Last night was the first time that I ever found myself at Narwhal, the sub level younger sibling of Unicorn. The ornate decoration of the place could make even the most dour funeral seem festive. It is absolutely beautiful. During the break between two sets of very capable slowcore bands, I wandered over to the impressive but possibly overpriced selection of pinball and video games. Eventually I spotted a Ms. Pac-Man / Galaga hybrid that looked in very good shape. I can get 50¢ of entertainment from Galaga and usually beat the posted high score. It's probably my favorite cabinet video game.

My eyes widened. I saw the top score while I inserted the second quarter. I shrank in despair. 626,880? Are you fucking kidding me?

• Game over, indeed.

WHO IS THIS MASTER OF GALAGA? REVEAL YOURSELF!

Here are some Galaga fun facts:

Somewhere in the world exists a Galaga Christmas tree ornament.

The world record high score for Galaga was set in June 1989 by Stephen Krogman of Boca Raton, Florida. He scored 15,999,990 points. That is so many points.

A submarine in the ABC TV show Lost was called Galaga. It was named after the video game Galaga.

Apparently if you leave one enemy at the end of the first or second stage and then kill it after approximately 18 minutes (?!?!?!), you can exploit a programming glitch that causes the rest of the enemies to not fire for the rest of the game. IS THAT WHAT YOU DID, GALAGA MASTER?

Like Derek said, the KUBE 93 Haunt is terrifying. I would vote it as one of Seattle's VERY BEST (and I've been to three this year, plus a corn maze). Mastermind Scott Kolling is killer at what he does (which includes making people scream, and sometimes piss their pants).

Kolling, bless his haunted heart, also was kind enough to let me use his haunt as a photo backdrop for this week's Stranger cover. The Ononos don't really sleep in coffins, so we headed for the KUBE. Thank you, Scott! Both for making me almost crap my pants, and also your kind hospitality...

More photos after the jump!

• Kelly O
• This coffin is haaaaaaun'ted, bwaaa-aah-aah!

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First off, I shudder to even type the words haunted and house next to each other. It was here at KUBE 93 a few weeks ago that I learned they're not called haunted houses. They're simply called haunts. I reckon because so many things can be haunted—corn mazes, barns, damp fields. Lucky for you if you live in Seattle proper, you're a short drive away from one of the best indoor (read: no rain) haunts the region has to offer.

Scott Kolling, the genius behind KUBE 93's many screams and frights, explained that they're the only haunt in town because of Seattle's strict policies against large groups of people gathering in one place at a time. He's been in the business for ages, learning tons from the generation before him and passing that knowledge on to the next group of frightmasters. He's also involved with the Nightmare on 9 haunt in Snohomish, which we unfortunately didn't get to this year. But since he's got his hands on it, it's most likely scream-worthy.

HOT TIP: Go on a Sunday night. Unfortunately, due to the lateness of the month, there's only one of those left. We went on a Sunday and there was only a very short line. Oh, did I mention that Shawn Kemp was one of the people in line? Apparently his relative works at KUBE as an actor and Kemp was having a go himself. Small world!

• Behind the scenes at KUBE 93.

The action inside the haunt itself is unbelievable. It's chilling, terrifying, full of surprises with great elements of anticipation before each scare. There's a lot of yelling, air bursts, a blood red fountain of water, themed rooms of all types, a psychedelic tunnel, and so much more. The costumes and actors are absolutely professional. I had a bit of a worry since we were there on a night with low turnout that the energy would be low. Not a chance, it was terrifying.

There's something great about a haunted house, how you can enter in one state of mind and you're completely different when you exit. You could feel drab going in, perhaps worried about your job, and you no longer care about that when you leave because you've just been mocked by a little girl with a cut up face standing on a bed.

There were a few areas that seemed influenced by the great horror films from the 1980s. When I brought up a certain scene in the haunt that reminded me of Return of the Living Dead to Kolling, he nodded in agreement. When a haunt takes cues from classic horror cinema, you're got nothing to worry about. Except getting out alive!

Oh man, I can't believe I just wrote that.

