Original essay by ‘Tristan Marshall’, Visual Media Investigator
In 2001, the first-ever episode of Fear Factor aired. While its former host is notorious nowadays for reasons entirely unrelated to the show, it was the epitome of late 90's and early 2000's 'gross-out' media, and I do not mean that as a compliment. From more mundane stunts such as parkour to downright disgusting items such as forcing contestants to eat roadkill, Fear Factor wanted to define a generation of stunt-based game shows and, thankfully, did not manage to do that. But it wasn't the first game show to subject contestants to cruel and unusual punishment; it has a very obscure precursor, in the form of Money for Nothing.
Money for Nothing was a stunt-based game show filmed in 1999; however, in the middle of filming the fourth of five episodes for its original order, the host (a fairly prominent actress at the time) walked off the set, threatening to terminate her contract with the network.
Officially, all recordings were either destroyed or placed into evidence. Despite this, I have seen part of the first episode, the majority of the second, a series of stills from the third, and the final shots of the fourth episode that caused [Host] to walk off the set.
Up until November of 2021, the fifth and final episode was thought to be completely lost.
Money for Nothing could be summed up with its tagline: “Do you have what it takes… to do NOTHING?”. It was the ‘Quiet Game’ writ large: how long can you go without doing or saying anything, while everything goes wrong around you?
The set of Money for Nothing was a bizarre hybrid of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? with its moody lighting, darkness, and amphitheater-like setup, and Double Dare, featuring several areas of modular flooring which could be used to set up the various stunts, with over 5000 square feet of usable space.
The stunts were fairly out there, as well. For instance: Episode 1 featured the segment ‘Stopping Cart’, where the contestants sat in the basket of shopping carts and rolled down a ramp that gradually got steeper, until it ended in a pile of padded material. One of the contestants bailed from their cart less than halfway down the slope and lost. This was called a “Chicken Challenge”.
Other than Chicken Challenges, we had what was meant to be the main draw of the show, the “Skin-crawling Challenges”. Contestants were expected to sit perfectly still and make as little noise as possible while in very unpleasant situations, a formula that would later be copied by Fear Factor. Episode 2 featured three different Skin-crawling Challenges: ‘Hammock Panic’ had a contestant laying in a hammock trying to stay as still as possible in the middle of a wind tunnel. ‘Oh, Honey!’ had [Host] drizzle honey on the contestant while the sound of buzzing filled the set. The final round had ‘Arach your Brain’, where contestants had their heads placed in a box full of wolf spiders (terrifying, but harmless to humans) while having to answer trivia questions.
I have three stills from the third episode. When I saw the first one, there was so much smoke, I thought the set was on fire. Upon further inspection, I saw three contestants sitting in lawn chairs, trying to casually read through magazines, while [Host], wearing a gas mask, egged them on. The second still was straight out of The Wicker Man, with two contestants hanging upside-down from wooden scaffolding, laughing from the headrush.
The last still from Episode 3 was likely not intended for broadcast. It shows a pair of crewmembers arguing, covered in white foam. Medics are attending a stretcher in the background. Nothing so far would warrant the destruction of the footage. I studied Money for Nothing on and off for three years, but never got any farther than Episode 3.
The Institute has partial footage of Episode 4, but it was missing the camera angle that showed [Host] cussing out the producer. I had incomplete data.
That is, until March of 2021, when I paid a visit to Mr. Renard.
***
There were three cameras that captured the last moments of [Host]’s tenure on Money for Nothing. The Institute had two of the recordings. The third was owned by a ‘Mr. Renard’, a superfan of [Host] in Iowa, who refused to part with it for any reason. Mr. Renard ran a fangroup for her on UseNet back in the day, named his cat after her most well-known character…and he has a restraining order from her framed on the wall in his ‘office’. I drove 400 miles, and he laughed in my face when I asked if I could buy the tape off of him.
Plan B was breaking into the house and copying the tape with Institute equipment frankensteined out of a few old laptops and a VHS player. It made converting VHS digital-- a process which normally took an entire room’s worth of equipment-- into a portable affair. All I needed was ten minutes.
So, when he left for work, I waited half an hour, vaulted the fence, and picked the lock. From there, I headed to his office on the second floor. In addition to the restraining order, he had posters, action figures, Photos of a Hustler shoot [Host] did, and a signed photograph of the two of them; [Host] looks like she wants to scream. He wasn’t cliche enough to have a shrine; most of it was on a single bookshelf.
