Beasts & Bastards

Posted in SIN Chronicles with tags , , , , on October 18, 2016 by bluefall8


So, what’s your pleasure? Be it beast or bastard? I’d like to start with the latter, so let’s discuss difficult, no-fun customers.


It’s a fair question and maybe it has a lot of answers but as an actor at a haunted attraction I’m sometimes baffled by the attitudes of some people. I think some individuals simply take themselves too seriously or want to be combative and others still are just trashy, insecure people who create drama just so they have a story to tell. These people are boorish and ignorant and they’re not worth your time or effort.

The vast majority of my experiences at SIN this Halloween season have been positive, but a few unpleasant and odd exchanges do standout. As Vermin, I introduce myself to a lot of people and subsequently offer a handshake. Most people get a kick out of it — maybe it’s the funny name or maybe it’s the slightly ominous greeting or innuendo that accompanies the introduction. Whatever it is, it’s generally met with some form of enjoyment.

One Saturday, I was talking to a pair of young guys who probed Vermin with some curious questions — they seemed to dig the character and wanted to know more about him. There was a woman of about the same age beside them so I included her in the conversation and offered her my hand. She seemed skeptical which is fine, she’s not alone. Lots of people have refused the handshake and I have responses prepared for just such an occasion.

No big deal, it’s all in good fun. Except in this particular instance, a woman with an entirely different group turned and said, “This isn’t the 80’s. You don’t shake a woman’s hand. You shake a man’s hand.” Uhh…what? She looked genuinely affronted. Maybe she was drunk. Maybe she holds some very strict guidelines on inter-gender social interaction that applied only to the 1980’s. She then invited the girl to stand with her group as if my handshake posed some serious threat that only she and her unmatched haughtiness could neutralize. The two young guys looked at me apologetically and added that they didn’t know this school marm of 80’s etiquette. I didn’t dwell on it because I do not suffer fools.

The most frequent negative experience comes from young males that range from late teens to mid-twenties. The tough guy posturing that comes from this crowd is insufferable and I always find it amusing that the worst offenders aren’t exactly in peak physical condition. More often than not they’re either scrawny and dressed in oversized clothes or short and porky with bowl haircuts. It’s as if they possess zero knowledge of a haunted house and cannot fathom why a weird character is trying to creep them out. In some instances I’ve even overheard other members of their group tell them to calm down or chill out. I don’t understand where these people come from or why they exist.

I don’t make a point to interact with these people much because they aren’t interested in having any fun and I’m not impressed with their baggage or undeserved sense of self-worth. It’s nauseating. It all comes back to body language and verbal feedback. I’m here to have fun and entertain people just as the guest is there to have fun and be entertained. If you can’t open yourself up to that then I’ve got nothing for you.


Interestingly, but probably not surprising to anyone who took high school psychology, truly intimidating and physically imposing guests do not typically exude combative or aggressive behavior. I love to engage these people and then pick on them in front of their friends, dates and spouses. Think about it. Guys who approach or exceed six and a half feet tall are used to being deferred to and it’s probably been that way for them ever since they hit that crazy growth spurt in middle or high school. They’re big and people just assume not mess with them.

One night there was a run of giants in the house and about three of these monsters were in haunt zero simultaneously. One by one these oddities traipsed in like a freak show on HGH. Vermin dashed to confront them and immediately issued comical insults which their respective groups enjoyed. I don’t imagine they see these people approached so forcefully or spoken to so bluntly very often. I like to speculate on their abnormal size and usually label them Bigfoot, Sasquatch or otherwise refer to them as some sports figure who was freakishly tall like Manute Bol. Google it, kids.

So, there I was in haunt zero with a packed room that already featured two walking anomalies when a true mountain of a man lumbered into the room and dwarfed even them. He was 6’6″ and had to weigh 400 lbs. or more. He was, as we say in the common parlance, ginormous. He also smelled like he had just smoked a blunt but that is neither here nor there. I stared up at him and hurled some barbs his way. He said his name was Antoine and he probably could’ve crushed me with relative ease, but Vermin is not concerned with such pedestrian matters. Antoine seemed a jovial fellow and contentedly high so I poked and prodded his stunning stature and he took it all in stride.

