THERE WAS a time - way back around 2000 - when "reality" television actually sounded dangerous.

I remember asking Mark Burnett, executive producer of CBS' "Survivor," what he'd do if someone were to die during the show, whose first-season launch was then months away.

He told me he thought the show should go on, as long as negligence by "Survivor" wasn't responsible for the death.

Since then, hundreds of torches have been snuffed, "Idols" ousted and would-be brides sent home roseless, the rejected mostly living to tell the tale to anyone who'll listen, and occasionally even reappearing on other shows.

Though sadly, there have been reports of a few former contestants committing suicide, among them a Philadelphia boxer who appeared on another of Burnett's shows, "The Contender," I've yet to see proof that "reality" television itself kills anything but brain cells.

Which would seem to make the CW's latest entry, "13 - Fear Is Real," pretty pointless.

Because just how real can the fear of a torturous death in the Louisiana bayou be if there's someone with a camera recording your every scream for later broadcast?

Yet if it's not quite as scary as advertised, it does have a few hairy, and hair-raising, moments.

And like the horror movies it seeks to emulate, "13," whose producers include director Sam Raimi ("The Evil Dead"), takes an ax to some of the budget-busting excesses we've come to expect from even the cheesiest Hollywood productions.

Beginning with the host.

For a Jeff Probst or a Ryan Seacrest, you might expect to pay big bucks these days.

But on "13," the host - who calls himself "The Mastermind" and refers to his anonymous assistants as "minions" - is a disembodied voice, distorted the way a protected witness' might be on "60 Minutes."

He could be home in his bathrobe for all we know, phoning it in.

"My guests are going to play a game for me," he tells us as a rattletrap of an old schoolbus - what, no limos? - takes the show's 13 contestants to their, um, final destination.

Which turns out to be not one of those ubiquitous mansions, but a one-bedroom cabin tastefully decorated in bloodstains and voodoo dolls.

Complete, of course, with surveillance equipment.

"What they don't know is that I'll be watching them," he continues, apparently unaware that there's no one left in this country who doesn't know that when you go on a TV show like this, you're watched - and recorded - 24/7.

"The only thing they know is that I will drop them off deep in the woods, where I will make them face their darkest fears. One by one, they will be killed off."

Uh-huh.

The last person left alive gets $66,666, a less-than-lucky number that's also pretty chintzy, even by small-network standards.

There is, however, a better-than-usual chance that someone you might know could walk off with the not-so-big money in this one, given that four of the 13 - Lauren Paul, Leah Lucas, Nasser Goins and Ted Kirner - are from the Philadelphia area.

Lauren, described by the CW as a model and hairstylist, is from Cherry Hill. Leah, a student, is from Philadelphia, as are Nasser (pronounced NAH-SEAR), a musician, actor and hotel concierge, and Ted, a contractor, teacher and bartender.

"In horror movies, the ditzy blond is always the one to die first," notes Lauren, who says she does "get scared very easily," but nevertheless plans to win, hair color notwithstanding.

"It always starts off with a bunch of like good-looking people, in the woods," she later adds. "I'm the type of girl that enjoys a dirty martini at the bar, not being abandoned in the woods. But it's kind of cool because it's kind of like I'm in my own like horror movie."

Which is exactly how I'd feel if I found myself on, say, "The Apprentice."

Yes, it's a tough job . . .

So watch this space next week (or check out my blog at go.philly.com/ellengray) for news, celebrity sightings and tips on what's going to be happening in TV in the coming weeks and months.

For weather reports, banter and occasional flashes of staggering insight, you're also invited to drop by philly.com at 11 a.m. tomorrow, Tuesday and next Thursday, when my Inquirer counterpart, Jonathan Storm, and I will be chatting with all comers.

Hope to see you there. *

Send e-mail to graye@phillynews.com.