Image credit: Lemon Difficult
When was the last time you went 24 hours without thinking to look at your phone? When was the last time you felt able to? As I emerged back into the real world after visiting Key of Dreams, the realisation I’d not glanced at a screen throughout was telling. If you want to really lose yourself in an immersive experience, mobile tucked away, notebook and pencil in hand, Key of Dreams has others beat.
Set across 24 hours – midday to midday – in Treowen house, an isolated 17th-century Welsh manor that’s every bit as atmospheric as you’d expect, this luxury blend of interactive theatre, escape room-esque puzzle-solving and branching narrative is, by its very nature, brilliantly absorbing and utterly exhausting, though not for the reasons I initially expected.
Key of Dreams is the latest experience from Lemon Difficult, the small British company whose team I spoke to previously for a behind-the-scenes look at how it was founded, and their take on how interactive theatre can offer the kinds of choices seen in video game storytelling. But it’s one thing to talk about an experience like this, and another to do it for yourself.
So, a couple of weekends ago, I made the trip to Newport and then on from there, into the countryside and the almost complete unknown. I’d done little research into what playing Key of Dreams would actually involve, and Lemon Difficult had not shared any mechanics or plot with me in advance. I knew the experience was heavily inspired by Lovecraftian weird fiction, blended in with the real-life history of Treowen house – neither of which I was familiar with.
In advance of my visit, I received an in-universe summons to the manor from Lovecraft’s Miskatonic University, on whose behalf I – and around 20 other guests that weekend – would be undertaking research on some mysterious goings-on. I’d also filled in an online questionnaire with some probing personality questions, which felt a little like filling out a D&D character sheet, or picking a backstory when beginning an RPG. I answered as honestly as possible and wondered how my answers would impact my experience when things got started.
Upon arriving I was met by the event’s cast, already in character. There was the affable but confused current owner of Treowen, an English gentleman named Wyn Haffenden who, for some reason, couldn’t quite explain why he was the owner at all. Then there was the pompous Dr Carter, the leader of Miskatonic’s field research team, whose best days seemed behind him. Next was the mysterious Dee, Carter’s rebellious second-in-command with prior connections to the house. And then lastly there was The Curator, a brilliantly-looming collector of stories who had taken up roost in the house’s library.
It was the performances of these characters that really began conjuring a spell among the gaggle of guests now gathering in Treowen’s great hall. From the off, it was clear each figure had a backstory to be explored, causes to be aided, rivalries to be settled. And just as importantly, these characters’ stories were being told by actors who could sell all of this, while also interacting naturally with those attending. (Speaking of whom, it was a pleasant surprise to find how welcoming my fellow group of researchers was. I had wondered what kind of clientele the event’s £400 ticket price might attract, but was relieved to find a friendly bunch, all on the same wavelength.)
Introductions over, the group was given surprisingly few instructions on where and how exactly to start, and were instead left to begin exploring a house littered with strange objects, treasure hunt clues and a small library of written documents. More structure ultimately came through optional meetings with some of the characters, who laid down more helpful guidance at specific points, though the early hours of the afternoon were largely spent working out what exactly had gone on before we could move on to the actual investigating of why.
Co-operation between guests proved key, as knowledge was shared, particularly over mealtimes, during which you eat alongside your fellow guests and actors, who remain in character. (Also, a quick note on the food, as it is a factor in the ticket price: it was excellent.) Intriguingly, it was at mealtimes that I and the small group of allies I’d befriended realised that other guests had quietly been invited to different meetings, and the wider group of researchers now had several different agendas. (It felt like that personality test had come into play here, and I was seeing a different outcome to those who had responded with more Chaotic Evil undertones.)
The different factions that emerged provoked something of a dichotomy over the remainder of the evening. On the one hand, I felt a greater motivation to help the character I found myself growing closest to, lest they fall foul of other players’ schemes. On the other hand, I also sometimes felt FOMO – that events I had heard whisper of from the evening’s other story branches were leading somewhere more exciting than my own. Again, there were moments where progression felt a little unclear, but towards the end of the evening, more direct instructions were given. Did I want to save the character I had allied with? Was it worth risking further danger to gamble a better outcome? And should I trust the small glass bottle another player had just given me? Submerged in Key of Dreams’ story for over 10 hours now, I could not think of anything else other than pulling off the task at hand.
The night concluded in an electrifying crescendo of events, where character destinies were decided and the cast clashed in some memorable scenes. Without straying into spoiler territory, its safe to say the atmosphere in the house changes dramatically over the course of the evening, reflected in music, lighting, and guests now scurrying around its dark passageways with lanterns. It’s only after the experience ends that you look back and reflect on how natural suddenly being part of demonic rituals felt. It’s riveting, absorbing stuff.
The following morning saw proceedings conclude with some loose strands tied up, a chance to read some of the various stories I’d missed, and a final concluding moment that again evoked the best of the experience – its characters and how we, the guests, ended up as part of their stories. I had gone into Key of Dreams expecting to be most impressed by the mechanics of it all – the puzzle solving and clue finding. In the end, though, it was the characters and their stories I really remember, including some brilliantly-acted moments both big and small. Witnessing a pitch-perfect performance of Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven at one point will long stick in the memory, while hanging out into the wee hours with guests and several of the cast (still very much in-character) provided an enjoyable nightcap.
For me, the event’s ticket price of £400 did not feel unfair considering the length of the experience, the quality of the cast, and the included dining. Staying overnight at the house is listed as being optional, though the remoteness of the venue and the draw of being able to fall into bed while remaining at the centre of all the action makes the idea of staying elsewhere seem impractical. Still, £350 for the cheapest room – on top of the main ticket price – may give some pause.
Stepping back into the real world – the event’s cast having taken their final bows and now in civilian clothes – felt like witnessing a spell broken. Would I go back? Yes, and with the knowledge of what to expect and how much story is on offer, I think I might enjoy a second go even more. Laboriously crafted and finely staged, Key of Dreams is assured enough in its story and setting to know guests will persevere when unsure what to do next, though its admirable desire never to spoonfeed sometimes shifts the balance a little too far towards showing rather than telling. Key of Dreams is unique: baffling, brilliant, bold, and truly an experience in all senses of the word.
