I tend to scream a lot when I step inside the Haunted Basement. I wouldn't say I sound like the proverbial "little girl." The shrieks are more like that of a Muppet or maybe a frightened Disney cartoon character. It's embarrassing.

And I'm not alone. Some of the Basement's creators say it gives them the creeps, too: "I do all the special effects for the gore, but even I won't come down here alone," said makeup artist Brett Dorrian.

Last year, more than 10,000 people squealed their way through this dark, dingy underground sensation located beneath the Soap Factory art gallery (so named because it was once a soap factory). The bowels of this century-old building are the perfect setting for what has annually become the fall's most talked about haunted attraction. A number of Twin Cities paranormal investigators have determined that this place really is haunted.

Now in its fifth year, the Haunted Basement needs little introduction. It's best described by its short list of rules: You must be 18 or older, you must sign a waiver, you must say "uncle" if you want out (i.e. if you want to quit).

While none of that has changed, a lot else has in 2011. The project's artistic directors started over from scratch this year. They cleaned out the Soap Factory's entire basement, removing the decrepit junk and leftover machinery from decades ago. They wanted a clean slate. The overhaul came from a combination of creative rejuvenation and stricter building guidelines from the city. They rebuilt each pathway, corridor and room (and then put the junk back for ambience).

"We're calling it back-to-basics," said Tom Loftus, one of five directors. "What generally makes the Basement scary is the fact that it's just a creepy basement."

Star Tribune, Star Tribune
One of the characters whom guests may encounter at the Soap Factory’s Haunted Basement.

Last week, I was given a sneak peek while the Basement's innards were still under construction. What I saw looked promising. But Loftus and his cohorts swore me to secrecy. I was scared they wouldn't let me leave, so I agreed to keep my mouth shut -- for the most part.

Without giving anything away, I've come up with five key things you'll want to know about this year's psychologically battering experience. The Basement's monthlong run opens Saturday, but get your tickets now because the last two weekends in October are nearly sold out.

1. They're not playing around this year. Many of the Basement's well-known scare tactics are out. No clowns, no maze, no cornfield, no story line. The back-to-basics approach means more darkness and more "messed up [expletive]," Loftus said. He mentioned something about live bugs. Another change: Last year, people entered the Basement in groups of six. In 2011, it's groups of four, or two fewer people to hold your hand. "People feel safer in larger groups," Loftus said. "We want people to feel isolated and alone."

2. This isn't a nightclub so don't wear your fancy shoes. The basement is dirty. Chances are you will get dirty (in fact there is a room full of real dirt). Every year, a few women wear high heels. Bad idea. Also, you might get wet this year.

3. Your nostrils will get a workout. The Basement has always had a leg up on the competition when it comes to smells. I know: Manufactured smells aren't exactly frightening. But they definitely add to the visceral effect of this dungeon. The crew from St. Croix Sensory (a professional odor-inspecting facility) upped the ante, Loftus said. Last year they created a scent for "rotting corpse." "That's their art," Loftus said. "They've been thinking about the smells all summer." Diabolical!

4. While unconventional, this is still an art project. More than 30 Twin Cities artists contributed to the design this year. One of my favorite rooms is a perfect replica of a 1970s home. I won't say what happens in that quaint little rambler, but it's disturbing. As always, there are two "Fraidy Cat Tours" (noon-2 p.m. Oct. 23 and 30) that let you check out the Basement with the lights on.

5. They want to break the "uncle" record. In 2009, more than 200 people cried out "uncle," an all-time high for the Basement. It was easy to see why: That was the year they surprised people by strapping them to wheelchairs. In 2010, the "uncle" count was much smaller. It was a tame year, by most accounts. Loftus thinks they can double the 2009 numbers this time around. While there won't be any wheelchairs, Loftus said the Basement's inhabitants will engage participants like never before. His only admission: "People are going to have a very unique experience."