3 April 2017 – Elysion Park, Main Entrance & Jungle Zone
The camera jolted slightly as Ben adjusted his grip on the handheld rig, the morning crowd spilling through the freshly polished turnstiles behind him. A faint chime from the entrance plaza speakers blended with the chatter of families and the occasional hiss of espresso machines from the Globe & Griddle terrace.
"Alright guys—ThrillSeeker Ben here," his voice came warm and fast-paced, the lens swinging to take in the sweeping entry arch. "First time ever at Elysion Park. Heard a lot about this place, especially with their big new coaster going up in the Jungle Zone. But first… there's this walkthrough everyone's been talking about."
He panned slowly to the left, where a stone gateway framed by silk banners rippled in the breeze. A sign carved in faux sandstone read Secrets of the Silk Road. The entrance path narrowed, swallowed almost immediately by shadows and the warm scent of spiced incense drifting from within.
---
Inside, the light dropped to a soft amber glow. Delicate patterns of lanterns reflected off polished brass bowls and embroidered wall hangings. Ben's commentary softened with it. "Man… the detail in here is ridiculous. Every surface tells a story—look at the texture on these bricks. That's not just paint, they've actually sculpted the cracks."
The walkway meandered past market stalls piled with imitation silks, spice jars, and aged travel chests. The faint sound of a flute echoed from somewhere ahead, layered over the slow creak of wooden signboards shifting in an unseen breeze. A mechanical caravan of camels swayed gently on the horizon of a painted sunset, their shadows stretching long across the floor.
Ben stopped beside a narrow archway. "Alright, this—this is why I love themed parks. It's not just rides. It's these moments." He crouched slightly, panning the camera along a row of clay amphorae, their surfaces dusted with fine powder as though they'd been sitting for decades. "This whole thing… it's like stepping into another world."
The path dipped into a dim tunnel, its walls lined with mural panels depicting merchants crossing mountains, each lit by a single flickering oil lamp effect. A whiff of cold air brushed past—carefully hidden fans simulating a high-altitude breeze.
When the tunnel opened again, the scene shifted dramatically. A glittering oasis lay ahead, complete with a trickling fountain and a mosaic floor pattern that shimmered under ripples of projected water light. The soundtrack changed here—faint drumming and distant voices, like a festival just beyond reach.
Ben's voice dropped to a near-whisper. "I think this might be one of the best walkthroughs I've seen outside the big-budget giants. And it's not even a ride."
---
The exit brought him out onto a gently curved bridge over a koi pond, framed by flowering trees. The music faded behind him as the sound of the crowd swelled again. Ahead, the skyline shifted—thick jungle foliage, temple ruins, and the gleam of coaster track weaving between them.
"This is it—the Jungle Zone," he said, stepping off the bridge into a plaza lined with carved stone pillars wrapped in vines. A small drum circle performance was underway near the entrance to Elysion Expedition: Cursed Ruins, their rhythms echoing between the buildings.
From here, glimpses of Serpent's Run flashed through gaps in the foliage. The deep green track cut over the lagoon, its gold supports catching the sunlight. A few guests had stopped to watch the construction crew bolting another segment onto the rising airtime hill in the distance.
Ben zoomed in slightly. "That right there is why I'm here. Can't wait to see more of it—but first, we're gonna check out what else this zone has going for it."
The camera followed him deeper into the jungle paths, the screen fading briefly to black as he cut for his next segment.
"Jungle Splash Adventure" (ThrillSeeker Ben)
The video hard-cuts from the Jungle Zone plaza to a tight shot of carved stone lettering: Jungle Splash Adventure. A sheet of mist rolls past the lens and beads on the glass. Ben chuckles.
"Alright—log flume time. Outdoor Mack with some serious theming. I've been staring at this since I walked in."
He pulls back and pans across the entrance canopy: frayed thatch, weathered ropes, carved totems with sun-faded paint. A low drum pattern thumps somewhere ahead. Over Ben's shoulder, the green and gold of Serpent's Run slices over the lagoon—just a quick flash of track before jungle foliage swallows it again.
"Quick nerd note," he says, tapping the mic. "That bridge up there? That's the new coaster. But: focus, Ben."
---
Queue & Load
The camera glides into the queue, following plank flooring that creaks just enough to feel real. Ben runs his fingers over a post: the grain is raised, corners rounded where thousands of hands would naturally touch. "They didn't just paint this—this has proper texture. And listen…"
He tilts the mic toward a concealed speaker. Layered sound: rushing water, cicadas, two distant birds calling antiphonally. "That second bird is pitched lower, so it doesn't fight your brain. Clever."
They pass under a stone arch etched with a frieze: explorers exchanging goods with a jungle tribe. Tiny glints in the mortar—mica dust—catch the light. "That's the kind of detail you don't notice, but your eyes feel it."
A wink to a ride op in expedition gear. "Filming's okay with the wrist strap?" She nods, points at a sign: Secure devices only. Keep hands inside. Ben shows the strap wrapped twice. "We're good."
