
Best Overall “Live-Hosted Game” of the Year

Walking Shadow Theatre Company
Minneapolis-Based Theater Company
By Walking Shadow on
By Walking Shadow on
Walking Shadow celebrates the artistic career of co-founder Amy Rummenie! Effective November 1, 2022, Amy has stepped away from being Walking Shadow’s Co-Artistic Director.
Amy says, “Working with Walking Shadow has been one of the very best things I’ve done in my life. I’ve had the chance to work with the best of friends, creating both work and a community that overwhelms me with warmth and pride. It’s also created a better, more rounded Me, and I’ll be taking that support, love, and belief in my ideas and vision to… to whatever the next thing will be.”
Amy Rummenie co-founded Walking Shadow in 2004 with John Heimbuch and David Pisa. Out of Walking Shadow’s approximately 50 productions since then, Amy directed 32 of them, including 10 world premieres and numerous regional premieres. She adapted for the stage Mark Leidner’s book 21 Extremely Bad Breakups. She was a frequent collaborator on design elements, perhaps most notably [that one room] in Cabal (redacted to avoid spoilers for those who haven’t seen it yet).
Walking Shadow’s Board of Directors says, “We love Amy and are so thankful for all the years of magic she’s created with Walking Shadow. While we’ll miss her, we fully support Amy and her need to step down. And we look forward to seeing our newest #1 fan in the front row!”
John remains Walking Shadow’s Artistic Director, and David the Executive Director. They say, “It’s impossible to summarize Amy’s immense skill as a director. She has consistently brought her innate sense of playfulness and passion to Walking Shadow’s entire 18-year history.”
“We will profoundly miss Amy’s enthusiasm, heart, and humor in our future creative processes; but we are also proud to send her off with immense love and gratitude for all she’s done, assured in the knowledge that she will continue to brighten the world wherever her path takes her.”
Amy’s directing credits for Walking Shadow: Gilgamesh, Beowulf, The Ugly One, Open, Equivocation, 21 Extremely Bad Breakups, Red Velvet, The River, The Christians, A Midwinter Night’s Revel, The Coward, The Whale, Gabriel, The Three Musketeers, The Sexual Life of Savages, Gross Indecency: The Three Trials of Oscar Wilde, Eurydice, An Ideal Husband, reasons to be pretty, Saboteur, after the quake, The Crowd You’re In With, Mojo, Squawk, Caligula, Amazons and Their Men, William Shakespeare’s Land of the Dead, The American Pilot, Fat Pig, 1926 Pleasant, 10-Speed Revolution, The Lives of the Most Notorious Highwaymen.
You can revisit all of Amy’s works in the Walking Shadow Production History
By Walking Shadow on
Walking Shadow condemns all violence against, and hatred towards, the Asian American/Pacific Islander community. Following the murder of eight people in Georgia, including six women of Asian descent, the AAPI community has been left reeling.
The echoes of this violence resonate strongly throughout the United States, and through our city in particular. The underlying toxic prejudices that gave shape to this violence are part of our culture. This one event in Atlanta is highly visible, but is not isolated: anti-Asian hate is all too common, and we all have a duty to stand against it.
If you aren’t sure what to do to support the Asian American community at this time of crisis, our friends at Theater Mu have already done the work of putting together a list of organizations you can support and practical actions you can take to uplift the AAPI community, help end hate crimes, and undo White Supremacy. We want to use our platform to amplify their message:
Thank you, Theater Mu, for your work in this community.
We stand in solidarity with our friends, family, and loved ones who have been impacted by these hateful acts.
John Heimbuch, Co-Artistic Director
Amy Rummenie, Co-Artistic Director
David Pisa, Executive Director
By Walking Shadow on
“It’s a puzzle — literally. And you get to help put it together. There are two threads and many pieces to this intriguing, enigmatic trip through an unfinished condo at 1926 Pleasant Av. S. One part of the ghost story has the audience putting together large boxes, small clues and scraps of paper in search of a mystery. The other strain follows two actors who are playing out the increasingly spooky and macabre aftermath of a long-ago fire in this building. And what’s with all the owls?” –– Graydon Royce, Star Tribune
Billed as “a theatrical puzzle game in a new home with a long-forgotten history”, 1926 Pleasant was an experimental theatre piece in which the audience discovered clues and solved puzzles that moved the action of the story forward. 1926 Pleasant had a tremendously successful run at The Minnesota Fringe Festival, selling out 18 of its 20 performances.
Concept and Story by Amy Rummenie & David Pisa, Puzzle Design by David Pisa, Direction by Amy Rummenie, Story Collaborators John Heimbuch & Cherri Macht, Production Assistant Liz Schwartzrock, Illustrations by Kirsten Sevig, Photography by Dan Norman.
John Heimbuch as Edward, Cherri Macht as Grace, with Liz Schwartzrock and Nadia Hulett as owl/girl.
1926 Pleasant was a company-created, site-specific, experimental play combining elements of traditional theater and puzzles that the audience solved to advance the story.
1926 Pleasant was staged at 1926 Pleasant Avenue in Minneapolis. This huge old house, built in the early 20th century, had recently been subdivided into several new condo units, and the intriguing contrast between the long, textured history of the house and the raw, new space was one of the influences in the creation of the play.
The play was performed in an unfinished 2-bedroom unit, with bare cement floors, unpainted sheetrock walls, and no furniture, fixtures or appliances. Everything in the space was brought in by the company.
1926 Pleasant was billed as a mystery. This was accurate, but even more accurate would be to call it a horror story. Lying to the audience about the genre of 1926 Pleasant was essential in achieving the emotional response we intended—in order to be shocked, you can’t know you’re going to be shocked. The play began light in tone, in relatively open, well-lit spaces, but as the play progressed and the elements of horror became more apparent, the audience moved further into the space, into small, dark areas.
The audience capacity was limited to 18 people. The audience size was dictated simply by the maximum number of people who could fit into the smallest room in the condo. 18 people, however, was a sufficiently large enough number that one of the key parts of the play became how the audience interacted as a group, since the puzzles forced people to work together.
In every audience were some leaders, some helpers, and some who were content to watch. We had some people who were good puzzle solvers, some people who thought they were good puzzle solvers, some who discovered they had a natural aptitude for solving, and some who knew better than to touch a puzzle.
People came to the play alone or in groups, so that as the play began everyone had to learn about the others they were working with, and decide collectively how to function as a group. Sometimes a natural leader emerged, and sometimes a group carefully took turns. Occasionally a group really didn’t work well with each other.
The following is a chronological description of the play, including company members’ anecdotes about the process of creation and performance.
In the hallway outside the unit, the audience receives an envelope labeled “Open Me.” An audience member opens it and reads aloud:
Welcome back.
I saw an owl
He sat in a tree
He opened one eye
And winked at me.
Throughout the next hour, you will see envelopes like this one. Take them. Open them and read them aloud. Each envelope contains important details about the puzzles, and secrets about the story. Go now into the living room.
