It’s the start of spooky month! 🎃 Let’s celebrate with a design challenge.
One of the horror movies that caught my attention in 2025 is Get Away (Sky, 2025). It’s not sci-fi in dressing, but key to the events in the movie is a speculative service that is never shown. It is discussed and accessed by the main characters throughout, and enables everything in the plot. It might even be indirectly causal to the events, but that’s only hinted at, not stated.
Since the interfaces are not shown, the movie is technically outside the review functions of this blog. As I’ve said before, we have to see a thing in use to evaluate it. So rather than a review, think of this post as an invitation.
Given the clues that we see in the film about what the service does, I ask you: How does the service work? What might its interfaces be?
NOTE: No one wants to actually support psychopaths and their horrible violence. Instead I offer this design challenge to readers looking for a speculative interface on which to practice their skills. Or maybe you’re hoping to get into the biz and include designs for this movie in your portfolio. In the past I’ve facilitated similar things in workshops where participants were encouraged to analyze and redesign interfaces in well-known movies, but it’s a whole other thing to get to design a thing like this from the script. Cinema is one place we can safely entertain the design of evil, but let’s keep in mind it’s speculative. Don’t go…you know, too dark.
The film has a couple of twists, so if you want to enjoy it, stop reading now and check it out. Last I checked, it’s streaming. But if you want to read my plot description and go from there, it’s below.
Plot
Get Away is a British dark comedy horror, written by Nick Frost (who also plays its murderous patriarch), in the tradition of very dark ensemble comedies such as Inside No. 9 or The Cabin the Woods. These works commit fully to both the comedy and the horror without letting either undercut the other.
The film follows the Smith family: Susan, Richard, and their two adult children Jessie and Sam on a vacation to Svalta, a small Swedish island in Skåne that holds a once-a-decade festival called Karantan, commemorating a catastrophic nineteenth-century quarantine that ended in starvation and cannibalism. It is not a cheerful place to holiday, and when the family arrives, it’s clear that outsiders are quite unwelcome. Especially British ones. Especially for this festival.
The first twist comes from Matts, the host of the B&B where they’re staying, who has creepy secret surveillance throughout the house. In the second act, we become aware that he’s not just creepy, but plans on drugging the Smiths for some dark purpose (possibly as the meat in a stew) for the Karantan.
The main twist, though, held until the final third, is that the Smiths are not who they appear to be. They are playing roles. Their names are not the ones we hear, and though Susan and Richard may be a couple, they are certainly not the parents of Jessie and Sam, who are, in turn, not siblings. They are a group of serial killers who have coordinated through a service called Slaycation to find the island and target it for violence. Svalta and its weird festival has been selected for its isolation, its culturally sanctioned chaos, and its obligingly violent festival atmosphere. They not only thwart the hosts’ plans, but he becomes one of their victims in a bloody, bloody killing spree across the island.
There’s plenty to discuss about the fact that they are all British and behaving colonially by traveling abroad to enact their will on an unconsenting population. Or how much social media encourages us to act in ways we might not otherwise. Even the fact that—we’re deep in spoilers here, so why not—three of them get away with it all, scot-free. All fascinating topics, but for the purposes of this post, the main thing is the unseen Slaycation service touchpoints.
Quotes that Imply the Service
What do we know about that service? Let’s look at quotes throughout that give us clues, presented in chronological order.
1. Richard shows the app listing to a stranger at the mainland café.
Richard has pulled up the B&B listing to prove their booking is legitimate. The stranger recognizes the property immediately.
Stranger: That’s the house of Matts Larsson.
The listing displays the host’s name and, by implication, a photo of the property. It is recognizable to locals as a real address. You might think Slaycation opens it as an external website, but a later line (next) confirms that Richard showed in the actual app.
2. Susan objects to Richard showing the app to a stranger.
Susan: Why did you show him the app? He seemed nice. He’s not the B&B police.
This confirms the service is a distinct, named app, not a general travel platform. Susan’s irritation suggests some awareness that the app is not something to advertise casually.
3. Richard raises the family’s complaints with Matts the morning after a threatening night outside the house.
Richard, to Matts: Ever since we came to Svalta, we have felt nothing but unwelcome, and it’s a shame, because the App promised so much more. And between us, I’m not a confrontational person at all, but…our review is going to be less than favorable.
Richard is speaking directly to their host. The listing has made promises (presumably about the experience quality) and the hostile reception feels like a breach. The review mechanism is treated as a genuine accountability lever.
4. Susan, mid-rampage, calls out the name of a tactic.
Susan: This is your slaycation. What do you want to do?
Richard: Clyde River Paradigm!
Susan’s assertion that it’s Richard’s event might mean that a member of the service initiates events.
Susan explicitly names the service as a “slaycation,” confirming the app‘s branding. Richard’s immediate response—naming a specific tactic—suggests the service or its community provides a shared vocabulary of methods.
Also, shout-out: This line might be a reference to Shaun of the Dead, in which Frost’s character Ed does an impersonation of Clyde from Every Which Way but Loose.
5. Jessie attempts to upload photos during the killing spree.
Jesse: Ugh! My photos won’t upload to the Slaycation app.
Susan: It’s like someone’s smashed up all the comms equipment, isn’t it?
The app has a photo-upload feature expected to function in the field. Susan’s response identifies the cause of the failure, i.e. Jesse and Sam disabled the island’s communications, and treats the upload problem as a straightforward technical consequence, rather than anything remarkable.
