By The Intrepid in Lasers & Feelings — 08 Jan 2026

Welcome to Dismayland

You can check out anytime you like, but why the hell would you leave? Copyright JP Ahonen, naturally.

Any musical genre can eventually collapse into self-parody, and given its confrontational aesthetic and theatrical posturing, extreme metal seems uniquely suited to hoist itself on its own petard of po-faced seriousness. The (black) magic(k) of Belzebubs—the webcomic and multimedia project by Finnish cartoonist JP Ahonen—lies in its full-throated embrace of every trope: spiked leather, demonic conjuring, corpse paint, Latin chants, and Lovecraftian household pets. But instead of mockery, Ahonen alchemizes these elements into the foundation for a big-hearted domestic comedy about your typical Satan-worshipping black metal family.

Calvin & Hobbes gets name-checked in comparisons, and that captures the sweetness—but not the gleeful morbidity. A more apt lineage might be Roman Dirge’s Lenore: The Cute Little Dead Girl: similarly obsessed with mortality, similarly absurd, and similarly unwilling to flinch. Belzebubs doesn’t just lampoon metal culture—it lovingly embalms it, preserving both the genre’s pageantry and its pathos.

What elevates the series beyond one-joke novelty is how skillfully it stitches together black metal parody, family sitcom rhythms, and just enough cosmic horror to keep things pleasantly writhing under the surface. Whether it’s Sløth struggling with band practice or Lucyfer attending school meetings in corpse paint, Belzebubs finds sincerity in the absurd and warmth in the void.

Screams Are Mandatory, and Refunds Are Fictional

Praise the Dark Gods, for in their unholy wisdom they have gifted us Dismayland—a hellbound amusement park where the only thing more cursed than the food court is the guestbook. What began as a panel in a beloved webcomic has metastasized (with our help, naturally) into a full-scale annotated guide, complete with staff memos, ride hazards, and exactly zero OSHA compliance.

This is not a parody. This is a tribute. A celebration of every ride you barely survived, every souvenir that cost you a piece of your soul, and every screaming family memory forged in the crucible of The Sick-Sick-Sickening. Think of this as the official-unofficial handbook for thrill-seekers, doom tourists, and metalheads who like their vacation plans written in blood and bureaucratic despair.

(Doom)Scroll onwards and you’ll find:

Detailed breakdowns of major attractions (some of which may no longer exist in our dimension)
Insider employee notes the legal department tried to suppress
Menus from the park’s most gastronomically regrettable establishments
Shopping and services that violate several Geneva Conventions
And of course, special coverage of the Black Lagoon—because nothing says "family fun" like a transdimensional leviathan breaching near the churro stand

If Walt Disney sold his soul to Azathoth in a failed IPO, this is what he’d build.

So grab your Map of Regrets, sign the liability waiver (in triplicate, blood optional), and prepare to scream—whether from joy, terror, or sudden ontological collapse.

Welcome, dear guest, to Dismayland.
You may never leave, but at least you’ll leave changed.

The Attractions: Where Fun Goes to Die

"Each ride is a masterpiece of questionable engineering and eldritch inspiration."

Major Attractions

1. The Dimensional Shambler Roller Coaster

The Gimmick: Track phases between dimensions mid-ride
The Reality: Sometimes riders return speaking languages that don't exist. Cart #7 has been missing since Tuesday, but you can still hear screaming from somewhere
Hazards: Dimensional displacement, temporal loops, passengers aging backwards
Employee Notes: "Do NOT let anyone ride alone. Buddy system prevents most disappearances."

2. Museum of Unspeakable Horrors Dark Ride/Walkthrough

The Gimmick: "See humanity's darkest moments brought to life!"
The Reality: Exhibits occasionally eat visitors. The Holocaust wing was permanently closed after survivors started appearing in the dioramas
Hazards: Memetic contamination, historical figures stepping out of displays, temporal bleeding
Employee Notes: "Never work this attraction alone. If you see yourself in an exhibit, leave immediately."

5. The Sick-Sick-Sickening Tilt-a-Whirl Variant

The Gimmick: Spins so fast it "breaks the laws of physics!"
The Reality: Centrifugal force occasionally launches riders into parallel dimensions. The ride keeps spinning even when turned off
Hazards: Reality vertigo, spontaneous teleportation, existential nausea
Employee Notes: "If it's spinning backwards, evacuate immediately. That means it's feeding."

6. Krematorio Incinerator-themed Log Flume

The Gimmick: "Experience the heat of the afterlife!"
The Reality: Water is replaced with a substance that burns but doesn't consume. Occasionally deposits riders in actual crematoriums across the country
Hazards: Phantom burns, spontaneous combustion, thermal displacement
Employee Notes: "Fire extinguishers don't work here. Use the special blue powder in Cabinet C."