The audience enters the condo. It is an unfinished space, with bare cement floors, unfinished sheetrock walls, no appliances or fixtures, and very few objects.
Nobody else is present—two characters are visible outside on the porch, taking a break from moving in. The radio is on, playing a contemporary song. In the living room are piled dozens of moving boxes, on one of which is a second envelope labeled “Open Me.”
David: After welcoming people and reminding them to turn off their cell phones, I handed the audience their instruction envelope, took them to the door of the condo, said “Are you ready?” and opened it. The audience had to decide for themselves to enter. It was fun to watch the different reactions: some people looked disturbed, as if to say, “You’re abandoning us? You want us to go in there alone?” while other people rushed in and started looking at everything they could find.
The audience reads the letter aloud:
You must help me. It is difficult for me to communicate directly. I must guide you through intermediaries, through objects. But please, I need your help. Soon they will become part of the house. They are unpacking.
Take these thirteen boxes. Match against each other the sides with the same number. Do this for each labeled room, one room at a time, for all the numbers in the room at once (for each room, ignoring the numbers from the other rooms) and you will form the clues to unlock the first mystery. You must keep the boxes within the space marked on the floor. The lock waits, hanging from above.
First number in the combination: Kitchen.
Second number in the combination: Bathroom.
Third number in the combination: Den.
Fourth number in the combination: Storage.
Some cultures view certain birds as protective spirits, the souls of the deceased who, although they have no memory of their former lives, are a helpful force, and should be treated with respect…
Thirteen of the boxes in the living room are different from the rest. On the edges of the top of the box are labels like “Kitchen 10” or “Den 2, Storage 2.” On the floor is a 3×5 grid, with each spot on the grid the size of a moving box. This grid helps keep the audience on the right track by limiting the physical space available to them. To solve the puzzle, the audience must match the labels on the boxes. For example, two boxes are labeled “Kitchen 10,” and those two sides must be placed next to each other. Matching all the “Kitchen” boxes creates this shape:
Which is the number 8. Repeating the process for the other three numbers gets the numbers 3, 7, and 7 again. A security bag hanging from a string has a combination lock with four dials, and the combination 8-3-7-7 opens the bag.
Meanwhile, without the audience noticing it, the radio has started playing music from the 1920s.
David: This puzzle was a great way to teach the audience that they could start solving a puzzle without necessarily understanding what kind of answer they were looking for. The audience had a set of objects and a set of instructions, but they had no idea what would happen when they applied the instructions to the objects. At some point while matching boxes together, each audience had that “Ah-ha!” moment where they saw that they were forming numbers. Puzzles often have many steps, and if you get hung up on understanding every step before you try it, you’ll never get anywhere.
Inside the security bag is another letter. It reads:
…while others believe that some birds, especially owls, are an ill omen, representing approaching bloodshed, battle, or other disaster.
They are still outside. The four numbers I showed you were more than numbers. View them in a different way. (But you need not form the shapes again.)
First letter in the word: Kitchen.
Second letter in the word: Bathroom.
Third letter in the word: Den.
Fourth letter in the word: Storage.
In one of the boxes near the fireplace you must find this object. Use it. Use it firmly and set it on the table. I have been waiting for so long.
The numbers 8-3-7-7, when viewed in a different way, are the letters B-E-L-L.
The audience searches through the other boxes in the room and finds a bell. They ring it, and the actors enter from the porch and perform a scene.
David: This part of the puzzle really highlighted the differences in how people think. For some, this was a totally intuitive puzzle, and they shouted out “It’s ‘bell!'” immediately after hearing “the four numbers I showed you were more than numbers.” Others needed to write out the numbers, and rotate the page to see how theycould also be seen as letters. Another possible solution, which only one audience tried, was simply to go through the boxes near the fireplace to find an object, without worrying about knowing in advance what they were looking for. The bell was the only object in any of the boxes.
Several audiences looked at the clue in a different way, and thought “First letter in the word: Kitchen” meant “K.” Using this method results in the gibberish “KANR”, which one audience, to our surprise, interpreted as “can opener.” There was in fact a bottle opener on the table, so this audience created their own red herring. They were about to use the can opener to pop open a bottle of beer being used as a prop, when someone in the audience reread the clue and realized they were going in the wrong direction.
As they enter, Edward is telling Grace the story of the mysterious owl migration of 1926. “They traveled east over the wooded Great Lakes,” he says, “snatching up voles, mice, rats, pets. Each one settled in their own abandoned ruins, alone, and waiting.” Grace, not at all perturbed by his attempt at being spooky, insists that they have procrastinated enough, and now they need to continue picking out tile and a sink for the bathroom.
Grace opens a welcome packet from their realtor, finding menus, and a letter with information about the history of their condo. The letter reveals that the original owner of the house, coincidentally, was also named Grace. An ornithologist and his daughter lived at the address until 1926, when a fire partially destroyed the house. It was repaired, and housed many other people over the years.
Edward continues unpacking while Grace looks at the mail. He finds an enormous, 3-D jigsaw puzzle piece, but doesn’t seem to find it at all strange. “Is this yours?” he asks. Grace replies, “If it’s not yours, it’s mine. That’s how it works.”
The puzzle piece is placed in the large window between the kitchen and the hallway—the space above the kitchen counter, if there were a kitchen counter.
Grace, going through the mail, finds another letter labeled “Open Me,” and drops it in front of the audience.
An audience member opens the envelope and reads the following message:
The owl boasts of its wisdom, but has no knowledge of where that wisdom came from. Unless it was witchcraft.
I can begin to show you what happened.
Complete the puzzle that has been started.
The pieces are underneath the sheets.
Read the text.
John: Every performance began with Cherri and me relaxing on the patio in full sight of the audience. I found this to be the most nerve-wracking part of the show, as there was no way for us to assist the audience if they had trouble with the first puzzle. We had to wait until we heard the bell – and sometimes that was a long wait indeed.
Because we wanted an unrehearsed conversational tone as we entered, we never officially set the dialogue for this first scene. We established a few key points, selecting tile for the kitchen and checking the mail, and then worked our way naturally to those points. This gave us considerable freedom to change our interactions from performance to performance. Our favorite tile names were “Stardust Spectra” and “Khaki Brown Tempest”, which we took great glee in mocking.
Underneath some sheets in the hallway are fourteen more giant jigsaw puzzle pieces. On one side is text, on the other, part of an illustration. The audience puts the puzzle together from both sides.
Some of the puzzle pieces have a lip on one side, which keeps the puzzle from tipping over but also means the pieces can only go in from one direction.
While the puzzle is being assembled, Edward and Grace remain where they are, absorbed in their own small tasks.
When the puzzle is assembled, the picture shows a girl’s hand holding a key, an owl in a cage, and a fire beginning to spread in the background.
The audience reads the text on the back of the puzzle:
Children in many places believe that to guard against a creature’s powers, you must name those powers out loud. Say this:
Owl, owl, tell me the truth
Why do you go where evil things go?
