Year: 2021

  • Accessibility in Online Larp

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    Accessibility in Online Larp

    With the pandemic preventing us from larping in the flesh, more and more designers have been running games online. These experiences are not only highly immersive and engaging, but also have the tremendous potential to make games accessible for a wider variety of players who may be excluded from mainstream, face-to-face larps.

    For example, the larp TANKERS by Sarah Cook is designed to be played while blindfolded and lying down – much easier for someone with chronic fatigue or migraines to engage with than an in-person game. Similarly, Plug In by Stephen Duxbury – as reimagined by Wrenna Robson and Nat Saunders – is played in real time completely via text, making it ideal for those of us who struggle with speech.

    As the Bobbit Worm team, we’ve designed and run three online larps so far (The Nautical Trench, T67 Survival Night, and UPLOAD) and are working on a fourth. When we started running immersive games and larps online, it became clear that new and exciting accessibility challenges were emerging, despite the benefits of this medium. Although you won’t have to deal with a venue made entirely out of stairs, you may be adding a typing element that’s a nightmare for dyslexic participants.

    In this article, we want to outline some of the methods we have included in our games to help make them more accessible.

    Hazel and Erin sharing post-game icecreams (photo, Hazel Dixon)
    Hazel and Erin sharing post-game icecreams (photo, Hazel Dixon)

    Pre-Game

    When running a game online, it’s still important to treat the physical and emotional wellbeing of your players with care. You should take responsibility for this the same way as you would for a game in a physical space – ask players about their disabilities, triggers, and what accommodations would help them to access your game, and make sure to keep that information somewhere secure but easily accessed. We find this blog post on Access: Larp on how to ask and how to tell to be quite useful.

    However, using online platforms adds a layer of complexity. Make sure to clearly inform your players of how to use the technology you’ve chosen. It’s a great idea to include optional software testing beforehand, for anyone who is unsure or worried about using the tech involved in the game. Whilst playing the game, always have a way for players to contact you on a different platform – such as by email or over the phone – so that if they have technical issues they can still contact you to let you know.

    If the game involves documents or files, these should be accessible in multiple formats should a player require them. For example, make sure to prepare transcripts of audio/video files, provide image descriptions, and remember that screenshots and some ways of formatting text files aren’t accessible to everyone.

    Text-based considerations

    When you’re including text-based elements in your game – whether that’s doing the game entirely via text or allowing players to message each other during your game – bear in mind that players may have problems processing text quickly, typing quickly or typing accurately.

    We’ve found that a lot of people are anxious about taking part in games with typing elements, because they perceive themselves as having bad typing, or have disabilities such as chronic hand pain that make it difficult for them to type quickly. We mention in our code of conduct that no one should comment on or shame other players for incorrect grammar/spelling or slow response times.

    In addition, if you are letting players upload videos or gifs, remind them to avoid uploading images that flash more than once per second, as these can trigger migraines or epileptic seizures.

    Video-based considerations

    Video calls, while a great substitute for being in a physical space together, can present their own specific accessibility challenges. For example, deaf people and autistic folks with auditory processing issues may find it difficult to participate if they can’t lip read or see the facial expressions of others; so making sure players have their video switched on and the camera facing them can help them to access video communications.

    It’s important to keep in mind a few simple ways to keep video calls a welcoming space for everyone: background noise and feedback can be reduced by wearing headphones or using push to talk; hand gestures and other forms of body language can be made more visible with careful camera framing; players can avoid talking over each other by staying conscious of whether anyone is trying to speak. All of these can mitigate common issues if you bear them in mind, although it’s likely that you won’t be able to keep on top of them all the time. In general, aim for pairing a visual or auditory cue with something else. The word cut can be used in conjunction with crossing your arms across your chest, for example. Leave the option open for players to message each other if they need to communicate and calibrate or to post messages in an open channel.

    In a lot of physically co-located games, we end up with natural breaks in action that allow us to collect ourselves and be alone to a certain extent. When it comes to online games, there is more of a feeling of being “always on” that can be overwhelming for some. You can help with this by managing the spaces in your platform. We try to ensure that we have enough separate rooms so people can split off into groups of 2–4 if they need to. As well as this, you can utilise an off game channel to allow players to take a break in a quieter space, and by making sure to stress that anyone is free to leave the space at any time for any reason.

    Another consideration is that some video conferencing software, such as Google Meet, will allow you to have automatic live captioning which you may find helpful for people with auditory processing problems. Zoom has now added closed captioning which you can integrate with third-party captioning software and you can find out more about this process on the Zoom Help Centre.

    Conclusion

    Different games will have different requirements, and it’s important to both consider what you’re trying to do with your game and to work with the players to provide them with the best experience you can. We still have a lot of work to do and a lot of unanswered questions, such as how to make our games easier to play on an unstable internet connection and how to replace some of the physical cues that aren’t easy to communicate over video. Even so, we want to dare you to dream big on accessibility. Immersive experiences are pretty damn cool, and we want as many people as possible to have the opportunity to experience that.


    Ludography

    Bobbit Worm Games, T67:// Survival Night (2020)
    Bobbit Worm Games, The Nautical Trench (2020)
    Bobbit Worm Games, UPLOAD (2020)
    Cook, Sarah, Tankers (2020)
    Duxbury, Stephen, reimagined by Wrenna Robson and Nat Saunders, Plug In (2020)

    Credits

    Article republished from blog post here:
    https://bobbitwormgames.wixsite.com/bobbitwormgames/post/accessibility-in-online-games
    Originally edited by Rowan Pierce. You can contact them at @NotWrittenHere on Twitter or at rpiercefreelancing@gmail.com


    Cover photo: Online activity, by Soumil Kumar on Pexels

    Editing on NordicLarp.org by: Elina Gouliou and Mo Holkar

  • Magic is Real: How Role-playing Can Transform Our Identities, Our Communities, and Our Lives

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    Magic is Real: How Role-playing Can Transform Our Identities, Our Communities, and Our Lives

    What is magic? From our perspective, at its core, magic is a form of manifestation: the ability to alter the self and the world around us through the power of intentional thought, force of will, and creative action.((Mat Auryn, Psychic Witch: A Metaphysical Guide to Meditation, Magick & Manifestation (Woodbury, MN: Llewellyn Publications, 2020).)) At the root of this magic is the power of transformation — and the collective agreement within the community to support it.((Bowman, Sarah Lynne, and Kjell Hedgard Hugaas. “Transformative Role-play: Design, Implementation, and Integration.” Nordiclarp.org, December 10, 2019.)) Magic also involves deeply immersive ritual states in which people take on aspects of other identities in order to draw status, strength, power, or insight through embodiment.((Victor Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure (Piscataway, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 1969); Émile Durkheim, The Elementary Forms of Religious Life, trans. J. W. Swain (George Allen & Unwin LTD, 1964).))

    These rituals often require the collective efforts of the community to uphold the potency of a magic circle that contains the experience, with each person adhering to this temporary liminal state and supporting one another in co-created immersion.((Mike Pohjola, “Autonomous Identities: Immersion as a Tool for Exploring, Empowering, and Emancipating Identities,” in Beyond Role and Play, ed. Markus Montola and Jaakko Stenros (Ropecon ry, 2004), 81-96; J. Tuomas Harviainen, “Information, Immersion, Identity: The Interplay of Multiple Selves During Live-Action Role-Play,” Journal of Interactive Drama: A Multi-Discipline Peer-Reviewed Journal of Scenario-Based Theatre-Style Interactive Drama 1, no. 2 (October 2006): 9-52.)) Rituals are playful spaces in which participants cross a threshold from the social reality of daily life. They enter into an agreed-upon reality with different rules for a bounded amount of time, thereby creating a new social contract. While role-players may not perceive their actions within play as a form of ritual magic, experiences within this magic circle often do impact them in powerful ways that can have lasting effects.

    Simply put: when we imagine ourselves becoming someone else, we tap into our latent potential as human beings and as a community. When the group agrees to “pretend to believe” in these transformations, we create space in our consciousness for an expanded sense of our own identities.((Pohjola, “Autonomous Identities.”)) Through the power of imagination, we are able to conceptualize ourselves as capable in areas in which previously we may have felt limited. Some examples include expansion in one’s abilities, such as leadership and physical prowess; one’s personality qualities, such as extraversion and openness to experiences; one’s interpersonal capacities, such as empathy, intimacy, and connection; and one’s experiences of emotional release, such as catharsis, anger, desire, and grief. We can also explore our shadow sides — those unconscious and scary parts of ourselves and of our collective humanity that arise when we play characters that reveal undesirable character traits and behaviors.((Whitney “Strix” Beltrán, “Shadow Work: A Jungian Perspective on the Underside of Live Action Role-Play in the United States,” in Wyrd Con Companion Book 2013, ed. Sarah Lynne Bowman and Aaron Vanek (Los Angeles, CA: Wyrd Con, 2013), 94-101.)) As a result, many of us have experienced powerful impacts from role-playing and may even continue to hunt for these peak experiences, returning to larp after larp in the hope of immersing in moments of exquisite intensity once more.((Elin Nilsen, “High on Hell,” in States of Play: Nordic Larp Around the World, ed. by Juhana Pettersson (Helsinki, Finland: Pohjoismaisen roolipelaamisen seura, 2012), 10-11.))

    But what happens when the magic circle fades, we return to daily life, and are faced with the sometimes brutal facts of the social and physical reality within which we usually exist? What role can bleed play in our ability to create “magic” outside of larp contexts: that uncanny phenomenon in which emotions, behaviors, physical states, and relationship dynamics sometimes spillover from character to player?((Beltrán, “Shadow Work”; Bowman, 2015; Diana J. Leonard and Tessa Thurman, “Bleed-out on the Brain: The Neuroscience of Character-to-Player,” International Journal of Role-Playing 9 (2018): 9-15; Kjell Hedgard Hugaas, “Investigating Types of Bleed in Larp: Emotional, Procedural, and Memetic,” Nordiclarp.org, January 25, 2019; Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Solmukohta 2020 Keynote: Sarah Lynne Bowman – Integrating Larp Experiences,” Nordiclarp.org, April 4, 2020.)) Our belief is that the “magic” discovered through role-playing can persist long after an event concludes when supported by integration practices — not as a form of delusion, but as a valid facet of the role-player’s social and psychological life.((Carl Gustav Jung, The Portable Jung, ed. Joseph Campbell, trans. by R.C.F. Hull. (New York: Penguin Random House, 1976); Stéphane Daniau, “The Transformative Potential of Role-playing Games: From Play Skills to Human Skills,” Simulation & Gaming 47, no. 4 (2016): 423–444; Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Active Imagination, Individuation, and Role-playing Narratives,” Tríade: Revista de Comunicação, Cultura e Midia 5, no. 9 (2017): 158-173; Sarah Lynne Bowman and Kjell Hedgard Hugaas, “Transformative Role-play: Design, Implementation, and Integration,” Nordiclarp.org, December 10, 2019; Jonaya Kemper, “The Battle of Primrose Park: Playing for Emancipatory Bleed in Fortune & Felicity,” Nordiclarp.org, June 21, 2017; 2020).))