I suppose the point of all of this is to instruct haunted house actors to be fearless in the face of odd, imposing and intimidating people. Get creative with your interaction and mess with expectations; don’t fall into the trap of always preying on the weak link of the group. I think you’ll find that it becomes more enjoyable for you as a performer as well. I know that’s been true in my experience.

Sinful Sunday

Posted in SIN Chronicles with tags , , , , , , , on October 18, 2016 by bluefall8


It’s no secret that Sundays are much slower than Fridays and Saturdays but ticket sales were up noticeably from one week prior and a couple of noteworthy groups kept things interesting. All in all, it wasn’t a bad few hours of haunting.

Once again I was charged up upon arrival and beat a hasty path to the front of the house but discovered no guests present at the ticket booth nor inside haunt zero. However, I did note that Brother James was not at the entrance of the haunt, his usual post. Instead, we were joined for the evening by Sister Nena whose lashing tongue and no-nonsense attitude were a welcome addition to the SIN brood.


Devoid of playmates, Vermin forcefully exited the front of the building and dared somebody to look at him. This is one of the routines I love to employ when the house is empty. I bust out the front doors with purpose, like a man on fire and the first person to look into my eyes becomes the target. In most cases the person in question first has a look of apprehension and fear in their eyes and then they retreat a few steps before attempting to clarify my status with the haunted house.

I think it works well for three reasons, the first is the crazed state — I can draw up real anger and I think people sense that. The long, wild hair whipping about my face doesn’t hurt either. The second reason is my costume or more accurately, my lack of a traditional costume. I’m basically in street clothes so it’s reasonable to believe that I may just be another customer or some unknown guy who’s upset about who knows what. Third, and this is key, the customer cannot yet have interacted with me. I’m a total stranger looking pissed off and unkempt and I’m coming right at them. I think people know fairly quickly that I’m likely a part of the show but when combined the aforementioned elements are enough to plant that seed of doubt and that’s all it takes. It’s a rush to pull off this scare.


Daffodil was already engaged with a group of three, two tall males and a female who all looked to be in their early to mid 20s. One was quiet and standoffish while the other two were talkative, affable and primed to be scared. Vermin was all piss and vinegar, issuing insults and commands. I specifically targeted the tall, dark-haired male who talked too much for his own good. He compared me to the character Jesus from The Walking Dead as he spoke to his friends as if I wasn’t present and after a few iterations of the comment I got in his face and said, “Call me Jesus one more time, boy.” He was nervous but I could also tell he was enjoying the whole routine and wasn’t likely to swing at me which isn’t true of all customers. After some additional interaction from Daffodil and Vermin the trio entered SIN.

When they had exited the attraction, we picked up where we had left off. Daffodil introduced a gagging bit in which she coughed up blood and then ran off frightened. Two of the three expressed genuine concerned so of course I just played along. Truth be told I was momentarily confused myself because Austin, the actress behind Daffodil, has had a sinus infection in recent days. By the time she had run away I was certain it was all an act but the knowledge of her recent ailment did give me pause if ever so briefly. Regardless, she pulled it off well and then reemerged and chalked it all up to an absurd condition called, Clownitis.

As it was slow at the moment, we continued to entertain the trio. I inquired about a necklace that Jabber-Jaw was wearing and he began to rattle off facts about something that vaguely registered as anime. I’m not a big anime fan so the reaction to come was one of genuine boredom and borderline contempt. I held my right hand near his face, cut him off mid-sentence and said, “Stop talking.” His friends laughed as if they too found his love of anime tiresome.

The tall quiet one was getting a bit antsy, he was named Malik. I dropped his name and he seemed surprised. The female in the group reassured him that I had probably heard them use it which was of course how I knew it but they didn’t know that. She turned to me and with a hint of pleading reassurance said, “That’s how you knew it right?” Whenever I can I like to use the neither-confirm-nor-deny strategy because I feel to simply imply something is much more unsettling than plainly answering a question. I issued that strangled Vermin laugh and said, “Yeah, let’s go with that. Whatever makes you comfortable.” People are supremely weirded out when you possess knowledge that they think you shouldn’t know. It’s a beautiful thing.

I proceeded to take a thoughtful, purposeful look at the license plate of their car which drew a reaction and then ripped an impressive chunk of my hair from my head and gave it to the female as a memento. It freaked her out, she asked me to stop while the act was in progress and even stepped back several paces. As I handed it to her she questioned the authenticity of it. It was real and it was more hair than I had planned to yank out of my head. I don’t believe I’ll be doing that again.

