WHEN I was a child, whenever I made any comment about death, my mother would immediately quash such talk and pooh-pooh my thoughts.

Death has long been a taboo subject in Chinese culture. It’s something people just don’t talk about. So the opening of a pavilion in Shanghai aimed at lifting the lid on the unmentionable is raising eyebrows.

Visitors to the Wake and Death Experience Pavilion in Huangpu District are encouraged to discuss life and death, and they are even able to “experience death” via multimedia devices.

The site claims to be the first of its kind in China. Its mission is to open up dialogue so that people can better cope with death in their families and among their friends. And even with the eventuality of their own death.

The pavilion, which opened in April, has already received more than 2,000 visitors, mostly aged 20 to 40.

“We consider that way people think of death affects the way they live their lives,” said Huang Weiping, one of three pavilion co-founders.

I was curious about how the pavilion seeks to make participants reflect on life and death and accepted the opportunity to “experience death” with eight strangers recently.

The immersive experience lasts some 2.5 hours and costs 444 yuan (US$66). There are six to 12 participants per session.

The sessions are set up as a game, of sorts. We were given an iTouch to read questions and vote during what were 12 rounds. We became a small, simple society asked to make tough decisions on life and death, and explain our reasoning in each instance to others in the hall.

For example, we were asked what we would do if a family member had cancer. As the treatment becomes increasingly painful and less therapeutic, we are asked if we would stop the treatment at the patient’s request or insist that it continue out of hopes that death might be delayed or even avoided

In each of the rounds, a participant is “eliminated” and is sent to a mock crematory. The decision is made by group voting or by random computer choice.

Unfortunately, I was the first to go.

The host, via broadcast, asked me to walk to “the other side” and lie in a “crematory” fitted out with an electronic fire and increasing temperature. After climbing out of a “white passage,” which symbolized the womb, I was “reborn.”

The passage led to a white room, where a volunteer was waiting for me. In the room, I could talk about my feelings with the volunteer and other participants.

As I lay and waited to be transferred into the fake crematory, I actually felt relaxed. Maybe that was because I was lying down and relieved of the pressure of having to make life-or-death decisions on a hypothetical person’s life. It was even a bit surreal hearing the vague voices of the “living” still playing the game in the next room.

“I was kind of hoping they would vote me out so that the women present could advance to the next round,” said 25-year-old software engineer Fan Wei when the vote came down to him or one of two female participants. “When I heard I was eliminated, I felt a bit of relief.”

Some participants shared personal stories about family deaths and disease. The sessions seemed to be a cross between a game of survivors and group therapy.

“Self-expression and self-exploration in the game made me feel good,” said Nan Ye, a first-year college student. “It’s a little bit like a massage. You don’t have much opportunity to talk about this topic in daily life.”

According to the staffers, it’s not unusual to see people crying in the game session. There was even a man insisted to “die” with his wife after his wife was eliminated.

Huang, 37, described how he came to the idea of a death experience pavilion.

He said he was once a successful businessman, who became troubled by the sudden accumulation of wealth.

“During that period, I didn’t know how to get along with myself, spent money on extravagant meals and drinks, and used prostitutes and drugs,” he said. “It’s like everything I did could not bring value to others. It was a very lonely feeling.”

In 2008, he went to Wenchuan in Sichuan Province as a consulting psychologist to help victims of the massive earthquake there. His experience dealing with death and suffering convinced him to found a nongovernmental organization dedicated to hospice care for the dying when he returned to Shanghai.

In an event of the hospice care organization, he met Ding Rui, who was also interested in exploring the meaning of life and death. In 2012, the pair decided to set up the death experience pavilion, with a total investment of 4 million yuan raised from personal savings and crowd-funding.

First, they tried traditional approaches, like lectures about death and inviting visitors to lie in coffins. They found that didn’t work well.

“One third of people bypassed the coffin to avoid bad fortune,” he said. “One third took another look out of curiosity, and the rest were willing to give it a try or even take selfies.”

In 2015, a third co-founder, 20-year-old He Yihe, joined the team and designed details of the immersive game. The aim was to tie participants into a temporary social circle, as might occur during a board game. However, unlike a board came where each participant has a specified role to fulfill, participants in the pavilion game draw on their daily life and experiences.

Of the eight other participants on the day I was there, only one showed a strong reaction to the “death” section.

“When I was about to enter the door after I got eliminated, I felt scared,” said Grace Ge, a woman in her 30s. “The staffers agreed to leave the door open so that I could have some light from the hallway.”

Ge later concluded that her fear probably rose from the fact that her husband and parents are suffering health issues that worry her. In addition, she and her husband have started their own business, and she finds they have less and less time to talk to one another.

“When lying in the cremator, I thought about my husband, my son and my parents,” she said.

“Their faces were flashing in my mind. But in everyday life, it’s my work that occupies my mind. But when I went home, work is still the priority and I still have arguments with my husband over very realistic issues. The problems of real life can be solved only in real life.”

Almost all participants that day said there were still some bugs in the game’s settings, which should be addressed.

Though the mission of the pavilion is serious, some people still think of it as a form of entertainment, however macabre.

On dianping.com, a review service provider, the pavilion was categorized as “cultural leisure.”

“People learn about our pavilion from different channels and have different expectation,” according to pavilion staffer Song Xiumei.

“A young man once told us he felt cheated because his girlfriend promised he could experience 108 different ways to die here.”

Huang said he has seen many people come to the pavilion seeking entertainment but leave with a more thought-provoking experience.

Zhang Kun, associate professor on social psychology from East China University of Political Science and Law, said it’s hard to assess the effectiveness of the pavilion.

It might help those with confusion in their minds about life and death, or those who have suffered trauma related to death. However, each person’s susceptibility and emotional makeup varies, so the results will also vary.

“Compared with conventional activities, like writing epitaphs, this is more innovative and authentic, but the purpose is the same­ ­­— to help people unburden themselves, respect life and look optimistically on the future,” she said.

“It’s about how to live better for the moment and not fear death at some uncertain time in the future.”

Gu Xiaoming, a sociologist from Fudan University, said Chinese people are reluctant to talk about death because traditional culture focuses on the continuation of life rather than the end of it. “One of the most important elements of traditional culture is filial piety, and the biggest filial piety is to carry on the family line,” Gu said. “By comparison, Western people, particularly churchgoers, focus on life after death, which inevitably raises the topic of life and death.”

Gu said the topic has become more public in recent years, owing to growing life expectancy and scientific breakthroughs like embryo freezing. On the other hand, the complexity of modern life has also increased chances of sudden deaths from things like traffic accidents.

“It’s good if people have more opportunities to explore the meaning of death spiritually,” Gu said. “But it also requires government action in related fields, such as hospice care and organ donation.”

Pavilion co-founder Huang admitted that a one-time experience at his facility isn’t likely to dissipate anyone’s fear of death.

“When people actually face death, it’s inevitable that they will feel scared and anxious,” Huang said. “But I hope this experience can provide a seed that grows and calms our fears.”

Pavilion fees are used to cover operating costs. Huang said some investors are attracted to the idea, and he hopes additional financing will help the site undertake future upgrades.