There are certain rules you must follow if you plan on surviving a horror movie. These aren’t suggestions—they’re essential guidelines you need to follow if you ever hope to make it to the end of the film among the living.
Stray from these rules, and it’s a safe bet you’ll just end up as another nameless camper, wild teenager, or forgettable friend rounding out the killer’s body count.
So be warned—and follow these instructions carefully—because your life depends on it.
Rule #1: If you’re getting laid, you’re getting slayed.
If you had sex in a horror movie, congratulations—you’re dead.
If you sold your virginity for a six-pack and a weekend in the woods, well—thanks for showing up. Sorry your role was so short.
The second someone strips down and gets under the sheets, it might as well be the sheet they’re going to place over your body at the morgue, because if you do the deed, prepare to bleed.
We all know horror is synonymous with its response to sin—it sniffs it out, stomps on it, and usually plants an axe in its chest.
And don’t give us that “times have changed” line. Final Girls might party now, but the sex-to-body-bag ratio hasn’t improved.
Because sex in horror isn’t just taboo—it’s a death sentence. The moment you unzip your pants or pop off your top, your number’s up.
Rule #2: If you’re the Final Girl’s boyfriend, start saying your goodbyes.
If you’re in a situation where all your friends start dying around you, and you suddenly realize you’re dating the most wholesome girl in town—then it’s time to start seeing other people.
Because you’re not dating a person. You’re dating a horror plot device. She’s the Final Girl. And you? If you think you’re going to survive this horror story—I hate to break it to you—you won’t.
Best-case scenario: you get a dramatic death scene. Worst-case? You become part of her trauma arc and no one even remembers your name by the sequel.
Now, there’s always a chance that if you’re dating the Final Girl, you might be the killer. Either way, you’re not going to survive.
Rule #3: The killer never dies the first time. Ever.
This should be one of the most important rules to follow in horror—because if we know anything, it’s this: the killer never dies the first time.
You can shoot them, stab them, electrocute them, burn them alive, run them over with their own getaway car, drop them off a rooftop, and even impale them on a fence post—guess what? They’re not dead. They’ll be back in the next scene, looking even more pissed off and now somehow immune to physics.
Because horror villains aren’t people. They don’t bleed out. They don’t expire. They respawn.
These things don’t die when they’re killed. They die when the runtime ends—and even then, you’re looking at a post-credit jump scare, a sequel tease, or a reboot in five years where someone finds their mask and says, “He was never gone.”
Lesson here? Never assume it’s over. Always double-tap. Triple if needed. And maybe—just maybe—don’t slow-walk away in dramatic lighting while you cry into your own relief. That’s how you earn a knife in the spine… again.
Rule #4: If you’re in a horror movie, the car won’t start.
Everybody knows car keys don’t work in horror movies. Either you can’t get the car unlocked in time, or when you finally slide into the driver’s seat with shaky hands and a prayer—the engine’s dead.
No clicks. No turnover. Just silence, followed by the sound of your inevitable demise closing in.
Because that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? If you managed to drive off and leave the killer in your rear-view mirror, safely behind you while you barrel down a dark highway toward freedom—what’s the fun in that? There’s no suspense in functioning transportation.
And let’s just say by some miracle it does manage to start? You’ll swerve off the road. Or slam into a conveniently placed tree. Or hit the one pothole in the world that folds your tire like paper. Or better yet—that same killer will already be in the backseat. Waiting.
Horror cars don’t save you. They delay you. They lull you into thinking you might survive. They bait you into pressing the gas right before something bursts through the window and drags you out.
So the next time you run for your car in a horror movie, just know: you’re not escaping. You’re entering your aluminum tomb. It’s not an exit. It’s just a coffin with leather seats.
Rule #5: “Yes, absolutely. Run upstairs.” Said no one with a functioning brain.
There is a killer in the house. You are not armed. The front door is open. And yet—congrats, you chose stairs. Why? Because some part of your brain decided, let’s go up instead of out.
Running upstairs is one of horror’s dumbest and oldest clichés. You don’t gain ground—you trap yourself. Now it’s you, a couple of bedroom doors, and one flimsy bathroom lock. Good luck fighting off Jason with a curling iron.
And we all know how this ends: with you climbing out a window onto the roof and either dangling off the gutter or sliding off the edge.
Either way, enjoy your broken ankle.
Rule #6: Say “I’ll be right back” and that’s the last we’ll see of you.
This crucial and vital rule comes courtesy of Randy, our horror aficionado in Scream.
The second someone utters this death curse of a line, they might as well call it a wrap on breathing—because as we all know, unlike Arnold, you won’t be back.
There’s a good chance you’ll wander off into some dark and isolated place like the garage, the basement, or worse—go outside. Either way, this is the last time anyone’s going to see you alive.
So go ahead. Say the words. Foreshadow your own death. Because if you can’t follow this simple rule… it’s probably because you’ve never seen a single horror movie.
Rule #7: That strange noise? Let it kill someone else.
You know something’s out there. You know there’s a killer on the loose. And yet—for some reason—someone hears a strange noise outside, or an eerily haunting voice drifting up from the clearly haunted basement, and still says the words:
“I’m going to check it out.”
What are you doing? You’re not Freddy from Scooby-Doo. You don’t need to investigate.