Sandwiched between several volumes of TV shows [Host] had been in was a single black plastic tape case, with the words ‘$.F.N. 1999 Last Appearance'' written on a label.
First problem: the case it was in was too small for VHS. It was Betamax. Betamax-to-Digital conversion required highly specialized and bulky equipment-- equipment we had, but I was going to have to steal the tape.
Second problem: the case caught on something and clicked as I tried to pull it off the shelf, and wouldn’t budge. From the way it jiggled, I could tell that there was a cable tied to the case connected to some mechanism behind the bookshelf I couldn’t see. It was booby-trapped, and considering that I didn't see a Betmax player in the house, I realized he set this up specifically to get someone trying to go after the tape.
I kept the case still on the shelf, took out a box cutter, and began sawing through the case. It was made of cheap, but solid, plastic and was more likely to shatter than gouge, leaving behind shards. When I’d asked after the tape, I’d give Mr. Renard a false name, and I was wearing gloves as I broke in. If he didn’t find any evidence I had been here for at least a week, I could safely (and this is the technical term) skidaddle across state lines.
After five minutes, I got through the seam linking the front cover of the tape and the spine. I dug my fingers into the sharp plastic, peeled it off-- and was met by a strange sight. The tape was in there, but immediately in front of it was a plastic bag filled with some sort of liquid. There was a bare wire inside of the liquid, a battery on the inside of the front cover, and I could smell gasoline-- the trap was meant to destroy the tape. But why?
A car pulled up outside-- Mr. Renard was back, six hours early. The tripwire must have been some kind of alarm system, as well. I pulled aside the firebomb, said a prayer, and grabbed the tape. A door downstairs slammed open, and I heard him sprinting towards me.
I toppled the bookshelf in front of the door, and dashed to the window. I was on the second floor, but outside of it was a bare trellis that made for a good ladder.
The door burst open when I was halfway down the ladder, despite the bookshelf in front of it. I thought for sure that he was going to come to the window and start either throwing things down at me or shooting at me, but instead I heard him start to weep, saying that something was ‘ruined’ and that he could ‘never fix it’.
I ran for my car three blocks away. I didn’t see any cops until I was at a diner two miles away, on Telegram with my colleague who runs the Betamax-to-Digital setup.
The producer, [Riley], talked to me over a Zoom call from L.A. Regarding the foam-filled photograph from Episode 3, he told me: “The challenge called for the contestant to hold a lit candle on their head. They sneezed, but… they lived.”
“So the white stuff is foam? From an extinguisher?”
“Exactly.”
“There’s a lot for it for someone setting themselves on fire.”
“They didn’t just set themselves on fire.”
I presented him with what I had of Episode 4-- he asked how I got it, as the Network had lost the recording some time in 2002. He didn’t judge when I told him I broke into someone’s house.
“Gotta break a few eggs to make an omelet.” [Riley] chuckled. “I like your gumption, kid. Better than I like this. Let’s see if it’s as fucked as I remember.”
Episode 4 is… uncomfortable to sit through. Thanks to the tape I procured from Mr. Renard, what we have of Episode 4 consists of fifteen minutes of footage: three of [Host], talking with the crew prior to the incident, seven with her actually presenting the stunt, and five minutes of the aftermath.
The stunt that caused [Host] to walk off the show was called ‘Raindrops on Noses’. The contestants were strapped into a set of reclining armchairs (It was the only stunt on the show that used restraints), and above their heads, a prop in the shape of a large rain cloud would drip water onto their faces. The chairs had buttons on them that would release the restraints and light up a sign indicating they forfeited.
The first three minutes of the tape consist of [Host] having a conversation with one of the producers; it’s indistinct, and the words ‘disgruntled employee’ and ‘call security’ can be made out. [Host] doesn’t want to be here; she’s rubbing her hands together when she clearly just wants to wipe all of her makeup onto her shirt and start screaming. I’ve seen it dozens of times; when people don’t think the cameras are rolling, they become balls of stress. Part of me thinks that they were trying to record a blooper reel, since she drops her American accent at one point and says something along the lines of ‘buncha horseshite’.
Then, the lights come back up. There are cheers from the audience as the host escorts the two contestants, [Carter] and [Etta], to the chairs, where she explains the mechanics of the challenge. Then, when she’s sure the contestants are in the positions, she says “Are you ready to Earn… MONEY FOR NOTHING?”. The audience is prompted to cheer as the challenge starts.
