One thing I didn’t plan for when building Immersia XR was how social XR Walking Theatre would become.

Our venue is small. That forced a decision. Reception and play area had to exist in the same space. At first, this felt like a compromise. Now I see it as an advantage.

While some people are already inside the story, others are waiting nearby. They don’t stand quietly. They watch.

They watch the movements.
The reactions.
The sudden stops.
The reaching.
The laughter.

People smile when they see someone duck for no obvious reason. They laugh when someone tries to balance on a flat floor. If they arrive together, they take photos and videos of their friends moving through invisible worlds. It becomes a shared moment before anyone even puts on a headset.

Occasionally, someone feels uncomfortable being watched. That’s real. But more often, curiosity and amusement take over. The space feels alive.

What surprised me more is what happens once people are inside the story.

XR Walking Theatre is not silent. People talk. A lot.

“I have a bunny stuck on my hand.”
“Mum, can you see my hands?”
“You need to duck.”
“You’re dressed as Jasmine.”

These aren’t instructions from us. They’re spontaneous reactions. People narrate what they’re seeing. They warn each other. They compare discoveries in real time.

When avatars change, reactions are immediate. Some people gasp. Most laugh. Some shout. Kids scream with excitement. Adults are no quieter than children.

Movement plays a big part.

People often start at one end of the room and finish at the other. When they take the headset off, they’re genuinely surprised. They don’t feel like they’ve moved much at all. Yet their bodies have travelled. That disconnect sparks conversation instantly.

Socially, something interesting happens during the journey.

People aren’t just sharing what they see. They’re sharing space. They move together. They avoid each other. They point things out. They laugh. There’s verbal connection and physical awareness at the same time.

This is very different from cinema.

Cinema is social in a limited way. You sit side by side. Some cinemas now have two-seater sofas. You might share popcorn. You might laugh at the same moment. But your interaction has clear boundaries.

If you move too much, someone complains.
If you talk too loudly, someone complains.
So you whisper.
You stay still.

The social contract of cinema is: experience together, but separately.

XR Walking Theatre works the opposite way.

Movement is expected.
Talking is natural.
Reacting is part of the experience.

Social interaction isn’t a distraction. It’s built into the journey.

I’ve watched two senior friends experience Alice in Wonderland together. Afterward, they sat and talked about their childhood. Not the technology. Their memories.

I’ve seen couples on first dates break the ice easily. Interacting as avatars removes pressure. When the headset comes off, the conversation carries on naturally.

Kids almost always want more. That’s expected.

What surprised me most is seeing three generations experience the same story together. Grandparents, parents, and kids. All engaged. All enjoying it in different ways, at the same time.

It’s rare to find something that works across that age range. XR Walking Theatre does.

We talk a lot about XR in terms of technology. Screens. Headsets. Resolution. None of that explains what’s happening here.

What I’m seeing is a blend of virtual and real social interaction. People are inside a story together, but they’re still aware of each other’s bodies, voices, and reactions.

In a time when real-life social interaction feels harder and more fragmented, XR Walking Theatre creates a shared experience that lives in both worlds.

Not isolated.
Not silent.
Not passive.

People don’t just walk through stories.
They walk through them together.

And that, for me, is one of the most interesting things XR has to offer right now.