Ever since I was a kid building forts, Lego worlds, and haunted houses, I’ve been chasing one feeling: the rush of stepping into a place that makes you forget where you are. My dad took me to my first haunted house, and I knew right then this was what I was meant to do.
That’s why I build. I don’t buy rooms from a catalog, and I’ll never throw one together just to fill space. Every room I create has to feel like walking into a different reality, with puzzles I’d still love watching someone solve for the millionth time. This isn’t a perfect business plan. It’s a passion project, and I’m in it for the love of it.
What I want most is for every group to walk out saying, “Holy crap, that was fun. I want to do another.” But most importantly, “That’s a memory we’ll never forget.”
And I’m just getting started. I’m dreaming of a warehouse with 40-foot ceilings, where briefing-room doors open onto a shoreline and a full-size pirate ship waits at the end of a plank. I see an elevator that drops you into a superhero’s ransacked lair. I see players greeted by a sinister game master as the lights flicker on, and one of them has to take a seat in the electric chair before the game can begin.
My rooms aren’t perfect, and neither is my company. I’m still learning. I’ve made many, many mistakes, and there’s so much I know I could do better if I built it a second time. But I’m proud of what I’ve created, and I’m even more excited about what’s to come.
Someday, I want people to say I was crazy, and built even crazier things.
Tyler A. Renner