    With this position in mind, this article will include an in-depth discussion of the “magical” potential of role-playing. We will describe some of the barriers to transformation that can arise from alibi, cognitive dissonance, role-distancing, and the pressures of conformity. We will then examine role-playing from two quite different lenses:

    a) Conceptualizations of ritual, aspecting, and manifestation in occult and metaphysical traditions; and

    b Research in the social sciences about the power of thought and narrative upon self-concept, behavior, performance, and well-being.

    This preliminary exploration of concepts that might help explain the potential of role-playing as a form of postmodern “magic” is by no means exhaustive or detailed. Rather, we present vignettes of thought from various areas of spiritual practice and social science. We explore how role-playing, perspective taking, narrative, ritual, and the conscious use of specific imaginative practices can directly impact people’s performance at tasks, their self-concepts, and their perceived agency. Then, we examine different models of bleed theory, investigating ways that we can raise awareness around bleed effects and consciously steer toward or away from them as needed.((Markus Montola, Jaakko Stenros, and Eleanor Saitta, “The Art of Steering: Bringing the Player and the Character Back Together,” Nordiclarp.org, March 29, 2015.))

    If we intentionally emphasize responsibility, safety, and growth in our communities, we can imagine the role-playing space as a transformational container within which we can explore our edges and mold our self-concepts through play. We can use alibi as a tool to permit greater experimentation, while decreasing its strength when we wish to transfer skills, insights, and personality traits outside of the magic circle. Finally, through conscious and deliberate integration practices, we can distill these insights and more permanently infuse our lives with this magic, manifesting new conceptions of self, of community, of relationships, and of our life potential.

    Blonde person in a chair outside in the snow with fire erupting from their hand
    Photo by Enrique Meseguer, darksouls1 on Pixabay.

    The Limitations of the Magic Circle

    Many role-players claim to have experienced powerful impacts from play within the magic circle, whether they describe these moments in mystical terms or not. Yet, some scholars remain skeptical about the generalizability of such claims and may even demean such stories, relegating them to the rather dismissive and even derisive category of “anecdotal evidence.” In other words, if such accounts cannot be measured and quantified in ways that are predictable and generalizable to meet social, psychological, and neurological scientific standards, then they lose tangible credibility in the world of the “real.” Similarly, some role-playing communities still maintain strong boundaries between in- and off-game, distrusting or even scorning players who experience bleed or who express the need to process their experiences after an event.This dismissiveness can lead players to question whether or not their experiences had lasting meaning and may lead to shame and alienation.

    In spite of such critiques, we suspect that the majority of participants who continue to role-play and scholars who devote their lives to understanding the mechanics and dynamics of playful spaces do so because, at some point in their lives, role-playing was transformative for them. Yet, when players attempt to make sense of their experiences outside the frame of game even within playful communities, they may have difficulty perceiving or admitting that these powerful play moments were “transformational.”((Matthew M. LeClaire, “Live Action Role-Playing: Transcending the Magic Circle through Play in Dagorhir.” International Journal of Role-Playing 10 (2020): 56-69. )) Why do some players reject the notion of play as a vehicle for transformation?

    In the following section, we posit that this tendency to interrogate and ultimately diminish the importance of role-playing as a vehicle of personal transformation is a defense mechanism intended to protect the self from identity confusion and social shame. In order to make sense of the liminal ritual space of play — which is often erratic, contradictory, and ephemeral — role-players undergo the following processes, whether consciously or unconsciously. Players:

    1. Establish alibi to engage in playful activities that remain bounded by the magic circle,
    2. Resolve cognitive dissonance through off-game role-distancing, and
    3. Conform to mainstream social norms after role-play events conclude.

    While such processes may enhance a player’s sense of safety, they can also disrupt a participant’s ability to integrate key experiences and revelations emerging from play into daily life.((Simo Järvelä, “How Real Is Larp?,” in Larp Design: Creating Role-play Experiences, ed. Johanna Koljonen, Jaakko Stenros, Anne Serup Grove, Aina D. Skjønsfjell and Elin Nilsen (Copenhagen, Denmark: Landsforeningen Bifrost, 2019).))

    Alibi

    According to Erving Goffman, all social interactions take place on a specific social stage — or frame — that requires the enactment of predictable roles.((Erving Goffman, The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life (Anchor Books, 1959); Erving Goffman, Frame Analysis: An Essay on the Organization of Experience. Boston, MA: Northeastern University Press, 1986.)) From this perspective, identity becomes a much more fluid concept than many of us might recognize. Since we must perform appropriately on different social stages, our self-presentation must remain adaptable to the constraints and expectations required by each frame. In Western productivity-focused societies, we have certain predefined roles that we are expected to perform, such as teacher, sibling, parent, colleague, etc. Playing roles and creating fictional realities without a socially acceptable purpose is often frowned upon and even demonized by mainstream groups attempting to uphold these norms.((Lizzie Stark, Leaving Mundania (Chicago Review Press, 2012); Joseph P. Laycock, Dangerous Games: What the Moral Panic over Role-Playing Games Says about Play, Religion, and Imagined Worlds. (University of California Press, 2015).))

    As Sebastian Deterding has described at length,((Sebastian Deterding, “Alibis for Adult Play: A Goffmanian Account of Escaping Embarrassment in Adult Play,” Games and Culture 13, no. 3 (2017): 260–279.)) in order to play, we need to feel safe from the embarrassment of performing social roles inadequately or transgressing norms of acceptable behavior.((Cf. Cindy Poremba, “Critical Potential on the Brink of the Magic Circle,” in DiGRA ’07 – Proceedings of the 2007 DiGRA International Conference: Situated Play Volume 4 (Tokyo: The University of Tokyo, 2007); Jaakko Stenros and Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Transgressive Role-play,” in Role-Playing Game Studies: Transmedia Foundations, ed. Sebastian Deterding and José P. Zagal (New York: Routledge, 2018), 411-424.)) Such moments of embarrassment threaten the stability of our sense of belonging and safety; our behaviors become unpredictable and others may feel uncertain how to react. When we role-play, our communities create in-game spaces that act as temporary social frames within which such behavior is no longer transgressive. In other words, we create an alibi for adult play, which allows us to present identities and behaviors that would otherwise be inconsistent with the expectations of our normative social roles.((Deterding, “Alibis”; Pohola, “Autonomous.”))

    Game systems, lore, mechanics, design documents, character sheets, social contracts of play, social media groups, event sites, workshops, and debriefs all serve the purpose of creating alibi. They facilitate the construction of what many game scholars call the magic circle: a frame within which playfulness can transpire.((Johan Huizinga, Homo Ludens: A Study of the Play-Element in Culture (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 1958); Katie Salen and Eric Zimmerman, Rules of Play: Game Design Fundamentals (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2004); Markus Montola, On the Edge of the Magic Circle: Understanding Role-Playing and Pervasive Games (PhD diss, University of Tampere, 2012); Jaakko Stenros, “In Defence of a Magic Circle: The Social, Mental and Cultural Boundaries of Play,” in DiGRA Nordic 2012 Conference: Local and Global – Games in Culture and Society, Tampere Finland, June 6-8, 2012, ed. Raine Koskimaa, Frans Mäyrä and Jaakko Suominen.)) For our purposes, both the off-game social contract and the in-game magic circle afforded by it create a holding container for spontaneous co-creative play and shifts in identity presentation that can feel intensely liberating.((Wilfred P. Bion, Experiences in Groups (Tavistock, England: Tavistock Publications, 1959); Donald W. Winnicott, “Theory”; Kemper, “Battle.”)) However, these framing devices can also lead to cognitive dissonance, especially in communities where discussion of bleed and the transformative impacts of play are discouraged. In other words, playing with one’s self-presentation can only transpire within frames that have been established by and protected by alibi.

    Cognitive Dissonance, Role-Distancing, and Conformity

    Due to these expectations of proper performativity, the mind is often in a state of vigilance in social interactions as it attempts to regulate and adapt to the demands of the group. When we enter the magic circle of play and we allow ourselves to surrender into the experience, we are still aware and cognitively engaged, but our minds tend to relax some of this vigilance. We place some measure of trust in the group and experience varying degrees of immersion.((Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Immersion and Shared Imagination in Role-Playing Games,” in Role-Playing Game Studies: Transmedia Foundations, ed. Sebastian Deterding and José P. Zagal (New York: Routledge, 2018), 379-394; Leonard and Thurman, “Bleed-out on the Brain”; Lauri Lukka, “The Psychology of Immersion,” in The Cutting Edge of Nordic Larp, edited by Jon Back (Denmark: Knutpunkt, 2014), 81-92.)) We may experience intense moments of vulnerability and intimacy within our play groups, which can lead to a rapid sense of bonding. Yet, we also experience a paradoxical cognitive space in which parts of our brain perceive the game events as real,((Järvelä, “How Real Is Larp?”)) while other parts work hard to reality test by discerning fact from fiction and organizing information accordingly.((Sigmund Freud,  “Formulations Regarding the Two Principles in Mental Functioning,” in The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works by Sigmund Freud, ed. James Strachey (London: Hogarth Press, 1958), 13-21.))

    When we leave the magic circle, the mind often returns to a more vigilant state, moderating self-expression in order to conform to social norms. Memories of in-character events may feel hyperreal, meaningful, and profound, i.e. peak experiences. Yet, the mind must accept that they are not “real,” despite these feelings of profundity. Even within a supportive community, role-playing can be a confusing process in which previously solid notions of selfhood, proper behavior, and social rules are challenged. In order to manage this cognitive dissonance, the mind often erects defense mechanisms — ways in which it unconsciously attempts to protect itself from identity confusion, emotional dysregulation, challenges to paradigm, and social shame. In order to transition into daily life without major emotional disruption, the mind must find a way to resolve this cognitive dissonance.

    Additionally, we are expected to key our off-game behaviors and self-presentations as decidedly different from our playful ones through a process of role-distancing. When we role-distance, we indicate that we understand the difference between fantasy and reality, signaling that we will adhere to social norms outside of the frame of play.((Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Educational Live Action Role-playing Games: A Secondary Literature Review,” in Wyrd Con Companion Book 2014, ed. by Sarah Lynne Bowman (Los Angeles, CA: Wyrd Con, 2014), 112-131; Daniau, “Transformative”; Deterding, “Alibis.”)) This process allows us to displace any in-game behaviors that would be considered socially problematic, such as erotic, violent, destructive, manipulative, or otherwise “evil” play. In other words, our performances remain bounded within the magic circle, giving us plausible deniability that the whole experience was “just a game.” Alternatively, some of us work to justify our play experiences as “productive” by signaling to non-players that we have learned important, marketable skills that help us better integrate into mainstream society. While this tactic helps validate our play experiences as “useful,” it may further distance us from the pleasures of creativity and personal development for their own sake.((Deterding, “Alibis.”))

