Thursday, December 28, 2017

stories I've experienced: The Invisible Hours (on Oculus Rift)

Over the course of this past month, hour session by hour session, I've made my way through the VR story experience called "The Invisible Hours" by Tequila Works.

The story takes place in the 1930s in an alternate universe in which Nikola Tesla has a sizable fortune, has faked his death, and escaped to a mysterious island to finish his more otherworldly work in peace. You soon find out Nikola has invited an intriguing assortment of guests to his sprawling estate for his own strange reasons. But you are never able to see Nikola as host, since you first encounter him dead on the main entrance foyer. The experience quickly unfolds into a classic who-dun-it in which you have to seek out the truth across 7 suspects' tangled story lines. The story you eventually unravel is written well enough, has intriguing characters, and a few eye opening twists and one jaw drop. But the story itself isn't what makes this a special entry in the early days of VR entertainment; what makes it special is an innovative new mechanic for how the visitor participates.

Like many of the story based VR experiences attempted, you the visitor are treated as a ghost-in-the-room without any ability to influence or any reactions from the cast. What makes the experience engrossing, at times delightful, and downright important in the evolution of the medium is how it gives the visitor complete control over time and space. You can pause, rewind, fast forward and teleport yourself around as over a 90 minute period, you follow the dramatic suspects through out this island complex, which is filled with strange rooms, secret passages, scattered clues and backstory artifacts.

What made Invisible Hours unique and a big step forward for the medium is that only in VR could I also control over time. I had a few giddy moments of appreciation when I would be following one suspect through some hallway or foyer and then cross paths with another suspect unwinding their own drama. I could then rewind and follow that person to find out what happened, only to be drawn into another crossing thread.

Many times during the experience, I felt a familiar delight I've had during some of my favorite immersive theater experiences, knowing that whatever thread of the story I chose to follow, a larger tapestry was being woven around me. I chose where to go and who to follow and so my story was crafted by my decisions. But because of my non-linear time powers in VR, I didn't feel choice anxiety. I could follow all of the threads, forward and backward, and yet the path I traced over the pre-determined tapestry of tangled threads was still my own.

The genius of it all is that having control over time and space is a perfect mechanic for a murder mystery. I was disappointed when I discovered I had no agency, but considering the goal was finding out who did it and not stopping who did it, I didn't need anything more than what I was given.

There were 4 particularly exceptional things the creators pulled off that deserve gold stars.
  • Although it took me the entire first act to realize I had complete control over time and place (for the most part), I still walked the path intended by the creators. I love that there weren't many artificial boundaries to the mechanic, but the experience was so well designed that by the end, I looked down the road I chose and realized it was all a magic trick. And I loved the magicians for it.
  • The creators made smart visual design decisions so they didn't have to do that much fixup on the hours of motion capped acting by keeping farther away from the Uncanny Valley. Although there still were awkward idle loops and comically wooden acting, considering the state of the art and the cost per minute limitations of VR, it was stand out work.
  • Being able to hear sounds and dialogue from other parts of the house was one of my favorite parts. That being said, the sound design was far from perfect: many times sound from another room didn't feel muffled by walls or properly reverbing around the wooden hallways. I am willing to give the sound designer a pass here considering the amount of content and the small budget for the experience. But what excited me is that just like in immersive theater, being able to hear noise from other rooms reminded me of the larger web of story around me.
  • Finally, the more spine tingling, eye popping moments I had were amplified when a chilling swell of music would accompany a dramatic reveal. Using music as a way to steer the audience's empathy is a story tellers tool that works as well in VR as it does in theater as it does in movies. The creators of The Invisible Hours used it to great effect.

Sunday, December 3, 2017

stories I've experienced: Escape from the Jail - by Real Escape Games

This past Saturday, on a day-of-whim, I decided to try out another escape room in San Francisco. This one is called Escape from the Jail by Real Escape Games, located off of Polk St. on the outskirts of Chinatown.

It's one of the longest running escape rooms in the Bay Area, and one of the most challenging with a 10% success rate. I went with three friends and we were joined up by six other really smart, fun strangers. It proved to be as challenging as advertised, but we were still able to escape by a fraction of a second with an escape time of 59:59.

What made the room challenging was that it added a twist in how you communicated. I'm not going to go into too much detail so those who read can enjoy for themselves, but be warned that I am going to talk a little bit about this unique mechanic which may spoil some of the fun of figuring out the premise.