Checking out weird noises in a horror movie is like everything else on this list: a sure-fire way to become the next addition to the body count. You’re not being brave. You’re being bait.
So, the next time you hear something—don’t go looking. Be the one who turns around, locks the door, and gets the hell out of there.
If you’re hearing growling from the attic, assume Satan’s already subletting.
Rule #8: If your partner’s haunted… congratulations, you’re now single.
If your partner foolishly decides to bring home a cursed heirloom they found at an estate sale, starts watching blurry VHS tapes alone in the dark, or strange scratches start appearing all over their body—face the facts. They’re either cursed, or they’re about to be possessed.
And guess what? You don’t help them. You ditch them.
Haunting is contagious. You’ll either be next or wind up as their first victim when they go full Linda Blair on you.
You saw Paranormal Activity. You know what happened to the guy who stuck around after learning his girlfriend was being stalked by a demon—yeah, he died.
So if your significant other suddenly starts speaking in tongues?
Dump them and run.
Because this isn’t a rom-com.
It’s a horror movie.
And you’re next, lover.
Rule #9: Why hide… when it’s called cardio?
When someone is chasing you—through the streets, through the woods—why are you stopping?
Hiding isn’t how you survive. It’s how you become the next person stapled to the obituary wall.
Because let’s be honest—we’ve all seen horror movies. How many of these psychos are even running? Half of them do that slow mall power-walk thing.
And yet somehow… they always catch you.
Why? Because you either barricaded yourself in a closet to sob quietly, or you’re outside frantically pounding on someone’s door, hoping someone inside will come to your rescue.
Then comes the game: trying to mask your breathing, praying you don’t make a sound, sweating through your soul while the killer stands on the other side of the thin door you chose as shelter.
And spoilers: they always find you. Always.
So just like Zombieland taught us—first rule?
Cardio over cowardice.
Because running won’t always save you…
…but hiding never will.
Rule #10: Never. And this cannot be stressed enough… go to a cabin in the woods.
If you find yourself in a remote cabin in the woods, I want you to look around and take in your surroundings—because that’s where you’re going to die.
No good ever comes out of staying at an isolated cabin. The only thing guaranteed is that, one by one, all you happy campers are going to get picked off—either by whatever demon inhabits the walls, or the backwoods cannibals that live in those woods.
Because nothing good comes from packing up for the weekend and heading to a place where your phone doesn’t work, there’s no one around for miles, and you passed the last gas station with a phone about thirty minutes ago.
So, you’re not going on a retreat.
It’s a slaughterhouse with booking fees.
Rule #11: Why go back? No seriously… WHY go back?
You barely escaped with your life, but suddenly you start growing a conscience.
Your friends are back there. You got away. They didn’t.
But instead of celebrating the fact that you outran death itself, you decide you need to go back and rescue them single-handedly.
Because clearly, you did so well the first time around.
If you go back, best case—you get caught, and now you’re not saving anyone.
Worst case? That sweet taste of freedom you had is replaced by the copper taste of your own blood filling your mouth.
You don’t go back.
You don’t look back.
Because that’s where the killer is.
Rule #12: Listen to the creepy gas station guy. He’s right. Always.
Whether it’s a creepy-looking dude at a gas station—one eye, four teeth, and smells like something already died—or some wise old woman who’s seen everything that goes on in this town, either way, the moment they give you an ominous warning like “Bad things happen up there,” take the hint.
Quit the road trip. That’s horror telling you to make a U-turn.
No one ever says, “Beware that Days Inn.”
You know what they do tell you is haunted? That old camp where a bunch of kids were killed the year before. That abandoned farmhouse. The crumbling church in the middle of nowhere.
Do you know why?
Because they are.
So the next time someone tells you not to go there—because there’s a death curse—don’t go there.
This isn’t hard, people.
Just avoid the places where people are being murdered.
Rule #13: Go Ahead. Be the Hero. See How That Works Out.
You know who gets killed in every horror movie? The hero.
No, seriously—the person who jumps in to save the day, and foolishly shouts “Go! I’ll hold them off!”
The only thing you’re doing is giving that person enough time to get away while the killer makes you their next victim.
Because that’s all that’s going to happen.
And let’s be honest—this is horror, not a rescue mission. You’re not being selfless. You’re being stupid. You’ll charge into the fray with only your false bravado and sense of nobility while the killer’s holding an axe. Guess who’s walking away from that?
So, if you hear blood-curdling screams coming from outside, you do not need to check it out.
You do not need to investigate.
You do not need to prove how brave you are.
The hero never survives the credits.
You don’t die a hero. You just die.
Survival in a horror film is never guaranteed—but making stupid decisions and breaking these rules? That guarantees something else entirely. It guarantees you’ll end up as another nameless face in some masked psychopath’s kill count. Whether it’s your blood on the cabin walls or your body left in the woods for someone else to find, the result is the same: you didn’t listen.
You don’t get points for effort. Horror doesn’t care if you meant well. It doesn’t care if you were the nice one, or the smart one, or the one who “was just trying to help.”
It only cares if you followed the rules.
So if you find yourself thrown into a blood-soaked story with no way out…
remember what’s waiting at the end for the ones who ignore the warnings.
Just try to stay alive long enough to be part of the ending credits.
Good luck. You’re going to need it.
And most importantly—follow your own rules.