You sing by night, not by day,
And your whole song is “Woe! Woe!”
Owl, owl, tell me the truth
Why do you do what evil things do?
You seek for souls to weave in your nest,
And always you are searching, “Who? Who?”
The text is an original poem based on ideas from the Middle English poem “The Owl and the Nightingale.”
And the front illustration was designed by Kirsten Sevig-Desjardins.
David: This was the most labor intensive part of the 1926 Pleasant. The jigsaw puzzle took over 70 hours to build—fifteen pieces, each with an internal framework to make them sturdy enough for an audience to handle without breaking. I used over a thousand screws in the construction of this puzzle!
As the final words of the poem are read aloud, Edward snaps out of his trance and reveals that he has finally picked a tile he likes. Grace is delighted, but needles Edward for taking so long to make the decision—for the clock says it is now 10:55. But that can’t be right, since it’s still daylight out. Something is wrong with the clock, and Edward takes it off the wall to inspect.
In a hole behind the clock is revealed a brooch shaped like an owl. Grace puts it on, and dreamily begins walking towards the guest bedroom. “What is it?” asks Edward. “It’s Grace’s,” says Grace. She goes into the guest bedroom and shuts the door.
Edward turns over the clock to reveal, taped to the back, another letter labeled “Open Me.” The audience takes it and reads:
To ward off the evil caused by an owl, my family believed that the owl should be killed, and nailed to the door of the house.
But that was simply impossible for me to do. Now you must come to my aid. A house cannot contain its secrets. The thoughts of those who lived here have lingered on, and now erupt into physical form. Only some of the words are mine.
Take the ribbon. Listen carefully, and you will hear the first words. Find those words where they are written out, and begin there. Notice that the end of the ribbon is attracted to the first spot—that is how you know the spot is right, and how you will identify each of the next spots. Find the next spot, the right distance away measured by the ribbon. Then the next spot.
Look high and low, in any direction. From one to the other, the words form a chain. Find all seven spots in order, never returning to a previous used spot. The words must be heard. Speak them aloud as you progress.
Entering the room Grace is now in, the audience discovers that the walls are completely covered with words. Each word or phrase has next to it a dot about the size of a dime. Grace is in the corner, humming. Edward shuts the door as the last audience member enters.
The audience finds a ribbon, about 8 feet long, with a small magnet at each end. Listening carefully, the audience hears Grace whisper “I unlocked.” Despite the hundreds of phrases on the wall, with 18 people in the audience, it’s not too long before someone spots this particular phrase on the wall near the doorway.
The audience discovers that the magnet at the end of the ribbon attaches easily to the dot next to this first phrase (a screw is hidden beneath it). Keeping one end of the ribbon on that dot, the audience stretches the ribbon out, and finds the only dot that is the right distance away. That dot, too, is magnetized, confirming that the audience has found the correct spot.
The audience continues finding dots. Grace hums continuously. The puzzle is made more difficult by the confined space and the number of people in the room.
The seven phrases are:
I unlocked
the other cages
I won’t leave
you to burn
we need to
find the window
where is
The final phrase is right next to Grace, and when the audience finds that spot, she screams “Where is!” She stands up, and a photograph of an owl suddenly appears where she was. She runs out of the room, hysterical.
This photo slides into the room through a gap in the baseboard as Grace runs out.
John: This was a fairly easy puzzle to solve if the audience listened and observed carefully. Some people overlooked the correct dot several times as they scanned the room, repeatedly passing the string over it. This, plus the cramped conditions and an occasional clue misinterpretation, made the word room the most likely place for intra-group tension to develop. One audience even discovered a falsely magnetized dot. Fortunately, whenever the audience went too far astray, Cherri could always whisper the next phrase. And when she snapped out of her trance and ran, all the audience’s discomfort and careful looking paved the road to a very nice scare.
Back outside the room, Grace is breaking down. “Did you hear it?” she asks, but Edward has heard nothing. The audience sees a long, knotted sheet on the ground, moving around the corner. It looks like a makeshift rope someone would create to climb out of a high window. At the end of the rope stands a girl in an old-fashioned dress, slowly pulling the sheet behind her. In her hand is a key attached to the rope.
When the audience sees her, the girl drags her fingernails along the wall. Edward and Grace freeze. “What is that?” Edward says. “There’s someone here.” He peers around the corner, but the girl has moved beyond view. Grace races for her purse. While looking for her car keys, she sees a shadow pass across the back wall. She turns and finds herself eye-to-eye with the mysterious girl.
The girl locks Grace in place with her gaze, but Edward still does not see her.
“The boxes,” Grace whispers. “There’s something behind the boxes.”
The girl drops her key onto a lockbox and disappears into the master bedroom at the back of the condo. Grace follows her. Edward, concerned about what Grace has said, wrestles aside a large wall of boxes in the living room. Behind it is an enormous grid partially filled with numbers. “Grace,” he calls, “there’s nothing back here.” As the master bedroom door slams closed.
The girl has dropped her sheet. At one end is a ribbon, and attached to the ribbon is a key. Nearby is a large metal box, which the audience unlocks.
Inside the box they find an envelope labeled “Open Me” with this message:
Owls often choose to roost in collapsed buildings, crumbling city walls, or caves. They select areas of perpetual desolation. If you find an owl nesting near your home, you are living in a land that one day will be full of ruins.
Use the numbers one through nine. Each row must contain the numbers one through nine. Each column must contain the numbers one through nine. Each black box must contain the numbers one through nine. If a number appears once in a row, it will not appear in that row a second time. If a number appears once in a column, it will not appear in that column a second time. If a number appears once in a black box, it will not appear in that black box a second time.
Soon you will see what to do.
This is a Sudoku puzzle. Also inside the metal box are the numbers, written on tiles, that need to be filled in.
This puzzle is not terribly difficult – in fact, it is easier than a 1-Star sudoku published in the newspaper – but it becomes difficult when 18 people try to work on it at once. Usually, someone makes a mistake, and the audience has to take a step back and begin again, this time more methodically. The tiles that the audience can move are distinguished by a notch cut in the top, so if the audience needs to begin again they can easily reset the puzzle to the way they found it.
Once the puzzle is complete, the audience notices that certain boxes are outlined in red and orange. The red boxes contain the numbers “6-1-2,” and the audience realizes that this is a phone number, since 612 is the local area code.
David: Creating a Sudoku puzzle with a phone number imbedded inside was a huge challenge. The first difficulty was finding an appropriate phone number, since it couldn’t have any repeating digits (except for the area code). The building where I work was very kind in agreeing to my request for such a phone extension.
The second difficulty was creating the puzzle layout, since I needed to include the area code and I wanted the phone number to be centered in the grid. I found a computer program to randomly generate solvable Sudokus, and generated them over and over until I found one that fit my criteria (the fourth number in the third row needed to be the same as the eighth number in the fifth row, the sixth number in the third row needed to be the same as the fourth number in the fifth row, and the fifth number in the third row needed to be the same as either the first or the ninth number in the fifth row). Then I simply replaced one number for another (replaced all 1s with 5s, all 5s with 3s, etc.) until I had the correct numbers where I needed them.
