Emotional rollercoasters: what if ride brands weren't scary?

What do Stealth, Scream, Kraken, Smiler, Blade, and Goliath all have in common? Not horror films, no. Though the sinister, monster-weapon-threat language might have you thinking so.

In fact, these are all rollercoasters and rides, created for people’s amusement – for fun – in theme parks around the world.

But why is there so much overlap between the horror genre and the branding of theme park rides? When was it decided that a rollercoaster’s primary ambition should be to scare? And is this fright-filled strategy fit for future thrill-seekers?

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A brief history

Some of the earliest rollercoaster concepts came from Russian shores, where, in the mid-eighteenth century, the Katalnaya Gora (‘Mountain for Riding’) was constructed in St Petersburg (a sequence of icy hills, traversed in small trolley cars).

In the coming decades, France was to construct several rollercoaster-style rides under the names Les Montagnes de Belleville and the Promenades Aériennes. Thus, the era of the ‘Scenic Railway’ began. In the words of L.A. Thompson, these rides were ‘just for fun’. So far, so genteel.

The beast is born

Things took a more sinister turn when Coney Island established its first amusement parks in the nineteenth century. Evolving the scenic railway format into the rickety, twisty-turny, drop-filled adrenaline rush of wooden rollercoasters, Coney Island’s natural next step was to begin describing its rides in terms of speed and power: Cyclone, Thunderbolt, Shooting the Rapids.

Fostering the fear factor

But while these names harmlessly refer to the physical experience of the ride (fast!), today the status quo is to refer to the emotional experience – namely, the fear factor.

Take two of the UK’s leading ‘grown-up’ theme parks (step aside, Peppa Pig): Thorpe Park and Alton Towers.

In Thorpe Park, slushy-slurping park-goers can merrily skip between the monsters of Colossus and Stealth, between the weapons of Samurai and Detonator, and between the (biohazard?) threats of Hyperia and Swarm.

The block capitals, dark backgrounds, and machine-like imagery of their logos leave no mistake: these rides are meant for scaring. One could argue these similarities bring brand consistency to the overall experience of Thorpe Park, if it wasn’t for the occasional anomaly like the Rumba Rapids.

In Alton Towers, the gift of a larger plot has enabled the park to be zoned into regions that sound similarly frightful, like the Forbidden Valley, the Dark Forest, the Gloomy Wood, and the X-Sector. Though such sinister labels are offset by the cheery sounding Katanga Canyon, and of course David Walliams Land (where one can ride Raj’s Bouncy Bottom Burp).

Yet much like Thorpe Park, the headlining rides here invite misfortune (Th13teen), threaten Oblivion, and suggest insanity (Smiler).

The strategy of notoriety

It’s not difficult to understand the strategy. Most teenage and adult theme park guests attend for the adrenaline. Voluntarily feeling scared and threatened – in a controlled environment – is one of life’s great privileges, and rollercoaster psychologists have been fast to clock on to the fact that the physical impact of a ride can be greatly enhanced by emotive storytelling.

And for most, the emotion to evoke is fear.

There is just nothing like that feeling of sweaty-palmed, pale-faced, trembling terror for bringing friends and families together – through laughter, bravado, and quite frankly, relief of survival.

Bigger budget rides will capitalise on this fact with creepy soundtracks, interactive queue experiences, and pre-ride storytelling (Alton Towers’ Wicker Man invites riders to sacrifice themselves in a barbecue-scented bonfire room before boarding). It is the reason why rides that have a genuine reputation for harm – for example, The Smiler – have easily rebounded and even developed a cult-like following.

Teenagers will dare each other to ride. Reasonable adults will disembark feeling physically and emotionally like they’ve had a brush with death. And oh, how alive it makes us feel!

Hard-hitting terror

The psychology is certainly there to support the fear-inducing brand strategies of many of our largest rollercoasters. But there’s also room to challenge this status quo.

Firstly, there’s the question of what people find truly scary. If you stop a person in the street and ask them about their darkest fears, it’s unlikely that they’ll tell you about monsters and detonators. After inevitable responses around dentists and gone-off milk, Britain’s most common phobias are of creepy crawlies, murderers, enclosed spaces, and torture. We may be taking a dark turn here, but brands and stories that play on these concepts may raise pulses higher than a meeting with the Kraken. ?

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Fearless thrills

Yet there is also strength in pursuing thrill without fear. Emotive storytelling can certainly enhance ride experience, but only relatively recent precedent has dictated that that emotion has to be fear (remember Scenic Railways?). Why not create joy, delight, fun, and even laughter, with your thrill ride?

This is a question that the enlightened Imagineers of Disney World and Universal Studios have been exploring for several years. Each blessed with a vast catalogue of films from which to draw inspiration, both theme park brands are delivering immersive worlds in which rides and rollercoasters are used as joy-inducing features.

In Universal Studios’ Hogsmeade, one can ride with Hagrid on a Care of Magical Creatures Motorbike Adventure. A rollercoaster, yes – and a fast one – but one filled joyously with blast-ended skrewts and Cornish pixies. The brand is magic and wonder. The ride delivers.

The evolution of Disney rides is even more striking. Disneyland California’s Tower of Terror – once famed for plummeting screaming guests into the twilight zone – in 2017 reopened as ‘Guardians of the Galaxy –?Mission: Breakout!’ In the words of Disney Imagineers, this brand and story shift stems from a conscious strategy to pivot into joy-based thrill moments, where guests will laugh out loud as they plummet into… the galaxy.

The rollercoaster ahead

If there’s one thing that all of this can teach us, it’s that the emotive power of a rollercoaster’s brand and story is just as important as the physical experience of the ride.

No teenage boy ever boasted about fearlessly taking on the Tooth Fairy’s Journey (no matter how fast it went). But similarly, riders are unlikely to create memories of pure, unadulterated joy on rollercoasters that give them sleepless nights.

Perhaps Disney and Universal Studios are onto something. Perhaps our monster-fuelled landscape of thrill rides is due a rebrand.

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