In celebration of Hallowe’en in a few weeks – we’ve concocted a Friday drinking game based on classic, Hammer-esque horror movies – your Draculas, Wolfmans and Mummys – most of which coincidentally also feature in spook-filled animation Hotel Transylvania, released this week. So grab an off-license full of alcohol, a cushion to hide behind and your best shit terrified screech, and let’s get this going!

Take a sip:

Whenever someone appears who is clearly a supernatural being.
Oh, hello suspiciously charming member of the European gentry who happens to live in a foreboding, bat-ridden castle on the top of a scary mountain; of COURSE we’d like to stay with you for a while!

Look, it’s fucking Dracula and you all know it is. Drink for every obvious villain.

Whenever somebody gets killed. These are horror films. And in horror films people die. It’s sad, but it happens. Doesn’t matter who kills who – be it The Wolfman savaging someone to shreds, or even the monster themselves being offed, console yourself with a drink. Double-up if the “killed” person or monster comes back to life or turns out not to be dead at all.

Whenever a buxom wench in a tight bodice turns up. It is well known that women in old horror films were required to wear tight fitting bodices, which amplified their cleavage to the point of structural instability. Today’s women are more refined, of course, but back then, it was the bustier the better. Drink every time you think someone might spill out.

Take two sips:

Whenever a woman screams. These days, horror films have taken to subverting the “damsel in distress’ trope, but the old classics loved nothing more than a good AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH. Faced with a murderous, undead monster, what better way to deter it than to look frightened and yell at it a bit! That’ll convince them you’re not for eating! Sigh. No, rather than fighting back, the scream-queens of old were content to stand still and screech until such time as either a) a heroic, manly type rescues her with his inherent manly heroism or b) she gets killed. Drink for the duration of the AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Whenever the blood on screen is clearly not blood.
So notoriously fake looking was the blood used in many an old horror, it came to have its own name; Kensington Gore. Made primarily of corn-syrup and food-dye, it’s actually quite tasty. But it’s meant to be disgusting. Every time someone gets hurt and you’d rather dip a biscuit into it than call an ambulance, take two drinks.

Whenever someone ignores a very clear warning.
“Don’t go up to that castle, dude, vampires live there”. “I wouldn’t read from that ancient Egyptian life-giving spell, mate, it could wreak havoc with that dead ancient Egyptian Mummy over there”. “Doctor Pepper? What’s the worst that could happen!” Yes, horror-movies are rife with people ignoring warnings that – really – shouldn’t need to be given in the first place. Take two drinks every time warnings and common-sense are roundly dismissed.

Take three sips:

Whenever there’s a stereotypically creepy effect.
The shadowy silhouette of a hand encroaching on a young maiden? A curtain slowly billowing as a result of a thought-to-be-closed window? Animal noises in the distance? A creaking door? A fucking cat jumping out of a fucking place where there shouldn’t be a fucking cat? Three sips every time.

Whenever the heroine somehow doesn’t notice the baddie. You know how it is; our damsel in distress will get spooked, and find herself fleeing from the evil monster through a dark forest, or through a creepy old mansion (because those always scream ‘safety’ to damsels in distress) when BAM! There he is, right in front of her, yet apparently she hasn’t noticed until just now. Just because the camera can’t see him, doesn’t mean the character shouldn’t be able to. Drink every time the film tries to convince you of this.

Whenever an angry mob forms.
There’s only so much being terrorised that most of these rural villages and townships can take. And once a heroic stranger has wandered into town, pitting himself against the monster in question, it often seems to spark the formerly meek populous into life. Three drinks for each time they grab their pitchforks and take to the streets!

SUCK IT, YOU BRIDE OF DRACULA!

Whenever a horror icon shows up. Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, Vincent Price or Peter Cushing. Drink to the legends!