• Hersheypark's "haunt sliders" — scare actors who slide on knee pads — have gained a fanbase on TikTok.
• "The makeup stays ON" commented one thirsty fan.
• The attention has translated to good business for the park, who has seen growing ticket sales for its Dark Nights event.

Imagine you're walking around an amusement park in October while it's Halloween themed. The air is crisp, you've got a giant pretzel, you're strolling with friends to get in line for the roller coaster. Out of the corner of your eye, you see tall man dressed in all black with skeletal face paint walking towards you.

Suddenly, he leaps to the ground on all fours, and against everything you've known in your life about how human beings ambulate, he slides across the pavement on his hands and knees, coasting right up beside you at an incredible speed.

Depending on who you are and your level of awareness of the "haunt sliders" of Hersheypark, this fast encounter leaves you either terrified or terrifyingly horny.

Since 2021, Hershey's amusement park has employed a group of haunt sliders from a crew that calls itself the "Decayed Brigade" for its Dark Nights Halloween event that runs in September and October.

Videos of Fryboy and his lookalike Archer, and others have racked up millions of views and created a dedicated fan base who travel from around the world just to see the creepy, sexy, slidey guys they saw on TikTok.

And their online popularity is good for Hershey's bottom line.

"The comment section [on TikTok] is a treasure trove of insight into their popularity. I mean, we have seen people saying, 'I am coming from Europe. I'm coming from Australia. I had no idea Hersheypark existed, but now, because this was served to me on TikTok, I'm aware,'" said Quinn Bryner, a spokesperson for Hersheypark.

"We have people who have bought our season passes because of it," she added. "So anecdotally, for sure, it has had a significant social commentary, which we think has also led to tickets."

Bryner cautioned they can't say that the haunt sliders popularity is the sole driver of the growth of the Halloween event, but that the Dark Nights has become a success and grown year over year in attendance and ticket sales. "We can confirm that the event's popularity in the past few years has allowed us to expand operating days throughout the fall, resulting in total Halloween attendance doubling the numbers achieved prior to 2021," she said.

For the last three years, Fryboy and some of the sliders do a meet-and-greet for the diehard fans after the performance on weekend nights. Fans wait up to an hour in line to meet them and take photos with the sliders (or purchase keychains or other photo prints from the professional photography service the park provides, which has taken over 4,000 photos for fans this fall so far).

The three sliders I interviewed — who asked not to publicize their full legal names because they are concerned about overzealous fans — have breached containment from something that happens inside the park gates to a full-blown social media phenomenon.

The sliders have anecdotally noticed the effects of TikTok on the crowds in the park. "This year especially, it feels like every other person's coming up saying they drove eight-plus hours to come see us or they just came for us," Fryboy said.

"We see them sit in our zone the whole night and it's pretty obvious that they just want to watch us," Valkyrie noticed.

Hersheypark is well aware of the Decayed Brigade's social media success, which is clear even on its own social channels. The most viewed videos on park's official TikTok channel were all of the sliders — even during the off-season.

Haunt sliding dates back decades

Haunt sliding has been a part of Knott's Scary Farm, the Halloween event at amusement park in southern California, for decades. A few of the performers working there figured out they could modify knee pads and gloves with metal pieces to allow them to slide up on guests as a novel way to scare them.

Sliding became a staple of Knott's Scary Farm, and the trend spread out around the country to various haunted theme parks and cornfields. It evolved into something more than just a scare tactic, with increasingly athletic stunts, choreography, and showcases during the off-season.

Although haunt sliding has become a haunted house mainstay, there is no group of performers who have attracted as much attention from people who never set foot in Hersheypark as the Decayed Brigade crew. This year, there are eight sliders, but Fryboy and Archer — both well over six feet tall, lanky, and with poufy dark hair — seem to have garnered the biggest online fandom.

When I spoke over a video call with Fryboy, Archer, and Valkerie, the current sole female performer in this year's crew, it was the hour before the park opened on a Friday night at 6 p.m., and they were in their full faces of makeup (they have a makeup artist on staff who does it for them), but not their performance clothes.

Fryboy, whose real first name is Carter, is not technically the leader or founder of Decayed Brigade, although he has become the most visible online and has been working at Hersheypark since Dark Nights started in 2021. He first saw sliders at Knott's Scary Farm when he was 13, and was inspired to start trying it out on his own at home. By 16, he got hired at a local haunted house in Florida, and eventually landed a job at Knott's in 2018.

