The Great ‘Immersive’ Sham: Why People Are Paying To Pretend In A Culturally Bankrupt World
Welcome to the age of the “immersive experience,” where you can fork out up to $/£100 to “live” inside your favourite TV show, video game, or historical disaster for a couple of hours.
Want to dodge paintballs in a knockoff Squid Game arena? Or sip coffee on a fake Central Perk couch at the Friends Experience? How about wandering through a faux Titanic dining room, pretending you’re about to drown in style?
Or, for the kids, a Minecraft Experience where you… what, punch a foam tree to gather virtual wood? These are the cultural gems of 2025.
was way too into the minecraft experience pic.twitter.com/Um1GtdrpYK
— freya (@fraiuhh) May 24, 2025
These experiences are entirely fake. Not “artfully staged” or “lovingly recreated”—fake. You’re not in Squid Game; you’re in a warehouse with overpriced merch and a guy in a tracksuit yelling at you to run faster. You’re not on the Titanic; you’re in a convention center with a fog machine and a $15 cocktail served in a plastic iceberg.
The Legend of the TITANIC: The Immersive Exhibition, the largest #Titanic exhibition ever to hit London, has just been announced…and it's unlike anything you've seen before.
— The Legend of the TITANIC: Immersive Exhibition (@titanic_ex) May 7, 2025
🎟️ Join the Wait List for exclusive pre-sale access! Tickets on general sale Friday 16 May at 10am. pic.twitter.com/e7DSSJiXy8
As for the Friends Experience, the highlight is sitting on a couch that’s a vaguely similar shade of orange to the one in the 25 year old show, and pretending you’re bantering with Ross and Rachel, except it’s just you, a selfie stick, and a wafting sense of existential dread.
Oh. My. Gawd. The FRIENDS™ Experience is on the move with a new tour location opening today in Denver! Check out the lineup of cities and buy your tickets to pose on the orange couch, relive iconic moments from the show, and hang out at Central Perk. Link in bio! #FRIENDS pic.twitter.com/6oW0cQbeBd
— FRIENDS (@FriendsTV) June 16, 2022
It kind of looks like the Freiends set, but there’s something off. It’s all cheaper feeling and somehow less authentic than a TV set of a fictional New York apartment.
This is what passes for culture now: branded, sanitized, Instagramable simulations designed to milk your nostalgia and your wallet. Why create something new, risky, or genuinely enriching when you can slap a familiar logo on a pop-up tent and call it an “experience”?
It’s not about art or storytelling; it’s about revenue. These are the theme parks of a society too lazy to imagine anything beyond what’s already been binge-watched.
Compare this to the cultural juggernauts of the past. Shows like The Sopranos or The Wire didn’t need immersive experiences to cement their legacy. They were raw, complex, and forced you to think—qualities that don’t translate to a $50 ticket stub and a gift shop.
MASH* tackled war and morality with biting wit, not by inviting you to a “MAS*H Experience” where you could pretend to perform surgery in a tent (though, give it time). Even Seinfeld, the ultimate show about nothing, was so rich in character and observation that it didn’t need a fake Jerry’s apartment to feel alive. These shows trusted their audiences to engage with ideas, not just consume a branded photo op.
But fresh ideas are too hard. Today’s cultural overlords know the real money’s in familiarity. Why write a new Breaking Bad when you can build a Breaking Bad Experience where fans can cook blue candy and pose in a fake RV? (Yes, it exists. No, it’s not meth. Sorry.)
Breaking Bad Experience ✔️✔️ pic.twitter.com/y12Av9VK7X
— ZZEEMMOOGG (@BobAngelica) January 26, 2020
The Stranger Things Experience lets you wander a mall set with flickering lights and a cardboard Demogorgon—because nothing says “otherworldly terror” like a $12 slushie. And the Harry Potter Experience? Don’t even pretend you’re casting spells; you’re just waving a stick in a gift shop while a teenager in a robe sighs at you.
WENT TO THE #strangerthingsexperience
— 🤡 PsyJester99 🤡 ( CEOs of screams ) (@PsyJester99) August 12, 2023
& it was amazing like wow !!! #StrangerThings5 pic.twitter.com/JvWhvOx59x
This isn’t immersion; it’s escapism for a society that’s forgotten how to create. The general public are so starved for meaning that they will pay to play pretend in someone else’s IP. It’s a reflection of a world where brands are our gods, and cultural depth is measured in reels and TikToks.
The ultimate irony is that these experiences aren’t even that immersive. The Titanic Experience doesn’t make you feel the icy water or the panic of a sinking ship—it’s a glorified museum exhibit with better lighting.
The Squid Game Experience isn’t a life-or-death struggle; It’s nothing like the show, unless they actually secretly shoot you in the head when you can’t complete the Korean kids’ games.
A resort in Entertainment City unveiled its first immersive Squid Game experience, inspired by the popular Netflix series. The electrifying event features a larger than life Young-hee doll and Pink Guards in full gear. | via @rosette_adel pic.twitter.com/r6mSwUTvKs
— Interaksyon (@interaksyon) April 12, 2025
And the Minecraft Experience? If you’re paying to “live” a game you can play at home for free, we have a barge to sell you—probably in the Titanic gift shop.
The fake experiences are a chance to cling to something familiar in a world that feels increasingly hollow. But real culture—the kind that challenges, provokes, or lingers—doesn’t come with a ticket stub. It comes from creators taking risks.
In a culturally decrepit world, maybe it’s time we demand something more than a pricey game of pretend.
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