Review: John Robertson’s The Dark Room, Fringe 2026

I went into the dark room expecting a game of some kind, a nefarious trap that someone from the audience would have the chance to break free of. An escape room maybe. What I didn’t expect was such high-octane energy from Robertson, playful crowdwork and improv comedy that had us both howling and chanting along with him as each new game began: you awake to find yourself in a dark room!

You wake up in a dark stage

Robertson was lit by his glowing dungeon master shoulderpiece and a torch pointed directly at his face, manic grin on full display.

The screen behind him showed text adventure game options, (go north, check inventory etc.) minimally designed with clarity in mind. Ironic, given how the game itself prefers to loop you into dead ends impossible to predict or navigate with any logic.

He maintained the torch lighting on his face throughout the performance, keeping attention on his powerfully voiced storytelling despite the laughter of the room and the humorous options on the screen behind him.

His vocal performance had a range that denied boredom, seamlessly shifting from booming dungeon master echoes, dramatic grunts, dumb and playful jokes with the audience, and a precision of timing and callbacks that let him turn any line into a joke, or an impactful moment.

He wants to play a game

Robertson would pick out an audience member, someone who has never played before, and lovingly torment them to prepare them for the game. After a few rounds I played, after earning his trust that I wasn’t so easily spooked (I startle easily at noises and lights!) and could handle the dark room.

I was invited to shout out which option I would take, as the player waking up in the dark room. The options begin cohesively, ‘go north’ perhaps, but immediately degenerate into madness, punctuated by Robertson’s villain coded narration theatrics. ‘Lick the Wall’, ‘Go to Sleep’, and ‘Play Another Game’ to name only a few.

Other players were called in to help me out of a bind and earn me a self-shooting gun. Which killed me (I saw it coming as soon as the words left my mouth). He mockingly lets me know what my new found item does, and the crowd roars in laughter: ya die, ya die, ya die, ya die!

It’s not safe to go alone

Several players all took turns, each trying different options and being thrown impossibly confusing and wacky scenarios to face, with hilarious and vibrant storytelling, and no two runs the same.

At some point I had to stop and think about how many branching paths this game had, and how Robertson managed to seamlessly flow between them without skipping a beat. He clearly has a deep understanding of the game and all its options, able to tell each story smoothly while weaving in references from the previous players and ongoing audience gags.

Nothing could slow down his quickfire quips and bits. His controller batteries ran out and he even slipped and fell on a self-spilled drink, and not once did it feel like he had been set back or interrupted from his role, nor his maniacally sinister character ever broken.

A two-player mode and a democracy round successfully escalated for the end of the show by getting the whole audience roaring, trying to find a path to victory.

Everyone who played walked away with booby prizes: I earned myself a can of beer for my adventure, shared with my new friend who tried to help me survive. Although nobody escaped the impossibly winding and meta dark room, it truly felt like everyone walked away a winner!

Summary

A hilarious interactive improv adventure, led by a larger than life game master that’ll have you screaming and howling with every new player. A quick wit combo with meta game mechanics and a chance for anyone to play keeps every moment full of life and unpredictable energy.

You’ll start out wanting to beat the game, to win, but by the end you’ll be locked in the dark room with Robertson and everyone else chanting: ya die, ya die, ya die!