The group paid Daffodil and myself a lot of compliments and I was flattered but I wasn’t about to let it show on my face. Talking Tommy repeatedly asked about our accents and seemed determined to examine the folks behind the characters but to pull back that curtain so cavalierly would only have been a disappointment and neither of us seemed inclined to oblige. We took a picture with two of the three (mousy Malik snapped the photo) and then they departed. I liked them, they were good people.


The night was drawing to a close when a group of five turned up. I was just inside the door of haunt zero when I spotted them at the ticket booth; four girls and one guy. I estimated that they were all in their late 20s to early 30s. I sauntered over as only Vermin can saunter and I eyed them creepily, the way a mangy wolf might look if you substituted hunger for perversion.

Ready to savor the interaction I noticed an attractive brunette among them and as I looked closer I became slightly unnerved and then fascinated. Why, you ask? Good question. I managed to remain in character but the scene spooked me. This woman was the spitting image of a good friend of mine; it could’ve been her twin sister. Granted, her build was slightly different but the hair color was the same as was her complexion. She had the same eyes, same smile; she even possessed a few shockingly similar, minute mannerisms. It was freaky as hell. I thought I was staring at my friend and it was definitely not my friend for those of you who may be wondering.

As Vermin I informed her of the striking, spooky resemblance and even dubbed her, Doppelganger. I stalked circles around her so that I could examine her features from all angles. I was legitimately mesmerized by this woman who said her name was Lena. When her group had emerged from the house after being chased by Edward and his chainsaw that is — I examined her face further and elaborated on her unbelievable resemblance to my friend.

She and her friends prodded me for more information and I joked that I would contact them through social media. You see, they’d already let slip their names, employer and the city in which they lived. When I strung all of that together and flatly stated that it was more than enough to find them, they exchanged amused but slightly concerned looks as if it had just dawned on them that indeed, the information was likely sufficient to track someone down.

As I write, I’m not convinced that this Lena and my friend were not separated at birth. The resemblance was truly surreal and it gave me goosebumps.

Hot Box

Posted in SIN Chronicles with tags , , , , , , , , , , on October 16, 2016 by bluefall8


Saturday was a long, exhausting night at SIN. I’d estimate that we had more crew members than any other night thus far. Zack, the male cheerleader, from last weekend even returned with his tall friend to volunteer — the pair worked the dining room and Zodiac respectively. We would need all those crew members too because the bars in Wyandotte were hosting a zombie pub crawl and those drunken meat bags shambled into SIN.

I’m not sure what time the house began to get busy — 8pm maybe 8:30pm but once it started it didn’t stop until Midnight. Haunt zero was packed with warm bodies and as the temperature rose I began to regret my decision to wear two flannels. I did venture outside from time to time to cool down and steal some fresh air but the vast majority of my night was spent with the horde of patrons just inside the doors of SIN and what an interesting amalgam of humanity they were.


There several different types of guests at a haunted attraction and I think I witnessed the whole gamut last night. There’s those who react predictably, that is too say frightened and nervous such as a pair of petite Indian women who snickered and cowered any time I was nearby. These people are harmless and want to be scared; the consummate customer.

There’s also people I’ve found who are genuinely pleasant to interact with but I don’t know that until I’ve conducted one of my various ice-breakers. Usually, once I’ve got a vibe from them I downplay the creepier elements of Vermin and allow more room for comedy or relatively lighthearted banter. Such was the case with a young couple from Grosse Ile (yeah, we’re getting a lot of folks from Money Island). The young man happened to be wearing his girlfriend’s varsity jacket — a point that both myself and Daffodil took issue with. There was also a younger sister or friend with them named Emma and she was frosty for most of the wait in line but did eventually warm to Vermin. They seemed like good people and I was legitimately sad to see them disappear through the entrance of the haunt.

The same can be said of a young woman named Cassidy who I interacted with on several occasions while she and her lone friend waiting to enter the attraction. These people aren’t so different from the first group really; they want to be scared too. The difference is that they’re entertained by both the character and the person behind that character. It’s a nice change of pace actually, it’s exhausting trying to creep out and scare every last guest. Typically, when I’m confronted with these kinds of groups and individuals I like to crack jokes and flirt. It’s good clean fun.