"When sliding first started, it was mainly just a scare tactic and it wasn't really anything crazy, but once people started doing it more and more, a lot of the guys that started sliding at Knott's were stunt performers, so they would do little pre-shows before their stunt show was sliding," Fryboy explained. "They'd go out there and they'd do little rolls, and then they'd start jumping bodies, and then now they're jumping two, three, four bodies. So then tricks started getting added into it, and over time, a group was formed."

"I really think in this case, Carter took it upon himself to create his own iconic character in the social space and then share it amongst an audience that loves scare, but didn't have a way to maybe communicate and build on that," said Brewer Lister, managing director of immersive experiences at Hersheypark.

"He's built a following, and then he and his team have added to it by becoming more of a team in a group, especially Archer, the two of them," he added. "I think they tapped into a growth factor of what's taken place over the many years in social media in a particular realm, and it's worked."

Their fans are…thirsty

It is crucial to explain here that the internet viral around the Hersheypark haunt sliders is not just an appreciation of a good scare. It is extremely horny. The TikToks from fans are often set to suggestive music clips, and the comment sections are bawdy.

In one video from last fall of Fryboy and Archer standing together, set to the chorus of "Same Damn Time" by Future, comments say things like "Fryboy looks like he talks you thru it. Archer looks like he know how to do that thing your ex couldn't do." (18.3k likes) and "the makeup stays ON" (160.8k likes). In another video from this month of the two men, one commenter says, "Ok maybe my ex was right and i'm actually ill."

The allure of scare actors in face paint might not seem obvious. But hear these women out: They're tall, athletic, and mysterious. That's enough.

The thirst isn't limited just to the male sliders. On one video of Valkyrie walking through the park in slow motion, comments from women pour in: "Me and my husband aren't that serious." "I DIDN'T KNOW THIS WAS AN OPTION," and "i was already hooked but when she smiled i lost all control."

I asked Fryboy about getting that kind of attention.

"I think at the end of the day, we're just trying to perform and have a good time, and it's Halloween, we're dressing up as characters, so there's always going to be something along those lines, I think," he said. "But it's definitely not the end goal in any sort of way."

The sex appeal of the sliders seems to be an accidental collision with a current trend of "dark romance" and romantasy that's popular on Booktok. However, threading the needle of adding sex appeal into a haunted house seems fraught. SeaWorld Orlando's attempted a dark romance themed scare zone, but videos of bare-chested scare actors in masks (including at least one slider) awkwardly gesturing at guests went viral for being high on cringe and low on actual eroticism.

The difference with the Decayed Brigade is they claim they're not intending to be sexy.

"Halloween has always been the holiday for the weirdos, and we're the weirdos," said Fryboy. "We embrace it just as much as I'm sure everyone else wants to embrace it."

Cuando Hulk Hogan demandó al medio sensacionalista Gawker en 2016 por la publicación sin su consentimiento de un vídeo de contenido sexual, nadie daba un duro por él. Pero Hogan ganó el juicio y consiguió una indemnización de 140 millones de dólares que acabó con la publicación online. Peter Thiel, uno de los personajes más siniestros de Silicon Valley, decantó la batalla judicial: financió en secreto a los abogados de Hogan. Quería vengarse de Gawker porque lo había ridiculizado durante años y desvelado su homosexualidad.

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Ele estava internado na UDI Hospital, da Rede D’Or, em São Luís (MA) desde o dia 09 de outubro, onde passou por uma cirurgia abdominal.

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Desde setembro, Sarney foi internado outras duas vezes. No dia 13 de setembro, foi internado neste mesmo hospital devido ao quadro de pneumonia.

Já no dia 24 de setembro, foi internado no Hospital Sírio Libanês, em São Paulo, para dar continuidade ao tratamento de pneumonia.

Escritor e político, José Sarney foi o primeiro presidente da República da era da redemocratização, entre 1985 e 1990. Foi também senador da República e governador do Maranhão. Em 2014 ele anunciou sua aposentadoria da carreira política.

Andrew Bailey among finance leaders to leave session in Bangkok when Russian finance minister addressed group

The Bank of England governor, Andrew Bailey, has taken part in a walkout of finance leaders who left an International Monetary Fund meeting in protest against Russian involvement.

Bailey joined counterparts from France, Germany and a number of Scandinavian and Baltic countries who left the session in Bangkok when the Russian finance minister, Anton Siluanov, addressed the group in Russian.

• My fiancé and I have been together for four years and have never had a joint bank account.
• We're transparent about our incomes, savings, and spending, and we've never had a fight about money.
• We plan to pay for our wedding together, but we won't combine our finances after we get married.

My parents have a shared bank account and kept all their large purchases in both their names, so I thought sharing an account would be my financial destiny, too, if I ever got married. I didn't question it until recently. Now, my partner and I are getting married in just a few months, and we don't plan to combine our finances.