Load platform: shade, ripples of light from a slatted roof dance across the water. An operator taps a foot pedal; the next boat bumps the buffer and settles into the notch. The boats are carved like old timber canoes—maps and faded symbols painted along the sides, edges nicked as if they've lived a life.
Ben steps into the front seat. "Plenty of freeboard. Classic Mack. No bars, no belts, just the sides—family ride, but… there's a big drop coming."
He tucks the camera lower, framing the bow as the attendant nudges them out. The current catches, and they slip past a carved monkey perched over a lantern. The monkey's tail sways, barely, in the breeze.
"Smell that? Damp wood and a hint of resin. Might be real timber along these rails."
---
Lift 1 & Backward Drop
They drift under a mossy span where water drips in threads. "That is not a looped effect—random pattern. Nice." The chain-lift ahead bites with that familiar metallic chatter. Clack—clack—clack. The camera shakes, then steadies.
"Lift speed's on the slow side—building suspense," Ben narrates. "And check the wall paintings: tribe guarding sacred waters. Foreshadowing."
At the crest, they slide onto Turntable 1, hidden beneath a thatched shelter. The hum deepens; somewhere underfoot a cam engages. The view rotates: jungle falls behind, a sunlit slot opens ahead—now they face backward.
"Turntable indexing pin, I'd bet," Ben grins. "You can feel the notch." A beat of silence. He lets the anticipation sit.
Then the river vanishes. "Ohhh—here we go."
They tip. The backward 6-meter drop rushes up. The audio goes wind and laughter and a muffled "WOO!" from someone two boats behind. Splashdown erupts over the gunwales—cool spray freckles the lens. Ben swipes once with a microfiber, the shot clears, tiny droplets still clinging at the corners.
"Backwards drop on a flume just works, every time."
---
Turntable 2 & Scenic Drift
A carved idol looms on the right—an explorer in stone, arm extended, pointing downstream. "That guy knows the way." The current eases them onto Turntable 2 tucked between vine-laden cliffs. The platform rolls them forward again; a hidden drum accent hits as they re-align.
Now the tempo drops. The jungle closes in: bamboo leaning overhead; flowers pressed against the channel edge. The camera lingers on a faked root system plunging into the water; a tiny trickle runs down, real moisture catching green patina.
Ben whispers, because the scene asks for it. "Sound mix changes here—flute line on top. And the airflow? Cold draft from a hidden fan—mountain pass vibe." He grazes the wall: hairline cracks filled with darker pigment, not just painted on. "They scored and washed this. Love it."
An animatronic crocodile half-submerged in reeds snaps its jaws as the bow passes. The mayor in Ben's old clip would've jumped; today a kid in the boat behind yelps, then laughs. Ben turns the camera back on himself, eyes wide, mock serious. "Sir, that is my leg."
They glide by a temple façade: tiers of cracked stone, a carved jaguar pouring water into the channel. The spill is loud for a second, then subtracts again behind them. "Dynamic levels—you hear the water only when you're near. That's work."
---
Lift 2, Turntable 3 & Final Drop
The final tower rises ahead, carved panels bathed in torchlight. Chain engages; the tone here is deeper, more resonant—wood claddings changing the acoustics. "Bigger lift, beefier reverb. You feel the height."
At the top sits Turntable 3. A towering chieftain animatronic stands beneath a canopy of hanging moss, raising a staff. His robe is a patchwork of fibers, edges singed and blackened as if from ritual smoke. He booms a blessing in a language Ben doesn't recognize; a low drum accent syncs to the staff strike. The platform aligns toward the sunlit aperture.
Ben pans left—through the opening, you can just glimpse guests and the splash pool far below. "Sightline reveal. You see the finale before it happens—classic."
A click, a breath, and gravity takes them. The 14-meter drop pulls the horizon into a vertical smear. Wind roars past the mic; the boat knifes the pool; an honest wall of water climbs the sides and slaps down over their shins. Off to the left, watchers on the bridge get misted and cheer.
Ben whoops, then laughs at himself. "Absolutely soaked. Ten out of ten."
The river curves through a calmer run-out. A little waterfall steps down rocks to the right, each shelf offset so the water tinkles instead of hammers. "They tuned the spill so you can hear the parrot line," Ben says—and right on cue an animatronic parrot in a leafy alcove croaks, "Safe travels, explorers!"
---
Return to Station & Post-Ride Notes
The boat glides under a final arch and into the unload bay. Shadows here are cool and blue; a fan pushes a gentle breeze across the dock. The operator points to the exit and grins at Ben's damp jeans. He laughs back: "Worth it."
On the exit ramp, Ben pauses beside a rack of themed life rings, their paint deliberately scuffed. He turns the camera to catch Serpent's Run again: the green track leaps the lagoon on gold supports, then vanishes behind a wall. Farther back, the airtime hill's lower segments step into the sky; the cap remains missing—just as he mentioned earlier.
