Alright, so picture this. It’s a dreary Tuesday morning in London—you know the type, grey skies, drizzling, and your motivation to hit the gym feels like it’s been washed right down the Thames. I was scrolling through my phone, wrapped in a blanket, when an ad for Supernatural on Oculus popped up. Honestly? I almost swiped past. Another fitness app? Really? But something about the way that guy was moving—totally lost in it, smiling like a kid—made me pause.
So I dusted off my Oculus Quest 2 (it had been a glorified Netflix viewer for months, oops) and gave it a shot. And blimey, was I in for a shock.
Let’s talk about immersion. Because that’s the magic word here, isn’t it? It’s not just about putting on a headset and swinging your arms around. It’s about forgetting you’re in your slightly-too-cluttered living room in Hackney, with that one floorboard that always creaks. One minute I’m there, the next I’m standing on a cliff edge in Iceland at sunrise. I could see the mist hanging in the valley below, hear the faint cry of a bird in the distance—and the music, oh the music! It wasn’t just background noise. It pulsed. It drove me. A powerful track would drop, and I’d reach for those glowing targets like my life depended on it, my heart hammering in time with the bass.
It’s the little things that trick your brain. The way your controller vibrates subtly when you hit a target perfectly. The whoosh of air you swear you feel as a orb streaks past your head. I remember this one session in the “Alpine Meadow” environment—I actually caught myself trying to take a deep breath of “mountain air.” How mad is that? My brain was 100% sold.
This isn’t like following a fitness instructor on a screen. There’s no mirror, no one to compare yourself to. It’s just you, in these impossible, beautiful places. I’ve boxed through ancient ruins, flowed through a neon-drenched synthwave cityscape, and stretched in a tranquil Japanese garden. Each world has its own vibe, its own soundtrack. You’re not just working out; you’re on a tiny, personal adventure.
And can we talk about the coaches? They’re… not what I expected. No shouting drill sergeants. Leanne, one of the regulars, feels like that incredibly positive friend who just wants you to feel good. She’ll say things like, “That was brilliant! Now take just a moment to appreciate what your body just did.” After a tough sequence, hearing that? It actually means something. It feels personal, even though you know it’s recorded. They’ve got this way of making it about more than calories burned—it’s about showing up for yourself.
Now, is it perfect? Course not. I nearly whacked my ceiling lamp doing an overhead swing (RIP, Ikea Fado). And sometimes, if you’re really sweaty, the headset can feel a bit slippy. You need a clear space—my yoga mat is an absolute must to keep me centred. But those are nitpicks. The real proof? I found myself looking forward to it. Me! The person who used to invent elaborate excuses to avoid the treadmill.
It’s not for everyone. If you crave heavy weights and grunting, this might feel too… graceful. But if the idea of escaping your four walls and moving your body in a way that feels like play—no, like a proper experience—then this is something special. It redefines what a workout can be. It’s not exercise with VR tacked on. It’s an immersive world where getting fit is the fantastic byproduct.
So yeah, that’s my two pence. From a sceptic wrapped in a blanket to someone who now clears floor space religiously. Supernatural on the Oculus? It’s less like a fitness app and more like a passport. A really, really sweaty passport to places your dumbbells could never take you.
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