After four years together, we've never had any accounts or cards in both of our names. The closest we ever got to that was me using his credit card on a payment app when we were in Vietnam because mine didn't work. We both contribute to rent and household expenses. We pay back the other person our half of large purchases like flights and hotels, but we don't keep a tab of who owes who what (a nice change from my previous romantic relationships).

We've always been open about money

We were upfront about our income, debt (or lack thereof), and our mutual desire to live below our means from day one. After about three years of dating, we told each other how much we have in savings. We continue to be transparent about money and agree on the vast majority of each other's purchases — it helps that we're both very frugal.

We've built up trust over the years, and we'll continue to offer up personal financial information when we want to, knowing we have privacy. Neither of us has the login information for the other's bank, but we know we can always ask how much the other is earning or spending.

I thought the next step was a shared bank account with two credit cards — I assumed that's what love and commitment meant in an economic way. We kept asking ourselves how having both our names on one account would improve our lives, and we kept coming up blank. I also didn't want to waste time filling out paperwork or calling my bank for something I wasn't even interested in.

Our system works for us

We've lived together for almost four years and never had a fight about money. I have some financial anxiety, and I think having a shared account might actually make that worse. Since my fiancée makes more and pays for more, I regularly check in to see if he's still OK with that.

We approached our wedding, our first big purchase together, the same way we plan travel — with Excel, conversations, and making sure we stay under budget to cover unexpected costs. My fiancée bought our rings, and I bought our flights (we're getting married in Denmark). We both agreed to contribute the same amount of money to the wedding. Every payment we make for the big day goes into a spreadsheet, and at the end of all our purchases, if one of us has spent significantly more, the other will make the next large purchase.

Keeping our financial stressors low is also made easier by the fact that we won't plan to have kids or pets, or make any large purchases like a house or a car. Taking care of our parents is the only thing that might one day impact how we view our financial setup.

Another thing we agreed on from the start was that we wanted a pre-nup. Not sharing a bank account and having a pre-nup might not sound romantic (or like we can't share) to some, but if anyone were to look at our purchases, they'd immediately see we do spend our money on each other—just with separate accounts intact.

We haven't fought about money, and I'd like to keep it that way

I know I'm going into a marriage with dignity and respect. My future husband won't get a notification if I spend over $100, he won't be able to review a bank statement at the end of the month to see how many ice creams I've treated myself to, and we won't know how much the other person spent on a Christmas present. We'll never have to ask the other person if we can spend money or fear that our separate emergency funds will be depleted by the other.

My parents shared a bank account, and they often fought over money — one thing I promised myself I'd never do with my future spouse. Keeping our finances separate has worked so far, and I believe it'll continue to after we're married. We're both open to changing our minds one day, but until we have a good reason, we're very happy having separate accounts, together.

• Hardik Jagda wants to function like an Olympian, and waking up at 3 a.m. helps him do that.
• He commits long hours to his AI-based company, but says he doesn't enforce 996 hours on his team.
• For Jagda, 996 misses the point. Here's how he structures his day instead.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Hardik Jagda, 35, the CEO of Proximity Works, who lives in San Francisco. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

In 2017, I wanted to build my own company, but I couldn't jump into it full-time because of my financial obligations at home.

Instead, I'd spend the mornings and evenings outside my full-time job working on my side projects. That time was foundational for building my company, Proxmity Works, which I launched in 2019. My aim was to help broadcasters scale their live sports streaming platforms worldwide. In 2020, we started building AI infrastructure for live sports.

Those years made me aware of how my body clock works. I read a lot of autobiographies from entrepreneurs and athletes to understand what allowed them to build what they achieved. I noticed athletes would talk about starting their day early to train and work, in time for rest and recovery throughout the day. I started modeling my days after this, waking up early so I could have four to five hours to build my company before work started. I still stick to this lifestyle now that I'm a full-time founder and CEO.

I want to structure my day to function like an Olympian

In the early stages of Proximity, I performed pretty much every role in the company. Today, I have a team of roughly 45 people, five in the US and the rest spread out globally. My cofounder is based in India.

After 7 a.m., my time isn't mine anymore because I have requests coming in from employees in different time zones.

I like to start the day early, so I'm protecting the first three hours as time for myself. I usually wake up between 3 a.m. and 5 a.m. Between 3 and 6 a.m., I don't touch my emails or look at messages.

I use these early hours to focus on strategic decisions. There was one point, roughly two years ago, when we had to interview a lot of engineers quickly for a new project. I sat down with my talent acquisition team and found a way to redesign our recruitment workflow to take place within 72 hours. That wouldn't have been possible if I didn't give myself the three-hour morning block.