There’s a third type that’s simply enamored with the whole experience. They’re more likely to give a character a hug than to be startled or scared; these people want to work at a haunted attraction and I’m always on the look out for them because the act must be adjusted for these people. The more you try to freak them out, the more they will latch on to you as their new best friend.

There was a sweet 13-year-old girl named Logan in line with a group of friends and she fit the profile perfectly. She deflected all of Vermin’s strangeness with a serene smile and spunky attitude. Indeed her colorful braces and plentiful freckles made for a face so adorable only a true maniac would want to see her so much as frown. She asked to braid my hair, she asked for a hug, she asked if she could work at the joint. The girl was fearless and I admired her for it.

Unless I’m doing the creepy smell-my-hair bit I don’t encourage customers to touch me, it can be a slippery slope. But Logan really wanted to braid Vermin’s hair and the kid had a heart of gold so I allowed her to put that braid in my hair. It’s all improv when you get down to it and I try my best to keep people entertained. I love to see people smile.

Another guy who fell into this category was Kramer, yeah, his parents named him Kramer. He was there with his sister Avery and a couple of her friends. Kramer seemed quiet at first perhaps even a bit of a stick in the mud but then he lit up like a Christmas Tree and engaged in a series of out-of-the-blue masturbation jokes. Never to be one caught off guard, Vermin went right ahead with the conversation and it was a bit of fun that we revisited a couple of times while Kramer remained in line. He even presented both of his hands at one point, palms up and discussed his relationship with each. I informed him that he was indeed a brave soul to hold his hands in such a fashion beneath a black light; a line that drew much laughter for all involved.


There are others of course who fall into the various categories or even over-lap into several; most of them too are enjoyable to interact with in their own way. I had a conversation with a young guy who worked construction in Ohio, his name was Darryl. He was curiously accompanied by a gaggle of attractive Russian co-eds, not sure what that was about but probably an indication of good things for Darryl. He and Vermin worked out a deal on cement shoes and agreed to keep the whole thing hush-hush. When he passed Vermin again later he reiterated the deal and then at nearly the same time we each placed an index finger to our lips, conspiratorially. You can’t plan that kind of stuff, it just happens.

Yet another interesting pair came in the form of Zombie Pub Crawl participants. A young, skinny dude was dressed as undead Elvis while his friend was a sprite of a man who sort of resembled Popeye or maybe Popeye’s less impressive cousin. They were both drunk both not obnoxious drunk, just drunk enough to act foolish and have a good time. Pint-sized Not Popeye informed me proudly that his name was Typhoon Tommy, he even produced a credit card as proof. That credit card read: Typhoon Tommy. The hell? I later learned from Grace who was again stationed in H.H. Holmes that the duo tried to playfully chomp her. Some people, man.


There are a few other types I want to touch on, but this entry has gone on long enough so I’ll save those for a separate post. Just to whet the ole whistle, that future post will concern combative, rude customers which is something anybody whose worked with the public has dealt with from time to time. But perhaps more interestingly, it will also address how I like to approach physically imposing guests who are a unique challenge altogether.

Lunatic Fringe

Posted in SIN Chronicles with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 15, 2016 by bluefall8



I rolled into SIN on Friday night like a storm. I wasn’t able to arrive until roughly 9:30pm because of work and indeed it was due to an incident at work that had me supercharged and on fire. Some of my fellow actors were in need of bathroom breaks so I spent the first half hour or so rotating between several rooms — first Bundy, then Ramirez and finally, Dahmer. I paced the floor and pulled at my hair because that energy had to go somewhere.

In Bundy I disparaged an attempt at humor from one group and punctuated the point by booting a chair across the room. Once in Ramirez I absorbed the space and crafted a few scares; I was so psyched up I begin jumping on a bed that was located in one corner of the room. I wasn’t aware of it at the time but a fellow actor from an adjacent haunt had poked her head into the room at that moment, witnessed my frenzied state and slowly backed out. We shared a laugh about it later.

When some guests did arrive in Ramirez, I commanded one of them to sit in a chair, placed a troll doll at their feet and demanded it be worshiped as a God. There was hesitation of course but at least one of them eventually complied with the absurd demands just in time for one of my co-workers, Danielle, to enter and witness the odd scene. The trio soon fled led by a visibly shaken teenage male named Fidel, oh Fidel was a great target indeed. Danny and I shared several laughs about that moment throughout the night.