    In transformational language, an expansion of consciousness is often followed by a contraction, colloquially known as a crash or drop. While helpful and even important to a degree, role-distancing after play can lead to feelings of alienation and cognitive dissonance for people who have powerful moments of catharsis, profound realizations of selfhood, and intense experiences of intimacy within the magic circle. The insistence on alibi can become a shock to the system, in which meaningful experiences that occur within play have difficulty finding a place within the rest of life, leading some players to experience an existential sense of loss, grief, depression, or angst.((Sarah Lynne Bowman and Evan Torner, “Post-larp Depression,” Analog Game Studies 1, no. 1, 2014; Sanne Harder, “Larp Crush: The What, When and How,” Nordiclarp.org, March 28, 2018.)) While such responses can emerge after any peak experience ends, the bounded fictional framing adds an additional layer of complexity; peak experiences occurring within a Burning Man festival, a rock concert, or a weekend meditation retreat are still considered mostly “real,” whereas role-playing is not. While many larp communities have worked to normalize debriefing, discussions of bleed, and other forms of off-game processing, shame may arise if a person feels overly attached to a game experience that has long since passed for other players.((Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Social Conflict in Role-playing Communities: An Exploratory Qualitative Study,” International Journal of Role-Playing 4 (2013): 17-18; Lizzie Stark, “How to Run a Post-Larp Debrief,” Leaving Mundania, December 1, 2013.)) Subsequently, players may continue to sign up for larp after larp, yearning for the permission to deeply feel, experience, experiment, and connect once more.

    A diagram of the role-playing process, with two people entering the magic circle, playing witches and wizards, then leaving play mostly the same

    This article seeks to complicate notions of identity and reality by suggesting that alibi can actually hinder one’s potential for personal growth. Paradoxically, the very same mechanism that allows for playful transgression of self-presentation can also create a barrier for the transfer and integration of play experiences into one’s daily life, self, and community (Figure 1). Even if we experience a shift of selfhood during play((Christopher Sandberg, “Genesi: Larp Art, Basic Theories,” In Beyond Role and Play: Tools, Toys, and Theory for Harnessing the Imagination, edited by Markus Montola and Jaakko Stenros, 264-288. (Helsinki, Finland: Ropecon ry, 2004); Jaakko Stenros, “Living the Story, Free to Choose: Participant Agency in Co-Created Worlds,” Alibis for Interaction Conference, Landskrona, Sweden, October 25, 2013. Reprinted as “Aesthetic of Action,” Jaakkostenros.wordpress.com, Oct. 28, 2013.)) — often enacting a dual consciousness that holds both self and player — ultimately, these experiences are happening to the same person embodied within the same physiological organism.((Järvelä, “How Real Is Larp?”)) If alibi is a polite fiction in which we allow players to obviate responsibility for their actions within games, what happens when we adopt a view of self as consistent and fluid between player and character? What happens when we decrease alibi and imagine the role-playing container as extending beyond just the fictional space and the temporally bounded event? What becomes possible when we steer toward “magical” experiences that can inform our self-concepts, our worldviews, and our definitions of community in more permanent ways?((Beltrán, “Shadow Work”; Kemper, “Battle”; Hugaas, “Investigating.”))

    Role-playing and Manifestation

    Answers may lie in contemporary occult and metaphysical discourses that conceptualize manifestation as a magical process. The process of manifestation varies from source to source. Modern witchcraft often focuses upon the casting of spells using rituals, physical components, and invocation of spirits. Alternatively, New Age conceptions of manifestation often involve aligning one’s attention and imagination toward the types of experiences one wants to summon into their life, e.g. The Law of Attraction. People outside of such communities may find such concepts suspiciously unscientific or fantastical — forms of magical thinking that do not reflect social or physical reality. Such thinking can also reveal a form of privilege, e.g. leading some individuals to dismissively downplay the real structural inequalities that might inhibit someone from “manifesting” a new Ferrari. With these limitations in mind, we wonder: what insight on personal transformation might role-players gain from manifestational theory and practice?

    Although many manifestational models exist, this article will focus on Mat Auryn’s Psychic Witch, which has become successful within alternative subcultural audiences in the last year. In the book, the author works to streamline and make coherent for newcomers different threads of metaphysical thought.((Auryn, Psychic Witch.)) He synthesizes theories and practices pertaining to witchcraft and psychic abilities in non-denominational ways by crystallizing these concepts into more universally applicable language.

    Auryn explicitly discusses the connection between role-playing and magic. Due to his belief that all people have inherent psychic abilities, as a basic exercise that he terms “psychic immersion,” he recommends that practitioners role-play being a gifted psychic for a day in order to notice their latent skills.((Auryn, Psychic Witch, 18-20.)) In other words, the author recommends invoking the alibi of inhabiting the role of a skilled psychic, using imagination as a tool for practitioners to step more fully into their nascent abilities. Drawing further parallels, Auryn has addressed an apparently common dismissive attitude held within occult communities toward spellcraft that looks performative as “mere role-playing.” He opines, “The level of devotion and dedication role-players have is something I think witches should aspire to in their Craft. So when someone accuses you of this, take it as a compliment.”((Mat Auryn, Twitter post, February 22, 2020, 8:33 a.m., https://twitter.com/MatAuryn/status/1231225521062776832; Mat Auryn, Twitter post, February 22, 2020, 8:36 a.m., https://twitter.com/MatAuryn/status/1231226271683792896))

    If we consider that the processes behind postmodern magic are at the very least similar to role-playing, how is manifestation conceptualized? In one chapter of Psychic Witch, Auryn describes several dimensions of reality that overlay the physical world.((Auryn, Psychic Witch, 182-183. )) He states that successful manifestation — or simply put, “creation” — requires performing several steps within each dimension:

    1. Physical reality: Gathering physical ingredients that support the magic, e.g. herbs, crystals, candles, etc. Physical gestures may also be helpful.
    2. Etheric reality: Creating an energetic container for the magic to take place, e.g. meditation, altered states, establishing a time and space within which to invoke the (literal) magic circle.
    3. Astral reality: Pushing the magical container, which holds a thoughtform or conceptualization of the desired effect, into another realm. This process involves filling the container with one’s personal willpower.
    4. Emotional reality: Moving the thoughtform into alignment with the emotional energy the person wishes to manifest and using those emotions to direct the work, e.g. invoking magic to call love into one’s life by imagining experiencing bliss.
    5. Mental reality: Distilling the thoughtform into concepts or words that represent what the person wants to manifest, e.g. vocalizing affirmations, intoning a spell, chanting, singing, or composing a petition to an entity.
    6. Psychic reality: Using visualization to clearly envision the desired outcome.
    7. Divine reality: Sending the thoughtform to the divine with a petition for assistance with this goal, surrendering, and releasing attachment to the outcome.

    Auryn emphasizes the need in this last stage to envision the effect as having already happened, consciously avoiding considering any outcome that contradicts this imagined reality. He further stresses the need to take inspired action on one’s goals through the use of willpower, stating as an example, “You are not going to manifest the perfect relationship for you if you are not actively putting yourself in social situations where you can meet someone.”((Auryn 2020a, p. 184)) Thus, in manifestation, magic requires not only imagining and energetically aligning with the goal, but also taking action and focusing one’s will in order to achieve it.

    While these concepts may seem far-fetched to many role-players, if we consider the basic principles Auryn is describing, they do not seem removed from other processes of personal growth and creativity: establishing space for the growth to transpire; aligning emotions, thoughts, and intention toward the desired goal; taking action based upon this aligned, focused willpower; and letting go of attachment to the result. One can imagine these steps being useful, for example, when building a house, establishing a business as an entrepreneur, or pursuing a consensual romantic relationship.

    Furthermore, these steps can inform how we might envision our participation in a larp: learning about the location, setting, and game design; excitedly creating characters and costuming; imagining a positive future experience; purchasing tickets and arranging travel; calibrating with co-players for consent regarding the themes one would like to explore; and surrendering to the experience. Surrender in this case still involves remaining aware, present,  and conscious, but may require releasing one’s attachment to the larp unfolding “perfectly” or banishing one’s “fear of missing out.” We can also envision these steps as useful after the role-play experience in order to integrate our desired goals: establishing space and time to process the events of play; distilling takeaways; and continuing to align thoughts, emotions, and actions toward concretizing these takeaways in daily life.

    Person walking in the woods approaching a magical portal
    Photo by Ivilin Stoyanov, Ivilin on Pixabay.

    Aspecting and Wyrding the Self

    From a “magical” perspective, the distinctions between self and character are less stark. We can view our characters not as a means of leisurely escape from reality, but as tools for self-reflection. A lifelong Pagan, Phil Brucato, the primary author of White Wolf’s Mage: the Ascension since the 2nd Edition, connects role-playing to the occult practice of aspecting: a term that generally refers to the act of embodying or performing aspects of a divine entity’s characteristics. When conceptualizing characters through the lens of aspecting, Brucato envisions Mage in particular — and role-playing in general — as a metaphor for personal growth and transformation.((Phil Brucato, “Mage 20 Q&A, Part I: What IS Mage, Anyway?,” Satyrosphilbrucato.wordpress.com, March 23, 2014.)) He states, “I view aspects as creative masks and mirrors through which we can understand ourselves better… and thus, grow further than we would grow otherwise if we stuck to a stubborn (and often self-deceptive) sense of one Self.”((Phil Brucato, “Aspecting: Song of My Selves,” Satyrosphilbrucato.wordpress.com, April 23, 2013.)) Thus, when used intentionally, the character can become a tool for better understanding and transforming the self rather than an isolated entity bound to the fictional frame and disconnected from one’s self-concept.

    Additionally, characters can occupy spaces, express aspects of selfhood, and perform behaviors that we might feel socially inhibited from exploring in daily life. In “Wyrding the Self,” Jonaya Kemper presents her assiduous process of autoethnographic documentation before, during, and after larps.((Jonaya Kemper, “Wyrding the Self,” in What Do We Do When We Play?, edited by Eleanor Saitta, Jukka Särkijärvi, and Johanna Koljonen (Helsinki, Finland: Solmukohta, 2020).)) Kemper intentionally steers her characters toward experiences of liberation and seeks out emancipatory bleed, a type of bleed that allows players “from marginalized identities to fight back or succeed against systemic oppression.” Kemper discusses how the root of the word “weird” arose from the Old English term “wyrding,” which was also connected to the concept of magic and fate. Kemper asserts:

    To be weird, is to control one’s fate, rather than let society determine your place and fate. To be weird, is to be outside the normal aspects of society, yes, but to also collectively decide who you would like to be, not based on societal pressure. It is my belief that larp affords us the actual ability to wyrd ourselves, that is to shape ourselves and our conceptions of self through play.((Kemper, “Wyrding.”))