This post is part of a series comparing the best haunted houses in the Seattle area. Be on the lookout for others in the coming days. Share your opinions in the comments, if you'd like! This post comes from our dispatched haunt reporter Lacey Swain of the Coconut Coolouts and Charming Snakes.

Kitsap Haunted Fairgrounds is the result of a relationship that began in 2003 between several local families who were hosting their own annual haunted houses and the Kitsap County Parks and Recreation Department, and the enthusiasm and hard work shows. The main event is located in the Chicken and Archery building, but ticketing and an indoor line are located in a seemingly unmarked barn structure. Not only can you buy a burger and garlic Parmesan cheese fries before you go in, they also have a local youth dace troupe performing a creepy Halloween themed dance routine before you enter.

• Lacey Swain

KHF begins with a walk through a black-light lit psychedelic freak out area where you're required to wear prism-y 3-D glasses. There aren't a ton of scares in this area, and when you come to the end and hand your glasses back to a little girl with a cardboard box you find yourself a little irritated that you've just dropped twelve bones on this low-scare kiddie haunt. Don't fret, that's just the first building of this massive, outstandingly well-done celebration of all things creepy.

• Kelly O

In the next building you are yelled at and mocked by a ghoul who lays down the storyline of Otis and Lester and their dreams of making a Hollywood movie before you are let loose in one of the best haunted houses I've ever attended. There are numerous scenes in KHFG, all done with an exacting eye and astonishing attention to detail. One of the biggest assets of KHFG is the sheer physicality of the whole thing—you're ducking and climbing and running through an elaborate set with scares aplenty, and at one point you are even encouraged to climb through a pipe. There is a wuss option next to the pipe, but c'mon—put on your big boy pants and take the pipe already. This area can take a good half hour to get through, and that's not even counting the rave room or the dancing kids from earlier.

• Kelly O

Without giving anything more away, I will tell you that this haunts ends with one of the most sophisticated mind-fucks I've ever encountered at a haunted house.This is not that totally fucked up one in New York that my crew discussed on the ride home that involves a SARS mask, signing a waiver about violent and sexual situations and entering solo with a flashlight. These guys have gone above and beyond and the $12 price tag is the best bargain you'll find at any local haunt, hands down. Every weekend through Halloween, plus Halloween and the following weekend.

Kitsap County Fairgounds: 5:00-6:00 lights on 6:00-11:00 full scare $12/$20 VIP (2 times through + front of the line)
www.kitsaphauntedfairgrounds.com

• T. Moorman

It had been a while since I’d seen Doubloon. I’d gone to his spot past Pier 59 a couple times in August, but he wasn’t there. Last night, with autumn tentacles about to reel winter’s suction cups in, I thought for sure he’d be out. And he was, with one balloon hoisted, sitting in a blue lawn chair, drawing in the last of the warmer nights. His sign said “Animals? Were Wind in the Willows,” and his eyes were glassier than I’d ever seen them - frozen, bell rung curves. He didn’t look up from his solitaire when I said hello. “Sit please,” he said, “Erode with me.” His boombox wasn’t there, so we sat in silence for ten minutes with the Puget breeze and visible stars. I don’t think he was playing solitaire, I think he was just flipping his own monologue oracle of Go Fish-Tarot. A five of diamonds was laid down and he said, “What brings you, Minty. Tell me something.” I brought up orcas and how they don’t really ever fully sleep. How they only half-dream, shutting down half of their brains in a “uni-hemispherical slow wave sleep.” Each breath is consciously breathed. Doubloon knew all about it.

Then he said, “You didn’t come here to talk about orca whales not sleeping. What about the music, Minty? Where’s the music? Tell me the story.” I had Blonde Redhead’s “For the Damaged Coda” and “In Particular” ready to play for him on my phone. I thought he would enjoy Kazu. I played him the songs, and told him a story about an amusement park worker named Todd who goes mad. Todd operated a spinning ride called The Gravitron, that spins until centrifugal inertial force sticks people to the wall, then the floor drops out. One day Todd brought a loaded pistol to work and wanted to leave people on the ride until they were dead.

