Got Any of That REAL Horror?!

Witchy, creepy, magical, occultic, and legit scary stuff is being phased out and everyone seems to be looking the other way! Personally, I haven't been creeped out since I was a kid and that was because: I was a child. As I matured, I also grew an appreciation for GOOD STORYTELLING AND CORRESPONDING STORYLINES! Surely, Hollywood could do without the shitty remakes and lowbrow plots. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?! WHY AREN'T THEY AT LEAST DIGGING INTO THE LAST 50 YEARS OF PARANORMAL HAPPENINGS? Here’s the thing: we’ve lived through some genuinely horrific shit in the last 50 years. Government cover-ups. Cult massacres. Technological hauntings. Shadow people caught on nanny cams. That’s not fiction—that’s just last Wednesday; so, to speak. Writers unable to create a damn good FULL-LENGTH series, hand in your screenwriting license and let others take the lead. You're wasting everyone's time.

GOREHORRORREAL EVIL

Illya Burke

5/23/20256 min read

1975-1995: The Golden Age of Rebellion and Ritual

Keep in mind that in the wake of the 1960s counterculture, the occult flourished in the 1970s and 80s. Satanic Panic? Check. Anton LaVey’s Satanic Bible gaining cult status? Absolutely. Aleister Crowley’s resurgence as the ultimate edgelord? Of course. Whether it was Thelema, Wicca, Chaos Magick, or Dungeons & Dragons-induced paranoia, the occult was thriving—both as a spiritual practice and as a misunderstood bogeyman of the mainstream.

The 80s brought us synthwave, VHS horror, and the looming shadow of Christian fundamentalism casting everything from heavy metal to tarot cards as Satan’s work. Occult bookstores flourished in dimly lit corners of major cities, and the underground was alive with secret rituals, zines, and whispered initiations. In New York City, the scene was electric — grimy basements in the East Village hosted candlelit coven meetings, punk kids mixed chaos magic with DIY ethos, and old-school botanicas in Spanish Harlem sold everything from protection amulets to spell kits under the counter. The occult wasn't just a rebellion; it was a gritty, mystical heartbeat pulsing beneath the neon grime and Wall Street greed.

The early 90s saw the birth of cyber-occultism—where magical practices met the rising internet, leading to digitized grimoires, chaos magicians experimenting with sigils in cyberspace, and conspiracy theories that seemed slightly less ridiculous back then. But even the early internet—circa late ’90s—gave rise to cyber-occultism, where mages swapped sigils via dial-up and conspiracy theories had just the right amount of mystery (and less QAnon crazy).

Sure, Wicca got commercialized, but hey, at least people still believed in something. But then came the crystal boom, and with it, a tidal wave of glitter-drenched, basic-ass spirituality. Everyone and their mom became an empath with a moonstone jar and a dreamcatcher. The occult went from shadowy ritual to a self-care checklist. Smudge stick? Check. Herbal tea? Check. Spiritual depth? Meh. Not so much.

Bring Back the Dark: Why Modern Occultism Is a Glitter-Coated Joke and Cleavage Isn’t the Only Distraction

That good ol' creepy, witchy-demonic, magical, occultic, and legit scary stuff has gone extinct, sadly—and honestly, we should be terrified. I haven’t felt a real, bone-deep chill since I was a kid. Back then, I feared the monster under the bed. Now? I fear Netflix remakes and CGI horror. As my taste matured, so did my craving for storytelling with actual guts—plots that sink their claws into your soul, not just jiggle their way into your TikTok feed.
So, I have to ask: WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HELL HAPPENED?! Why isn’t Hollywood mining the absolute horrors of the last 50 years for inspiration? We’ve had cults, serial killers, paranormal encounters, alien sightings —and the biggest scare on screen is an obvious green screen with recycled slip-and-fall titty twisters.

Flash back to 1975, a time when Led Zeppelin ruled, bell-bottoms flared, and occultism wasn’t just edgy—it was downright danger. You weren’t just lighting a candle for "vibes"; they were channeling spirits, invoking demons, and maybe even getting banned from your local church. Fast-forward to 2025, and Tiktok witches are casting spells using moon emojis, while AI programs tarot readings in the same instant it recommends a recepie. Supposed magicians debate machine consciousness like it’s a Reddit thread—and it kind of is. All the esoteric knowledge once veiled in mystery is now repackaged as a self-help trend.

Has occultism progressed, or has it declined into a commodified circus? Let’s take a look.