    Like Kemper and Brucato, we believe that role-playing can be used to better understand and wyrd the self. Ultimately, we assert that participants need not believe in magic, different layers of metaphysical reality, or fate in order to use role-playing as a tool for manifestation. Rather, we view role-playing as a vehicle for self-development and community building that can be used alongside other more traditional practices, whether educational, therapeutic, or recreational.

    Imaginal Selves, Performance, and Agency

    How can we conceptualize this type of “magical” thinking from a scientific paradigm? In this section, we will explore evidence of the impacts of imagination on self-concept and community, drawing parallels between spiritual frameworks, ritual studies, and other social scientific perspectives. We assert that while the domains of science and magic have developed largely in isolation from one another, they reveal similar insights about the human experience and personal growth. We will examine five topics that seem especially relevant for understanding how role-playing can be used as a transformational process: ritual, narrative, identity, empowerment, and imagination.

    Ritual

    Is the ritual of larp distinct from other forms of magical practice? In terms of formal attributes, J. Tuomas Harviainen has explored how the two practices of larp and postmodern chaos magic are “identical”; they both involve delineating time and space in order to shift identities and engage in pretense play. Harviainen discusses the work of D.W. Winnicott((J. Tuomas Harviainen, ”The Larping that is Not Larp,” in Think Larp: Academic Writings from KP2011, edited by Thomas D. Henriksen, Christian Bierlich, Kasper Friis Hansen, and Valdemar Kølle (Copenhagen, Denmark: Rollespilsakademiet, 2011); Donald W. Winnicott, “Transitional Objects and Transitional Phenomena,” Playing & Reality (Tavistock, England: Tavistock Publications, 1971).)) and Ana-Maria Rizzuto, emphasizing that the processes underpinning play are central to human practices from infancy onward, as children often project fiction onto objects that later grow into imagined entities.

    These imaginings are especially strengthened when supported by engagement with others in playful activities, as we do in role-playing communities. Following Winnicott((Donald W. Winnicott, “The Theory of the Parent-Infant Relationship,” The International Journal of Psychoanalysis 41 (1960): 585–595.)) and Wilfred Bion((Bion, Experiences.)), we can conceptualize role-play spaces as ritualized holding containers: environments in which players feel sufficiently secure within the group to explore their authentic selves and experience empowerment by projecting fantasy onto brute reality.((Montola, On the Edge; Jaakko Stenros, Playfulness, Play, and Games: A Constructionist Ludology Approach, PhD diss, University of Tampere, 2015.)) In ritual theory, participants engage in three phases: separation from their mundane roles, entrance into the liminal — or threshold — space, and reincorporation into daily life.((Victor Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure (Piscataway, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 1969).)) According to anthropologist Victor Turner, these activities are often associated with rites of passage that support communitas: a group feeling of camaraderie and interconnectedness.

    Lady Gaga in a Blue Dress with a large monster behind her
    Lady Gaga symbolically enacting her battle with the Fame Monster in an on-stage ritual. Stefani Germanotta created the alterego of Lady Gaga as a means to gain strength. Photo by John Robert Charlton, Wikimedia (CC BY 2.0).

    Despite these formal similarities, enactment in role-playing games as they are generally played today remain fundamentally different from magic or other religious rituals. Players agree to a social contract that dismisses these activities as not “real” in the same way that a religious ceremony or spiritually-motivated ritual is real for a believer. In Turner’s formulation, larps would be considered liminoid, not liminal; players do not acknowledge these shifts in role as rites of passage that have lasting meaning in daily life, e.g. an in-game wedding does not officially marry the players off-game.((Victor Turner, “Liminal to Liminoid, in Play, Flow, and Ritual: An Essay in Comparative Symbology,” Rice University Studies 60, no. 3 (July 1974): 53-91.))

    Again, when considering the power of ritual, alibi can become a barrier between the incorporation of game elements to socially recognized states outside of play. By invoking alibi and strongly reinforcing the boundary between reality and fiction, we distance ourselves from much of the content that takes place within the container of the magic circle, blocking it from transferring to our self-concept and group understanding of reality. In Mike Pohjola’s words, we “pretend to believe,” rather than actually believing that what we are invoking is real.((Pohjola, “Autonomous Identities.”))

    On the other hand, game scholars Doris C. Rusch and Andrew M. Phelps describe play as a form of “psychomagic,” asserting that games are ritual spaces where players can perform deeply meaningful acts through the lens of fiction. They assert that “symbolic acts are particularly conducive to envisioning – through the tangibility of bodily experience – new ways of being, utilizing the powerful interaction between body and mind.”((Doris C. Rusch and Andrew M. Phelps, “Existential Transformational Game Design: Harnessing the ‘Psychomagic’ of Symbolic Enactment,” Frontiers in Psychology (forthcoming).)) The authors emphasize the role of post-game reflection as central to these transformational processes of envisioning and meaning-making.

    What becomes possible when we uphold larp as a liminal rather than liminoid activity? In other words, what happens when we shift our perceptions to actually believing that some of the emotional, social, and physical changes that we experience in games can become lasting over time?

    Narrative

    One way this shift can occur is by streamlining narratives that happen within role-playing games within the context of our larger life stories. Humans are storytelling machines. According to the theory of narrative identity,((Jefferson Singer, “Narrative Identity and Meaning Making Across the Adult Lifespan: An Introduction,” Journal of Personality 72 (2004): 437-59.)) a person will form their identity by integrating important experiences into a structured “life story” that provides them with a sense of purpose, unity, and a consistent self-concept. When such life events involve adversity or suffering, psychologist Dan McAdams has found it beneficial for people to create narratives of redemption, i.e. extrapolating redemptive meaning from otherwise challenging experiences. In McAdams’ research, individuals who were able to construct stories of agency and exploration tended to “enjoy higher levels of mental health, well-being, and maturity.”((Dan P. McAdams, “Narrative Identity,” in Handbook of Identity Theory and Research, ed. Seth J. Schwartz, Koen Luyckx, and Vivian L. Vignoles (Springer, New York, 2011).))

    Role-playing is one of that many forms of narrativization that people employ in order to make sense of their experience. As role-players, we not only tell stories, but also embody the characters whose stories we tell. Sometimes, we construct clear story arcs, whether redemptive or tragic. Additionally, many players will engage in forms of storytelling after larps, whether by relaying amusing or exciting anecdotes — i.e. war stories — or sharing serious, intense narratives as a form of emotional processing, e.g. debriefing sessions or written accounts of play. Players may slip between first- and third-person perspective when recounting these tales. In first-person, players may feel more self-immersed and connected to the story as an active participant. In third-person self-distanced narratives, the players may feel less connected, recounting the tale as an observer of their character’s actions.((Ethan Kross and Ozlem Ayduk, “Self-Distancing: Theory, Research, and Current Directions,” Advances in Experimental Psychology 55 (2016): 81-136.))

    In terms of using narratives as a tool for transformation, alibi might help or hinder the process. As described above, alibi might make it harder for players to own core elements of these narratives and apply them to life outside of games, e.g. “My character was brave, but I am not.” On the other hand, overly immersing in the fictional content off-game might also disrupt growth. As Ethan Kross and Ozlem Ayduk discuss in their work on self-distancing, with regard to one’s own life stories, continued self-immersion in the first-person perspective may lead to rumination and a lack of closure.((Kross and Ayduk, “Self-Distancing.” )) In these cases, adopting a third-person distanced perspective may help players reduce shame and engage in self-reflection, e.g. “I wept for hours when he left me at the altar” versus “Elizabeth wept for hours when Anya left her.” Such distancing can enhance post-game narrative meta-reflections when streamlined with the player’s own narrative identity, e.g. “Looking back on Elizabeth’s story, I can see how my own abandonment fears led to strong emotional bleed-in.” The player might then consider approaching future situations differently after reflecting upon these experiences, e.g. “Unlike Elizabeth, I am going to take active steps to make sure that partners are willing to remain in relationship with me before I commit.” In other words, the third-person perspective might allow someone to create a narrative identity that distills important redemptive lessons from the character’s experiences without persistently reliving and rehashing painful emotions.

    Additionally, using narrativization tools, players can intentionally explore and process aspects of their own lives within the fictional settings that they inhabit. Organizers can construct containers for this specific intent, giving participants explicit permission to bring personal content into the fiction, e.g. a player’s fear of abandonment. Players can find redemptive meaning within their life stories through their game experiences, especially ones that emphasize adversity, e.g. “When I experienced the death of my character’s partner in the larp, I realized I am more resilient than I thought.” Ultimately, the most important component of this narrativization process is creating opportunities for post-game reflection, which allow players to streamline character narratives with their life stories, making meaning that can positively impact their lives.((Bowman, “Active Imagination.”))

    Elton John in a metallic puffy outfit, glasses, and a poiny hat playing piano
    Reginald Kenneth Dwight, aka Elton John, in 1975. Publicity photo, Wikimedia, no copyright.

    Identity

    One of the most potent tools for transformation within role-playing is identity exploration. When we role-play, we inhabit a dual consciousness((Sandberg, “Genesi”; Stenros, “Living.”)) in which we simultaneously experience both our own subjectivity and our character’s. We engage in perspective taking when we willingly alter our own identity in order to consider the perspective of another.((Adam Gerace, Andrew Day, Sharon Casey, and Philip Mohr, “An Exploratory Investigation of the Process of Perspective Taking in Interpersonal Situations,” Journal of Relationships Research 4, no. e6 (2013): 1–12.)) This perspective taking process can help us approach challenging situations or embolden us to act in ways counter to our self-concept.

    The Batman Effect and The Proteus Effect

    The creation and embodiment of characters occurs in many activities outside of role-playing games. D.W. Winnicott suggests that through imaginal play, children can express themselves in ways that may feel more authentic than their daily social roles permit.((Winnicott, “Theory.”)) Additionally, researchers have studied the phenomenon of the creation of alter egos: personalities that someone envisions and embodies who can better handle stressful, challenging, or even traumatic situations. When the alter ego is the one performing challenging tasks, some people seem able to exert a greater level of control over their own performance. In their research on how alter egos can affect perseverance in children, Rachel E. White et al. coined the term The Batman Effect.((Rachel E. White, et al,. “The ‘Batman Effect’: Improving Perseverance in Young Children,” Child Development 88, no. 5 (2017): 1563-1571. The added meta layer of Batman being the fictional alter ego of a fictional Bruce Wayne that was created as a result of emotional avoidance after a traumatic event in Wayne’s life, is not lost on the authors.)) They found that children who adopted a third-person perspective in relation to a task showed higher degrees of perseverance than participants operating in the first-person did, but both of these groups were surpassed by the participants that took on powerful alter egos such as Batman. This technique is also common in edu-larp theory and practice; for example, students at the Danish boarding school Østerskov Efterskole are often asked to play experts in larp scenarios in order to cultivate their perceived competence and self-efficacy in leadership.((Malik Hyltoft, “Full-Time Edu-larpers: Experiences from Østerskov,” in Playing the Learning Game: A Practical Introduction to Educational Roleplaying, ed. Martin Eckoff Andresen (Oslo, Norway: Fantasiforbundet, 2012). 20-23.))

