Can social media bring on the revolution? Maybe not, but it was vital for the collective action behind this theatrical event, conceived on a WhatsApp group for playwrights shortly after the release of the Epstein files. Members of the group were angry that the world was not talking nearly enough about the impact of Jeffrey Epstein’s actions on the girls and women he abused. They were also concerned that America’s war with Iran was serving as a distraction from the violence that lay festering in these files on the paedophile-financier. So when British playwright Rebecca Lenkiewicz sent out a prompt, scores of writers responded.

That was four months ago. This week, more than 80 of those writers have mobilised a creative response under the lead direction of Lucy Morrison along with Hannah Hauer-King, Madeleine Kludje and Tessa Walker. It takes place across 15 spaces, cupboards as well as open plan areas, on the upper storey of an office in London, currently occupied by Theatre Deli, a company that takes over empty locations.

You see the graffiti as you enter. It’s emblazoned on the walls and floors. Almost every patch is covered by writing: poems, essays, theatrical scenes. Anger burns off them all. You could call this project a guerrilla-art response to the files, with material ranging from live performances of short plays (with actors often doubling up), to installations. Co-producer Anoushka Warden describes it as “art exhibition meets theatre meets activism” and it feels just like that combination as you walk around.

There is no official way in or out and the interplay of sometimes simultaneously performed work is initially overwhelming. Perhaps that is the point. There is a lot this production wants to say and its material gathers a concentrated power, room by room, distilling not only anger but shock and disbelief through story after story about Epstein but also, more broadly, unaccounted male abuse. There are two main performances in the central space, the longest a composite play called All the Rage, made up from the lines written by all the writers involved in the show.

Despite having had only four days on site and in rehearsals, this female/non-binary collective has brought an extraordinary attention to detail. Among the most striking art works is a row of clothes, embroidered with statements (“she felt her mind separate from her body” written on the crotch of a pink leotard). Created by Jenifer Toksvig, the clothing contains some pages from the Epstein files tucked into pockets, as well as other accounts of abuse, and is truly horrifying.

Prince Andrew is name-checked repeatedly, each reference more bilious: Penelope Skinner’s two-hander describes a photograph of him on all-fours over a woman. In a dualogue by Ellen Bannerman, Sadie Pearson, Laurie Ogden and Bex Bowsher, there’s a remembered account by a woman who becomes trapped in Epstein’s mansion and speaks of vacating her body as she is abused (“I was told it was only dancing, only massage”).

The Witch Files by Naomi Westerman and Poppy Corbett is, as the title suggests, a room featuring pages from the files that contain the word “witch” – mostly in the context of a “witch-hunt” in the legal case, as a form of defence.

“I thought it would be interesting to see how many times ‘witch’ was mentioned and it was hundreds of times,” says Westerman. The room reclaims the power of the word through spells and potions (which the audience can make with materials provided).

There are more immersive elements here, such as a perfectly reconstructed teenage bedroom by Julie Tsang and Kerry Fitzgerald, along with Georgia Fitch and Joy Lynch. It captures the cusp of childhood and adulthood for a girl/woman and is as intricate as any Punchdrunk setup (maybe Viola’s Room?), creating a composite version of a girl in Epstein’s orbit, with drawers that contain letters, a diary and a pregnancy test.

It seems, in its cumulative power, as if we are back in the era of #MeToo, at its advent, in fact. Skinner’s piece talks about a well-known director who becomes obsessed with female actors and another who asks female performers for hugs, getting angry if they say “No”. There are accounts of rape, sexual assault – its normalisation or denial. One playwright overtly makes a comparison between this moment and the year when Harvey Weinstein’s arrest blew the door off institutional complicity with abuse and misogyny. AJ Baker’s audio piece, Avalanche, voiced by Lilly Driscoll, speaks of an older male family friend who keeps his hand on the lap of a 15-year-old girl for too long. “This is not new. It’s centuries old,” we hear.

It makes you think, “So what’s changed?” and there is something deeply depressing in its implicit answer that there has been too little transformation since that watershed.

But there is hope in the raised voices, the courage in testimonies of lived trauma, and the collective speaking up. “Craft your stories,” is a refrain in the collective play and this could serve as a call to arms.

At Theatre Deli, London, until 13 June