“Buy, buy, buy,” a bargoer shouted just after 6:30 on a recent Wednesday evening. He grabbed two shot glasses, vodka sluicing over his hands.
The 411, a pub in London, usually sells about £3,000 worth of drinks (about $3,800) on a weeknight. But on another recent Wednesday, it brought in £18,300 — more than $23,000 — said Antonio del Monte, the general manager.
The young and the thirsty had come for “Wall Street Wednesdays,” where drink prices fluctuate with demand like a stock market. Attendees queue three-deep at the bar for a “market crash,” when an air horn pierces through conversations and prices plummet.
“You need to keep your eyes on it,” said Emily Bjurqvist, a 23-year-old graduate student, as she nodded to TV screens showing price changes. “It’s more active than just a pub. And the prices might be better than a pub nowadays.”
The 411’s stock market nights are part of a rise in what some call “competitive socializing,” where games take center stage at bars across the British capital. Hospitality experts say the industry took off about five years ago, but it took a hit during punishing coronavirus lockdowns. As lockdowns eased and groups of work friends sought out new ways to socialize, the sector exploded.
These activities build on Britain’s strong tradition of pub games: weekly pub quizzes and, in centuries past, more old-fashioned competitions like Skittles and shove ha’penny. Most pubs today have little more than a dart board and a pool table.
But in the past few years, dedicated game bars have opened across London. There are board game bars and shuffleboard bars. There are darts bars and arcade bars and multiple mini-golf bar chains. There are ax-throwing bars and virtual clay target shooting bars.
“This is the formula,” said Oyama Valashiya, a 29-year-old finance recruiter. He leaned against a column in the 411, pausing to vape. “Mix activity with alcohol, and the people will come.”
London has become a launchpad for new activity bars, according to hospitality experts on both sides of the Atlantic. Social-gaming companies that started in Britain — mini-golf, darts and even cricket — are expanding into the United States.
“London has become a little bit of a petri dish for competitive socializing,” said James Cook, the Americas director of retail research at the British real estate firm JLL.
The historical precedent of pub games and consumers’ shrinking disposable income make London an ideal testing ground for these concepts, said Kevin Williams, a British hospitality consultant. People pay only for something truly fun.
“If it can work here, it can work anywhere,” he said.
Most of the activity bars are expensive: Sixes, an augmented-reality cricket bar, charges about $80 for four people to spend 45 minutes in a batting cage during peak hours. (That’s relatively standard across sports-themed activities.) The drinks are not included.
“It’s fun to do something while you drink,” said Samuel Gilley, 32, after a turn in the batting cages. “Otherwise,” he said, laughing, “you’ve got to sit and talk to each other.”
Wall Street Wednesdays and similar stock-market concepts intentionally have a lower barrier to entry. The bargain itself is the game: Attendees jockey for the best price, trying to beat out a friend.
Ms. Bjurqvist, the graduate student, debated the psychology with her childhood friend, Olivia Kvan, who is also a 23-year-old graduate student from Norway.
They had gotten a Moscow Mule for £8.20, or just over $10. But that wasn’t rock bottom: It dropped to £7 during a crash. Ms. Bjurqvist eventually saw the price climb to £11 ($14).
“People like to think that they’ll save more money than they actually do,” she said. “Because of the last price you saw, it might make it seem cheaper.”
The stock market concept has cropped up in venues across Britain and the world, including in Amsterdam, Barcelona, Cape Town and Beirut. Bars like the 411 contract with the Drink Exchange, which owns the software displayed on the bars’ TVs. The company has yet to expand to the United States.
Two business school friends from Britain started the company in the mid-1990s. Chris Dunkley, a founder, said they are on track to operate in 20 countries by 2025: “Weirdly, after 30 years, the timing is now right.”
It’s a draw for young people who may be fighting to reclaim time lost to the pandemic — and it makes for a compelling social media post of one’s night out. For bars, he said, it’s good business: Even though the drinks are cheaper, people tend to buy more of them — and stick around for longer.
“People like gimmicks nowadays,” said Harry Clark, a 27-year-old project manager who had come with Mr. Valashiya, the recruiter.
The pair would be more than happy to sit in a pub and chat, Mr. Clark said, but with a shtick comes a crowd that can liven up an otherwise sleepy weeknight.
The air horn sounded. They winced, rolling their eyes at the masses flooding the bar.
Mr. Valashiya scanned the crowd. “It’s cheap, but it doesn’t look run-down,” he mused.
“But it’s not that cheap,” Mr. Clark protested.
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