    As role-players well know, alter egos are not just helpful for children. Drag performers routinely report creating and embodying larger-than-life characters through which they can draw the personal strength to face marginalization in their daily lives. The name of Brian Furkus’ famous drag alter ego Trixie Mattel arose from childhood slurs hurled upon him by his stepfather in response to Furkus’ queerness. Furkus describes:

    If I was being too sensitive or acting too feminine especially, he would call me a Trixie. You know, for years that was one of the worst words I could think of. So I took that name Trixie that used to have all this hurt [connected] to it and I made it my drag name. And now it’s something I celebrate, something I’m so proud of. If I hadn’t gone through all that horrible shit when I was little, Trixie Mattel might not even exist.((Nick Murray, dir., “Episode 8,” RuPaul’s Drag Race Season 7,eprformed by RuPaul Charles, et al. (Los Angeles: World of Wonder Productions, 2015).))

    Trixie Mattel in a Girl Scout inspired outfits holding a stake with marshmellows at the end
    Brian Furkus transformed childhood experiences of abuse and shame into creative fuel for his drag persona, Trixie Mattel. Photo by dvsross, Wikimedia, (CC BY 2.0).

    Other famous performers have created alter egos that are able to withstand the demands of marginalization and even stardom. Before he created Elton John, Reginald Kenneth Dwight was an introverted bespectacled piano-playing teenager.((Dexter Fletcher, Rocketman, performed by Taron Egerton, Jamie Bell, and Richard Madden (2019; Paramount), film.)) Stefani Germanotta created Lady Gaga as a separate and “stronger” version of herself.((Sarah Begley, “Lady Gaga Says Her Public Persona Is a ‘Separate Entity’ From Her True Self,” Time, June 8, 2016.)) However, the lines between these two entities often bleed together for Germanotta as art becomes life. With regard to this artistic process, she has insisted that we humans “possess something magical and transformative inside — a uniqueness and specialness waiting to be exiled from the depths of our identity.” In order to delve into these depths, bleed is a necessary state, as we “must effortlessly vacillate between two worlds: out of the real and into the surreal. Out of the ordinary, into the extraordinary.”((Lady Gaga, “V Magazine Gaga Memorandum No. 2,” V Magazine 72 (Fall 2011).)) Another widely-known and fascinating example is how Beyoncé created her alter ego, Sasha Fierce. When even someone as successful and praised as Beyoncé feels the need to create an alter ego to accomplish what she wants, the positive potential of identity alteration becomes difficult to dismiss.

    Similarly, in role-playing studies, we have the Proteus Effect.((Nick Yee and Jeremy Bailenson, “The Proteus Effect: The Effect of Transformed Self-Representation on Behavior,” Human Communication Research 33 (2007): 271-290.)) Named after the shapeshifting Greek god Proteus, this effect describes how the physical attributes of virtual avatars can sometimes affect the behavior of their players. In their research, Nick Yee and Jeremy Bailenson show how playing more attractive avatars led to more confident behaviour in in-game interpersonal situations and how playing taller avatars led to greater confidence in negotiation tasks during play. While MMORPG avatars are not always fully “role-played,” the avatar clearly provides players with enough alibi to present themselves in ways that they might otherwise feel inhibited when enacting their daily identities.

    Some role-players do report actively utilizing their characters to handle situations in their daily life. Players describe a form of “aspecting,” where they enact certain traits or skills from a character rather than performing the character in its entirety, e.g. aspecting a character’s leadership skills during a work meeting. In other words, even in small ways, we can expand alibi beyond the magic circle to allow for certain facets of the role-play experience to extend to the “real” world. Ultimately, role-players do not “become” our characters, but we can distill core aspects and substantiate them into our self-concepts.

    Empowerment and Imagination

    How can role-playing enhance our sense of personal empowerment? One of the coding constructs used in the narrative identity theory described above is agency. People who create narratives in which they see themselves as protagonists with a high degree of ability to affect change in their lives are likely to feel more agency in general. Agency is closely linked to the concept of locus of control.((Julian B. Rotter, “Generalized Expectancies for Internal Versus External Control of Reinforcement,” Psychological Monographs 80 (1966): 1-28.)) Individuals who have an internal locus of control tend to believe that they have a high degree of influence on the events and outcomes in their lives, while those with an external locus of control tend to insist that outside forces are primarily responsible for determining what happens in their life story.

    In relation to role-playing, our characters often have a large degree of agency and even power. Even for disempowered characters, the very act of playing involves exerting a certain amount of control over the character and the environment. As such, role-playing can be a way for players who tend to favor an external locus of control in their everyday life to experience how it is to shift to an internal locus of control through the game. If those experiences feel empowering, through the use of narrative identity, players may be able to shift their own locus of control more readily in daily life. While we acknowledge that, in many situations, outside factors such as structural inequalities and marginalization will reinforce the external locus of control, processes such as Kemper’s Wyrding the Self can feel emancipatory and empowering for players.

    Beyoncé on stage in black leather and sunglasses with two other dancers
    Beyoncé during the tour for I Am… Sasha Fierce. The album explored empowerment through the embodiment of an alterego. Photo by idrewuk, Wikimedia, (CC BY 2.0), cropped.

    We believe that the more individuals can experience themselves as agentic beings in games, the more they can feel empowered to make changes in the spheres of influence they inhabit, including the personal, interpersonal, and communal. Many role-players likely never believed they were capable of leading groups or running large-scale events before they experienced the motivating agency of larp. From this perspective, the very structure of our role-playing communities has been built upon this increased sense of agency, demonstrating that some forms of transfer are observable. Role-players also often describe the ways in which larp situations have prepared them for the working world in terms of social skills like leadership, teamwork, and understanding how to operate within systems.((Bowman 2010, 2014.))

    While these concrete “productive” skills are of interest, we invite players to consider ways in which they might bolster agency throughout other dimensions of their life, including altering their personal narratives to ones that are more empowering. For example, a player may have previously believed themselves to be unlovable, then experienced a successful, impassioned romance in a larp. If they can distill that experience into a new belief about themselves, such as “I am capable of cultivating love,” then they might make different choices in daily life that proactively seek the love they desire based upon the positive proof of concept within the larp. Alternatively, if these experiences remain bounded within the fiction, a player might instead reinforce their previous belief with such thoughts as “My fictional characters are capable of cultivating love, but I myself remain unlovable.” Therefore, we strongly recommend finding ways to integrate these experiences into one’s personal narrative in order to foster a greater internal locus of control.

    Furthermore, imagining ourselves as capable of certain activities might actually enhance our physical performance at tasks. While role-playing is not always an obviously physical activity, for many players, especially in larp, some degree of physical embodiment of character is central to their experience. In 1874, William B. Carpenter originated psychoneuromuscular theory, positing that the visualization of mental imagery related to a specific behavior will lead to subsequent greater motor performance of that activity.((William B. Carpenter, Principles of Mental Physiology (Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press, 1874).)) This theory is still central to a number of approaches to sports psychology. In brief, research into mental imagery shows that the mere practice of imagining oneself performing a task in an optimal way — such as lifting a heavy weight — will lead to noticeable increases in physical ability when one later performs that action.((Robert S.Weinberg and Daniel Gould. Foundations of Sport and Exercise Psychology. 7th ed. (Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics, 2018); Paul Holmes and Dave Collins, “The PETTLEP Approach to Motor Imagery: A Functional Equivalence Model for Sport Psychologists,” Journal of Applied Sport Psychology 13 (2007): 60-83.)) Studies have also shown that substituting the physical act of working out with imagining the activity can have positive effects on motivation, self-confidence, anxiety, arousal control, and injury rehabilitation.((Danielle Alexander, Eric Hutt, Jordan Lefebvre, and Gordon Bloom, “Using Imagery to Enhance Performance in Powerlifting: A Review of Theory, Research, and Practice,” Strength and Conditioning Journal 41 (2019): 102-109.)) Similar to Auryn’s insistence that action is necessary to fully realize manifestational outcomes, psychologists pair imagination with action in psychoneuromuscular work in order to enhance performance. In other words, while some limitations we cannot control, when we imagine ourselves as capable, we come to realize other limitations are psychological in nature; thus, we can imagine and perform a self that might be able to move past them.

    In summary, role-players can find value in both metaphysical and social scientific explanations of transformation. In fact, manifestational work aligns with concepts in social science in the following ways:

    We can place collective social meaning upon our ritual experiences that lasts far beyond the liminal phase;

    1. We can place collective social meaning upon our ritual experiences that lasts far beyond the liminal phase;
    2. We can use narratives to construct positive meaning, streamlining our fictional and non-fictional lives;
    3. We can adopt aspects of our alter egos in daily life in order to augment our personalities;
    4. We can imagine ourselves as capable of performing difficult tasks; and thus,
    5. We can strengthen our belief in our own abilities to affect change in the world.

    For participants who wish to experience lasting change from their role-playing experiences, the question remains: How do we design, facilitate, and play to maximize such impacts?

    Role-Playing Communities as Transformational Containers

    As we have discussed, many role-players claim to have experienced powerful transformative impacts as a result of adopting alternate identities in fictional worlds. In many cases, these impacts have evolved somewhat accidentally or even in spite of the game design, meaning that designers and players may not have intended for such effects to unfold. Role-players sometimes have differing views regarding the potential of the medium. Some participants make broad claims about the ability of role-playing to “change the world,” whereas others may insist that their larp activities are purely recreational or for entertainment. Similarly, in role-play studies, some scholars emphasize the educational or therapeutic potential of games, whereas others remain skeptical or conservative about such claims, pushing for quantitative evidence of change over time along specific dimensions of human growth.

    While we hold each of these perspectives as valid, our goal is to envision role-playing communities as transformational containers. We define transformational containers as spaces explicitly and intentionally designed to facilitate personal growth and encourage communal cohesion, consent, and trust. Transformational containers extend far beyond the bounds of the magic circle of play. These containers include pre-game goal-setting, transparency, creative activities, bonding, trust-building opportunities, and workshops. They include safety structures, calibration, and negotiation during play. Most importantly, they involve post-game integration activities, such as creative expression, intellectual analysis, emotional processing, community support structures, and taking action on goals. These practices help players streamline game experiences with their self-concepts and social lives (Figure 2).((Sarah Lynne Bowman and Kjell Hedgard Hugaas, “Transformative Role-play: Design, Implementation, and Integration,” Nordiclarp.org, December 10, 2019.))

