Room 13 at Battersea Arts Centre

We made our way down from Greenwich to Battersea Arts Centre on a chilly, dark night that already felt suited to a spooky outing. As a regular at scare mazes and haunted attractions at theme parks, I went in curious to see how a show within an arts centre would compare.

Arriving at the centre, we took a moment to absorb the atmosphere before staff directed us towards a side room. Anticipation was building, as we had only a loose idea of what we had signed up for.

The room was lined with photos of the fire that devastated Battersea Arts Centre on Friday 13 March 2015. Looking them over, it was hard not to feel a little unsettled by how much was lost, and it gave the evening a sense of place before anything had begun. It was here that we were asked to sign a ‘waiver’, which prompted some nervous laughter, and each of us was handed a card bearing the logo of the Circle of the Veil, the group at the centre of the story we were about to step into.

Once everyone had arrived, we were taken upstairs in groups. On the way, we were told that phones and photography were not allowed for the evening. Phones away, we followed our guide through a corridor, with nothing to do but wait and wonder what was on the other side. It was the kind of slow build that scare mazes do well, and it set expectations nicely.

When we finally entered, we found a room set up with sheer curtains, five tables, and an atmosphere that had clearly been carefully built. The staff inside were dressed in a Victorian, old-timey style, which suited the idea of a society of paranormal investigators and added to the sense that we had stepped out of the present day.

The premise was that the Circle of the Veil, a research group, had been investigating Room 13, a space that appears on no blueprint of the building and was only discovered after the fire. The blaze, we were told, had torn a hole in the veil, and an entity was now trying to break through. It was up to us to awaken it, and to do it together. We were also instructed not to speak, as this upsets the entity.

At our engraved, gothic-style table, small statues sat alongside two locked boxes, and our task was to work through two puzzles and their clues to open them. Our group included a guest who seemed to be on her own, seated next to me, the two of us started chatting. We hit a brief snag when we thought we had solved the puzzle correctly but the lock wouldn’t open. On closer inspection, it turned out the button on the lock simply hadn’t been pressed (ha). Once opened, the boxes revealed four more small statues.

When all the puzzles were complete, the curtains were drawn back to reveal an altar. I realised my back was to it, and that my new friend and I were essentially in the centre of the room. Having been to my fair share of scare attractions, I know that is rarely a good place to be, and I muttered something along the lines of “oh, we’re f***ed.”

The host began a speech about awakening the entity, explaining that the statues represented significant fires throughout history. We were instructed to place our statues on the table one by one, put our hands together, and breathe. The room was plunged into darkness, and the evening took a turn. In flashes of strobe lighting and music, the host began to be possessed, darting around the room as the entity took hold.

Halfway through, it was revealed that the guest sitting next to me was infact a planted actor, who began convulsing and was dragged across the floor by the entity. I’ll admit I didn’t see it coming, but looking back there were plenty of red flags!

Most of the performance took place in near-total darkness, with strobes picking out the performers. There was a (fake) goat sacrifice, complete with decapitation and some very visceral bone-crunching sound design, and I got a squirt of blood (water) in the face. As the night went on, the strobes and almost club-style music built while our host was increasingly overcome, layers of period clothing stripped and ripped away to reveal black tattoos and markings across their body. The shadow of a ram cast across the floating curtains was my favourite image of the night.

The ending was a little abrupt, with the lights going up and a cast member shouting at us for having spoken after all. How were we meant to do a puzzle without speaking! We were then quickly ushered out the door.

For a production that relies on a small cast to fill a room with suspense, it did a lot with its space, and the use of darkness did a lot of the heavy lifting. Compared with the corridor-style scare mazes I’m used to, it leans more towards spooky and theatrical than outright frightening, and it worked as an atmospheric story rather than a jump scare experience.

If I were to change anything, it would be a few more changes around the room, or to have the performers appearing right beside audience members, to add some extra jump scares for those who like to be startled.

I’ve had scarier nights, but this was a great way to get into the Halloween spirit.

Illustration by Kate H via Helen Biles Studio for our Cultural Calendar.