John: Throughout this scene I sat quietly on the floor, cell phone in hand, waiting for someone to say the correct number aloud. Because the number had been pre-programmed into my phone, if necessary I could skip to the next section, bypassing the sudoku entirely; but this nuclear option would have damaged the audience’s sense of satisfaction so much that I never implemented it – even when it meant they had to start the puzzle over from the beginning. Twice.
Edward pulls out a cell phone, turns the speakerphone on, and sets it down nearby. He picks up a flashlight and proceeds toward the Master Bedroom, while the audience uses his phone to dial the number.
After several rings, a recording plays. It is a girl’s voice, a voice we have not heard yet in the play. She says:
Many birds of prey such as falcons and kites, the slate-mantled sparrowhawk, long-crested eagle, and pallid harrier will circle above a lake until they spot their prey.
But owls hunt at night, and cannot see beneath the surface of the water. If you want to hide something from an owl, put it underwater. If an owl cannot find what it is looking for, look for it underwater. You must find the two keys.
The two keys will bring you to the center of everything.
Meanwhile, Edward has walked slowly to the master bedroom door. He tries the handle, finds it locked, and begs Grace to let him in, but to no avail.
The audience decides, based on the phone message, that they need to find something underwater. Following the beam of light that Edward’s flashlight provides, they discover the bathroom. It contains a tub, filled with water, on which are floating pages from a book and leaves. At the bottom of the tub are several large animal bones, including one attached to an old ring of skeleton keys.
On closer inspection, two small modern keys are discovered among the older keys. One of these opens the door to the master bedroom, and the audience enters. Edward enters as well, and shuts the door behind him.
John: It was challenging to maneuver the audience from the sudoku wall into the bathroom. Making small scraping and shuffling sounds as I moved helped draw attention across the condo without distracting too much from the message on the phone, but inevitably there was still a brief “what do we do now?” moment between my pounding on the master bedroom door and the discovery that my flashlight illuminated the bathroom. And because of the small size of the bathroom and the (relatively) large size of the audience, it was always a bit of a clown-car trying to get everyone in there.
When the audience enters, they see the girl, now dressed in a coat made of the pelts of small animals. She stares out from the closet and across the room. The master bedroom is mostly empty except for some curious items such as old photographs and suitcases. On the windowsill, hundreds of small bones are arranged.
The girl is looking into the master bathroom, which is unfinished except for a wooden frame that will support the bathtub, where Grace stands, chained.
The second key unlocks her. As the chains fall, Grace screams, “What have you done? You’ve given me to her!” Hidden speakers begin to play the sound of a distant wind and a low heartbeat.
The girl emerges from the closet and approaches Grace. She holds an egg in her hand and gives it to Grace.
The girl immediately turns on Edward, presenting him with his own egg. She then hands the nearest audience member a note:
Retrieve the other nine eggs from their nests, and protect them.
The walk-in closet is almost completely dark, its walls covered with black velvet which absorbs the light and deadens the sound. Several birdcages hang from the ceiling and line the walls, each one containing animal bones. Small candles in the cages provide a tiny bit of illumination.
Hidden amongst the bones are nine eggs. Edward and Grace hold their eggs tightly, locked in a trance.
Once the audience has reached through the openings of the cages and searched through the bones to find all nine eggs, Edward speaks. “Grace, what’s going on here?” he says. Grace begins to repeat the phrase from the word room: “(I unlocked) (the other cages) (I won’t leave) (you to burn) (We need to) (find the window) (Where is)…”
And for the first time, the girl speaks:
“I opened all the cages and set the birds free, and then I opened hers. She clung to me, leaving blood where her talons dug into my arm. The smoke was so thick, we couldn’t see the stairs and the doorknob burned my hand. I tripped and dropped her and she tried to fly out the window but it was stuck. I tried to make a rope … nobody came for me. I could hear the bells ringing. She fell to the ground next to the window where I fell – her wings were black with smoke and her eyes were bright as flame.”
Edward’s egg explodes in his hand. Inside the egg is a note:
Break your eggs.
John: Wow did the audience jump when my egg exploded. Occasionally people would scream. It was a simple matter of holding the egg in my fingertips and squeezing until it popped, while letting the rising tension of the layered dialogue carry the moment. When we first rehearsed this trick the eggs I used were too small, and I was incapable of generating enough pressure to crack them. We switched to a larger egg and it invariably shattered brilliantly – structural integrity proves once again that bigger isn’t always better.
The audience smashes their eggs, and in each one is a piece of a note.
Assembling the notes, the audience reads:
When a fire claims the life of any being, its soul will remain trapped in that place. When a fire claims the life of two beings together, their souls will meld, and become one soul.
The girl moves furiously, using a marker to write on the photographs on the wall of the room, one letter per photo. Her message reads:
I-A-M-T-H-E-O-W-L
Grace moves slowly backwards into the black void of the closet. Edward desperately tries to save her. “Grace, that was 80 years ago. Come back to me, honey.” Then he turns on the girl. “What have you done with her? Give her back to me!” But the owl/girl refuses. “No. She’s mine now.”
She turns to the audience. “You’ve given her to me and you can’t have her back.
The girl retreats into the darkness among the cages and bones. Finally aware of what has happened, Edward is in shock. Then he speaks, telling the same story he told at the beginning of the play, this time believing it:
“In the heated summer of 1926, a pack, a flock, a swarm of owls was released somewhere in Minnesota. They traveled east over the wooded great lakes, their wings tipped with the scent of smoke. They flew into Canada, snatching up voles, mice, rats, pets, until each one settled in its own abandoned ruin … alone and waiting.”
The sound and lights suddenly are shut off, and the door flies open. Outside, the rest of the condo is blocked off by a high wall built of the moving boxes from the living room. The only open passage is the hallway to the front door, which stands open. The air is full of smoky haze.
On the way out, the audience finds one last message:
When a fire claims the life of one member of a flock while its companions escape, the other birds are bound to perform a debt of service for their immolated friend once they have passed into the spirit world.
Thank you.
Grace, Edward, and the Owl remain in the bowels of the house, and the audience leaves.
If the audience chooses, after they leave the condo they may put the together the bits of information they have heard to learn the final secret: the audience is the souls of the birds from the other cages who escaped the fire. They have died, and have been called back by the owl to perform their debt of service, which is to help entrap the new residents of the house. Throughout the entire performance, the audience has helped perpetrate this act of evil.
Walking Shadow: Our influences and inspirations for this production were many: world mythology about owls, Japanese horror movies, David’s personal experience with creating large-scale treasure hunts, and the actual history of the house (thanks to the Hennepin History Museum’s research library).