The types of problems you solve in an escape room usually involve some permutation of 5 stages of tasking -- searching, inspecting, hypothesis generation, experimentation, and lots and lots of communicating. The most memorable moments are when the team feels like they're working together to make progress. My fondest memories are of those moments when it feels like we're all stuck and it's through spitball brainstorming that we generate more things to try out. I especially love the kind of puzzles where several escapees need to physically work together to solve a clue.

In Escape from the Jail, the novelty and challenge of the room was that they added an obstacle in how you communicated. The party was broken into 2 jail cells where parts of each puzzle were split between the cells. There was a particular way you could collaborate with the other side, but you had to do so under the watch of a guard who would penalize you if she saw communication. So you had to wait for her to be turned away or distracted. It was the guard that added the real challenge because you couldn't easily test a hypothesis with the other side and get immediate feedback. As a result, the most challenging aspect of the entire experience was figuring out how and *when* to best communicate with the other side. It requires a really methodical approach and the ability to develop a shared language with your neighbor cell mates if you hope to escape. We didn't necessarily find great synchronicity and I in particular had a hard time matching the staggered flow that the communication required. We were often forgetful, confused, and frustrated. It's only because we had some really great puzzle solvers in both cells that we were able to salvage an escape in the last second.

After having a day to digest, I can appreciate that this communication constraint made it extremely challenging, but in the end, I didn't like it. It's really difficult to find clue solving flow, that feeling when you keep coming up with new ideas to throw at the puzzles and in those snowballing moments, gain a momentum that energizes and excites. But in this escape room, having to communicate at particular times and wait for response on a timeline you don't have control over meant I never felt like we were building up that really fun snowball.

The part I liked the least was that when the team as a group solved a clue, we couldn't all share in the cooperative glow with something as simple as "way to go" or a high five. I realized that I prefer less challenge over more social interaction.

What I learned from "Escape from the Jail" is that communicating and shared moments is a key part of social fun. Although they introduced a novel concept for me (this being my 6th escape room now), it mostly provided a great counter example of how social barriers can make for a kind of challenge that isn't as delightful as cooperative solving. That counter example inspired me to think on how VR could bring a team of puzzle solvers together who may be physically separated but still enjoy an amazing form of "unguarded" collaborative entertainment.

Sunday, October 22, 2017

stories I've experienced: The Three-Body Problem Series

As a VR content creator and believer, it's probably no surprise that I'm also a lover of science fiction novels, especially "hard" science fiction. Hard science fiction is just like regular science fiction, in that it explores a story under the influence of shifted, twisted, or evolved technological expectations, but with a scientific rigor that makes it feel believable. Some of my favorite books include Isaac Asimov's "Foundation", Vernor Vinge's "A Deepness in the Sky" and Carl Sagan's "Contact" (the movie is also one of my favorite science fiction stories).

I just had the pleasure of finishing a great set of hard science fiction books written by Cixin Liu, once a nuclear engineer, now an acclaimed Chinese science fiction writer, and brilliantly translated by Ken Liu and Joel Martinsen. Called the "Three-Body Problem Series" (also known as the Remembrance of Earth's Past Series), the series is three books starting with "The Three-Body Problem" and finishing with the "The Dark Forest", and "Death's End".

three-body problem series

Cixin introduces a wild premise of how we might discover and communicate with antagonistic inter-stellar neighbors who are an alien race evolved so dramatically different from us because of the three sun system their home planet orbits in.

The series explores interesting ideas around scientific discovery and the stagnation of it, a civilization in which members can hibernate for eras of time, wireless electricity, space cities with various designs for centrifugal based gravity, fusion drives, a mind bending invention called curvature propulsion, and a fascinating theory on how the speed of light may have once started out as near infinite but is variable and monotonically decreasing because of the advanced weapon warfare between civilizations in an overpopulated universe.

In the first book, a secret group of trisolaran loyalists find and communicate with each other by using a form of virtual reality in which they can move around and even feel their environment by using a full body suit. The author doesn't go into too much detail how the devices would work and it's one of the softer bits of the fiction. In many ways, although Cixin's ideas were fresh and incredibly novel, I didn't feel like the story was written with an especially foreign perspective. That may be a credit to the translators, but what I do find interesting is how a book written by a Chinese author uses virtual reality almost as a foregone conclusion of what would be available to us in the very near future. This gives me hope for how virtual reality is seen in Asia, especially at a time where there seems to be more doubt in the states.

