Further Down the Rabbit Hole We Go with The Tension Experience
Four months in, and I’m still not sure whether I’m contending with an immersive, interactive haunt or a nefarious cult masquerading itself as such. And like The Tension Experience itself, this article will raise more questions than it answers. If you’ve got a few minutes, read on, because I may be abducted.
To backtrack, it all started on Monday, February 22nd, with an email from fellow haunt enthusiast and friend Andrew Kasch, directing me to a website for The Tension Experience. Nine days later (and after our “consultations” with individuals we still can’t identify in an abandoned warehouse just north of downtown Los Angeles), we were both being stalked digitally and physically by a shadowy organization calling itself either “The O.O.A. Institute” or “The Omega Council.”
And we still are.
Following that meeting, cryptic emails and threatening phone calls became unnervingly de rigueur, and a fanatical cult arose on the message boards of The Tension Experience website. Obsessively these “O.O.A. Initiates” compared notes, digitally interacted with a female O.O.A. member known simply as “Addison,” and combed through supplied O.O.A. clues in an effort to ascend to the next level… though no one seems to know exactly what that means, and as Addison and the O.O.A. itself have stated, “We aren’t what you think we are,” it’s really anyone’s guess.
For some “Initiates” lengthy questionnaires psychologically profiling them were received, and they filled them out enthusiastically, providing all manner of private information to an organization they know little about. For others our experience has been, from what I can gather, entirely our own.
Following my first meeting in February, I was contacted via email by one “Robert Jones,” a self-proclaimed private investigator who requested to speak with me in regards to The Church of Anoch, another name to which the O.O.A. Institute lays claim. Below is his email:
Sean,
This is going to sound crazy but a google alert led me to your Facebook profile and it would appear you might be able to help me… it’s hard to know where to begin but I’ll try and be as concise as possible but it’s been a long road…
First off I am an investigator, nothing sexy like tv or anything, just mainly tailing low level insurance claims but about 15 years ago I was put on a path I still can’t shake and this is where I’d like some help from you possibly…
I’ll start from the beginning. One of my insurance companies put me on the tail of a handful workman’s fraud cases coming out of a local pipe fitting plant… Normally I’d follow this trail and find a couple of guys pretending to have hurt backs and then drinking at the VFW but this one got real weird real quick.
First off, there were five old timers, you’d think that five claims at the same time at the same factory would trigger something and it did, but that wasn’t the most unusual part. Their families all said they had been distant and acting a bit off and after tailing one I was led to the other four… They’d all been commuting during the day to a strange strip mall “church” two towns away…… a full three damn hours away from their jobs. Well I am pretty decent at my job and it’s usually not hard so they were all busted and lost the claims.
Now normally that would be the end of the story EXCEPT ten years ago I got a call for a questionable life insurance claim…. Four guys, all died in a house fire… the beneficiary and the policies where both a church… this “Church of Anoch”…. I knew that sounded familiar then I realized. It’s the same church from the strip mall the pipe fitters where going to and … sure as shit, the dead guys where four of the five old timers. Well I naturally flip out as this clearly smells criminal and start asking my local PD buddies to look into it but there is one problem… by the time we do the “Church” is gone. No sign of anything, no leads, no trails anywhere… My friends at the company said they never pursued the claim again.
It has literally been on my back since that day just EATING at me… how the hell does an entire church disappear? I couldn’t let that go. Every once in a while I would get a trickle or two from people in town who had a story about the weird people that would go in and out of the place but the whole thing started to feel like a weird dream that never actually happened but still, I couldn’t shake that these guys deaths weren’t an accident and so… I search about twice a month or so and that’s when I got a hit on “Anoch” being mentioned in this …Tension Experience Alternate Gaming Reality thing (I had to do some research to figure out what the hell that was and it still sounds like a funny concept to a guy like me) but I have to follow this lead. Now, honestly, my guess is whoever is behind this probably heard tales of our town’s weird little church and decided to fold it into the narrative of their crazy game but if they haven’t I’m afraid they might be the same people and they maybe recruiting a certain “type”. Sorry, I don’t want to offend you with that BUT there was talk that the Church of Anoch was using puzzles and tricks in the local paper’s classified and help wanted section so this G.A.R. as crazy as it sounds, would be right up their alley for recruitment. One of my PD psych buddies thinks it might make sense they’d prey on vulnerable people looking for mysteries in the everyday world or something like that.
I know it’s crazy to fly out just to hunt down 15 year old not-quite-a-case, but I got a brother out here and I’d love fifteen minutes of your time if you have it.