    Transformational containers place personal growth and emotional safety at the forefront of activities. They strengthen and extend the magic circle, providing support for individuals and groups undergoing powerful and sometimes confusing processes. They hold space for personal alchemy, not only facilitating the shift from one state of consciousness to another, but also guiding the process of intentionally shaping consciousness and social reality through experimentation. Central to this process is projection of imagination; thus, fantasy becomes an asset to personal growth rather than “escapism” or a distraction from life.

    Such role-playing containers may encourage players to consciously seek out certain types of bleed. While bleed is often unconscious and unpredictable, players can notice bleed when it arises by practicing meta-awareness and can even steer for desired types. Examples include:

    1. Emotional bleed: Accessing and expressing one’s often suppressed emotions, allowing for deep catharsis and further processing;((Markus Montola, “The Positive Negative Experience in Extreme Role-playing,” in Proceedings of DiGRA Nordic 2010: Experiencing Games: Games, Play, and Players (Stockholm, Sweden, August 16, 2010); Nilsen, “High on Hell”; Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Bleed: The Spillover Between Player and Character,” Nordiclarp.org, March 2, 2015; Hugaas, “Investigating.”))
    2. Ego bleed: Exploring new or suppressed aspects of personality or identity, allowing for consolidation of these aspects into one’s off-game self-concept;((Beltrán, “Shadow Work.”))
    3. Procedural bleed: Practicing physical abilities, habits, or ways of holding the body, allowing for greater skill and confidence in one’s off-game abilities;((Hugaas, “Investigating.”))
    4. Emancipatory bleed: Experiencing a successful challenge to structural oppression, allowing for feelings of liberation for players from marginalized identities;((Kemper “Battle”; “Wyrding.”))
    5. Memetic bleed: Experimenting and acting in accordance with different paradigms, allowing for the adoption of new sets of values, ideas, and understandings of reality.((Hugaas, “Investigating.”))

    Some players may require a strong alibi in order to experience these impacts, whereas others may play thin characters that are quite similar to themselves. Whatever approach players choose, the goals of the transformational container are to facilitate the exploration of self, envision new configurations of community, and transfer insights from these experiences to one’s life through integration practices. In other words, alibi should not remain so strong as to get in the way of this transfer process.

    A diagram of the role-playing process, with two people entering the magic circle, playing witches and wizards, then leaving play transformed and integrated

    Thus, in a transformational container, we do not simply de-role, with a brief exercise evaluating what we wish to take with us and what we wish to leave behind. We distill the essence of the experience and infuse our lives with the meanings we uncovered. We do not shy away from owning the shadow parts of our identities that may have emerged during play. We embrace the shadow as part of the human experience. We learn to acknowledge and come into psychological balance with the different parts of ourselves. We reflect not only upon the “positive” traits that we hope to cultivate further, but also upon those “negative” behaviors that we fear to own. We hold space as a group for all of these aspects to emerge and develop, providing ongoing opportunities for reflection as individual and group processes. We avoid shaming others for what they have exposed about themselves so long as it emerged under conditions of mutual consent. We understand that feelings may linger, intense bonding may occur, and players may need support long after the game is done. We work together to process such emotions and to help each other learn how to create experiences in life that are as meaningful as we experience in larp. Ultimately, players within transformational containers must feel supported enough to expose their true intentions, desires, and vulnerabilities and the container must feel secure enough to hold space for such goals to potentiate.

    Let’s perform magic together.

    Acknowledgements

    This theoretical framework is part of Sarah Lynne Bowman’s larger ethnographic research project on the therapeutic and educational potential of role-playing games. This project was approved by the Austin Community College Institutional Research Review Committee in June 2020 under the supervision of Dr. Jean Lauer. The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions or policies of Austin Community College. Sarah would like to thank from the bottom of her heart all of her participants in this study, who have helped her refine her thoughts on these topics by offering their own expertise. Special thanks also to Doris Rusch, Lauri Lukka, Lars Kristian Løveng Sunde, Sanne Harder, Michael Freudenthal, and Mo Holkar for their insightful feedback on early drafts.

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    Cover photo: Photo by Stefan Keller, Kellepics on Pixabay, cropped.

    This article was published in the Knutepunkt companion book Book of Magic and is published here with permission. Please cite this text as:

    Bowman, Sarah Lynne, and Kjell Hedgard Hugaas. 2021. “Magic is Real: How Role-playing Can Transform Our Identities, Our Communities, and Our Lives.” In Book of Magic: Vibrant Fragments of Larp Practices, edited by Kari Kvittingen Djukastein, Marcus Irgens, Nadja Lipsyc, and Lars Kristian Løveng Sunde, 52-74. Oslo, Norway: Knutepunkt.

  • An Invitation

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    An Invitation

    This is your invitation to magic. To visit magic. To return to magic, again and again.

    And to one day stay and never leave.

    This is your permission to enter. To dip your toe, or completely immerse.

    To explore traditions and follow or to forge a path out into the unknown, following no rules or teachings.

    Painting of a person looking in the mirror at their image. They are wearing horns and a flower crown with fur lining their shoulders.
    Painting by Karin Edman.

    Magic is as old as the self aware mind. Magic is an altered state. And you can enter it, you are allowed to enter it, you are invited to enter it even if you need to use the alibi of role-play to do so. Magic is for you and no one needs to know how seriously or non-seriously you take it.

    You don’t need to leave it behind.

    Not when you stop playing and become yourself again.

    Not when you become older and wiser.

    Not when you go back to your regular life.

    Never.

    You don’t ever need to leave.

    Painting of a person with luggage waving goodby to someone outside.
    Painting by Karin Edman.

    We talk about entering the magic circle when we go to a larp, and we talk about leaving it. But there are other ways for magic to exist in your life.

    Like a parallel universe, just on the other side of the thinnest of veils.

    Like a double meaning to the tasks you undertake.

    Like a special room inside your mind, that you share with others or that you keep private.

    The way I see it, you don’t need anyone’s permission to start living with magic.

    Not from a living person, and not from a manual written by a dead historical person.

    Magic will be personal anyway.

    Never let anyone else gate keep you from connecting with magic. They don’t own that bond, you do.

    You do.

    Painting of people in a ritual in the woods in the moonlight. Two naked people hand a third horned and naked person a cup. Two clothed people oversee the ritual.
    Painting by Karin Edman.

    Manuals and grimoires and magic books and traditions are not THE truth, just a truth. It was hopefully true for the writers, the makers, the members, doesn’t mean it has to be true to you.

    Larp is fiction, but fiction can inspire real life choices.

    By larping witches, mages, magic users, sorcerers, völvas, druids we can try with our physical bodies to move through so many strands of magic and see if they resonate with us.

    You are invited.

    Painting of a clothed person holding a cup, with a naked horned person reflected in the mirror
    Painting by Karin Edman.

    Cover Photo: Close-up of painting by Karin Edman.

    This article will be published in the upcoming companion book Book of Magic and is published here with permission. Please cite this text as:

    Edman, Karin. “This is an Invitation to Larp.” In Book of Magic, edited by Kari Kvittingen Djukastein, Marcus Irgens, Nadja Lipsyc, and Lars Kristian Løveng Sunde. Oslo, Norway: Knutepunkt, 2021. (In press).

  • Sex, Romance and Attraction: Applying the Split Attraction Model to Larps

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    Sex, Romance and Attraction: Applying the Split Attraction Model to Larps

    Disclaimer: The opinions expressed herein are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Nordiclarp.org or any larp community at large.

    The Split Attraction Model (SAM) was created within the aromantic (often shortened as aro) and asexual (often shortened as ace) communities to build language to describe members’ experiences. The model can be used to expand language in describing larps, in setting expectations, and in player negotiations. The language and understanding of the split attraction model helps to reduce struggles and misunderstandings.

    To understand the Split Attraction Model, it’s important to understand the difference between sexual and romantic attraction, as they are often conflated. Sexual attraction is an attraction that would make someone desire sexual contact with the object of their attraction. Romantic attraction is an attraction that would make someone desire romantic contact with the object of their attraction. There is a societal view that people may experience sexual, but not romantic, attraction to a particular person: but the converse isn’t widely acknowledged, and when it is, it is generally presented in a negative context.

    Split Attraction Model

    It is helpful to start with some background to best understand the model. Asexuality is a sexual orientation where a person experiences little to no sexual attraction to anyone, and aromanticism is a romantic orientation where a person experiences little to no romantic attraction to anyone. That these are separate orientations, and that they are separate from more widely-known orientations, can be understood via this model. While the SAM is known and inherent in aro and ace communities, it can also be put to use elsewhere, including larp.

    The Aromantic spectrum Union for Recognition, Education and Advocacy (AUREA) defines the Split Attraction Model as:

    The Split Attraction Model (SAM) is a framework that makes a distinction between experiences of attraction, depending on certain characteristics, and conceptualizes them as different types of attraction. Commonly used are: sexual, romantic, aesthetic, alterous, platonic and sensual attractions.

    An Introduction to Aromanticism, The Aromantic spectrum Union for Recognition, Education and Advocacy
    The Split Attraction Model (Laura Wood)
    The Split Attraction Model (Laura Wood)

    The above diagram offers a simplistic view of the model. Sexual and romantic orientations are considered separately. The left column indicates whether someone experiences sexual attraction, and if so to whom. If someone experiences little or no sexual attraction they may be considered asexual and if they experience little to no romantic attraction they may be considered aromantic. If they do experience sexual or romantic attraction then they would be considered allosexual or alloromantic respectively.

    Someone who experiences no sexual attraction, and romantic attraction to the same gender as themselves could be considered asexual and homoromantic. Someone who experiences sexual attraction to a gender other than their own and no romantic attraction would be heterosexual and aromantic. It can also apply to allo identities — for example someone might be sexually attracted to multiple genders (pansexual) but only romantically attracted to a gender other than their own (hetroromantic).

    While the SAM was developed by the aro and ace communities, it is intended to be agnostic to commonly recognized orientations. Another example is someone who is heterosexual and biromantic who might otherwise be seen as “straight”.

    The SAM in Larp

    In the rest of this article, we will be discussing the SAM, and applying it in ways that refer to players’ interests within larp, which may or may not match their personal orientations. It can be common for a straight player to roleplay romance with players of the same gender, or to not have any desire to roleplay sex in larp. Likewise, an aro player may or may not want to roleplay romance in larp.

