Ericka Buensuceso was walking down Hollywood Boulevard last Saturday when she spotted an alien, two hot dogs, and Jesus huddled together outside the Church of Scientology information center. They weren’t protesting. They weren’t evangelizing. They were about to storm the building — and film it for TikTok.
Welcome to Scientology speedruns TikTok, the latest viral trend that’s equal parts absurdist performance art and trespassing charge. For the past month, teens and twenty-somethings have been flooding Scientology properties, racing through hallways, dodging staff, and documenting the chaos for millions of viewers. The church’s response? Remove all external door handles from its Hollywood Boulevard locations. Problem solved, presumably.
What Exactly Is a Scientology Speedrun?
The term “speedrun” comes from gaming culture — completing a video game as fast as possible, often exploiting glitches or shortcuts. In this case, the “game” is infiltrating a Church of Scientology building, mapping its layout, and extracting as much footage as possible before security escorts you out. Bonus points if you’re dressed like a condiment.
According to AP News, the trend exploded in early April, with participants posting videos of themselves entering multiple Scientology-owned properties, often in groups, sometimes in inexplicable costumes. The goal — if there is one beyond “content” — seems to be documenting the church’s interior spaces and capturing the reactions of staff members caught off-guard by a dozen teenagers in alien masks. Here’s the link since credit matters: AP News
The Los Angeles Police Department has responded to multiple incidents, including one investigated as a potential hate crime. The church says a staff member was injured during one raid and required medical attention.
The Church Is Not Amused
David Bloomberg, a Scientology spokesperson, issued a statement calling the speedruns “trespass, harassment and disruption of religious facilities.” The church describes its buildings as “peaceful spaces designed to welcome parishioners, visitors and members of the public” — which, to be fair, is a reasonable position when your welcome mat keeps getting trampled by people dressed as cartoon characters.
The removal of the door handle is the most visible response so far. It’s unclear whether this is a temporary security measure or a permanent architectural pivot, but it does raise the question: How do you enter a building with no external handles? Presumably, staff now buzz people in — or the church has embraced a full speakeasy vibe.
Why Are They Doing This?
Good question. The answer, like most Gen-Z phenomena, is both obvious and completely opaque.
Some commenters on TikTok suggest the trend is fueled by curiosity about Scientology’s notoriously secretive practices. Others think it’s just another example of “brain rot” content — the deliberately nonsensical, low-stakes chaos that dominates social media platforms. One TikTok user asked why people are doing this. Another replied: “Because it’s fun.”
Charley Tenorio, a 20-year-old actor who witnessed Saturday’s raid, told AP News: “All the jokes in the comments that if they get to the top, you’ll find Tom Cruise.” The church’s celebrity following — Cruise is one of its most famous practitioners — adds a layer of pop culture intrigue. The idea that you might stumble into a back room and find the guy from Top Gun doing an E-meter reading is absurd, but it’s also the kind of absurdity that fuels viral trends.
Ahsem Kabir, a musician who lives near the Hollywood Boulevard location, summed it up: “I do get entertainment out of the speedruns. I think it’s pretty funny. I know that technically it’s not allowed, but I think it just kind of adds to the lore of this place.”
The Meaninglessness Is the Meaning
There’s a temptation to read deeper significance into Scientology speedruns on TikTok — to frame it as a form of protest, or a critique of institutional opacity, or a generational rebellion against religious authority. But that might be giving it too much credit.
Gen-Z and Generation Alpha have spent years perfecting the art of ironic detachment. Their humor thrives on randomness, on the refusal to explain the joke. The costumes aren’t symbolic. The speedruns aren’t activism. They’re just… happening. The entertainment value lies in the chaos itself — the collision between an organization that prizes control and a generation that prizes disruption for its own sake.
Buensuceso, who posted her own video of the raid, described the participants as “mostly young boys” who looked to be in high school or even middle school. She called the behavior “juvenile,” which it is, but that’s also the point. This isn’t a calculated political statement. It’s a bunch of kids with smartphones and too much free time, turning a religious institution into a meme.
What Happens Next?
The door handles are gone. The LAPD is involved. The church is issuing statements. But the trend shows no signs of slowing down — because virality doesn’t care about consequences. Every new security measure becomes part of the lore, every statement from the church becomes fuel for more content.
The question isn’t whether the speedruns will stop. It’s whether the church can outlast the attention span of TikTok. Given the platform’s track record, the trend will probably burn out in a few weeks, replaced by something equally inexplicable — teens storming another institution, dressing up as condiments, or both.
In the meantime, the Church of Scientology is learning what every other institution targeted by viral trends has learned: You can remove the door handles, but you can’t remove the internet.
Source: AP News