Some of the synchronicity between our ideas and real life was creepy: we had already decided that an owl would feature prominently in 1926 Pleasant, when we learned that an ornithologist really had lived in the house. We picked the date of the backstory based on the building’s address (there wasn’t actually a fire there), and then learned that there really was an owl migration in 1926. And we had already chosen the name of our female character, Grace, when we learned that the woman who built the house also shared that name. We wouldn’t be at all surprised several years from now to learn from the people buying our condo unit that on some nights, when the streets are quiet and the clouds thick like smoke overhead, the faint sounds of wings can be heard near the bedroom window, and the soft brush of a young girl’s dressing gown along the floor in the corridor.
By Walking Shadow on
An explosive summer event with a suspicious man, a woman with a secret identity, and a relationship full of traps. Play along in a dangerous story of espionage and romance combining theatrical elements and unique hands-on scenes. Discover the clues. Solve the puzzles. Unfold the mystery.
Saboteur was a live performance in which the audience participated in the action of the show by doing large-scale, hands-on puzzles.
Saboteur was a company-created, site-specific play combining elements of traditional theater and puzzles that the audience solved to advance the story. This was Walking Shadow Theatre Company’s second puzzle show, after 1926 Pleasant in 2006.
Saboteur was a spy story and a romance. The story was gradually revealed over the course of the evening, as the audience made discoveries about what was really going on and their role in the plot. As the play went on, we deliberately adopted a more lighthearted tone, incorporating traditional (and sometimes ridiculous) spy motifs such as the elaborate death trap and the double agent.
Saboteur was staged in a nondescript 3000 square foot warehouse space in an industrial/residential neighborhood. The building had originally been part of a 1930s research lab for General Mills, and its floor still showed evidence of that use complete with concrete ramps and peculiar six inch high walls to contain spills. When General Mills relocated, the 6.5 acre industrial complex became a Superfund site and was cleaned up in the 1980s. Now, these buildings are home to hundreds of artists and small businesses. The building’s murky past isn’t immediately apparent, but helped inspire the show’s conceit that this warehouse was actually a front for a secret organization.
The audience capacity was limited to 16 people. While we could have physically fit more people into the space, we wanted to ensure that each audience member could, if they wanted, actively participate in the puzzles.
Though sixteen people is a very small audience by traditional theater standards, it’s actually quite a lot when everyone must work together as a team. As with 1926 Pleasant, a major part of the show was the audience navigating group dynamics. Sometimes, a puzzle worked best if a leader emerged and delegated duties to others, but other times puzzles were designed so that no one person could see everything that was going on, and multiple voices were needed.
Every audience was different. Sometimes people knew each other already, and sometimes everyone was a total stranger. Some people identified themselves as good puzzle solvers and some were afraid they would be awful (as it turned out, people from both groups were occasionally wrong). In some performances, the audience cohered quickly and worked together efficiently, while in others, personalities vied for preeminence, adding an extra layer of complexity.
The audience enters through the front door of the warehouse into a small lobby. It has a display case and table filled with bottled water. Signs reveal that this is Universal Hydro Solutions, a water wholesaler and distributor.
A television sits on the table, connected to two closed-circuit security cameras attached to the wall. Gentle lobby music plays from a CD player behind the counter, and a chirpy receptionist welcomes each audience member:
“Welcome to Universal Hydro Solutions! When you need water, call Universal!”
The receptionist indicates that patrons are here for their appointment with Mr. Brinsley. He’s not quite ready to meet with them, but in the meantime she encourages everyone to help themselves to water. There’s a lot of it.
When the entire audience is assembled, the receptionist clicks on her walkie-talkie to let Mr. Brinsley know that they’re getting started. She gives a quick speech discouraging industrial espionage (photography), reminding the audience that “the room is being watched by closed circuit cameras”, and encouraging team building and cooperation. Then, she says “Before you can meet with Mr. Brinsley, there’s something I need you to do.” She places a large plastic tub in the middle of the floor, and with a simple “Get to work,” she steps back and waits. The audience is suddenly in charge of the show.
The audience opens the tub and finds a couple dozen puzzle pieces. Made of thick, lightweight foam, on one side they have Velcro, and on the other, stickers with circles and squares in different colors. The audience realizes that the walls are covered with strips of Velcro as well as colored circles and squares.
For each puzzle piece, they must find the place on the wall where the color and shape on the sticker match the color and shape on the wall: the Velcro will make it stick there. This isn’t a logic puzzle – each piece can only go in one place. The challenge is just matching colors and shapes, which can actually be difficult when there are so many colors on the wall, and people moving in the room.
We knew we wanted to open the show with an intuitive puzzle that the entire audience could participate in. This particular puzzle idea came about because the location was formerly a frame shop, so when we took possession of the venue the front lobby had long Velcro strips attached to the wall where the product samples used to hang. Then it was just a question of how to build a puzzle that used the pre-existing features of the space.
Once the audience finishes sticking pieces to the wall, it becomes apparent that, by themselves, they don’t form any kind of coherent image or message. The pieces don’t touch each other, and are split between two different parts of the room. Now what?
Attentive audience members would notice the monitor with a black and white image from a security camera. Now, they see that a security camera perfectly covers one of the two sections of puzzle pieces. Looking up, they see there’s a second camera aimed at the other section of the puzzle, but that image doesn’t display on the monitor.
There’s a video fader sitting on the front counter with a slider bar that can fade the image on the monitor from one camera to the other. Positioning the slider halfway results in the two images overlaying one another, forming a message:
Track Eight. The audience realizes that they have access to the CD player that has been piping out lobby music this whole time. They advance to track eight, and trigger the next event.
The audience couldn’t bypass the video fader and mentally combine the two halves of the image, because one part was upside down. The video camera for that half was also installed upside down, so the image appeared right side up on the TV.
Like the cardboard box puzzle from 1926 Pleasant, this puzzle taught the audience to go ahead and get their hands on things without necessarily knowing what they were trying to accomplish. With no instruction other than “get to work,” a phrase that introduced every puzzle in the show, everyone just jumped right in and grabbed pieces. Once the first part was complete with all the pieces on the walls, it was clear the puzzle wasn’t over yet, but there was still no explicit instruction about how to proceed. The audience, consciously or not, realized that they must be looking for some kind of a message, and examined the room for a way to turn what they had done so far into something else that would yield a message. This multi-stage structure was repeated through most of the puzzles in the show.
The stereo emits a strange electronic burst of noise, followed by a flood of voices. This soundscape represents the audience’s memories, repressed until now. A doctor reports on successful biological upgrades. Instructors describe cryptography techniques and field training. Other voices fade in and out with ideas about what it means to be a spy, to lead a life of deception, and to live with the possibility of discovery and betrayal.
The audience is in a large, dark room. The windows are blacked out, and the soundscape from the first room fades into eerie background noises.
“You have been illuminated,” the Coordinator says. “Your eyes are opened to the truth. Your handler is waiting for you. It is up to you to reach him. Look around. Rely on your training. You know how to do this. The answer is in this room. Now get to work.”
