An immersive experience expert sheds light on how far this thing has gone already.

At the annual EG Conference in Carmel this spring, virtual reality pioneer Brent Bushnell stood on stage and confessed he had just experienced initiation into a cult, complete with a ceremonial binding and dipping of his hands in hot wax. Chemicals were thrown in his face. A ritual murder of one of his fellow pledges shook him to his core.

He went on to describe other extremely personal experiences that happened with the same visceral intensity with which he could feel the wax on his skin. One moment he was driving through a pack of screaming protesters to get an abortion at a clinic. Another he was dancing with a cabana boy who falls in love with him and sends him a postcard.

Then he asked a perfectly reasonable question, pointing out he’s not married (yet), he’s not a woman, he’s not gay and he’s not a cult member.

How is this possible?

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EG is a more intimate, less famous and often more textured spinoff of the TED Global Gathering. It always goes to some out-there places; this year included talks on successfully making and conducting orchestras out of ice and designing miniature classrooms with things like inch-tall waste baskets made via 1,020 soldered joints.

But in 2017’s edition, Bushnell’s talk ranked at the top of the most out-there because of the power to take people in-there – into others’ realities – via what he’s calling immersive entertainment.

He calls this type of first-person experiential experience the next step along the spectrum after books, movies, video games and virtual reality. Or as he described it on stage, “real life!” He points to the movieThe Game as the “gold standard” of the genre.

“I will never be pregnant, no matter how hard I try,” he said. “To be able to live in that world is a very powerful tool for empathy and relationships.”

It was fascinating stuff even in a context overflowing with inspiration. Part of what made it so compelling – or depending on your point of view, unnerving – is how many companies are already doing their versions of it.

His own Two Bit allows people to “drive” the Indianapolis 500 and return a punt in the NFL and is building a full-on amusement park. Skammekrogen takes you to dinner in a role in the family that’s not your own (you’re, say, the oldest son rather than the mom) and makes you deal with their issues. Sleep No More immersive theater invites audiences to follow actors around a 100,000-square-foot hotel set. Speakeasy Society out of L.A. takes its theatergoers into World War I trenches. Hopscotch does things with mini orchestras in moving limousines with the on-board audience recording that I can’t completely comprehend. Escape Rooms, originally from Japan, are popping up everywhere, with 50 in L.A. alone, taking your money to trap you in a space with others (see story, p. 18). The Grand Paradise in Brooklyn takes visitors on a weird tropical family vacation (cue the cabana boy). Latitude Society requires participants to show up at a secret spot in a five-minute window, swipe a card and take a slide down into an adventure that criss-crosses the city. The Tension Experience features the cult he pledged.

“I don’t think I like this,” he remembers thinking. “God, I signed a waiver. What did that waiver say?”

That was one of the main takeaways. It doesn’t matter if you think these immersive experiences make you uncomfortable and are something to restrict. They are already a reality.