On top of the fun thought experiment of how an alien culture may be so different if they evolve under the harsh conditions of a three sun system, the series proposes a fascinating and believable axiom of how interstellar species might treat each other if our galaxy was overcrowded. Cixin proposes that in an overcrowded space, there would be limited resources, and therefore a natural fear among all of its inhabitants that any competition for those resources is best treated as a threat. Earthlings soon find out (a little too late) that those species who discover life outside of their own systems are better off concealing themselves instead of reaching out. This "Dark Forest" theory is a great canvas in which Cixin explores one of the more interesting ideas in the series: what if we could prevent war with a neighboring alien race by threatening to reveal our neighborhood to the rest of a hostile galaxy and therefore keeping a fragile peace through mutually assured destruction?

Another interesting idea that Cixin explores across the many years the story takes place is how gender expectations may change during times of survivalism and during times of comfort. Through out the book, as Earth advances and struggles against a strange and foreboding enemy, it goes through eras of extreme suffering and extreme luxury. During each extreme, Cixin proposes that when times are good, gender expectations trend to a feminized average, but when times are hard, gender expectations differentiate so that men are bearded, muscular and brutish and women are smaller, more fragile, and more maternal. It's an idea explored in other science fiction I've read, the most notable being "The Forever War" by Joel Haldeman.

With a lense towards our own culture, as technology continues to make life more comfortable, we may currently be seeing this trend towards a more feminized expectation for men (the term metrosexual comes to mind) and a more evolved expectation for women (as antiquated views on the domesticated wife are finally fading). I think our evolution out of antiquated stereotypical expectations for men and women is a good thing, but Cixin's is an especially thought provoking idea since it considers taking this trend to the extreme. I'm a big believer that great teams combine the perspectives of men and women with equality across all roles. But I also believe it's dangerous to say each individual must trend towards the thinking of the average. Homogenous thinking, even when balanced, leads to a lack of adaptability. There is a great benefit for men to be less brutish, but I worry that if this comes at the expense of our survivability, we should be cautious about losing our the classic gender expectations. Cixin doesn't try to make a case for what's best. He simply suggests that mankind is adaptable through out the extremes, and that we would most likely revert to our more primitive instincts and expectations when our day to day survival becomes the priority. I wonder how global warming may lead to a regression of our cultural evolution over the coming years.

In any case, I highly recommend these books. Cixin introduces and explores a lot of clever ideas with compelling characters and delivers the kind of great science fiction that uses "what if?" to make you think deeply about our own civilization and perspectives.

Wednesday, September 27, 2017

stories I've experienced: Passengers (2016)

On an 11 hour direct flight from San Francisco to Tokyo, I find myself with the kind of time where I can catch up on movies that I wouldn't even consider watching on a lazy Sunday. There's something liberating about being crammed in a big flying metal tube for a long period of time. It's like the time is already forfeit so I don't mind if it's wasted on a potentially bad movie.

But I was pleasantly stunned to find an under appreciated gem in my selection, and unplanned by me, I watched it in the perfect setting.

Passengers (2016) is a small ensemble sci fi romance drama starring Jennifer Lawrence and Chris Pratt that passed through the theaters unnoticed. Two space faring passengers find themselves woken up way too early on a ship traversing an expanse that takes 100 years to cross, dooming both of them to live out their remaining years as castaways on a cruise ship. Pratt's character is woken because of misfortune; Lawrence's character is woken because of desperation. They eventually fall in love, but in a way that feels earned and meaningful.

I had very low expectations for this movie (it has a 30% on rotten tomatoes) and only had it on my list because I'm a sucker for space travel themes, high production value sci fi design, and Thomas Newman on score (there are some really sweet moments that remind me of Wall*e because of Newman's sound). But in the last act of the film, my jaw was dropping as much from the tense climax and heartfelt ending as from the complete under appreciation for this film. I cared for these characters. I felt for their decisions, their mistakes and their emotions. Their motivation, although simple, was believable and relatable in an unimaginable situation.

These two passengers start out feeling like it was a life sentence to live out a luxurious yet isolated existence traveling across the stars without others around them to provide purpose or validation. But by the end, they find all they needed was each other. Romance wise, it's a touching sentiment, but it got me thinking how this space ship, with around 5000 migrating passengers was already on a mission of isolation from an overpopulated Earth. Everyone on that ship felt like 5000 was enough other people to bring them meaning when they reached their final destination.