In Dahmer I paced the large kitchen like a madman. I picked up a skull and argued with it forcibly; when a group would enter I purposely ignored them momentarily but made sure to block their path by manically pacing back and forth. Inevitably my disagreement with the skull led to throwing a bowl across the room, an action that elicited excitement and fright. I also climbed a top an empty steel drum and surprised one group by leaping from it as soon as they’d entered the room.

I definitely prefer to roam but the limited time I spent in each of these rooms on Friday was a great way to channel my agitation and engage in some jump scares that are harder to come by in the queue line.


Although that initial surge of energy was burned off a flood of adrenaline continued to course through my veins for much of the night and was probably best applied with a couple of self-absorbed rich kids from Grosse Ile. One of them actually tried to buy Farley, Murray the Clown’s signature blade and when that failed went on to brag about his Maserati and the company he owned at the age of 17. All of which was handed to him by mommy and daddy, or course. Well that’s all the ammunition we really needed, although he and his resentful buddy would provide much more fodder.

Vermin, Daffodil and Dr. Giggles assailed the duo with a hail of insults and mind games that I like to think genuinely shook the pair and gave them a taste of humility. Richie Rich professed to have a generous spirit so I retorted,  “Well then, make it rain, Scrooge McDuck.” You see, in the carnival that is my mind there is no more cartoonish representation of obscene wealth than the Duck Tales patriarch.

The line drew laughs from all involved and provided a moment of levity which was good because one of our less-than-merry band was about to get heavy. Dr. Giggles issued a harsh rebuke and informed the pair of the charitable nature of the haunted house itself. Following the tongue lashing the boys claimed that they would return to their fancy car and retrieve some money for tickets, but to no one’s surprise we never saw them again. I hope their dreams were haunted by our words.

The 11 o’clock hour brought to SIN a rough looking group from Detroit who were weirded out every bit as much as their refined counterparts from Grosse Ile. A tall, skinny 20-something male squirmed and recoiled whenever I approached him. While in haunt zero he paid me an enormous compliment aided by the use of profanity as it was, “What the fuck! You’re not even wearin’ a costume. Yeah, you’re intimidatin’ as fuck! You’re like one of those crazy white boys, aren’t you?!” Guilty. In a night that featured so many memorable moments that just might have been my favorite. It’s exchanges such as this that let me know Vermin is doing his job.


Once the final group of the night had entered the house I sprinted over to the H.H. Holmes haunt to execute a scare with Grace that we’ve had success with on a number of parties. Typically, Grace plays the role of the murderous hotel magnate but for this particular scare she shed that role and slipped into the skin of a victim. I crawled under the bed and waited for my cue. When the couple entered Grace began begging for their help and spoke of an awful man who was soon to return. The terrified couple had no interest in helping the poor girl and when they attempted to scamper from the room I crawled from beneath the bed and watched two adult human beings melt into a pile of quivering goo.

The male threw himself against the far wall and then darted in front of his girlfriend. She didn’t seem to notice however, because her eyes were only half open, her head jerked from side to side like a broken robot, her right hand was held aloft and shook uncontrollably. For all the world, the only way I can describe the scene is as if I’d watch an out-of-water fish flop like it were experiencing a seizure.

And it was glorious to behold.

Mackinaw Manor Automatonapalooza

Posted in 2016, Mackinaw Manor, Review with tags , , , , on October 15, 2016 by bluefall8


In late August I went on vacation with my family to Petoskey and while there we decided to take a day trip to Mackinaw City. Mackinaw Crossings is a modern shopping district with a quaint atmosphere, one of the businesses featured there is a fully automated haunted attraction called Mackinaw Manor. The chance to visit a haunt in August was too great to pass up and at just $7 a head it was a no-brainer. As fate would have it the original trio was present — my brother, Jason, good friend, John and myself — the fabled Haunt Trinity.

Jason was out of practice and it showed as he was startled and spooked on several occasions. Beginning with the first room where a seance had commenced, a pneumatic prop emerged from beneath the lid of a crate and gave my big brother a proper jump scare. John and I shared a laugh at his expense and would enjoy several others as we progressed through Mackinaw Manor.