Desperate to put his behind me,
Robert “Bob” Jones
Having agreed to meet with Jones, he selected an underground pedestrian tunnel in Studio City. As 101 traffic sped by overhead, we conversed in the tunnel. He alternately leveled threats at me (if I were a part of the O.O.A.) and warnings (what the O.O.A. may do to me were I not, and were to continue my contact with them), and then proceeded to videotape me as I read from a script he’d prepared, in which the script led me to claim that I had no allegiance to the organization. That done, we returned to our respective vehicles, though given my curiosity, after driving out of the lot I parked out of sight and returned to the corner on foot in order to run surveillance on him. Eventually making me, Jones angrily approached and warned me, “The O.O.A. is not what you think it is!” before speeding off.
Eight days later I received the following email from Jones:
Hey Sean, after the bullshit you pulled by trying to stake me out I should give you shit, but because I’m a stand-up guy I wanted to give you and everyone else a heads up. This is embarrassing as shit but some jackals mugged me last night… They got my phone, which had some files and numbers on there so I just wanted you to know in case, well I still don’t want to believe it but I am staring to wonder if it wasn’t a set up. I was three sheets to the wind… Some broad started chatted me up, we were getting along great and then she offered a free sample of her services. That’s when they got me. Nothing for free right? Problem is they looked professional. Ski masks but nice boots and watches… I don’t get it. Hopefully even the robbers out here are well to do but just in case it’s connected to what I’ve been looking into… I’m sorry. Keep your head up.
Bob
One day later, The Tension Experience posted the following video on their Facebook page, cleverly edited to show me announcing my allegiance to the Church.
So was I to be led to believe that the O.O.A. itself had mugged and or possibly abducted Jones? Emails to him went unanswered, and as questions continued to build, a portion of the “Initiates” (of which at that point the O.O.A. apparently considered me as within the ranks) were selected for an event on April 30. Address and time for the event were given mere hours before it, which itself turned out to revolve around being led blindfolded with a bag over one’s head into the sub-basement of a decrepit building in downtown Los Angeles and summarily interrogated (the interrogators of course utilized information they’d gleaned from the previously mentioned questionnaires as psychological ammunition).
Here’s a photo of me an O.O.A. member snapped on my phone (after urging me to unlock it and hand it to someone sight unseen), and here’s the article Kasch wrote about his own experience that day…
Having survived that event, the O.O.A. shortly thereafter made a grand flourish on their Facebook page, stating that the shadowy organization would grant one interview to be conducted via email. For this interview, they reached out to Dread Central editor Steve Barton, who assigned me the task, considering that it was I who was already being stalked. So, in an effort to not only craft an organic interview while hopefully avoiding historic O.O.A. double speak, I surmised I’d ask one question at a time, and opened with, “With who am I emailing?”
Their response was, “We go by many names Mr. Decker. Who I am is not important, a name is just a name. IF you need a title, you can refer to me as “The Overseer, the IVth of My Generation.”
Fair enough, if not cryptic. My next question was, “The stances of the O.O.A. Institute and Omega Council seem at odds with one another, as their (your) messages conflict. What is the delineation?”
Their response came on their Facebook page from O.O.A. member “Four” with the following image:
Labeled “Public Enemy,” I was banned from their Facebook page. Perhaps I was getting too close? The answer, or a facsimilie of one, came quickly thereafter, when I was contacted by a Facebook user going by the name “Sentinel Being” from an organization calling itself “BoS,” who not only was (or is) in direct opposition to the O.O.A., but promised to pull back the veil on the organization, were I to put my trust in him/her. It seemed as if I were being recruited, as was excommunicated O.O.A. Initiate Kimberly Noyes Stewart, who had also been cast out, due to what I presume were conversations that according to her the O.O.A. weren’t entirely comfortable in having.
Which leads us to his past Saturday, when at the bequest of Sentinel Being, I found myself sitting in a parking lot in Studio City, awaiting a phone call with further instructions. It arrived, with a male voice instructing me to enter the BLVD Hotel on Ventura Blvd. across the street, and once inside, ask for one “Thomas Barrow” at the reception desk.
What follows are the recollections of Kimberly, who was in the lobby upon my arrival.
Sean Decker arrives moments later. He receives a sealed white envelope from the receptionist. The letter inside instructs that we both need to hand over our cellphones to the receptionist in exchange for a room key. We do so and are given a key for Room #227.
Inside Room #227:
Standard hotel room. Two double-sized beds.
Bathroom door ajar. Wet towel on floor. Man’s toiletry bag open on counter. Various common bathroom items on counter. Flask noticeable inside the bag. Cologne noticeable on counter.