There’s a lot of droning, moody music here. I think that it’s just to cover up the snoring of the audience.
Riley asked me to pause so he could give some testimony. “The show was bullshit. Nobody wanted to watch people just sit around and do nothing. The shopping cart ride was an example of a good stunt-- people were expected to not bail out, kind of a weird expression of machismo. But this rain challenge? We were having people sit and watch contestants get wet for three to six minutes.” He rubbed his face. “One of the production assistants, he had an idea-- make the droplets fall randomly. Apparently it drives people crazy.”
I squinted. “Isn’t that a form of torture?”
“I didn’t know that until later but… yeah.”
Since this episode was never aired, all the sound here is unedited; the video was cobbled together by my friend from the three different tapes. Even with the moody music in the background, even with the grand, sweeping camera motions, the show is mind-numbing to sit through. [Riley] was right, this show shouldn’t have been made.
The challenge should have ended quickly-- [Carter] starts tapping at his release button while the [Host] is in the middle of commentating and cheering them on. His restraints don’t open, and the alarm to show that he’s forfeited doesn’t light up. He keeps pressing it, and [Host] doesn’t seem to notice.
[Etta] takes a bit longer to crack; at the five-minute mark, she presses her button, and it works. As [Host] gets up to thank her for playing and congratulate [Carter], she notices something is wrong with him. The camera closest to him zooms in on his hand. The plastic button has shattered, and there are several cuts on his hand from him desperately trying to press down on the release. He’s clearly sobbing and writhing in his restraints, and I can see him mouthing ‘please oh god, please, please.’. Smoke is coming off of his forehead. All but one camera turns off.
The only camera to remain on is positioned where [Host] would be sitting. [Etta] is pulled out of her chair and taken off-stage. Someone in the audience asks if they should call 9-1-1. The host’s microphone picks up [Carter]’s sobbing. A crew member resorts to breaking the raincloud prop off to stop the flow of water.
[Carter] is cut free of his restraints and laid on the ground, where he curls into a ball. [Host] goes off to the side, right in front of the only active camera, where she has an argument with a producer.
Host: What the fuck was that?!
Producer: Look, we figured this stunt would bring a bit more excitement to--
Host: Excitement? If people want excitement, they can watch me poke through someone’s guts on Sunday night. What just happened here is fucking torture! The gas was bad enough, but this?!
Producer: It was an accident! We’ll scrap this episode, but they signed waivers--
Host: Fuck you. I’m calling my agent. Anyone who wants me to stay here can kiss--
At this point, the recording ends.
***
My first question was “What’s this about gas?”[Riley] shook his head. “The guy in the chair was part of a stunt earlier in the program where he sat in a room full of smoke-- just a fog machine, really. He had some residue on him, but… I’ve never seen it react like that with water.”
“And… it was water in there?”
“Maybe. The cloud prop vanished before we got a good look at it.”
It’s here that I started asking about Episode 5.
“So, after [Host] walked off the set… we still had a contract with the network to fulfill. They asked for five episodes, and if their Queen of the Small Screen wanted off the show, they weren't going to say ‘no’.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “So, I made a few phone calls. Ever hear of [Sitcom], from the 80’s?”
“Yeah.” [Sitcom] isn’t the actual title, obviously, and the only reason I knew about it was because someone in the Institute had investigated it.
“We managed to get the mom from that show, [Actress]. She was a no-name by ‘99. She got a gig, and we got a new host.” He chewed his lip. “It’ll be easier to show you what happened.”
My eyes boggled. “You have footage?”
“Kinda. It’s only one angle of the set, and a wide one at that. But… you get to see most of it." He asked for my email.
The last recording of Money for Nothing is seven minutes long. It begins with the contestant being placed into a clear, plexiglass box. He stands completely still as [Actress] walks around him; I can make out the words ‘little furry friends’ and ‘maybe you’ll come out the big cheese!’. Then, she looks out at the audience, and says “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the [inaudible]ack!!”
The floor around the man opens up, and a swarm of what I assume are brown rats comes flowing out, gathering around his feet. Credit where it’s due, he stands completely still-- for a while, anyway. Once they start clawing at his clothing, he gets shaky, and by the time one climbs onto his chest, he faints.
A tone starts to play, very high-pitched. At this point, [Riley] chimed in.“Get to the rats?”
“Yeah. What’s that sound?”