9. The Hurricane Mega Coaster

The Gimmick: "Weather the storm of your lifetime!"
The Reality: Generates actual hurricanes. NOAA has asked us to stop operating it during tornado season
Hazards: Meteorological chaos, pressure changes, lightning strikes
Employee Notes: "When the eye passes over, you have exactly 47 seconds to evacuate before the back wall hits."

10. Darcade Arcade/Gaming Area

The Gimmick: "Games so addictive, you'll never want to leave!"
The Reality: Some players have been here since 1987. High scores are written in what appears to be blood but tests as "something else entirely"
Hazards: Temporal addiction, identity absorption, digital possession
Employee Notes: "Power cycles daily at 3 AM. Anyone still playing gets unplugged manually."

15. 7 Deadly Swings Swing Ride

The Gimmick: Each swing represents a deadly sin!
The Reality: Riders experience the full weight of their moral failures while airborne. Suicides increased 400% in surrounding counties after opening
Hazards: Existential despair, guilt manifestation, moral corruption
Employee Notes: "Keep the chaplain on speed dial. Also the suicide prevention hotline."

19. Skeletal Maze/Garden of Death Hedge Maze

The Gimmick: "Navigate the labyrinth of mortality!"
The Reality: Maze reconfigures based on visitors' psychological profiles. Some sections lead to visitors' actual graves—past, present, or future
Hazards: Temporal paradox, prophetic visions, architectural impossibility
Employee Notes: "If you find your own grave, DO NOT READ THE DATE. Just back away slowly."

21. Black Magic Kingdom: Castle of Woe Dark Castle/Haunted House

The Gimmick: "Where fairy tales come true... unfortunately!"
The Reality: Staffed by actual fairy tale characters who are deeply traumatized by their stories. Cinderella hasn't stopped cleaning since 1994
Hazards: Narrative entrapment, cursed objects, malevolent wishes
Employee Notes: "Don't accept gifts from the characters. Especially apples. ESPECIALLY from Snow White."

Restaurants with Bite

4. The Spaghetti Monster

The Gimmick: "Pasta that serves itself!"
The Reality: The Flying Spaghetti Monster is real, hungry, and has very strong opinions about marinara sauce
Hazards: Culinary possession, carbohydrate overdose, theological arguments
Employee Notes: "Tuesdays are meatball days. Do NOT ask what kind of meat."

8. Shankenstein Steak House

The Gimmick: "Meat so good, it's alive!"
The Reality: Steaks occasionally moo while being eaten. Kitchen sources meat from "ethically questionable" dimensions
Hazards: Cannibalistic revelation, animated food, prion diseases from alternate realities
Employee Notes: "If your steak starts bleeding fresh blood, comp the meal and call the containment team."

11. Tower of Bagel

The Gimmick: "Carbs that reach heaven!"
The Reality: Tower actually extends into low earth orbit. Bagels at higher floors exhibit unusual gravitational properties
Hazards: Altitude sickness, carb-induced transcendence, orbital debris
Employee Notes: "Above floor 20, bring oxygen. Above floor 30, bring a priest."

Shopping & Services

7. Splurgatory Shopping Centre

The Gimmick: "Retail therapy for the eternal soul!"
The Reality: Customers occasionally pay with years of their lives. Store credit never expires because time doesn't work properly here
Hazards: Temporal debt, possession by consumer spirits, existential emptiness
Employee Notes: "Never accept payment in 'abstract concepts.' Last guy who did aged 30 years in one transaction."

25. Jekyll & Hyde/Aberzombie

The Gimmick: "Fashion that transforms you!"
The Reality: Clothing actually transforms wearers. Return policy is complicated by the fact that customers sometimes return as different people entirely
Hazards: Identity dissolution, fashion possession, style-based personality disorders
Employee Notes: "Size tags are more like personality compatibility ratings. XL doesn't mean extra large."

The Crown Jewel of Catastrophe

Lake Black Lagoon (Central Location)

The Gimmick: "Swim with the fishes... of the abyss!"
The Reality: Lake connects to every body of water that's ever hosted something horrible. Occasionally disgorges creatures from humanity's collective aquatic nightmares
Hazards: Eldritch contamination, dimensional marines, existential drowning
Employee Notes: "Lake level changes based on global horror levels. Rising water means something terrible is happening somewhere."

Universal Hazards

Power Outages: When the lights go out, the attractions don't stop—they just stop pretending to be safe.

Weather Events: Park weather operates on emotional logic. Thunderstorms during breakups, snow during funerals, aurora borealis during existential crises.

Crowd Dynamics: Visitors occasionally achieve hive mind status. Look for synchronized walking and identical facial expressions.

Mechanical Failures: Standard maintenance doesn't work. Everything requires "percussive spirituality" and the occasional blood sacrifice.