As she finishes, a single small light – a red LED – illuminates on the wall next to her. The LED is fixed on top of a box with a light switch. This switch is part of a cluster of switches, and around the room are other such clusters. There’s also a door with an electronic keypad. It’s locked, but a sign indicates that the audience is trying to find the code to get through it.
Inevitably, the audience flips the switch attached to the red LED. The single light goes off, but red lights attached to the neighboring switches turn on. Every time the audience flips a switch, it affects the LED attached to that switch, as well as lights attached to adjacent switches.
The audience fans out around the room, trying other switches in different clusters. The LEDs of each cluster have a different color. One cluster has only one switch, and when that LED (a green one) turns on, the audience notices that a second green light turns on in a complex-looking control panel near the door.
The audience realizes that they’re trying to get all the lights in each cluster turned on, which will turn on all the lights in the master control panel. They get to work, and through a combination of luck, experimentation and logic, they find the correct combination of switches. At that point, a new section on the master panel lights up with a code: “3472”, which they punch into the keypad, unlocking the next room.
This puzzle was inspired by the computer game The 7th Guest. In the game there was a room filled with nine coffins. Clicking on any given coffin opened or closed it, as well as the adjoining coffins. We adapted the puzzle so that, instead of just one cluster, we had clusters of 1, 2, 4, and 9. This forced the audience to spread out around the room, and provided a learning curve: the audience was sure to stumble upon the solutions to the two smallest clusters, confirm what they knew with the group of 4, and then be sure of what they were trying to accomplish with the group of 9.
We provided a reset button so that, if the audience got hopelessly mixed up while experimenting, they could turn all the lights off and start again. Once you figured out what you were trying to do, the puzzle wasn’t too difficult if you started from a blank slate, though some audiences were afraid to push the reset button, perhaps fearing it was a trick!
This puzzle took over a week to build. It required days of soldering and used nearly 800 feet of wire. Everything was controlled through an off-the-shelf circuit board called an Arduino.
The audience opens the door, and a voice welcomes them. The room is an office, with a large desk, bookshelves, file cabinet, etc. Here, at last, is Mr. Brinsley.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome. I’m already quite impressed with you. In gaining access to this room, you successfully ran through my test of your subconscious programming… and by the looks on your faces, I expect you’re already beginning to suspect the truth. My sincerest apologies to you all, but as secret agents under deep cover we could take no chances. That’s right – you are spies.”
Brinsley goes on to reveal that Universal Hydro Solutions is a cover operation for the spy organization. The audience are sleeper agents, programmed with essential data and techniques, but unaware of all their own memories. Brinsley has activated the agents because he fears one of his coworkers, a spy named Julia, may have been courted by enemy Ruritanian agents. Showing the audience her file photo, he says he suspects her betrayal, and wants to find proof. But he doesn’t have the necessary expertise, so he needs the audience’s help. The Coordinator will lead the audience next door, where they must break into a laser-secured storage facility to retrieve surveillance footage of Julia meeting with the enemy agent.
Ruritania is the name of a fictional European country often used when a story requires spies from a foreign power (or sometimes in academia, where a philosophical argument requires a hypothetical country). Originally created in 1894 by novelist Anthony Hope for The Prisoner of Zenda, Ruritania lent its name to a whole genre of adventure stories. References to Ruritania have appeared everywhere, including other early twentieth century novels, an episode of Get Smart in 1969, and even an episode of Futurama in 2010.
The Coordinator leads the audience to an area surrounded by blue tarps. She unlocks a door, urging the audience to be careful of their eyes: “These are active lasers. Now get to work.”
This room is broken up by irregular walls into short, oddly shaped hallways. As the audience explores, they find an electronic device in one corner, a series of mirrors tethered by short chains to the walls, and four boxes labeled targets 1 through 4. A sign by the device says, “This laser will only turn on when the door is shut.” So the audience shuts the door, completing a circuit that makes a laser beam shoot out of the device.
Target 1 is right next to the laser device, and both are next to a mirror. It’s easy enough to hold the mirror (which can move because of its chain) so that the laser shoots back at the target, which then lights up. The audience realizes they’re trying to light up all the targets. They experiment with bouncing the laser from one mirror to another, going around corners and under obstacles. With the door shut, sixteen people make the room feel tight, and often someone accidentally steps into the path of the laser. Also, some paths may use four or five mirrors, and the wobble of the first mirror is then multiplied over the next few, so that everyone in the sequence must work together to keep the beam steady and reach the target.
The targets become progressively more difficult, but the audience succeeds, and when all four lights are lit, a new circuit is completed, and a hatch opens in the ceiling, dropping out a small key. The audience uses the key to unlock a box built into one wall, inside of which is a DVD: the security footage.
This puzzle was simultaneously a maze, a dexterity challenge, and a test of communication. The room was designed so that nobody can see one whole path at once; the audience had to talk to each other about what they were able to hit with the laser at any turning. There were multiple ways that some targets could be reached. Some (the ones we originally intended the audience to find) were a little easier. Other paths were more difficult because they traveled further, or bounced the laser at a more extreme angle. We tried to reduce the number of paths as much as possible to keep the number of choices from being overwhelming, but the audience regularly discovered other, far more difficult, paths to navigate the room.
The audience brings the footage back to Brinsley, who pops it in the DVD player and has everyone gather around. On the TV is an elegant party in a beautiful mansion. People in formal wear mill about, drinking champagne. Brinsley identifies the Ruritanian Agent. When Julia steps onscreen and approaches the Agent, Brinsley explains that Julia was undercover, trying to discover where the Ruritanians got their weapons, but he fears the Ruritanian Agent knew she was a spy and was trying to court her to their side.
Brinsley’s suspicions seem confirmed when the Ruritanian Agent and Julia begin dancing. Brinsley agonizes that Julia’s behavior is entirely unprofessional. He seems… jealous.
Suddenly, the overhead lights snap on. The audience hears the front door of the warehouse open, and a woman calls out, “Hello? Brinsley?” Panicked, Brinsley goes to his office door to intercept the visitor, and signals for the Coordinator to turn off the television. But before she can do so, Julia herself walks into the room. Upon seeing the audience, she seems perplexed “I didn’t realize you had guests.” Brinsley and the Coordinator inform her that the audience has come for a site tour.
As Julia chats amiably with Brinsley, it becomes evident that the two of them are actually in a relationship together. Clearly, Brinsley hasn’t been entirely honest with the audience.
Brinsley has nearly escorted Julia out of the room, when she notices the footage still playing on the TV, and she stops in her tracks. “How did you get this?” she asks. Brinsley indicates the audience and confesses to Julia, “They’re the agents.” Julia can’t believe this incredible breach of protocol, “You activated them! To spy on me?”
Brinsley loves Julia, but she always gets sent out on missions, while he must remain behind in the cover location waiting for directives from Central. Their time apart gnaws at him, and he begins to fear that she doesn’t really love him back. Maybe she only loves him because they were placed together on assignment, and maybe he has reason to be jealous of people she meets in the field like the Ruritanian Agent.
