Those Who Reject Play: Immersive Design for Everyone Else
As an adult, do you still like to play? Use your imagination? Around others?
Since you’re reading No Proscenium, chances are good your answers are emphatically yes, yes, and… sometimes. But beyond our bubble of immersive design enthusiasts, if we reach out to the billions of people who haven’t even heard of “immersive” entertainment, how many of the masses would answer the same way?
We recently ran a piece entitled “Those Who Play: Notes on Building the Immersive Audience” in which Noah Nelson suggested there are three distinct classes of people who make up the immersive ecosystem: Those Who Play, Those Who Watch, and Those Who Make. But I am suggesting that there is indeed a fourth class of equal, if not more importance than all the rest.
I call this fourth class: Those Who Reject Play.
Let’s dig into some clear examples of why this group is absolutely essential to the growth of live, immersive, experiential design.
There are endless articles about the importance of play for adults citing practical, emotional, and mental health benefits that play offers, including increased problem solving ability, quicker and more imaginative thinking, and the simple joys of fun and relaxation.
And yet, so many adults today still shy away or scoff at playful situations — including those so often presented in immersive works.
I watched it happen first hand last week as I attended a wonderfully playful immersive production here in Philadelphia. Across a 2-hour roaming performance that frequently enticed participants to engage with actors and technology, about a quarter of the audience gleefully ate up every detail, approached and interacted with other participants as instructed on “missions,” and closely paid attention to every word spoken, eager to make their next move.
As Noah dubbed them, that quarter were clearly Those Who Play.
Another quarter of the audience were clearly Those Who Watch, perfectly entertained by the performers’ and fellow attendees’ antics alike, but only minorly engaging with what was asked of them. This group wandered in a dazed state, never quite sure what was going on around them, but enjoying it nonetheless. They were the ones afterward who made comments like, “I had no idea what I was getting into and have never seen anything quite like this.” Those Who Watch are are often first-time attendees to immersive works, completely overwhelmed by the mechanics of such a production, simply soaking it in. Chances are good that many of them will become Those Who Play next time. Or they may very much enjoy staying in the “watch” state. As Michael Anderson put it in his ARG-focused response to Noah’s article, “passionate fans might look a lot like active viewers.” And that’s a fine place to be for many.
Immersive creators — Those Who Make — are always excited to design for both of the above groups, one arriving with enthusiasm to participant in whatever wild actions the designers have concocted and the other mesmerized by the newness of the experience to them.
But then we reach the other half of the audience.
As I personally stepped through the experience (I largely put on my Those Who Watch hat this time around), I noticed a significant portion of the audience were unengaged and, more succinctly, simply unwilling to participate. That is no slight against the show itself, except to say that this audience was not designed for. That is, there was a clear portion of the audience who were excited about being in the environment, but did not particularly care about the story, its performers, or its designed interactions. It was easy to read on their faces that they wished they could just have some freedom — to be, to exist, to breathe on their own.
Those Who Reject Play somehow end up at immersive events all the time and, largely, they leave disappointed or confused. And they often feel “trapped” inside, unable to free themselves from the overwhelming constant demand to actively pay attention or become part of the experience. Some people simply want to go out for a night of casual fun with friends and have absolutely no expectations of them other than being physically present.
It’s easy for Those Who Make to quickly question the merits of Those Who Reject Play. Creators might ask why Those Who Reject Play bought a ticket to a something that requires active participation, if that isn’t what they wanted. Creators often reject Those Who Reject Play by disengaging from them and letting them simply sit in a corner until the production ends.
But Those Who Reject Play are an important audience to design for, even in a work created in the spirit of play — because aside from those arriving unwilling to participate in the manner desired by designers, Those Who Play and Those Who Watch can also rapidly become Those Who Reject Play for the smallest of reasons, even during an immersive experience. Perhaps the subject matter becomes off putting. Perhaps the performers are somehow undesirable to be around. Perhaps the story simply isn’t resonating. Perhaps the attendee is just feeling a bit off that evening. Or, perhaps the attendee is more excited about the rare luxury of hanging out with their friends than to pay attention.
There are endless valid reasons why an audience member may intentionally reject the production they paid good money to see. But as long as they are not disrupting the experience for others, designers must find ways of embracing this mentality as a perfectly valid one.
The number of people who fall under Those Who Reject Play cannot be understated.
For the live immersive experience industry to continue to scale, we must embrace the need to reach all kinds of audiences — not just those we want. We can’t only appeal to the aficionados or we will remain reaching only small audiences.
For clear examples of why Those Who Reject Play are vitally important to this industry, one must simply look at reactions to Disney’s recent announcements of how immersive their upcoming multi-day Star Wars cruise-ship-on-land will be:
Some people — even the biggest Star Wars fans — simply don’t want to “work” during their downtime. For many people, it is hard to find time away from the grind. If Those Who Reject Play attend an immersive event, they have often given up some of their precious, limited free time to indulge in an experience that Those Who Make created. That is a big responsibility and it is up to creators to ensure those who simply want to escape from reality for a while have the opportunity to do that in their own way.
When we open our immersive Halloween experience Dark Passage in Philadelphia, we are designing for all audiences — all classes — offering story-driven tracks and rabbit holes for Those Who Play, thousands of square feet of unusual sights to explore for Those Who Watch, and an environment that is inviting to just hang out and socialize for Those Who Reject Play.
How well will these audiences collide? We’ll find out when we open in October. But our goal is to draw hundreds of people each night, with no constraints on when they enter or what they do once they arrive. We’re leaving that up to each attendee to decide on their own.
Some might argue it’s a losing battle to try to transform a medium built on intimate performances into anything but what it craves to be. But it is up to Those Who Make to find ways of allowing those personal moments to still resonate for Those Who Play, allowing Those Who Watch to observe without intruding, and Those Who Reject Play to simply revel in the world building while hanging out.
In other words, Those Who Make must not simply cater to the loudest person in the room, as tempting as it might be.
As we strive to scale immersive experiences, we must not be afraid to ask the question: Is total immersion something MOST people actually want? Those Who Reject Play don’t want to be “lost in another world” or “become part of the story” — but rather just do their own thing in a fun, engaging environment. And I would argue this group offers the secret to reaching new audiences who will otherwise distance themselves from experiences that sound too overwhelming.
In his recent article, Noah concluded: “With the right design it will be possible to entice Those Who Watch to become Those Who Play, and along the way get Those Who Make paid.”
I agree completely — but would add that with an even better design it is possible to allow Those Who Reject Play to do just that, not enticing them to Watch or Play but rather offering them an avenue by which they can enjoy themselves amidst an immersive environment and essentially do whatever they wish.
While some of Those Who Reject Play may some day decide to Watch or Play, that has to be their own decision and no amount of carrot-dangling will force that. Each class, whether they realize it or not, have made a choice to be part of that class of audience member.
Ultimately it is up to Those Who Make to honor that choice by providing a framework that offers the ultimate escape from reality.
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