It's a very believable premise and it got me thinking how we all probably have a number in our mind of how big our community needs to be for us to feel fulfilled. In a time when technology allows us to create connections well beyond the Dunbar Number, I worry that we all think our numbers are bigger than they need to be, which causes inflation to the point where each relationship is so devalued that even the sum of many leaves us wanting. I see this story as a suggestion that the lower our number is, the more satisfied and connected we may feel with the community we share. Having a number as low as 2 may be a bit overly romantic, but I do feel like a lower number is something worth aspiring towards.

If the inevitable evolution of virtual reality is to create communities that mirror social value in real life, I wonder if it will be a technology that further dilutes our feeling of belonging or if it provides us a way to create communities sized to fit each one of us. As some one who is invested in seeing VR be a medium that makes us better people, I push and hope for the latter.

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Taking off the manager hat. For now.

Over the past 7 years, I've been a manager and supervisor in various roles, first at Pixar and then from the ground floor at Oculus Story Studio. When I started down this path, I had an advantage. I approached managing as a challenge altogether different from the challenges I had overcome as a team member. For me, I wanted to know if I even had the skills to be a professional leader, and I knew that focusing on developing these skills meant growing in areas that were new to me.

The classic and natural mistake most new managers make is thinking that this transition is about scaling their influence with the skills they already possess. The fact is that as a leader, I needed to start at the beginning again. I needed to learn how to make sure my team is the strongest version of themselves. That usually means I don't get to do exactly what I want, but what my team needs. Being humble about this restart made me more receptive to the many hard challenges I've faced.

What makes management fun, and challenging, is the diversity of problems I've had to solve and the creativity required to solve them. What makes management hard is that I rarely get into flow for myself. I've had to play the role of the champion defending against forces from outside the walls. I've to be an advisor who can find inventive ways to unblock. I've had to be the parent who dishes out tough love. And I've switched between these roles many times in a day. I've come to find that as a manager, I've often needed to fall on the grenade of context switching so the team finds their flow.

I enjoy managing and have found that it to be incredibly fulfilling. But not wholly satisfying. What I've been missing is that feeling of making something with my hands, pointing at it and saying "I made this thing." Instead, I've pointed at my team and been sustained by pride. Pride goes a long way, and I've been blessed with great teams who filled my cup, but in the end, I realized I got into VR because I wanted to be on the ground floor of building a new medium.

With recent events in my career, I've been given an opportunity to take a step back from managing and start building as a creative engineer.

It hasn't been an easy choice. It's understandable to feel like once you become a manager, you're stuck on that track. After having played the role of champion, advisor, and father, you earn a kind of respect and appreciation that soaks into your identity, and the lack of it makes you feel less than.

But this is also where that initial mindset helps me again. Because I approached managing as an altogether different skillset, I can recognize it as a hat I chose to put on. Now, it's a hat I can choose to take off.

My skills and experience as a manager will still be there for the day that I want to return to it, but for now, I want to roll up my sleeves and make some amazing VR.

Monday, September 4, 2017

stories I've experienced: The Asylum Escape Room

I love puzzles. I love immersion. And I love a team effort. So this labor day weekend, I tried out one of the newest escape rooms by Clockwise Escape Rooms called "The Asylum". The experience takes place in a Nixon era mental ward where you have to solve your escape before the staff comes back from their one hour meeting. The premise was simple but evocative, and it was beautifully executed with smart era consistent set design. We even got to wear patient gowns to complete the immersion.

I look especially crazy on the far left

I went with a good friend and got paired with 2 other groups to make a total of 8 team members. We had a few experienced team members but most people were new to escape rooming. Right when the door shut behind us and the clock started, any feeling of being strangers melted away as the adrenaline kicked in and our shared task became our shared focus.

The puzzles themselves were clever, diverse, and rewarding. Never did I think that a puzzle felt too obscure and never did I feel like the clues were ham-fisted. Every time we solved a clue, it felt like we were in flow. A few of the puzzles and their inventive solutions were so good, you felt like giving a high five to the game master herself.

As much as I'd like to talk about some of the particularly cool solutions, spoilers would have their full effect, and so I'll focus on the high level. Here's my thoughts on what worked, how it could have been better, and how it can inspire VR experiences.

