Spy games were followed by a treasure hunt. The traffic cone is borrowed; the beer cans were a gift. Photograph: Alex Simmons
The contact was waiting on a bench in Covent Garden, surrounded by tourists. I joined a family at a nearby café table, scanning for suspicious characters while explaining that I needed to be inconspicuous for the next five minutes. They grinned. On the dot of 4.15pm, I sprinted over to the woman in the mac. "Isn't that an epic church?" I hissed, and she slid a small manila envelope into my hand. Should I sidle away? No, I was already exposed, so I simply pelted towards the next rendezvous.
I've spent the weekend playing "pervasive games". When you explain it in the pub, your friends will look deeply unconvinced or froth with bile about devised theatre and geekery.
Yet such games have been spreading for a while. And there are all kinds of theories behind them, be they flashmobs, freerunning or games of kick-the-can that encompass a city.
Is it a revolution in the way that city dwellers relate? Do they herald the death of the hero in theatrical narrative? Are they some kind of new art form? (The organisers included members of the outstanding Punchdrunk theatre group, who did Faust in Wapping.) Maybe people are just excited about having camera phones?
You're welcome to persuade me that we were smug geeks. Or pretentious, middle-class Londoners. But, at its most basic level, being chased is fun. Properly, heart-poundingly exciting.
So I want to know about other people's experiences of such games. What's your theory about them?