In the mornings, I work out and write my goals down. These are usually measurable and trackable goals for my company, as well as goals for myself and my fitness.

Most of my team calls don't start before 7:30 or 8 a.m. I usually take my first couple of meetings at home before driving to the office. During the day, I try to minimize Zoom calls and take meetings as audio calls so I can move around during them. I try to wrap up my meetings by 2:30 p.m., work out at 3 p.m., and then focus on more creative tasks, like speech-writing, after that. I spend my evenings with loved ones before going to bed around 9 p.m. and trying to get seven hours of sleep.

It's not like I start my day at 4 a.m. and just work through the next 12 hours. I build in slots for "recovery" throughout the day. On my calendar, I put in 15-minute slots before important meetings, where I remind myself of my goal for the call.

For the most part, I work six days a week, spending my Saturdays focusing on a key skill I want to develop, like public speaking.

'996' misses the point. I don't run my team with this schedule in mind.

For the most part, I work six days a week.

I work more than 40 hours a week, but I don't keep track of the time. I listen to my body.

We don't keep track of how many hours the team works. It's more about a culture of ownership, where people really care about the problem they're working on.

Even though I've become a morning person, we're fine with engineers who are more productive at night, as long as they maintain a five-to-six-hour overlap with the other engineers.

"996 culture," working six days a week from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., has gained traction in Silicon Valley. I think it misses the point. It's more about volume than it is about structure. You want to structure your day towards putting in your best work by thinking about when you'll spend time training, recovering, and learning new skills. I'd rather focus on the right structures than on volume.

Do you have a story to share about working in a 996 culture? Contact this reporter at ccheong@businessinsider.com

Excavations in Germany’s Ruhr region have uncovered evidence of a substantial underground mining operation that predates the area’s industrial expansion. The discovery is providing new clues to the origins of European coal mining.

Archaeologists have identified a previously unknown coal-mining tunnel stretching at least 130 metres beneath woodland near Sprockhövel in western Germany. The remains provide evidence of coordinated underground construction at a time when the Ruhr’s mining industry was still developing, long before the region became synonymous with heavy industry.

The discovery was announced on 15 October by the Westphalia-Lippe Regional Association (LWL), whose archaeologists are working alongside the German Mining Museum in Bochum and GeoPark Ruhrgebiet. The team says its findings shed light on tunnelling techniques used before the eighteenth century, although the newly identified passage has not yet been given a precise scientific date.

At Haßlinghausen, a forest floor conceals old shafts, spoil heaps and depressions left by abandoned mining operations. Researchers did not enter an intact underground gallery. Instead, they identified the location of a collapsed passage by excavating at two former shaft sites and drilling into the surrounding spoil. Subsidence created by the collapse left a recognisable trace above ground.

How Early Miners Organised Underground Work

The evidence suggests a more complex operation than miners simply following exposed seams into the earth. Construction shafts were sunk at intervals along the proposed tunnel. Workers descended through them and excavated separate stretches underground, later joining those sections into a continuous passage.

This method allowed several groups to work simultaneously rather than advancing from a single entrance. It also demanded planning and considerable labour. The filled-in shafts and disturbed soil are still visible in the excavated sections, enabling specialists to reconstruct the miners’ methods even though much of the original tunnel has collapsed.

Till Kasielke of GeoPark Ruhrgebiet explained that the construction shafts were located beside the underground route and then filled after the gallery was completed. Jennifer Garner, an archaeologist at the German Mining Museum, said the excavations would provide material for scientific dating and a better understanding of the effort required to build the structures.

The latest work follows a 2025 investigation of a separate, approximately 70-metre tunnel nearby. That earlier feature reached a coal seam some ten metres below ground. Researchers suspected it might predate the seventeenth century because it appeared to have been overlooked during later mining activity. The newly identified 130-metre passage is a distinct discovery.

The chronology matters because horizontal tunnels changed the possibilities of coal extraction. Early miners could reach seams by digging pits or inclined shafts, but groundwater increasingly obstructed work at depth. Drainage galleries allowed water to escape, making deeper workings more practical and potentially extending the life of individual mining sites.

An Industrial Region’s Earlier History

The Ruhr is usually associated with the vast collieries, factories and transport infrastructure that drove Germany’s expansion in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Yet coal was extracted locally during the Middle Ages. The transition from small workings to organised subterranean networks remains poorly documented, partly because written records from the earliest periods are scarce.

The archaeological research programme, which began with related investigations in 2024, is intended to address that gap. The team has excavated soil layers associated with old shafts, and the recovered material may help establish when specific construction techniques were introduced. For now, it would be premature to assign the new passage a medieval date.