    Larp often uses the terms ‘romance’ and ‘romantic’ as attributes to describe content, focus, or in creating character relationships: but the meaning varies and is often left unspecified. In some situations this means flirting, courting, and expressing feelings of love between characters. In others it may mean or include intimate or sexual content, in the background, off-stage or on-stage using metatechniques, or otherwise. This conflation is understandable, as many people view romance and sex as going hand in hand, and many societies avoid direct discussion of sex in public.

    Larp Development

    Understanding the SAM can be an asset to larp designers who need to understand the approach that they want to take to attraction in their larp.

    It can help designers decide what they want to include in the larp. The model can examine whether romance is present in the larp and whether sexual attraction is assumed or played out. Even larps that don’t feature characters with romantic and sexual orientations that differ from each other might benefit from understanding how much play they want around each of these areas. For example many UK Freeform larps focus on romance, but don’t often have on-stage play around sex, although sexual attraction in the romantic relationships is usually assumed.

    Working out the focus designers want to place on romantic and sexual attraction can also help development of metatechniques. If sexual attraction is an important element of the larp, then metatechniques used for sex generally reflect this, whereas if it’s less important then metatechniques may be less elaborate or omitted all together.

    Using this model also opens designers up to the possibility of other relationship models such as queerplatonic relationships (ie close relationships which are not primarily romantic or sexual in nature) and a general approach of relationship anarchy (ie a belief that relationships should not be bound by set rules other than those which are mutually agreed upon).

    Describing a Larp

    Consent-based larp requires as a foundation that all involved are aware of what they are consenting to, which is something the SAM can help with.

    When providing the details of a larp, it is common to include an overview of content potential players can expect, the principles of the larp, or a design document. Using the SAM when writing and sharing these details can remove ambiguity of what content players would be signing up for. This description or document can separately specify if romantic and sexual content is included, along with what is meant in each of those cases.

    For example, without using the SAM, a larp may commonly indicate “romantic plots between characters feature strongly in this larp”. To some people, they may assume this means flirting, courting and expressions of love, and want to sign up for that, only to get to the larp and discover sheets which describe sexual content and a defined metatechnique that players can optionally use to represent physical intimacy during game. Using the SAM, this same larp might say “This larp strongly features romantic plots between characters including flirting, and expressions of love as well as sexual content in the background and use of a physical intimacy metatechnique.”

    Character Creation

    By separating sexual and romantic attraction and detailing how they are expressed within the character, the model can be useful for creating characters based on the type of play that participants want to experience.

    It can allow them to understand exactly what they are opting into. They can feel comfortable creating or signing up for a character who has a romantic relationship(s), without feeling that there will be expressions of sexuality that they are uncomfortable with, or conversely can play a sexually driven character without feeling that there is an expectation that a romance should develop.

    This can be used to build participant confidence in knowing that they don’t have to opt out of romantic or sexual relationships entirely in order to get the type of play that they enjoy. It also means that there is less uncertainty about whether a relationship will develop in a way that all the participants are comfortable with, leading to increased confidence during the larp. It gives agency to participants by allowing them to choose what is being expressed, rather than making assumptions about what trying to pursue a specific type of relationship entails.

    Player Negotiation

    In order for the participant in a larp to fully understand what they are consenting to, it is important that as few as possible assumptions are made about the nature of play. This is particularly true around romance, sex and relationships where participants might find it necessary to set boundaries for personal comfort but struggle to do this where the SAM model isn’t normalized, leading to players either continuing with scenes that make them uncomfortable or opting out of romantic or sexual play completely. Not only does that unnecessarily limit play, it can cause games which feature these things heavily to be unplayable by some people as they would be shut out.

    The majority of people have expectations of what a romantic (or sexual) relationship should entail which are carried into larp. When two or more characters are defined as being in a relationship, it is generally understood that this will include romantic and sexual aspects. Discussion of participant boundaries would normally take place, but generally would start with the expectation that the player is comfortable in participating in at least some metatechniques involving symbolising sex within the relationship (assuming such metatechniques exist within the larp.) There would also be the assumption that the participant would be comfortable with playing on some romantic attraction, possibly as an endgame in a relationship which is initially based on sexual attraction.

    By using the SAM the participant can discuss the sexual and romantic attitudes of their character, as well as the boundaries they are setting as a player. It also means that the other player in the relationship can understand the intended trajectory and steer play accordingly. Use of the SAM can also allow more people to play larps that feature romance or sex, by providing more detailed aspects to be negotiated on.

    Posed photo from Live or Die: Break the Wheel, a Game of Thrones larp (photo: Maya Kuper)
    Posed photo from Live or Die: Break the Wheel, a Game of Thrones larp (photo: Maya Kuper)

    Examples of the Split Attraction Model in Larps

    Just a Little Lovin’ (Tor Kjetil Edland and Hanne Grasmo) could potentially allow players to use the SAM during play. One of the key themes of the larp is ‘desire’: and there are metatechniques to offer sex and to play out a sexual encounter with the amount of desire and passion discussed beforehand by the participants. Afterwards each character gives a monologue about what occurred, which could allow them to express a (lack of) romantic attraction.

    Cult used a technique where when characters negotiated physical intimacy off-game, they also discussed how the characters felt about it and how it would affect their relationship. Due to the setting (a manipulative and exploitative religious cult) it was assumed that not all sexual attraction would necessarily have a romantic element.

    Born this Way (Rei England) has opportunities for participants to calibrate their relationships with each other and specifically to ask questions about any sexual or romantic attraction, or deepening of a queerplatonic relationship, as separate emotions, rather than assuming that one entails the other.

    More Than Friendship (Quinn D and Eva Schiffer) specifies both romantic and sexual relationships and orientations in the main description, to be explicit and remove ambiguity. There, while the focus is specifically on platonic relationships, romantic and sexual orientations still need to be specified separately.

    Currently in larps there seems to be more opportunity to convey that sexual attraction might not be romantic, than to convey that romantic attraction might not be sexual, as the metatechniques used generally focus on sexual activity.

    Underexplored Topics

    Most of the above is focused on romantic and sexual attraction because they are the most recognized and explored in larp. But the SAM also invites us to look at other types of attraction. While some larps do include some of these, there is a lot more that can be explored. In the same way larps often use romantic and sexual attraction to draw characters towards each other, these other types of attraction can as well.

    A larp setting where appearance is important could lean heavily on aesthetic attraction. One focused on exploration of touch could explore sensual attraction. And almost all larps can focus on platonic attraction between characters. These are not often explored in larp simply as a reflection of our amatonormative society which supports the widespread assumption that everyone is better off in an exclusive, romantic, long-term coupled relationship, and that everyone is seeking such a relationship; and which prioritizes romantic connections above all others. By untangling these assumptions larp has more and various directions to explore.

    Wrap Up

    Using the SAM can help larp designers and players think about sexual and romantic attraction separately throughout the larp process. This allows more deliberate design and roleplay by examining and breaking into pieces something that society just assumes all goes together. And it better supports consent in larp by helping everyone understand what is included, instead of players interpreting things differently. The SAM can function as a language and tool in larp to recognize and apply the distinctions it brings. And it can help expand the topics explored in larp.

    This article was released to coordinate with Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week, and inspired on the Ace / Aromantic Spectrum Larpers group.

    Resources

    Ace / Aromantic Spectrum Larpers Facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1133807373664006

    Guidelines for Asexual and Aromantic inclusive larps: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1V2pArroYr4g0DMA0e3QMCuAVc8A6siw6R5TfIXIh8Zk/edit?usp=sharing

    “I Don’t Get It”, a larp about asexuality available in the Make a Scene anthology: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/makeascene/make-a-scene-larp-anthologies

    History of the Split Attraction Model:
    https://historicallyace.tumblr.com/post/152267147477/what-kind-of-attraction-a-history-of-the-split


    Cover photo: An in-game wedding during Live or Die: Break the Wheel, a Game of Thrones larp (photo: Maya Kuper)

  • Larp Hacking

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    Larp Hacking

    There is no right or wrong, only fun and boring

    Hackers, 1995

    When players of older characters at a Jane Austen inspired larp realise they are little more than NPCs for the younger characters, they go off piste and engineer their own romance plot. Through extremes of in-character behaviour, they force the younger characters to take on the roles of antagonists for them, thus inverting the power dynamics of the piece. This is done in a way that does not adversely affect the play of others.

    Larp hacking is when players subvert or change the design of a larp while the larp is running. At its most gentle, hacking a larp is when players find ways to push the limits of the design, or use the design of the larp in ways that the original designers did not expect. At the far end of the scale it is a revolt by players to rescue a larp from abject failure. When done for constructive reasons, subverting the design of the larp can be a useful way to improve or save an experience. Hacking a larp involves changing the overall play experience rather than simply tweaking a character. It is the output of calibration rather than gentle steering.((Steering is a conscious decision to change the character within the auspices of the design of the larp, whereas larp hacking plays with the structure. See Stenros, Jaakko. Playfulness, play, and games: A constructionist ludology approach. (2015).)) Larp hacking is called hacking because it involves changing a part of the design or structure of a larp without the designers’ involvement or consent, pushing the limits of the design, or using the design of the larp in ways that the original designers did not expect.

    How to hack a larp

    There is no single way to hack a larp, but it is useful to think about larp hacking as a three step process with little opportunity for testing and iterating.

    Step 1 – Analysis

    The approaches you take to hack will differ depending on why you’re doing it. It is more or less impossible to hack a larp successfully if you don’t understand what is not working, and why. This calls for some reflection.

    Here are some of the reasons you might need to hack:

    • The larp is not working for me
    • The larp is not working for a small group of (identified) players
    • The larp is not working for anyone
    • The larp is working, but I want to push the limits

    Imagine that a player has identified that the bulk of the larp seems to be taking place in the secure laboratory building, but as a mere janitor they are not allowed inside. The larp design imagined that there would be enough people outside of the laboratory for play to exist there as well, but for whatever reason, one player with a broom is now left sweeping up in the dark. Our imagined player is not a Turkuist,((Someone who follows the tenets of the Turku Manifesto.)) so they are not entirely happy with the situation.

    Just saying “the larp is not working for me” or “I am not enjoying myself” is not enough. “I am not enjoying this larp because I am unable to complete this particular function that the larp is supposed to offer, but does not” is better. Most constructive would be an analysis with an implicit solution: “If my character had access to the laboratory and the players there, this larp would be fun.”

    As a part of the analysis it is really useful to check in with other players. It is significantly easier to change a larp with a group. Often we’ll assume that we are the only player who is struggling, only to discover after the larp is over that we were one of many silently wishing there was someone to talk to.

    Step 2 – Design

    Larp hacking is arguably a form of larp design, except it is done by players, typically during the run-time of the larp. It uses many of the same skills and approaches as larp design. Once you understand what problem you are trying to fix, it is possible to come up with solutions. It might be possible to change part of the offgame structures of the larp. Our janitor player may, for example, create a security clearance badge to allow them passage into the lab. It may also be possible to hack from within the diegesis, e.g. by sneaking into the lab without the clearance and (when asked) state that janitors have always had access.