Julia reassures Brinsley, but is justifiably upset that he has been spying on her: “I do love you, but you have to sort this out. Jeopardizing our mission. Now I’m gonna turn a blind eye, but you have to wipe them, and put them back to sleep or we’re both gonna be in hot water from Central. Okay?”
Brinsley meekly agrees.
This was a tricky scene to stage in a way that allowed the actors to see and communicate with the entire audience, at the same time making sure that Julia couldn’t see the television until the proper moment. It also took a significant amount of predicting audience behavior – an early test audience confessed how tempted they were to turn the television off before Julia caught Brinsley in a lie. We stationed the Coordinator to block the DVD player, but even so, one audience beat her there, leaving the actors scrambling for another path to explain their curious behavior.
This interaction between Julia and Brinsley is inspired by Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s 1775 play The Rivals. In that story, secondary characters Julia and Faulkland are in love, but Faulkland never trusts that Julia’s love is true. Early in the play, Faulkland complains that, while he was out of town, Julia has gone to a party and been seen having fun. She replies that of course she seemed to be having fun: if she didn’t, people would assume she was resentful of Faulkland being away, and she didn’t want them to gossip about him. Similarly, in Saboteur, Brinsley is upset that Julia seems to be enjoying her dance with the Ruritanian Agent.
“I seemed to be, because I had to be,” she says. “It’s called pretending. I was undercover.”
But as soon as Julia is gone, Brinsley’s self destructive nature takes over again. He knows he has no reason to doubt her, but he can’t help himself. And worse, if she’s been lying about being in love with him, maybe she’s been lying about her loyalty to the Organization, too. “If only I could find some way to prove to myself once and for all that I don’t have anything to worry about…”
Brinsley gets a wild idea. He takes the audience into the area outside the laser-maze, and, tearing down the huge tarps that conceal a strange contraption, reveals his plan.
This is a death trap, “far too complicated to explain, with methods too horrible to mention.” Brinsley will lock himself in a small chamber where he will be tortured, and send a message to Julia telling her that he has been captured by Ruritanians and needs her help. “If she frees me, I’ll know her love is true, beyond our duty, and that she’s not a Ruritanian agent. And if she is indeed an enemy spy, well, I’d rather die than live without her.”
The Coordinator abandons Brinsley, saying she’ll have no part in this madness. Brinsley starts the deathtrap and shuts the door. As his screams fill the room, Julia arrives, terrified for his safety, but unable to save him alone. The audience must help her!
The control mechanism to override the death trap is, using the logic of the spy genre, conveniently at hand, but difficult to use. At one end of the room is a giant tilt maze, like the wooden tabletop Labyrinth game, only eight feet square. A ball must travel through the maze, avoiding obstacles, until it presses a button, sending a signal into Brinsley’s chamber, deactivating the trap.
Unfortunately, the tilt maze is behind a giant fence. The audience can only move the maze by pulling on ropes at the other end of the room. There are four ropes, one for each side of the maze, and the ropes must be pulled in the right combination at the right time to move the ball through the maze. The ropes are far enough away that it can be difficult for the people pulling them to see what they’re doing, so other audience members must shout out instructions.
Underneath the entire puzzle, the rumbling clatter of an indescribable device fills the room, punctuated with the intermittent screaming of the imprudent Brinsley. “I deeply regret this!”
This was another puzzle of dexterity and communication. The tilt maze actually didn’t have any branching paths, just one route, and it didn’t have any inescapable obstacles like holes, just different turns to make. Audiences came up with varying ways of approaching the puzzle. Some groups created a system of communication where they named each rope and called out instructions like “North, go! East and South, go!” Some groups had people who stood in front of the fence and acted as if they were surfing, indicating which direction the maze should tilt. And some audiences, thinking laterally, brought chairs over to the ropes and stood on them so they could see better.
This puzzle probably weighed 400 pounds. But audiences didn’t have any trouble moving it by pulling on the ropes. So that it would pivot easily, we made a ball and socket joint out of a bowling ball.
The audience guides the ball to the end of the maze, but it doesn’t fully deactivate the death trap. Instead, Julia must rush in to the chamber herself to throw the final switch and save Brinsley. As the deathtrap hisses to a stop, they emerge, breathless and bedraggled, but safe.
“You came back for me!” Brinsley cries, and they kiss passionately. But in rescuing Brinsley, Julia thinks she has returned to a compromised location against the policy of the Organization. She has let her love trump her duty, and so she proposes that they must destroy the facility, flee together, and go rogue.
“You would abandon your life as an agent for me?” Brinsley asks.
“Yes,” she replies, “even to the ends of the earth.”
This is what Brinsley was hoping to hear. “So, Julia, I have tested you to the last! And with this useless trick I throw away all my doubts. I know that you love me, that you are a loyal agent, not a Ruritanian spy. Now, will you forgive me for making you undergo this one final test?”
“Wait, what?”
“I love you, Julia, and now I know you love me!”
“A test! You mean you did that to yourself?”
For Julia, this is the last straw. She can’t believe Brinsley would manipulate her this way. “That you would do this to someone who loves you… After such a treatment, I cannot continue in this partnership. I am going to call Central and tell them, on no uncertain terms, that this arrangement must end. Now please, go away. Go.”
Brinsley is crushed, and, shamed by his recklessness, leaves.
But Julia isn’t through with Brinsley yet. She realizes that what’s getting to him is the situation: while she’s out on operations, he just sits here, under deep cover, waiting for instructions that never come. If she could give him a purpose… Julia decides to plant a fake directive on his computer, so he’ll have something to do.
In order to gain access to his computer, Julia needs the audience’s help. Brinsley has an elaborate security system set up, and besides, the audience owes her for having helped Brinsley put her through such misery. Julia leads the audience back to the office, then leaves to go manufacture the fake directive.
The audience essentially ransacks Brinsley’s office following the code to get through the computer’s password lock. A note indicates they should begin by pulling pictures out of their frames and decoding a message on the back. After that, the audience removes the drawers from the desk to find a message on the back, opens the file cabinet and sorts the folders to reveal a clue, pulls the books off the shelf to discover that one is hollow, uses the key inside to unlock a box, and finally opens the water bottles on display to find a message written inside the caps. In the end, the room is in complete disarray, and the audience types the password, “FAILSAFE,” into the computer.
While they search, the Coordinator has returned. Once the audience has entered the password, she says “I’ll take it from here”, and plugs a flash drive into the computer. Then, she sends two messages on her walkie-talkie:
“Miss Melville, we’re ready.”
“Sir, you’d better get back here right away!”
Because this puzzle occurred so late in the show, the audience felt empowered to ransack the room in a way they’d been dissuaded from before. Even so, the vast majority of audiences were incredibly respectful about cleaning up after themselves/hiding their tracks. The Coordinator often had to mess the place up, tossing a few books back onto the floor as she called Brinsley. Some bibliophile audience members were greatly affronted by this!