  • The lighting design decisions alone really gave a sense of progression through an amazing story experience. The first part of the experience takes place in a sterile white overly lit ward room and the second half takes place in an underlit dark wood paneled warden's office. And within those two acts, there are event based lighting changes as you progress through the clues. The contrasting acts and the variety in the event based lighting really kept a compelling pace which deepened the suspense and theme.
  • But what I really missed was a soundtrack. Having some brooding background music that would shift in tone and theme as we made progress or would crescendo as we got closer to solving a puzzle would have made for an epic shared story making experience. I wouldn't even need the music to be motivated by a set consistent device. In fact, having music be part of the ambiance would enhance my belief that I've stepped into a story.
  • Sound effects were used quite well across a variety of devices, but what I wanted was a clear sound effect for when a puzzle was solved. Our team was a clever bunch and did a pretty decent job of communicating all of the clues we were finding. But there were times where we were doing such a good job of plowing through the puzzles that we weren't communicating what we'd solved and what clues we'd use. Sure we wasted some time as some folks would pick up and ponder solved clues, but that's not what bugs me. The opportunity that was really missed is giving the group a clear moment to share in a team member's victory.
  • During the experience, I solved a clue here or there, but what I loved was how good I felt when another member of the team solved a puzzle. It especially felt good when everyone was thinking on the same clues and it was through talking it out that somewhat had a spark of insight. Having a shared goal, and then having shared victories on the path towards that goal created an immediate kinship. We were woohooing, fist bumping, and high fiving with folks we had just met 10 minutes ago.
  • I'm a big believer that a shared quest creates strong bonds, and I continue to believe that social adventures is the key to what will make VR exciting. But there's a design constraint we need to consider if we're to make escape room work in VR. Escape rooms are fun because everyone gets to use a full range of tools they're very familiar with in inventive ways - tools like seeking, opening, touching, pushing, talking, and listening. The problem we have with VR is that the tools we use to interact in a virtual environment are under developed. We're much closer to creating interactions that universally improve immersion over game controllers and keyboards, but the fact that we're still figuring out mechanics for simple actions like opening a drawer, flipping a switch, picking up an object, entering in a key combination, and even for interactions as simple as moving around means that the puzzles we'd make in VR need to be designed very differently if we hope to make them fun.
  • After 37 minutes, having used one hint, we solved our way to an escape and earned the #1 spot in the winner's circle! By that time, we were beaming, high fiving, and collecting phone numbers. And then we were then confronted with our last puzzle: "What should our team name be?" The funny thing is that we had become a team before we even had a name. That's how powerful a shared task is, especially under a time constraint.

Sunday, August 27, 2017

stories I've experienced: The Speakeasy

Inspired by Jesse Schell's blog "Things I finished", I'm starting to write down my thoughts on stories I've experienced. It's a great way to get ideas flowing and to archive all of the stuff my mind is soaking up. I've been thinking a lot about what story making would look like in VR and so a lot of my reading, TV, movies, theater, video games, and even D&D sessions have been focused around cracking this nut.

This past May on a Saturday night in an undisclosed location in San Francisco, I had the pleasure of dressing up in prohibition era outfit, made complete with a sharp looking fedora, to step inside the immersive theater experience called The Speakeasy. It was an amazing night, brilliantly acted, intelligently written, and it was my favorite immersive theater experience I've had, having seen Sleep No More and Then She Fell in NY.