At Essen, the UNESCO-listed Zollverein Coal Mine Industrial Complex preserves the architecture and machinery of the Ruhr’s later industrial era. The remains at Sprockhövel represent a different historical record: temporary shafts, collapsed passages and waste deposits left by miners whose operations preceded industrial-scale coal production.

Across Europe, such landscapes have become an important part of cultural heritage. EU Today has previously reported on the preservation of Belgium’s Bois du Cazier colliery, where 262 people died in the 1956 mining disaster. In Sprockhövel, the focus is on a much earlier workforce, whose organisation and technical knowledge must be reconstructed from the ground itself.

Further dating and analysis will determine whether the newly identified tunnel pushes back the known chronology of organised drainage and gallery construction in the Ruhr. The excavations have already established that a substantial underground project once operated beneath a forest whose surface retains remarkably little indication of the work carried out there.

Image credit: LWL-Archäologie für Westfalen / Manuel Zeiler

• Anthropic published new surveys comparing its staffers' sentiments to those of US workers.
• The AI startup's employees expect the tech to change work and the economy far more dramatically.
• Most Anthropic employees guessed that unemployment would top 12% in 2030.

Anthropic employees believe that AI will make their labor obsolete. Most US workers don't see their jobs that way at all.

The AI company published research on Friday that compares surveys with US adults against an internal poll of 1,334 Anthropic employees. Most of the Anthropic staffers said AI will handle at least 80% of their jobs by 2030, while only about 5% of the US workers felt the same.

The research, titled "The AI expectations gap," shows the chasm between how the employees at the AI startup feel and how other American adults feel. Anthropic workers are far more optimistic about the progress of AI capabilities, how much it's already saving time, and how fast the economy will grow.

The median Anthropic employee said that by the end of 2030, they expect AI to handle 95% of the work of building a new AI model.

Peter McCrory, Anthropic's chief economist, wrote on X that the views might help outsiders prepare for more capable AI systems.

"We're publishing this research because Anthropic runs roughly a year and a half ahead of the economy on AI adoption, so what happens at Anthropic could be a leading indicator for the broader world," he said.

Anthropic workers expect higher unemployment and extreme GDP growth

Anthropic's surveys examined how workers already use AI and how they think it will change.

"US adults and Anthropic staff largely agree about what AI can do today," the researchers wrote. "However, they disagree about how quickly it will improve, how widely it will be used, and how large the productivity gains measured by time saved will be."

There are a few possible explanations for the discrepancies. Anthropic employees have larger budgets for the tools and often get access to unreleased models. US workers, on average, are more likely to work with their hands or in a service industry.

The researchers found that workers in manual trades, production, and transport thought AI would handle the least of their work by 2030, compared with Anthropic staffers, tech workers, and respondents in business and finance.

Most Anthropic employees surveyed said that they expect the unemployment rate to top 12% in 2030. The majority of the US workers thought it would hover around or under 8%. It's currently 4.2%.

So far, researchers have found mixed evidence on AI disrupting the job market — a Yale team recently found it had mainly changed jobs, and had "no connection" to changes in unemployment.

The Anthropic researchers also compiled survey responses to estimate predictions on economic growth. Based on their answers, the median US adult's guess for GDP growth in 2030 was 5.4%, compared with 17.1% among Anthropic employees. The country's GDP grew by 2.2% last year.

Anthropic's staffers are following their leader

Anthropic's CEO, Dario Amodei, has become one of the industry's most closely watched voices on labor upheaval. In March of 2025, he said he expected AI to write 90% of code within 6 months, and "essentially all of the code" within the year. He made more headlines that May, telling Axios that AI could wipe out half of entry-level white-collar jobs within five years and lift unemployment to 10% or 20%.

Amodei expanded on that claim in a later essay, writing that he expects AI to be different from prior technological changes. He wrote that he expects an "unprecedented" short-term shock to labor, and that the economy will grow dramatically.

"AI isn't a substitute for specific human jobs but rather a general labor substitute for humans," he wrote.

Have a tip? Contact this reporter via email at scouncil@businessinsider.com, or over text, Signal, Telegram, or WhatsApp at 415-757-8198. Use a personal email address, a non-work WiFi network, and a non-work device; here's our guide to sharing information securely.

Number 116 on Rue Réaumur in Paris sits at the crossroads of the two worlds that define Revolut. On one side lies the historic financial district centered around the stock exchange; on the other, the Sentier neighborhood, home to much of the French capital’s technology ecosystem. It is at this intersection of finance and technology that the bank is preparing its new headquarters for Western Europe.

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