Near the halfway point of the attraction skeletal remains swung down from the ceiling and flailed helplessly while upside down; this too got a rise out of Jason. Soon we forced our way through a womb of doom and found ourselves on the threshold of  a child’s bedroom where sinister forces were at work. A girl laid prone on the bed, her head secured in the oversized hands of some kiddie snatcher. I think I saw her draw a few shallow breaths while voices swirled around the room. Behind us a closet door burst open and a miniature maniac darted in our direction with a mad glint in his eyes and a knife in hand.

Mackinaw Manor was brief and as a fully automated attraction featured no live actors but it was fun and a good value. The first and last rooms in particular where executed well and served as highlights of our trip.

Rating: 3 stars

Blur the Line

Posted in SIN Chronicles with tags , , , , , on October 14, 2016 by bluefall8


It was another slow Thursday at SIN punctuated by a large group that was a mix of elementary aged children and young teenagers. Their reactions ranged from amused to frightened and that’s about how it should be in a group that size. One of the poor kids dropped a $20 somewhere in the attraction and by chance I spotted it under the black light of haunt zero. Vermin may be a creep but he’s an honest creep.

I ran all of my usual bits inside and outside of the haunted attraction, without incident. It was a fairly uneventful night by haunted house standards, but one passerby made sure that it wouldn’t stay that way. I had a message from the chairperson of the haunted house this morning which stated that a complaint had been made about Vermin. I often wander outside of the haunted house when it is slow or dead to interact with people who happen to walk by the haunted house and tempt them into buying a ticket. One of my standard bits is to simply say, “Hello, what is your name?” Which is exactly what happened during the incident in question.

The pair of women who I judged to be in their early 20s never broke stride and when they were probably 10-15 feet away I called after them bemusedly, “What? Your mommas didn’t give you a name?” That was the end of the interaction, but in the age of social media things are easily and often exaggerated. Apparently, one of those young ladies was so unnerved she couldn’t get the moment out of her mind all night and characterized the figure in question (myself) as “rapey.” A flood of comments and laughable moral outrage ensued by a cavalcade of brave souls who weren’t even there to witness the non-event, of course.

There is without a doubt a fine line that haunt actors walk and I take pride in walking it very well. I read body language constantly and I have often backed off of a patron when they seemed indifferent or simply not into the experience. I understand that not everybody is in love with haunted houses like myself; a lot of people are dragged to these attractions by friends or significant others. I want them to have a fun experience and I want to enjoy my interaction with them. If that isn’t happening I move right along to the next person. But I’m not going to apologize for being effective in my role and I’m sure as hell not breaking character because someone fails to recognize context clues.

It’s October. You’re walking in front of a haunted house. Creepy guy. Funny accent. Yeah, context clues. Had I used profanity or been vulgar I’d understand the complaint. Had I invaded their personal space or blocked their path I’d understand the discomfort. But when the interaction outlined above is characterized as “rapey” it’s time for some people to be reminded of context clues and common sense. It’s also worth note that no one else, either inside or outside the haunted house has complained. Does the act creep some people out? Absolutely, that’s what it’s supposed to do. But if all you have is a strange looking guy outside of a known haunted attraction asking your name you don’t get to take to social media and stir up baseless faux-outrage. What you need to do is grow up.

Slash & Burn

Posted in News with tags , , , , , , , , on October 13, 2016 by bluefall8

One of the cool perks of my work with SIN Haunted House has been the opportunity to tour other haunted attractions and on weeknights no less. Through the Michigan Haunters Association a number of haunted attractions throughout the state have collaborated to each host an event at their location. I think it’s a great tool for networking and provides haunters an opportunity to experience and appreciate the work of other passionate haunt freaks.

On Tuesday we converged at Rotten Manor and then last night enjoyed both Clio Manor and the indomitable, Exit 13. I toured all of those attractions last year and as such had planned to skip them this season so this afforded me the chance to get back to some great places and I’m thankful for that. Due to the insider nature of these events, as well as the aforementioned previous trips, I hadn’t originally planned to write official reviews but I still wanted to touch on some highlights from each event.

And then Exit 13 happened last night and I just don’t see how I can’t write a full review of the superior, odds-defying horror show that is taking place in Mt. Morris. So with that said I plan to do a streamlined review of these three locations with a focus on what was new. As for now, it’ll soon be time to channel Vermin once more and what a night it shall be next Monday when SIN is the final stop on the haunt swap. A plague is coming and Vermin is set to draw your sins as venom is drawn from a wound.