“It was meant to be a rodent deterrent. Something to make them go back below the stage once the stunt was done. Just… keep watching.”
The tone plays again, but the rats remain in the box, crawling over the body of the fallen man. [Actress] is looking at the producers in confusion, and gets up to approach the box. She recoils as the tone sounds again, and I see it-- the rats are swarming over where the man fell. I know where this is going.
Staff evacuates the panicking audience.[Actress] tries opening up the box, but is stopped by someone on the set-- they get into a fight, with her gesticulating at the swarm of rats. The bottom of the box begins to fill with blood. Someone comes over with a fire extinguisher to try to break open the glass; [Actress] tries to stop them, but it’s too late.
The box doesn’t shatter-- it tips over, apparently poorly secured to the floor. Rats and blood flow out from beneath the box as it falls over, and everyone who hasn’t already evacuated the set does so. The rats abandon a bloody mass that I’m thankful I don’t get to see clearly-- there doesn’t seem to be much skin left, and barely any muscle. All there is are bloody bones covered in the barest fibers of flesh.
“Fucking god.” I swallowed.
“It gets worse. Keep watching.”
Two minutes after everyone leaves. a figure emerges from the audience section, dropping down opposite the camera. They’re hard to make out, even though the entire set is lit from below; they don’t seem to have any distinct features, barring what seems to be a white T-Shirt with what looks like a broad “V” on it.
Then, the lights go out entirely, leaving the set in darkness.
“What the hell?”
“Rat chewed through a power cable.”
Footsteps approach the camera. The emergency lights show a shadowy form obscuring the lens. They wheel it over to what I assume is the center of the room, and aim the camera downwards. This whole time, I’m expecting his face to pop into frame, but instead I hear footsteps walking away.
I check the timestamp. A minute is left in the recording.
When they’re scavenging a corpse, animals normally go for the softest parts of the body first-- the eyes, the lips, the ears. So, I can’t explain why the head of the contestant that the rats had eaten was untouched. I can’t explain why his eyes seemed to open in response to the flashlights. And I hope to god that it wasn’t his voice calling for help before the recording ended.
***
After a moment, I asked, “What the fuck was that?”
“That’s what the LAPD has been trying to figure out for over twenty years.” [Riley] lit a cigarette. “We’re fairly confident someone sabotaged the production, between the incident with the Raindrops stunt, and this one, which… god, I think they called it ‘Rat Pack’.” He shakes his head. “We got those rats from the same place that supplied productions like Game of Thrones. They should have been completely docile, but they went berserk when they heard the tone. I can't explain it." He blew on the cigarette and sighed. "Production was scrapped, tapes were burned, and any props that weren’t essential to the investigation were mothballed or destroyed. That footage you saw is supposed to exist only in evidence lockup, and nowhere else.”
“How’d you get it?”
“...it’s Hollywood. Do the math.”
I saved the video, and I deleted the email. “Anything else weird happen?”
“Surge of crank calls made to [Crime Show] right after this happened. Beyond that, nothing.”
“What about at other studios?”
“Wouldn’t know.” He blows on the cigarette. “Would you?”
I frowned. “I’ll have to look into it. Now, how much do I owe y--”
He shook his head. “Kid, I’m not in it for the money. I just… needed to get this off my chest.” He paused.“There is one thing.”
“What?”
“You do this all the time, basically? Look up creepy TV shows?”
“Basically.”
“If you ever find anything related to a show or movie that involves an actress named ‘Zelda Plunick’, you call me.”
With that, he hung up.
Supplemental:
The deaths and injuries caused by Money for Nothing have been swept under the rug. [Carter], the contestant from Episode 4, declined a request for an interview, as did all other living contestants I could find.
The video of Episode 5 has been analyzed by some other people in my community. We’ve determined that the figure is tall, but not anomalously so; maybe 6’4”, and is likely male. Other than that, it’s indistinct.
[Riley] did technically break an NDA on this, but he’s wealthy enough to settle out-of-court. I’ve heard nothing about a lawsuit, so I’m assuming he’s going to be okay.
I normally keep this kind of analysis and history within our institute. But something happened a few days back that got me spooked enough that I decided to post this, and other items, out into the broader world.
The USB drive I had the video stored on went missing around the start of July. I’d uploaded it to the cloud and there was nothing else important on it, so I didn’t really need to keep it. A few days after it went missing, however, I saw something… disconcerting on my home security system, or what was left of it.
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