By Lou Pizante, The Experientialists
Once upon a time, the word “immersive” meant something. It conjured memories of stepping down dimly lit corridors where masked figures whispered secrets, climbing into a glowing refrigerator with no clear way back to your original dimension, and standing in a desert, heart pounding, as a helicopter roared overhead, making you suddenly regret trusting the headset.
The term once had integrity. It belonged to theater companies like Punchdrunk, who let audiences roam freely through the dreamlike, mildly unsettling world of Sleep No More. It was the domain of escape rooms that required intelligence and ingenuity. Not just an overworked, adolescent employee sighing as they give you your fourth hint.
Theme parks, too, spent decades mastering the delicate science of immersion. From Disney’s carefully crafted lands to Universal’s commitment to ensuring you feel like a dinosaur has eaten you. And savvy marketers at Nike, Red Bull, and Apple figured out long ago that they weren’t just selling stuff—they were selling the brand itself.
Immersive wasn’t just about entering a story. It was about vanishing into it, only to reemerge, wondering what year it was and whether your old life still fit.
Immersive in nature or just name?
And then, like everything good—artisan coffee, beards, and the concept of privacy—it got ruined. The opportunistic bandwagoners and gimmick merchants smelled money, and suddenly, everyone wanted in on the new immersive trend.
A 24-hour wash-and-fold now home to a pop-up where you can “experience the future of laundry” by standing in a dank room filled with pastel washing machines? Immersive.
A haunted house where the only real interactivity involves a teenager in zombie makeup halfheartedly lunging at you while scrolling through TikTok? Shockingly immersive!
A fast-food chain that upgrades its LED menu boards and renames its drive-thru “an immersive ordering journey”? Next level immersive!
For the people who built the immersive movement—the ones who spent years crafting experiences so consuming that participants forgot their names, their to-do lists, and, in some cases, their exit strategy—finding out your local bank was offering an “immersive” checking account experience was like a symphony composer hearing their magnum opus played on a kazoo. And not a good kazoo. A broken one.
Eventually, “immersive” stopped being a movement. It is now a bloated label slapped onto everything. Once that happens, well—it’s tough getting it back.
Reclaiming the immersive movement
And yet—somehow—hope remains.
If language has taught us anything, it’s that words, like badly trained dogs, have a way of running off before eventually finding their way home. Time and again, cultural movements have watched their most sacred words get co-opted and drained of meaning. The good news is, oftentimes, the people who care about the movement find a way to reclaim the word.
Feminism was about equality and then was repackaged into pink-coded “girlboss” merch. Now, after realizing equal pay isn’t something you can buy at Sephora, it’s getting back to work.
Punk was a revolution, then a Hot Topic clearance sale, and now, in some circles, a revolution again. Indie games were bold, then AAA studios drowned them in loot boxes, and now, thanks to better engines and open distribution, they’re back—stranger, smarter, and pissed off.
If history is any guide, the “immersive” trend will be no different. It may be out in the wild now, but sooner or later, someone will call it home. All it takes is for the people who built it to take it back.
This guest column is going to be about just that. It will dive into the evolving world of immersive experiences—the creators, teams, and trends shaping what comes next. I’ll be putting the spotlight on the pathfinders and occasionally calling out the pretenders.
Here’s how I plan to explore this space:
1. How do we help consumers find the experiences worth finding?
Most people don’t know what a true immersive experience even looks like, let alone where to find one. They’re often led to believe that posing for a selfie in front of a giant plastic donut counts as immersion.
Real immersive experiences aren’t about photo ops. They’re about stepping into a living, interactive environment where your choices have weight. Consumers can distinguish fast fashion from couture or a handcrafted oak table from an IKEA model. They can learn to do the same with immersive experiences, but they need help.
That’s where the real work is happening. A growing number of leaders are taking on the responsibility of defining what this space should be, pushing for depth over gimmickry and intention over trend-chasing. My job? To highlight their efforts, track their wins (and missteps), and, sometimes, expose those who slap the “immersive” label on anything with a fog machine.
2. We must get comfortable with ‘different depths, same pool’
Immersive experiences come in many shapes and sizes. Just as a gas station’s mysterious liquid amphetamine and a 20-minute hand-poured coffee ritual can coexist without triggering a culture crisis, experiences like teamLab Borderless and Bubble Planet serve different needs within the same world—no meltdown required.
We need clear distinctions.
“Deep Immersion” should be reserved for experiences that fully transport you. Ones where empathy, agency and narrative depth shape the journey. Meanwhile, “Shallow Immersion” can describe experiences where you are technically involved, but let’s be honest—you’re mostly taking selfies.
I’ll explore both ends of the spectrum, and everything in between, dissecting the experience design, business strategy, and economics (hashtag math). I’ll big up those getting it right and give the side-eye to the ones who’ve built a house of hype destined to crumble under the weight of unsustainable costs and empty promises.
3. Bridge the gap
Immersive entertainment has long been shaped by independent creators, rogue artists, and scrappy agencies—the ones who take creative risks, test the boundaries and push the industry forward.
Meanwhile, big studios and IP holders have the resources to scale that immersive trend, refine them for mass audiences, and bring them to market in a way that makes financial sense. It’s a system that works—until it doesn’t.
Too often, those driving innovation struggle for sustainability. Meanwhile, those with the resources to scale hesitate to invest early, creating a gap between invention and execution.
But here’s the thing: this system isn’t broken—it’s just disconnected. The challenge is forging a more collaborative model where innovation and execution connect sooner.
4. Accept the immersive trend hype (and use it to our advantage)
Let’s face it: there will always be those who think an “immersive rooftop cocktail event” (read: regular rooftop bar, but they added fake grass) is awesome. That’s fine. Let them have their joy.
But we, the ones mildly overconfident in our ability to fix “immersive” (and apparently the only ones who cared enough to volunteer), must create spaces where it can thrive. And hey, if more people experience watered-down versions, maybe—just maybe—some of them will crave something deeper next time.
As exhausting as this all is, the fact that everyone wants to be “immersed” is a good thing. Sure, there are well-publicized examples of people getting lured into a shadowy warehouse where the only “interaction” is swiping their credit cards, and the only “immersion” is the feeling of regret—but give it time.
It means the general public craves more interaction, storytelling, and participation in their experiences. And if they’re disappointed by what they find, they’ll look for something better next time. The kazoo phase will end eventually
Until then, I’m off to create the world’s first truly immersive grocery shopping experience. It’s just Whole Foods, but we charge $20 to let you pick your own apples while a guy in a wizard costume tells you you’re on a journey.
Top image: Frameless, London
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