The day after, I was so excited and inspired that I had to write down a bunch of thoughts. I'm finally getting around to posting them. Warning: there are some spoilers! Although considering that I probably only got to follow about 5% of the many story lines, it's not that much of a spoiler.
  • The complexity of the experience was in the number of story lines, and not the stories themselves. Each story line on its own was simple enough to describe in a few sentences and based on relatable tropes. It made it easier for the audience to feel empathy because they weren't spending their time piecing together a narrative puzzle. Sleep No More and Then She Fell are great experiences but poor narratives. It's so hard to read a story without dialogue.
  • The Speakeasy proves to me that dialogue in immersive theater works! Both Sleep No More and Then She Fell mostly use interpretive dance and I always wondered if the non-linear format just didn't work with words. Given a familiar setting of a prohibition era bar, even a setting all of us have only experienced through movies & books, and simple enough topics, it's okay if the audience misses 95% of the dialogue and walks into the middle of prose. We pick up so much on body language and familiar tropes that as long as the dialogue is smartly and clearly written, we can easily drop one story line and pick up midway in another.
  • The moments that felt the best in immersive theater are the ones where the actor improvises on the fly and the audience knows they were going off-script. Much like how a comedian may respond to a heckler with a great come back, audiences love on-the-fly wit. It feels like a display of mastery akin to watching a great athlete adapting to the field. It also feels like a special moment that could never be repeated. Everyone involved feels special. I wish this happened more but when it did, it was magic.
Dressed to impress and immerse
  • One of the problems with immersive theater is that you can feel like you're doing it wrong. There were times where I had to fight down a fear of missing out. Was I using my limited time wisely? Was this the most interesting thing going on at this particular moment? Certainly some story lines must be better than others. But when I did discover a story line that was really compelling, the feeling that I had discovered it felt really good. I'm not sure how to address the fear of missing out. Perhaps it's unavoidable and the other side of the coin of what makes immersive theater fun.
  • Some of the most memorable moments were when the actors engaged us. It could be as simple as looking us in the eye, asking a rhetorical question, patting us on the back, or handing us something. Handing off an object was especially effective. It makes the connection with the story tangible, literally. This resonates with what we found while developing story experiences in VR. 
  • The way the play began for us was inspired for the format. We started in a bar with assigned seating and so it felt more like a classic theater experience. It really takes advantage of the "antechamber" idea we found in VR story telling. Before giving us too much choice, they made sure to warm us up to the idea that the story is happening all around. To do that, the bar scene uses paradigms we were all familiar with: we had assigned seats; we were a captive audience; the lighting helped direct our eye. We were let loose to choose where to go and what to do only after we were given time to feel immersed.
  • The story line we followed the most was about this particular cabaret girl who felt enslaved to the owner of the Speakeasy as she worked to pay off her brother's gambling debts. To see her emotional arch play out in several venues was enthralling- as a voyeur behind the mirror, as a member of the crowd watching her lash out at her brother in the casino, and then as an audience member watching her as she performed on stage. It was especially powerful to see the anguish on her face while she was dancing and know the reason. It felt like a level of intimacy you cannot experience in any other medium because the choices we made to follow her made it our story too.
  • There was a particular moment where the cabaret girl with the deadbeat brother flipped out on stage and then ran into the cramped corridors. She began to tear off her revealing dress in an elaborate display of rage and despair all the way down to a body suit. The act was so elaborate that it became a dance performance. It helped frame the moment as something we were watching instead of something we were participating in. It would have been difficult for her to express her rage as well as improvise against the variability of the audience in this confined space. Unfortunately, this broke immersion for me. I would have loved it if the actress had a way to flip out in the context of whatever the audience was doing in that small space. If it was busy, she could shove passed people. If it was only a few people who stared at her, she could lash out and say "What are you looking at?" To see her emotionally and physically stripped bare without losing immersion would have left an impression that would have been unparalleled.
  • The act of chasing a story thread was really fun. I loved the moment where our cabaret girl ran out and we were so compelled to just get up out of our seats and follow her. I am wondering how you could capture this same idea in VR considering the difficulty with locomotion. My only thought at this time is to design an experience with zero-G locomotion mechanics so the audience feels like they can follow with grab and pull. Teleporting always breaks presence for me.
  • There were times where I could tell the theater design was working around the limitations of an audience who didn't know what they were doing. For example, the beginning scene at the bar was designed so everyone was seated in known spots the actors could work around. In VR, the story makers have a lot more control over a visitor's presence, how they interact ability, and whether their voice is audible, or even how it sounds. This gives a lot of power to a VR host to control the moments where agency may get in the way of readability. If the audience member violates the rules of the world with that agency, you can easily mute action and voice.
  • One of the most impactful scenes for me was a quick act of infidelity with Viola, an innocent cabaret girl learning how to hustle, and the "Hardware guy", an unremarkable bloke with a weak moral compass. We all watched this intimate moment behind the glass as what played out was heart wrenching. It was a type of moment that would have been told with a wide framed, long shot in cinema, letting the slow burn soak into us. But the fact that this wasn't shot behind a lens and that it was happening live right in front of us made it almost too real and incredibly memorable.
  • The mechanics of being able to see behind the dressing room mirror and being able to look into the owner's office through little windows felt fantastic (and fantastical), but broke our immersion in the space. It felt like we were stepping out of our character and into the role of a ghostly voyeur. Especially considering how dressed up we all got for it, it felt like all moments should have been grounded in the roles we were playing. That being said, the moments where the story blinked into dance or memory or theatrics where the actors no longer inhabited the physical space but acted out dreams, memories or flash backs were really cool. I was willing to suspend my disbelief for those context switches. What may have made the experience better is that when we were blinked into a detached scene, along with changing the lighting and sound, it would be amazing if the set mechanic changed as well. Imagine a moment where the audience didn't know there was a one way mirror in the set, and only during one of these blinks does the mirror suddenly become transparent. If the set could shift to have the physical space reflect the emotional space the actors were blinking into, it would be amazing. This is expensive and complicated to do in the physical world, but in VR ...