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You told me in high school you hoped one day I’d live in a quaint old building made entirely of naked people. Though you only said that to make me feel better about our breakup, I now actually live in one such miraculous structure. However, the person who maintains the building attempts to impose a cheap contemporary aesthetic on it. Every night I throw all the mustard-colored sheet metal and plastic vases of pampas grass into a dumpster, and every morning they’re back again. I’ve tried over and over to approach the maintenance person and discuss it with them, but no matter what time I get up they are already driving away. Watching the truck disappear around the block, I have feelings I didn’t think were possible post-high school.

On an embroidered funeral boat from a dream I had once is where our first kiss should have happened, not in my badly-lit living room, and not drifting unmoored amongst the other boats in varying stages of decay. We should have been riding that boat and the dead body it contained over a waterfall like Indiana Jones. When we have decided a bench by Lake Union is the closest approximation to the boat, that’s when we’ll see it coming across the water, glowing like a photo negative, and we’ll hear that weird hum.

• Josh Bis

Expectations are a motherfucker. When I wrote "Don’t like The King of Limbs? Listen to it in a year and deny its brilliance," I was trying to convince myself as much as I was you guys. And as much as I like listening to King of Limbs while speeding through a city highway at night, I don't much like hearing it in concert, no matter how well it's executed (and it was executed supremely).

• me
• Collective High

"I definitely saw a lot of people yawning and dancing," said the always on-point Andrew Matson. (Press people are generally given seats together at big shows.) "Airbag" was the highlight, and it came early on. Thing is, if you write some of the greatest compositions of the twentieth century, and then later get all experimental and stop writing "hits," people are going to want to hear the hits, and I won't lie, I was one of them.

• Josh Bis

• Josh Bis

Things I heard outside after the show:

Guy: "I wish they had a bathroom out here." Other guy: "The world is the bathroom."

Woman in high heels pointing at the Space Needle: "Take me up there right now!"

Farther on, cabs were sparser than a seat at the 5 Point, but you'd rather be at Funhouse anyway.

• ANDREA HOBBS

Hot tipper Andrea Hobbs writes:

I took this picture On Saturday night at around 2am. This was in the alley as we were walking by the Crescent. As my friend and I were slightly inebriated, I spent my time focusing on the fact that this is “corn syrup and food coloring”, but I don’t know if that’s true. I’ve reached out to the Capitol Hill Blog as well. Do you know what this is? I can’t find any information anywhere. Even if I were to find out it was just a hoax, that would put my mind at ease.

Anyone?

Wednesday night, February 22, 2012, 8:28 PM.

• "Undersea life will be better than we remember." Doubloon 1/26/12

At 11:47 last night, it was 33 degrees. Doubloon The Mystic was at his spot near Pier 59 layered thick in poncho and down with white fluttering helium balloons. He sat playing solitaire and had a basketball trophy on the crate. The night over Puget Sound rolled by clear on slow shoulders as planes banked turns, lurching turbines south toward SEATAC on their approach. Doubloon likes balloons, “The way they move and bounce from the breeze,” he said, “They’re jellyfish and planets.”

“What about lysosomes?” I asked. “Your balloons could function as lysosomes, cellular organelles, breaking down waste materials and cellular debris around you.”

“I’m going with jellyfish and planets. You can have the lysosomes and lice.”

I had music to play for him on his boombox. Miles Davis “He Loved Him Madly” off the Bill Laswell remix album Panthalassa. An openly woven nocturne. A piece to me that echoes similarly through in Zeppelin's “No Quarter.” Miles doesn’t enter until 5:30, and when he does, he’s cloaked, foreboding, drifting in his own dimension and distance. I said, “Doubloon, these sounds are what the pages of a trampoline night like this have to say to you. The bowling ball on the stretched fabric, it's the black hole.” Then pressed play.

Around 6:50 were Doubloon’s only comments, “Long leans the archways of this fish. Undersea life will be better than we remember.”

I had written down words from Octavio Paz and read them:

In sleep-heavy paw-strokes the water fell and rose. Then began the siege of signals, the star’s writing on the sky in blood, concentric circles by a sentence lifted, falling and falling in consciousness. His head on fire, covered with inscriptions, unforeseen passwords opened mazes and densities, silent mirrors transformed the four directions.

“Yes,” Doubloon said, “And the fifth dimension is everywhere and the fisheye.”