Emergency Procedures: Traditional evacuation routes lead to alternate dimensions. Emergency exits are clearly marked with "ABANDON HOPE."

Guest Reviews from the Depths

"All feedback is valuable. We just won't act on it." – Dismayland Guest Services

Google Maps – 2.3 stars

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
"Best family vacation EVER! Kids loved the Dimensional Shambler—my daughter came back speaking fluent Ancient Sumerian and my son aged backwards 3 years, so now I don't have to worry about college tuition! The churros at Black Lagoon were to die for (literally – RIP Kevin). Will definitely be back!"
— Soccer_Mom_Sarah

⭐
"WORST. CUSTOMER SERVICE. EVER. Asked for a refund after my husband got permanently transformed into a sentient shadow and they said it was 'within normal operational parameters.' The manager wouldn't even come out to talk to me because apparently he's been stuck in a temporal loop since Tuesday. One star because you can't give zero."
— Karen_Speaks2Managers

⭐⭐⭐
"Pretty good but misleading advertising. The website said ‘screams guaranteed’ but honestly the existential dread was way worse than the actual screaming. Also the gift shop charged me 7 years of my life for a t-shirt which seems excessive even by theme park standards. The soft pretzels were normal though."
— Reasonable_Ralph

Yelp – 3.1 stars

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
"As someone who's been to every major theme park, Dismayland really stands out! Sure, I can no longer perceive the color blue and my reflection shows someone else entirely, but the attention to detail is incredible. Pro tip: bring your own lunch—the Spaghetti Monster has very strong opinions about dietary restrictions."
— ThemeParkEnthusiast2019

⭐⭐
"Decent atmosphere but way too crowded. Had to wait 3 hours for the Museum of Unspeakable Horrors and when I finally got in, I discovered I was already in one of the exhibits from 1987. Staff was unhelpful—kept saying ‘that's not supposed to happen’ but offered no solutions. Also parking is a nightmare."
— WeekendWarrior_Dave

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
"FINALLY a theme park that gets it! Tired of Disney's unrealistic beauty standards? Come to Dismayland where everyone looks dead inside! My kids fit right in. The 7 Deadly Swings really helped us work through some family issues (mainly discovering we're all going to hell). Great value—where else can you experience eternal damnation for under $200?"
— Goth_Dad_Gary

And of course, that one review...

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
"I don't understand all the negative reviews. This place is EXACTLY as advertised. Yes, I've been trapped here since 2019, but the season pass was a great deal and the employee benefits are surprisingly comprehensive. The dental plan even covers tentacle damage!"
— DefNotAnEmployee_Trust_Me

SCREAMS & GIGGLES: DISMAYLAND EDITION

A Lasers & Feelings hack for surviving (or staffing) Hell's Premier Theme Park

YOUR NUMBER

Roll 1d6. This is your number—your personal balance between:

SCREAMS (roll under): React like a normal human being
GIGGLES (roll over): Embrace the weird with a nervous laugh

HOW TO DO STUFF (AND MAYBE SURVIVE)

When you try something risky, horrifying, or absurd:

Decide if it's SCREAMS or GIGGLES
- SCREAMS: Logical, cautious, resisting horror, fleeing danger
- GIGGLES: Absurd, defiant, joking through dread, treating chaos as normal
Roll 1d6
Check the result:

Say what you're doing

“I wrestle the bagel priest at the Tower of Carb Babel.”
“I flirt with the fog.”
“I demand a refund from the haunted churro cart.”

What You Rolled	Result
Under your number	Success (if using SCREAMS)
Over your number	Success (if using GIGGLES)
Exactly your number	Success at both, if you're Shell-Shocked or Thriving
Fail condition	GM escalates. Weirdness increases. Something follows you home.

ROLLING MORE DICE

You usually roll 1d6, but you can roll extra dice (up to 3 total) if:

You’re prepared
It’s something your role would be good at
Another player is helping you

Roll them all. Keep the highest single die.

You only need one die to meet your success condition.

VISITOR GOALS (Choose one):

Tourist – Insist on a normal family vacation, no matter the dimensional instability
Thrill Seeker – Hit every attraction, ignore all warnings, ride or die (literally)
Investigator – Document the legal, metaphysical, and culinary violations
Survivor – Escape with your species, identity, and timeline (more or less) intact

EMPLOYEE GOALS (Choose one):

New Hire – It’s your first week. Please try not to die.
Veteran – Keep the attractions running. Reality is optional.
Whistleblower – You will make OSHA believe.
Lifer – You’ve worked here too long to question anything.
That’s just Gary. He always drips like that

MOVING THROUGH DISMAYLAND

The group navigates using the official park map (aka the Map of Regrets). Rather than rolling randomly for attractions, players choose where to go next, one location at a time.