Open suitcase at the foot of the furthermost bed. Female clothing items noticeable. A revolver in a brown holster in plain view.
The suitcase had an airport tag on it: LAX/BWI (Baltimore-Washington DC Intl). Name, “Sawyer.”
Teddy bear on bed closet to door. Possible possession of the daughter.
Family photographs spread out over bedside table, one larger one framed. The photos portray a happy family of three; appears to be a mom dad and grown daughter. Brunette man approx. in 40s, light blonde haired woman approx. in 40’s, light blonde younger female approx. early 20’s. The attractive all American family.
Book on bedside table, opened to Chapter 18. It’s Ascent Into Hell by Andrew Greeley.
Some sort of occult pamphlet/handbook on larger table.
We were allowed several minutes to look around the room, then the phone rings. Man on line says, “Go outside now.” We exited onto the patio where a stern-faced, clean cut, 40-something man in a dark suit stands immediately to the right as we exit the sliding glass door.
The man doesn’t identify himself. He leads us to seating area, warns us that what we are doing is dangerous. He then calls for someone to come out and join us.
The man and woman from the bedside table photos cautiously approach. They introduce themselves as “Tom” and “Margaret.” (It seems apparent we had just been in their hotel room. Last name assumed to be “Sawyer.”) Tom’s demeanor is angry/frustrated/on edge/snappy towards his wife. The woman is distraught/shaken/passive to her husband’s ill mood.
They ask us, “Are you believers?”
In a frustrated tone, Decker expresses, “No, I don’t even know what the OOA is.”
The couple go on to tell us the story of their daughter, “Addison.” They show us various photos of Addison as a child to the present. Very pretty, fresh-faced, Caucasian girl. She was lured into something that is dangerous. They just want their girl back. They need help.
The mom goes on about the type of child Addison was; sweet, smart, grows up to be a young adult who uses social media and takes and posts pictures of kittens. The first warning sign that something was wrong, according to the mom, was when Addison stopped posting the kitten photos. Tom is impatient with Margaret’s yammering.
Addison had dreams of becoming an actress. She left home, headed to Hollywood as so many other young impressionable girls do. Tom had advised her instead to take up an offer provided by a friend of his, Harry Wozniak. Harry could get Addison a job at the local news station as a weather girl.
Once in Hollywood, Addison became affiliated with this organization. At first it was just lots of puzzle solving. Addison loved puzzles. She made many friends who were involved in the same activity. Every puzzle stepped them a little closer, hopefully to the next level of the organization. The true nature of the organization was not known. They happily socialized and did these innocuous seeming activities and trusted the organization, The Church of Anoch.
“The Helmet” – Margaret talked of a helmet that the Church of Anoch uses. She compared it to those telekinetic head gear games that kids play with, except this helmet did the opposite. It sounded like a brainwashing, or a mind-wiping tool. Something that made wearers no longer themselves in thought or action.
Tom says it was a boyfriend of Addison’s, “Bernie, Bennie, whatever his name was.” Margaret asks, “You mean the communist, anarchist?” Tom says, “No,” and shuts her down. Benny is the one who got Addison into this thing, The Church of Anoch. Tom and Margaret take exception to it being called a “church” because it is the furthest thing from holy. They do not like Benny one bit.
Bob Jones, the private investigator, was mentioned by Joseph. Jones was described as inept.
All the while, the suited man stands stoically and watches the conversation. He interjects when things get off track, such as if Decker or I attempt to ask a question. We are obviously here as listeners, not speakers. At one point Margaret accidentally lets the suited man’s name slip: it’s “Joseph.”
Joseph calls the meeting to an end, excusing Tom and Margaret. He then excuses Decker and me, instructing us to go down the stairwell directly behind us.
And we left. But the story doesn’t end here, as the following day Kasch witnessed some very strange things at a secretive O.O.A. event he attended (to which I wasn’t invited, because “Public Enemy”), and his story is forthcoming, in which we learn that Addison may have been brainwashed and her father murdered that Sunday.
Thus far, The Tension Experience has asked for nothing. No fees. No ticketing.
Are you scratching your collective heads? If you’ve read this far, I surmise you might be.
So am I.
Want to get involved? According to their website, they’re building towards something later this year. Perhaps we’ll all be assembled in another sub-basement and overcome by Sarin gas.
In the interim, I’m keeping my door locked.
Indoctrination begins this fall, 2016, in Los Angeles, California; and the OOA Institute would encourage those interested in taking the path to enlightenment to visit The Tension Experience website, “like” The Tension Experience on Facebook, and follow The Tension Experience on Twitter and on Instagram.
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