Can an immersive experience cause lasting change?

That’s the question behind a framework I’ve been exploring: four levels of immersion, from sensory engagement through story and agency to transformation. I believe immersive experiences can create lasting change. If that’s our ambition, we need to design for it from the start.

Four levels of immersion

First comes sensory immersion. These are often large scale, high volume experiences that prioritise light, sound, texture, smell and taste pull us into the surroundings. These are your Instagram zoo's like the immersive Van Gough experience. being surrounded by something spectacular doesn’t necessarily give us a deeper relationship with it.

Then comes story. Many escape rooms and theatre productions that let audiences move through the action work here: we explore a world and piece together its narrative. There is interaction but it doesn't affect the game flow, mechanics, or outcome.

The third level is agency: our choices influence what happens. We shape a relationship, solve a problem or help determine the ending. Dungeons & Dragons is a useful example because players build the story together. We could classify VR experiences in this too. But what they gain in agency they loose in sensory immersion. What matters is what participants can actually do.

The fourth level is transformation. Has the experience changed how I see myself, other people or the world? Is there something I carry into everyday life afterwards? The most difficult but rewarding goal to achieve in immersive experience design. 

These are possibilities, rather than steps everyone climbs in order. A quiet encounter with art might change someone profoundly. An elaborate interactive world might offer a brilliant afternoon. More interaction doesn’t automatically mean more impact.

What might we carry back?

Consider a marathon. We don’t usually group it with immersive theatre, but it asks us to enter with our whole selves: preparation, uncertainty, physical challenge and a community around us. For someone who once thought, “I could never run that far,” crossing the finish line can change their sense of what’s possible.

That change might begin months earlier, in the habit of showing up or accepting help. The medal marks the event. The transformation is what they take forward.

Or imagine a quiet D&D player gradually becoming the person their group trusts to negotiate a difficult encounter. They get to speak, choose, make mistakes and try again. Perhaps some of that confidence follows them beyond the table.

Neither experience guarantees change. But both help us picture it. Sometimes transformation is a small, lasting thought: I can do this.

Start with the change

For me as an experience designer, this changes where the brief begins. Before choosing a setting, plot or technology, ask: what might someone leave feeling able to do?

“We want people to feel transformed” is hard to design around. “We want people to feel more confident exploring an unfamiliar place” gives us something concrete. Design for the behaviour that change implies.

Then give people opportunities to earn that confidence. Let them act with manageable uncertainty. Make room for listening and contribution if connection is the goal. Give them a reason to reconsider an assumption if you hope to shift their perspective.

Sensory design helps people feel present. Story gives their actions meaning. Agency lets them try a choice and experience its consequences. Each can support the change we hope to make possible.

Leave room to recognise it, too: a conversation, a moment of reflection, or a small action to continue at home. If someone sees their neighbourhood differently today, what might keep them noticing next week?

That’s the possibility I want to design towards. Begin with the person who leaves: what might they carry back into their life?