Once upon a time, the occult mattered. From 1975 to 1995, the underground throbbed with ritual rebellion. Anton LaVey’s Satanic Bible was a cultural hand grenade. Aleister Crowley became the patron saint of edgy teenagers and secret societies alike. In New York, punks dabbled in Chaos Magick between CBGB sets, and botanicas sold bootleg spell kits beneath rosaries and incense. It wasn’t all pentagrams and goat heads—it was spiritual survival. The esoteric was raw, dangerous, even authentic. Not something you put on a pastel hoodie and sell on Etsy. TF is THAT all about?! Anyways. . .

1995-2015: The Internet Awakens… and So Do the Crystals

The late 90s and early 2000s saw the rise of mass-market occultism. The grimoires of old got glossy covers, Wicca became a fluff aesthetic more than a practice, and suddenly, everyone was a psychic on daytime tv. It was a constant shit-show; from Sylvia Brown on Montel to Miss Cleo every commercial break! Don't even get me started on those 1-900 numbers - woosah!

While the early internet gave niche occult groups an underground sanctuary, it also allowed modernized commercialism to ooze in. Occultism, once rebellious and shrouded in secrecy, became a product—sold alongside organic quinoa and toiletries. The late 2000s saw a weird split because there were traditionalists lamenting the loss of authenticity and the newcomers embracing the accessibility of cyberspace intel.

By the 2010s, occultism turned into mundane fluff content. TikTok witches hexed the moon. Yes, the moon. Influencers peddled spells between sponsored posts. A headdress became just another filter, like dog ears and fake freckles. AI magicians now debate algorithmic spirits. Servitors got usernames. Even demons needed branding. Meanwhile, in the cinematic spectrum, horror, too became so watered-down, the enitre genre lost its balls and backbone; whereas, recussitation came in the form of American Horror Story, until that, too pulled the old bait-and-switch jammy. It's so bad that The Terrifier is now considered a "great flick". Smh.

Where’s the next Clive Barker, Rob Zombie, or Robert Rodriguez when you need ‘em? Hell, Quentin Tarantino could absolutely dive into horror—imagine the gore, the grit, the dialogue. Someone hand that man a copy of the Necronomicon and a Red Bull and let him cook. And while we’re at it, can we get a horror film that doesn’t just win Oscars but sweeps everything—from Saturn Awards to MTV’s Best Kiss - with a deity maybe this time? Not a vampire, werewolf, demon or devil. Ha. . . Whaaaaat!

Meanwhile, chaos magic found new life in the meme culture of the early internet. Sigils went digital, servitors had MySpace pages, and occult forums debated whether thoughtforms could haunt chatrooms.

2015-2025: From TikTok Witches to AI Magicians

If the 2010s were anything, they were the decade where everything became an aesthetic. Friggin' Tumblr witches, Instagram tarot readers, and YouTube fame-seekers turned esoteric knowledge into digestible (and monetizable) content. On one hand, this made occult knowledge more accessible than ever and on the other, it stripped away depth and commitment, leaving behind an ocean of surface-level practitioners casting half-assed love spells between influencer brand deals.

Enter 2020s occultism facing an identity crisis. It was simultaneously mainstream and ridiculed, respected and yet trivialized. Books on demonology shared shelf space with self-care manuals, and TikTok witches hexed the moon (a moment that will forever live in infamy). Meanwhile, AI-driven occultism emerged, where algorithms generated tarot readings, and digital servitors were programmed into existence.

And yet, beneath all this, the core of occultism remains. Those who seek the deeper mysteries still find them, though now they must sift through a digital sea of misinformation, Instagram filters, and AI-generated grimoire entries.

Conclusion: The Ouroboros of Occultism

So, has occultism progressed or declined? The answer is both. It has evolved, adapted, commercialized, and, in many ways become unrecognizable. But the secret paths, the hidden truths, and the genuine seekers remain, weaving through the chaos as they always have, the truest ones, anyway. Occultism hasn’t died—it’s just drowning in aesthetics. Beneath the hashtags, there are still seekers. Still shadows. Still secrets. You just have to scroll past 20 TikTok soundbites and a full moon affirmation post to find them.

Real horror is out there. Real magick too. It's time to stop going for an all-star cast and start invoking something that actually makes the room go cold. Let’s bring back real fear. Not just jump scares and shock value. I'm talking about existential terror. The kind of story that lingers and bites and brands your subconscious like a hot iron to a hide. C'mon, Hollywood: You’ve got the blood, the trauma and the lore. Now give us something worthy of discussion.

AI generated art for movie premise inspo.

imagry is AI generated; nonetheless, even this looks a better premise for a movie that what's out now. . .

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