6. Susan rebukes Sam for creating extra logistical work.
Susan: I’m the one who’s going to have to spend two hours on the phone to International Clean Up, whereas what I really want to be doing is very simply going around, killing a few people, and then sitting down and having a nice, cold glass of rosé.
“International clean up” is a named, phone-accessible service closely coupled to the Slaycation offering. Its existence is stated as routine and its inconvenience is Susan’s primary grievance.
7. Susan and Richard discuss Sam’s poor performance and the consequences.
Susan: You know what the worst thing about all this is, is now we have to go out and source an entire new brother, and that’s a task.
“Sourcing” a brother implies a supply-side marketplace — some mechanism by which people willing to play supporting roles (relatives, friends) can be announced, applied for, and booked, presumably through the app.
8. Susan, praising Jessie’s performance, names another tactic as a milestone.
Richard: I think that Jessie is ready to lead her first Trojan Horse.
A second named tactic, delivered as a rite of passage. “First” implies the service tracks or recognizes member progression through defined experience types. Or maybe they’re accomplishment badges on a Slaycationer’s profile.
9. Richard delivers a five-star review to Matts at the moment of his death.
Richard: Rest assured, Matts, you’ll be getting a big thumbs up from us on the app.
Said with apparent sincerity. The host-rating system is the last thought Richard extends to the man he has just killed. Matts is rated as a supplier, and the rating is positive. (Though of course, it is useless to him now, but that’s part of the cost of doing business catering to psychopaths.)
10. The family departs, closing the film.
Richard: That was the best holiday ever.
Susan: The family that slay together…stay together!
Richard and Susan frame the trip in the language of holiday satisfaction. The phrasing mirrors the kind of copy a leisure brand would use, suggesting the service’s marketing has genuinely colonized how the family talk about the experience.
Speculative Service Design Requirements
Based on the above, the Slaycation service would need:
- Venue listings with host profiles. Hosts (like Matts) are vetted local fixers who own or manage properties and arrange victim access. There would be basic information like on Fairbnb.coop. In addition it would have Slaycation-specific information, including “setup quality.”
- Member profiles. Basic profiles that link to events and reviews. Milestones (“her first Trojan Horse”) suggest a progression system with badges on the member profile that are approved by other members, especially for demonstrated mastery of named tactics. It might include no-go locations if the member has been banned from traveling there. It might include a list of venues or tactics they’re eager to try. The “sourcing” quote makes me think that members can have a default group with whom they like to slaycate, acting as defaults for event selections.
- A named tactics library or community knowledge base. “Clyde River Paradigm” and “Trojan Horse” are shared vocabulary from the community of practice. The platform might have these as helpful How-To’s or at minimum provide a glossary. It should include links to events at which these tactics were performed.
- Event proposals and participant application flow. One member should be able propose an event, invite people, and leave some roles open to applicants or invitees. Maybe the event proposer can list attributes of fitting candidates and a matchmaking algorithm make suggestions of members. The host should of course be notified of proposed events and possibly have veto power before it can go live. Everyone who is already part of the event should be able to review applicants and discuss candidates. During this time, the venue should be tentatively marked as booked. I have a question about how much secrecy a group might want, to avoid looky-loo bookings or Dexter-style psychopath-hunting opportunists. But maybe it’s a culture of honor thing that they don’t? Up to you.
- Event streams. Possibly live, possibly after it’s done, participants want to rack up likes for their horrible events and register accomplishments. Other members might want to read up on the event and see the pictures. There would be a calendar, a search, and a chronological listing.
- Venue claims. If guests booked simultaneously, killers might wind up hunting each other, which, presumably, would be less to their liking. How does a person “claim” a location so events don’t overlap?
- Location cool-off. If a particular location was overused, it might tip off authorities. Hosts might need a “time out” after an event, when no new slaycations can be scheduled.
- Photo capture and upload, optimized for remote/off-grid locations. Users expect to document the experience in real time. The system must handle low-connectivity gracefully — queued uploads, offline mode. Where these photos live is a question to resolve. I presume it’s part of an event page, but it might just be part of the profile of the posting member and members they tag.
- A star-rating and review system for hosts. Reviews are the primary accountability mechanism. The “big thumbs up” quotes implies a simple rating. Hosts have reputations at stake.
- An affiliated cleanup/logistics service, reachable by phone. “International clean up” is separate from the app itself, but closely coupled. The platform likely surfaces a contact or integrates booking for post-event remediation.
- An experience-framing layer that uses holiday language throughout. The UI/copy must consistently use leisure vocabulary—holiday, getaway, slaycation, family time—since it’s part of the service’s branding.
- Features that keep it secret from normies, especially the authorities. The minute the membership or events leaked, the “fun” would be over for the members. Multifactor authentication and security at every level would be paramount.
For extra credit, consider what of this speculative design has counterparts in the non-psychopath real world. There are some tricky design patterns to work out here.
Historically, I haven’t had many takers for design challenges, but should anyone take this on, let me know and we can review it together, and if it passes muster, maybe I can feature it right here on this very blog. And if you take the challenge into something like Stitch or Claude Design, please read/watch these things first.
But even if you’re not up for taking it on as a design challenge, it’s still a lot of fun to think about and if you can stomach a lot of fake blood, a fun one to watch. Catch Get Away (we see what you did there, Frost) as part of your Halloween viewing this month. And remember: Stop watching sci-fi. Start using it.