: An Unashamed Cash Grab That Frightens with Missed Opportunities
This isn't the HHN you grew up with...
Welcome to a desolate, barren warehouse filled with dead-eyed fiends, cheap sundries, overpriced liquor, and uninspired food, where joy is a lost commodity and greed reigns supreme. That may sound like a house at Universal Horror Unleashed (UHU), but that’s simply what awaits guests as they set foot inside Goretorium 2.0.
If you’re not a local, you may not know about the sordid tale of Eli Roth’s Goretorium. There’s a reason for that, and somehow, Universal has tapped into the very same mistakes that Roth (or, rather, the club manager that represented his name) made with Sin City’s first year-round haunted attraction. If you’re expecting the Halloween Horror Nights (HHN) feel here, you’ll be sorely disappointed. Horror Unleashed has the premium stink of corporate Las Vegas all over it, from the bare bones decor scattered throughout to the emphasis on eating, drinking, or shopping.
At no point did I feel like the mazes were the stars of the show. It doesn’t help that two of the four were closed, one seemingly to force crowds to watch the impressively awkward stage production of budget Joker and Harley Quinn, and an out-of-place dance routine. While I’ll admit that the sets for the queues were well done and detailed, that’s pretty much where my accolades end. Once inside, you’re met with low-energy actors within the mazes and left to navigate set pieces that struggle to meet the standards set by Hollywood or Orlando’s productions. While the streets of Universal Studios Hollywood and Orlando are lively with animated scare actors who live for the screams, the Vegas warehouse is patrolled by costumed employees with thousand-yard stares.
The glaring issue with UHU’s mazes is the staggered entry. At HHN, you’re in a perpetual line, shuffling through quick scares, loud audio, and complete chaos that’s constantly grabbing your attention. UHU sends people through every 30 seconds, giving them time to drink in the set pieces and actors. However, nothing here should be looked at for too long, else the cracks start to show. Costumes were the typical HHN standard of “it looks good in the dark,” and actors don’t seem to know how to handle groups that stop to watch their performance (Don’t do this. Keep a steady pace. These aren’t mini movies). On more than one occasion, my group caught up to dawdlers who seemed to think they were in an escape room, looking for clues before moving on.
Unlike at the larger events, there is no staff within the maze to keep things moving, and once you’re in the flow of a standard HHN house, pressed back to chest, you start to miss everything. The timing at UHU is so specific and the mazes so bare that it doesn’t allow for people to fall out of that 30-second gap rhythm. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss those cloaked marshallers. We missed half of “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” and most of “Exorcist: The Beginning” because the group before us fell out of pace, stopping to watch a scene unfold. Scenes, mind you, that typically consisted of “Possessed Girl screaming” or “Leatherface unenthusiastically swinging a chainsaw.” This is something even independent haunts understand, and scare actors, still in character, know to usher groups along to prevent a backup.
The “Exorcist: The Beginning” and “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” houses were rather uninspired recreations of HHN exhibits past. I recall both Hollywood iterations vividly, and there’s no comparison. Though I loathe the overuse of smells at Halloween Horror, their absence in Vegas winds up being another layer missing from what’s meant to be a high-end experience. “Scarecrow: The Reapening” was the surprising star of the evening. Maybe inspired by the lack of source material, UHU’s creative team spliced together a cohesive and well-constructed maze, where scares were abundant and effectively placed. This was the first maze of the evening, when the warehouse was relatively empty, and it set a precedent that the rest of the event simply couldn’t come close to.
I wish I could speak to the quality of the “Universal Monsters” maze, which was my most anticipated, but I never made it inside. On arrival, it was closed. By the time it opened (about 30 minutes later), the line was quite long, stretching beyond the inner queue and well into the warehouse. While the evening had no limit, my patience did. Having failed to enjoy two mazes because of the unmanaged staggered entry, I couldn’t subject myself to waiting a half hour to experience a third significant disappointment.
Waiting in a queue can be a two-part experience. There’s the inner queue, which provides some fun set pieces to admire. The outer queue is where the whole thing falls apart. The main space for UHU is already cramped, as it’s clumsily broken up by a bar and scattered decor. If a line snakes out into the warehouse, there is a very small roped-off section before it spills into the walking space. I dread to think what could happen if there were a fire or other emergency. It creates disorder within the main space that borders on intentional, as if to discourage people from waiting, so they’ll grab food or a drink instead.
I didn’t partake in any of Universal’s dining options because, as a Vegas local, I already know the inevitable imbalance between cost and quality at places like this. Neither of the eateries was all that captivating, and with the minimal decor, it all felt like a cheap cafeteria that was far from enticing. I did browse the merchandise, what little of it there was. It was a mix of apparel and collectibles themed around the mazes and the UHU branding. There was a Psycho robe, which was tempting, but my experience at that point hadn’t inspired my wallet to leave my pockets. Some of the shirts and jackets looked fine. Others, particularly a Frankenstein vs. Wolfman sweater, looked like they were screen-printed in someone’s garage. The staple Vegas imbalance struck again.
If there is one thing UHU excels in, it’s security. Red shirts were plastered all over, from the first entrance into the large warehouse to hovering around the bar and near each queue. I didn’t feel particularly unsafe, but I was also early for the 2,000-some guests (per an employee at the front entrance) that were expected that evening. After I surveyed the entire space, I found myself uneasy at the thought of thousands of people sardined into the inadequate main area, and better understood why so many eyes were needed.
Beyond the bounty of red shirts, my time in the warehouse left me thinking that Universal favored virtually every aspect of the event over guest safety. Not only is the crowded venue ripe for drunken hostility, even at a diminished capacity, but it was also difficult to pinpoint any exits. Even in the gift shop, the main exit is a pair of simple, fully tinted doors with no prominent signage. Of course, I have no doubts that the building meets acceptable standards for local fire and event space code, but I can’t fathom the chaos that would erupt in the event of an emergency.
Unless you’re itching for another lackluster Vegas spectacle, where alcohol is the only avenue to a good time, Universal Horror Unleashed should be off your radar. Even as a fairly big fan of horror and haunted attractions, I couldn’t set aside my strong critiques to enjoy the evening, considering the nearly $200 I spent to be met with closed mazes and what still feels like a half-cocked concept from a multi-million dollar corporation. And that, therein, lies the critical failure. There didn’t seem to be any passion behind it, definitely not the same degree as Halloween Horror Nights or independent haunts.
You’re better off spending your money at a local haunt. Their cost-to-value ratio is a bit better, and for smaller attractions like Tom Devlin’s annual haunt in Boulder City or 31 Screams in Tivoli Village, you’re supporting small businesses that have proven their dedication to the local haunt community.
In total, I was at UHU for about an hour, and while that may seem “rushed,” it was more than enough time to witness the entirety of the event, including the live entertainment that caters largely to HHN superfans. When you’re admitted at your ticketed time, they say you can stay until closing. Considering the event sells tickets as late as two hours before it shuts down, I think even Universal understands that, unlike at its much bigger events, guests don’t have much reason to linger in this warehouse of disappointment.