Brinsley comes back into his office to find the audience digging around. “What the hell? What happened in here? What’s going on?” He hurries to his desk and sees the new file that the Coordinator uploaded. “Is this a directive?” he asks, and opens it. An electronic noise plays, the same one the audience heard when they activated themselves at the beginning of the show. Brinsley freezes momentarily, then comes to his senses. “What just happened?”
Julia returns to the room. She wears a sleek black dress, she moves and speaks with a new note of power. And now she reveals the truth: “You thought that was a directive, but it was actually an activation sequence!” Julia is, after all, a Ruritanian spy. She has been putting nanobots into the bottled water, slowly working to take control of Brinsley as part of a master plan!
“So do you realize why you kept suspecting me of being a spy? It’s because I am one. Why didn’t I let you die in the death trap? Ruritania has other plans for you, my dear. In fact, the death trap was my idea. Everything you’ve been doing has been my idea – calling together your agents, sending them on these ridiculous missions – it’s all just been an experiment… It was all just part of a test to make sure the nanobots were doing their job.”
And now that Brinsley is completely under her control, she no longer needs to hide her true identity. Brinsley isn’t entirely convinced. He doesn’t feel any different, but it’s all possible…
“What are you going to do now?” Brinsley asks.
“We’re going to take the world by storm, you and I. Every day, a new city, committing new acts of sabotage. And neither of us will ever back down. Now, tell me you love me, my little sleeper agent!”
“God, I love you, Julia.”
“I love you too, Brinsley.”
Has he actually has been taken over by Ruritanian nanobots? Or has he decided to play along in this new game that incorporates and undermines his chronic mistrust, in a relationship that, by affirming his fears, strangely lets him finally feel comfortable? There’s no way to know what the truth is. Either way, Julia leads Brinsley off, giving the Coordinator a curt “See to the agents.”
The Coordinator leads the audience out of the office. “Come with me,” she says. “This will be your final task.”
The audience is back in the large room where they initially solved the light switch puzzle. Now, the overhead lights are on, and the Coordinator pulls away some canvas to reveal a huge stack of cardboard boxes.
“Please treat the components with respect,” she says. Putting one box in a particular spot on the floor, she declares “I am quite certain this piece goes here.”
The boxes are cubes, one and a half feet on a side. Each box has one side with a stencil reading “This Side Up.” On other faces are lines, shapes, and expanses of black ink. This is clearly a giant jigsaw puzzle.
The audience begins putting the pieces together, using the image on the front, starting from the piece the Coordinator laid down. The puzzle is built vertically, stacking boxes on top of each other in a wall. They discover that the sides and top of the puzzle are marked in different colors, and that the seemingly random short lines in the corners on the back side of the boxes form letters when correctly assembled.
The audience finishes building the wall, which is fifteen feet wide and nearly eight feet high. On the back of the wall they are able to read the message: “ADD 1 TO EACH LETTER,” followed by a string of letters: STQMNEENUDQGDZCKHFGS. Adding one to each of these letters yields “TURN OFF OVERHEAD LIGHT.”
Audiences loved this puzzle. We designed it to be a gigantic final physical experience, one that could truly accommodate everyone helping at once. With so many ways of approaching the puzzle – the front image, the writing on the back, the colors on the sides, the total number of boxes combined with accompanying signs about how high they could be stacked – there were lots of incremental discoveries that could be made about how to proceed. Often, audiences built the wall, applauded their completion of this monumental task, and then might have stopped, except by now they had been trained to look for another step, so they investigated further the writing on the back.
When the audience turns off the light, they hear again that strange electronic sound. “Congratulations on everything you’ve done,” the Coordinator says. “The deactivation sequence is already taking effect. As you leave, the memories of these events will become shaky, like a dream or a game. But no matter how unreal it may seem, you’ll still carry it with you. Dormant and waiting.”
Loud music starts up, interrupting the Coordinator’s speech. She pulls back a curtain to reveal Julia and Brinsley dancing. Brinsley now wears a tuxedo to match Julia’s black gown, and as they turn, the audience sees that Julia is holding a gun to Brinsley’s head, but they are both smiling in delight.
The curtain closes, the lights snap back on, and the Coordinator has once again become the receptionist. She thanks the audience for visiting Universal Hydro Solutions, “I hope that everyone had an enjoyable time on their site tour and learned many fun and useful facts about water.” The audience heads back out into the parking lot, left to decide for themselves what they think really happened.
For us, one of the most fun parts of the evening was meeting the audience in the parking lot. Frequently, the entire audience hung around. No longer strangers, having just played together they wanted to compare notes on what had just happened, and ask us questions about how they did, or how the show had developed.
Many people wanted to know if they had completed the show within a good time limit. We never really kept score. The average time was about an hour and a half, with some audiences faster and some slower. Of course, “winning” wasn’t the point of the show, and however long an audience took, what they experienced along the way was what counted.
Walkthrough photography by Dan Norman.
By Walking Shadow on
On Memorial Day, George Floyd was murdered at the hands of the Minneapolis Police. This horrible act of brutal injustice happened at the corner of 38th and Chicago Avenue, in the Powderhorn neighborhood of Minneapolis. Our city. Our neighborhood. Our home.
Many of you have reached out to ask if we’re okay. We appreciate your concern, but things are not okay here. And they never have been.
What’s happening in our neighborhood is emblematic of what’s happening in every neighborhood in the nation. American society has been built upon the land, labor, and lives of BIPOC through more than four centuries of genocide, slavery, segregation, discrimination, and the criminalization of people we now call our friends and neighbors. Too many of us have turned a blind eye to this systemic injustice, not because we didn’t believe it was happening, but simply because we could. We could choose to believe that it didn’t affect us; that we weren’t benefitting from it; that we weren’t participating in it.
That has to stop.
Walking Shadow is committed to doing the work to confront and dismantle racism and white supremacy. It’s critically important that we — as individual artists and as a company — start by examining our own complacency and privilege. That is the only place to start.
If you are white, if you haven’t engaged in this work before, we call on you to start along with us. Start with yourself, embrace the discomfort of acknowledging racism and white supremacy, and speak out against them. Support financially where you can. Listen to and amplify the voices of our BIPOC friends and neighbors as they speak their truth.
Maybe you feel overwhelmed. Maybe you don’t know what to do. That’s okay. A key part of theater is collaboration, and fortunately other people have already been doing work that we can collaborate on. We are thankful for all the effort that people before us have done to create and curate these resources so we can share them with you.
To get started, check out this list of anti-racism resources for a variety of articles, videos, movies, podcasts and books you can watch/read, many of them right now, online!
MPR has assembled a list of local Black-led arts organizations. Support them!
Support Black Lives Matter.
Learn about and support efforts to move away from policing as we know it toward community-led safety initiatives at Reclaim the Block.
Reclaim the Block is also actively maintaining a list of organizations doing good work to consider donating to. (They’re adding new organizations in need, and removing those whose needs have been met so that resources can be spread effectively.)
This is hard work, and it needs to be done. Together.
Walking Shadow Theatre Company
John Heimbuch, David Pisa, Amy Rummenie
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