When we started Dark Ride, we had two paths: just rides, or build a whole theme park. Rides are great. But I don't know what it'd be like to drive for hours or fly across a country to ride Pirates of the Caribbean and go home.
Okay, I would. But still — strolling, eating, window shopping, eating, soaking in the activity, eating — that's part of the experience too. So does it translate to VR? Here's what doesn't:
No food.
No smells.
No community, no group atmosphere.
Walking is teleporting or gliding like a ghost.
No touch.
You can look at things for sale, but you can't buy them or keep them.
So is there a point to the space between the rides in VR? Who knows. But it sure feels like it. Riding a ride and then either quitting or riding again makes you wish for a break in between. It feels like there should be more.
So what can you do with the land the rides live in?
Visuals. What goes into your eyes is, for sighted people, probably the most important sense.
Theming. The thing about theme parks is… the theming. Architecture and vibes matching the concept — it aids your imagination. For adults it triggers something they haven't felt since being young.
Exploration.It's fun to look around. It's fun to map a space onto the map in your brain. It feels good to keep going until you've actually seen it all.
Story. In theme parks, story can be as simple as "you are in New Orleans." But it can also be layered and mysterious — the ring embedded in the concrete, the crow that keeps showing up.
We knew early that the biggest piece of theme parks we could simulate was the story. Games are probably better at this than theme parks — we don't have to follow the same rules, and we can go deeper.
Theme parks exist on a few levels:
The surface — a little car on a track, stores and restaurants around it.
The set pieces and ride story, plus the theming outside that matches.
The deeper lore — the 99 ghosts, the bride in the Mansion. There, but not obvious. Might require a trip to Doombuggies.com.
The construction lore — the imagineers. Did he design the wallpaper or did she? Why did the color get sucked out of the Small World facade? Who made that '70s acid-trip chair that looks out of place?
And finally, the Walt layer. Sometimes it's another character — a weird earring, an ego-mad '90s businessman. But thinking about Walt wanting a place to take his girls that was imaginative and clean, and to make money, and to bring his movies to life and charge people to see them again — a grown-up child madman with insane resources choosing to use them for this. It's unreal and amazing and fun.
So: who built this digital park? Why did Far East Alley — the first land you see, still under construction — get made? Who are our imagineers? And who is our Walt?
To say we have a whole world built around the park would be underselling it. I mean a mental world. Not a — we didn't build a literal second world, you know what I mean. I'm being literal but not that literal.
It's not all in this Early Access build. But you're learning more of the story than you realize as you wander. And there's more coming.
Who, why, where — we thought about all of it. The hard part, the part we're all kind of in awe of, is orchestrating how to leak it: intriguing, in the right order, at the right difficulty.
The powers that be want me to write a few paragraphs. Fine. They have their goals. I sort of don't care.
I just want you to get in there. Wander. Play. See what we've been building. Try the experiences that are in there now. Imagine what it'll be like when we add more. See if it's fun to visit the land outside a ride in VR — especially while it's still under construction.