"Two things," he says, back in nerd mode. "One: pacing. Backwards splash wakes you up, then a long scenic glide where you can actually look at stuff—textures, smells, the whole world—then the big ceremonial lift and the money shot drop. Family-friendly but not bland."
He tilts up to the coaster bridge. "Two: integration. That overpass? That's not an accident. When trains start ripping across that splash pool, this whole corner becomes a show. You'll get coaster flybys while boats explode water below. That's… that's gonna be a moment."
He flips the screen around for a quick selfie frame, hair still beaded with droplets. "Alright, next up I'm heading deeper into Jungle Zone—there's a haunted house here with temple vibes that I've heard things about. And I might poke around those new coaster footings one more time… from the guest paths," he adds with a grin. "Stay tuned. And as always—keep the thrills alive!"
The camera cut back in with the soft hiss of water on fabric. Ben was shaking droplets from his arm, a crooked grin under damp hair. "Okay—Jungle Splash? Totally worth it. And yes… I'm already regretting not bringing a change of shirt."
He swung the lens toward the plaza ahead, where steam curled from food stalls and drummers kept a slow, steady rhythm near the entrance to a massive stone structure. Above the carved doorway, gold lettering read Elysion Expedition: Cursed Ruins. Stone serpents twisted along the lintel, their fangs bared toward the crowd.
"Alright, so this is their… walkthrough haunted thing? But it's not just ghosts—it's more like an expedition into cursed jungle ruins. I've heard they redid this whole thing just last year, so… let's see what the fuss is about."
The queue wasn't a snaking cattle pen—just a short stretch of roped-off pathway between crumbling stone walls, with moss creeping through the cracks. A uniformed attendant in expedition gear handed small groups forward every minute or so.
"Batching," Ben whispered to the camera. "Old-school dark walkthrough trick. Means the effects trigger properly and you don't get stuck behind a big clump of people. Love it."
When it was his turn, he stepped under the shadow of the doorway. A faint draft rolled out—cool, dry, carrying the scent of dust and something faintly metallic. The light dimmed immediately, replaced by a flickering glow from torches mounted in the walls.
---
The first chamber was wide, like a collapsed temple antechamber. Chunks of stone lay scattered across the floor, and from the ceiling, frayed ropes swayed slightly as if disturbed by a recent excavation. A static archaeologist mannequin crouched by a dig site—until, with a sudden hiss, the pile of sand next to it shifted, revealing the skeletal arm of something buried.
Ben's voice dropped. "Okay… that's already creepier than I expected."
He moved into a narrow corridor lined with carved murals, each showing a different part of an expedition—arrival, discovery, warning. As he passed the final panel, a section of the wall suddenly flexed inward, as though something behind it had pushed hard. The sound of grinding stone followed him into the next room.
---
The path opened into a low library-like hall. Wooden shelves sagged under the weight of scrolls and crumbling tomes. A faint smell of old paper mixed with the musk of damp stone. In one corner, a desk sat with a half-unrolled map and a flickering lantern.
As Ben crouched to film the desk detail, a whisper slid through the air—first too soft to catch, then distinct: "Leave… now…"
A shadow passed briefly over the far wall. "Alright," Ben muttered with a nervous laugh, "points for atmosphere."
---
The next space was darker still—just a narrow ledge above a simulated underground river. Water shimmered far below, lit from beneath by a pale green glow. Mechanical splashes echoed, as though something unseen was moving under the surface.
Halfway along, a rope bridge replaced the stone ledge. It creaked under his steps, and halfway across, one of the planks dropped a few centimeters with a metallic thunk.
"That… was mean," Ben breathed into the mic, steadying the camera.
---
They entered a chamber lit only by shafts of moonlight filtering through cracks in the ceiling. In the center stood a towering idol of a serpent-headed deity, its gem eyes glinting red. As Ben circled to get the shot, the eyes suddenly flared bright—and the idol's head tilted forward with a hiss of escaping air. Somewhere overhead, a hidden drum hit once, deep and resonant.
---
From here, the route narrowed into what felt like a collapsing tunnel. The walls pressed closer, the air thickening with the scent of wet soil. Distant rumbling played through hidden speakers. Small bursts of dust drifted from the ceiling.
Ben ducked instinctively. "This is way more intense than I thought for a family park," he said, a little breathless.
---
The final scene was a torch-lit escape route, with wind effects whipping through gaps in the stone. A carved doorframe stood ahead—but as he approached, a blast of air and light shot through the crack, accompanied by the roar of something massive. The door swung inward to reveal daylight and the bustle of the exit plaza.
Ben stepped out blinking, then turned the camera back to himself. "Okay. That? Was awesome. Not horror-horror, but… honestly, creepier than some actual haunted mazes I've done. Theming's top-notch. And the pacing? Perfect."
He gave the lens a grin. "Right—time to see what's next. And maybe find a snack before I go chasing more coasters."