Each new destination becomes a scene—an opportunity for weirdness, escalation, and thematic snacks.

On Arrival:

The GM (or players) describe the attraction and what’s off about it today
Run a short encounter or complication (from the guidebook, or improvise)
Then choose to stay, split up, or move on

GM Tip: If you want to randomize attractions, roll 1d6 or flip through the map with your eyes closed. If the map changes while you’re looking at it, congratulations—it’s working.

Optional: Zone Instability

As things spiral, the park itself starts to unravel. The GM may mark areas on the map as:

🟢 Stable – Minor weirdness only
🟡 Unstable – Start at Major incidents
🔴 Warped – Escalate every scene, and possibly every step

Let incident escalation or the Customer Satisfaction Meter determine how fast these zones spread.

Traveling Tips:

Visitors should never travel alone. Your shadow might wander off.
Employees are encouraged to carry two maps: one for directions, one for negotiations with sentient signage.
Don’t follow churro carts off-path. Just… don’t.

INCIDENT ESCALATION

Dismayland is alive. As the game progresses, reality gets… messier.

Escalate when:

A high-stakes roll fails
A player does something wildly reckless or narratively cursed
The same ride triggers weirdness again
“It’s in the manual” is invoked
Time passes and nothing terrible has happened lately

Triggers So Far	Severity Level	Example
1–2	Minor	Luggage lost in a different dimension
3–4	Major	A family member now only speaks Latin backwards
5–6	Critical	You've become the subject of a new ride safety video
7+	Catastrophic	Every ride becomes sentient—and angry

GM Tip: Don’t announce escalation. Show it through unsettling changes, glitching signage, or ride announcements that speak directly to the players.

SPECIAL RULE – STANDARD OPERATING PROCEDURE

Once per session, an employee may declare:

“It’s in the manual.”
You automatically succeed by treating the horror as routine.
“Dimensional bleeding in Krematorio? Yeah, page 666, subsection B.”

CUSTOMER SATISFACTION METER (Optional Group Clock)

A 4-segment tracker of corporate's impression of how things are going.

Each catastrophic incident ticks it down

If it hits zero?

The Regional Manager arrives (and they are definitely not human)

POST-SHIFT TRAUMA ADJUSTMENT

After each session, shift your number by 1.

Are you screaming more… or giggling more?

The Belzebubs Hit Dismayland!

Sløth – Veteran Employee

Number: 3 (Shell-Shocked but Sane)
Role: Maintenance Lead (Bassist, dad, occult technician)
Goal: Keep the band together / avoid dimensional HR
Notes: Has rewritten the employee handbook in Enochian. Carries an all-access keycard carved from obsidian and regret. Has definitely worked here longer than legally permitted.

Lucyfer – Survivor Visitor or Lifer Employee

Number: 5 (Thriving in the Madness)
Role: Front-of-House Hexes / PTA Sorcery Chair
Goal: Keep the family together while navigating eldritch customer service
Notes: Brings packed lunches for the damned. Knows exactly how to stare down haunted mascots. Occasionally leaks fire when irritated.

Lilith – Thrill Seeker Visitor

Number: 4 (Thriving in the Madness)
Role: Apprentice Hex Influencer
Goal: Go viral, impress her friends, maybe summon a crush
Notes: Thinks the Darcade is retro ironically. Has an amulet that auto-translates memes into curses.

Leviathan – Investigator Visitor

Number: 2 (Shell-Shocked but Sane)
Role: Chaos Engine in Toddler Form
Goal: Break every rule and find out what happens
Notes: Believes the Black Lagoon is his uncle. Carries a plush goat that whispers suggestions.

Sam the Hellhound – Support NPC / Companion

Treat as an asset for family scenes
May grant +1d6 when protecting or sniffing out planar distortions
Only speaks in telepathic bark-memes (e.g., “DESTINY! SQUIRREL! BLOOD DEBT! MAIM! KILL! BURN!”)

Family Discount Weekend

Dismayland is offering free entry to familial units registered in at least three dimensions. Sløth hopes to use the off-season to pitch his band’s new demo to the Darcade’s sound daemon. Lucyfer just wants a day without casualties. Lilith is livestreaming. Leviathan is loose. And something in the Skeletal Maze is calling Sam by name.

Meanwhile, the Customer Satisfaction Meter is already ticking down—someone keeps leaving flaming reviews on parchment that smells like sulfur and social anxiety.

Goes without saying that Belzebubs and all things related to it are JP Ahonen's creations. This little missive is a non-commercial fan tribute with the emphasis on the non-commercial bit. Buy JP's books. Belzebubs is a delight (an animated series is in the works), and Perkeros (or Sing No Evil in the Anglophone parts of the globe) is a haunting, captivating read. Better yet, go support the man on Patreon.