    Suggested approaches:

    • Creatively use or subvert the limits of the playing space. For example, climb through the air vents instead of facing the guards.
    • Introduce another element consistent with the setting, which hasn’t been used in the design. For example introducing feminism to a historical larp, which does not already have it.
    • Creatively use / subvert the rules set by the designers. For example by breaking ingame rules in ways you do not think were intended to happen.
    • Create new sub-groups or interactions between sets of players on the fly, or invent reasons for groups that are meant to compete to collaborate, if competition is blocking play. For example by creating an excuse for members of two warring factions to be trapped alone together without their weapons and work out how to escape.
    • Take the story of the larp in a direction that the designers had not considered. For example by crafting a new plotline for yourself and other players interested in getting involved.
    • Insert background material that was not in the larp from the start. For example by introducing new objects and giving them traditional or magical importance, or creating a new religion.

    Step 3 – Analysis (again)

    Your proposed hack is constrained by time, by impact, and by agency. It is like tuning the engine of a bus driving down the main road carrying 150 passengers. Stop the bus. Sit down. Think. Consider your solution carefully.

    Time

    Hacking a larp is done against the clock. The earlier in the game you are, the more likely you are to succeed. As a running experience the larp is fluid and your opportunity to implement a change tends to come with a narrow time window. Much like the fictional cyberspace cowboy trying to crack through black ICE,((Intrusion Countermeasures Electronics (ICE) is a term used in cyberpunk literature to refer to security programs which protect computerised data from being accessed by hackers. Black ICE refers to ICE that are capable of killing the intruder.)) if you leave it too long, the chance will be lost.

    Agency and Opportunity

    Your agency in-game is limited to what you can either do as your character, or what you can negotiate with players you can get hold of and get enthusiastic about your idea. You might have a great plan but if you lack the in-game agency to execute it, you need the off-game support from other players to make it happen.

    Impact

    Larp hacking is a creative use of space, but it is a shared space. Before you subvert it, consider your co-players. If the impact of your hack is significant and widespread,((See Sarah Lynne Bowman, The Larp Domino Effect)) it runs the risk of adversely affecting the experience of others. It could ruin their immersion, spoil their fun, or break their larp. Consider: Will your hack shut down play for others? Will it derail the plot? Will it break parts of the design that are working? We owe it to our fellow players to ask these questions before implementing a hack.

    Step 4 – Implementation

    You have a hack, you have thought it through, and now it is time to put it into action. Usually the method of implementation is baked into the design of the hack. In most cases it is a case of JFDI (“Just Do it.”), although sometimes the pace and timing is important. An elegant hack can be a beautiful piece of design, made all the more clever because it is done from within the larp itself.

    Conclusion

    Sometimes a larp does not work, either for us as individual players or for a number of participants. When a larp goes off-rail, it is not necessarily anybody’s fault, not the designers and not any particular players – it just happens because larps are prone to emergent chaos. For various reasons we may not want to rely on organisers to resolve these issues. Perhaps they are unable or unwilling to compromise their design. Perhaps we don’t want to discuss it with them, either through a lack of trust, or more likely because we see them as fellow larpers under an inordinate amount of pressure and choose not to burden them with our faux-world problems.

    There are plenty of strategies available for larpers when things are not working but most of these approaches are techniques that work within the structures of the larp. Sometimes that is not enough. Sometimes in order to play the game, you need to change the rules.


  • Just Breathe

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    Just Breathe

    Feeling tired, though you have slept well, stayed hydrated and eaten? Having a hard time concentrating, but you do not want to take a rest?

    Though mindfulness is a bit of a trendy word to use right now, I find that we should learn to use mindfulness as a way to steer our own play and to be more aware of here and now. Because here and now is really more what it is about. Some of us have easier to keep our minds focused on one thing at a time, while others might feel their thoughts wander away, and then maybe not always going the positive way. Using exercises to keep one’s mind on track is a way I personally have tried at larps ever since a friend (non-larper) once asked “Isn’t larp like mindfulness all the time?”. That one curious question has followed me since then, which is also why I wanted to share this with you as a reader.

    There are many different exercises out there, and many working very different from person to person. You will probably find a difference in learning exercises in your native language compared to for example English, which is why I will encourage you to search around the web for something that will work for yourself.

    The examples of exercises I will provide here are some I have tried at larps myself. The breathing stair I personally find to be easy to use even when being among a lot of other people, and I don’t necessarily need to be still or to have to close my eyes. It’s more about being aware of your breathing than to actually have to go through with the whole exercise. Depending on the larp genre, the focus exercise is easy to put in many different situations, since you don’t actually have to go through all of your senses if you don’t want to. For example, If there’s a ritual with chanting/singing/music I find perfect to just close my eyes for a while and listen.

    Maybe reloading should be a better word than mindfulness? I have found myself feeling both more into my immersion and focused at whatever I’m doing after a quick exercise. And if I have felt that I am not in control of my own experience, I have also felt that taking that short break and allowing myself to be here and now, have helped me create a better larp for myself.

    The Breathing Stair

    If possible and if you want to, close your eyes. Imagine that you are supposed to (slowly) walk up a stair with ten steps, but you have to count your breaths while doing so. You count in “in one” and “out one”, focusing on the breathing and the counting.

    In, one
    Out, one
    In, two
    Out, two…

    When coming to the top of the stairs at ten, you can, if you want to, stop there for a while and just mentally stand on that top platform. And when you are ready, you turn and walk down, doing the same thing, but going from ten down to one.

    If you lose count anytime during the exercise, it’s fine. Instead of stopping and starting over, compliment yourself for noticing that you lost your count or focus, and just go on from the step that you think that you were on before.

    Focus

    This is about very consciously choosing what you wish to focus on with your senses. If possible, close your eyes and pause what you are doing. Try not to value any of the impressions you get. You don’t necessarily have to focus on all of the senses, and you can stop any time you want, it’s not an exercise where you have to wait or do something special to stop with it.

    Start with listening.

    What are you hearing when listening to your left? What are you hearing when listening to your right? What do you hear when listening to sounds coming from behind you? Are any sounds louder? Do you hear sounds from very nearby or from far away? Is there sounds suddenly appearing?

    Then shift your focus to what you see. The things around you. Look at one thing at a time. Are there any special colours? Reflections in the light? Any shifts in the texture of things? Then move on to focus on what you feel. Let your koncentration go through your body. How does your clothes feel against your skin? If you are sitting down, how does what you sit on feel? Can you feel the air against the skin on the top of your hands?

    And finally try to notice if there’s any special smell around where you are. How does that smell? From what? Do you recognise any of the smells?

    Bibliography

    Bernd Hesslinger, Alexandra Philipsen and Harald Richter (2016). Psykoterapi för vuxna med ADHD: En arbetsbok. Hogrefe Psykologiförlaget.


  • Scary New Things

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    Scary New Things

    Stepping outside your comfort zone to try out something new at a larp can be scary. Whether that new thing is performing, being a leader, or playing a very touchy-feely character, it is easy to fear failure and have the whole larp ruined as a consequence.

    But playing with the same safe characters and themes can get boring. And at its best, venturing outside your comfort zone can not only be empowering and fun, it can be outright transformative (Bowman & Hugaas 2019).

    These tips aim to help you feel more secure and in control when trying out new things. They work best for where players have some control over the content of their characters and at least a few weeks to prepare before the game.

    1. Limit the amount of scary new things to one or two per larp

    Larping is often exhausting. There are so many things to remember, from character backgrounds to safety rules, that some anxiety is only to be expected — even without the addition of scary new things. If on top of this mental load you add too much at once, you run the risk of feeling completely overwhelmed even before the larp has started. Inversely, knowing you only have one or two new things to tackle helps you feel more in control.

    For example, when playing a fighter for the very first time, try to have the fighting be the only completely new thing you need to do. Don’t take on a character who also needs to hold a war council, make a public speech, and be evil, if all of these things are new to you as well.

    2. Have a safety net of familiar things to fall back on

    Doing new things at larps means having to learn how to do them, and learning happens best in the zone that just borders our comfort zone (Algayres 2019). Your comfort zone in larps is in familiar things: the characters you find easy to play and the skills you excel at. Use these as your safety net. This way you won’t have to be out of your comfort zone all the time. You can try out that scary new thing, and when you start to feel overwhelmed, you can fall back on your safety net. Even if, at the end of the larp, the scary new thing still feels scary and new, you can gain a sense of accomplishment from the things you are good at.

    For example, if being touchy-feely is outside your comfort zone, but engaging in witty banter feels very comfortable, combine the two traits in your character. That way you can fall back on being witty when touching others feels hard, and you can still feel you are playing your character well.

    3. Rehearse the scary new things before the larp

    Our characters are often experts at something we are not. Very few people are immediately good at something they have never done before and, as a consequence, doing that thing for the very first time at the larp can feel very intimidating
    — the opposite of what the character should be feeling. Rehearsing the new things beforehand can help make them feel a little more familiar. Some things can be rehearsed for real — e.g. public speaking or holding a weapon —
    but even when that is not possible, many things can be rehearsed mentally. Imagining your character doing their thing helps trick your brain into believing it is not the first time when you finally do that thing for real in the larp.

    For example, public speaking is something that is easy to rehearse before the larp, for real or through your imagination. Enlist a few friends to be your supportive and enthusiastic audience, or give a speech in-character to an imaginary audience, immersing yourself in their confidence.

    4. Ask others to support you

    We all have different things we are good at, things we find scary, and things we are trying out for the first time. Much of the competence of our characters comes from the support and lift we as players give each other. Asking for that support can feel as scary as doing the scary new thing itself because it exposes our lack of expertise. But it also takes away the pressure to be instantly perfect. Telling other people — the gamemasters, people playing your closest contacts, or friends coming to the same larp — that you are trying something new and scary makes it possible for them to support you.

    For example, when playing a character who is in charge and has to make important decisions, letting the gamemasters and other players support you takes away the pressure of having to succeed everything on your own. Find ways for the others to help you make those decisions in a way that does not undermine your character’s authority or your own sense of competence.

    There is no way around it — doing scary new things at larps is scary. The trick to doing them anyway is finding ways to maintain a sense of security and control when taking the plunge.

    Bibliography

    Muriel Algayres (2019): The Impact of Social Capital on Larp Safety. Nordic Larp. https://nordiclarp.org/2019/10/29/the-impact-of-social-capital-on-larp-safety/, ref. Jan 21st, 2020.

    Sarah Lynne Bowman & Kjell Hugaas Hedgard (2019): The Butterfly Effect Manifesto. Nordic Larp. https://nordiclarp.org/2019/08/20/the-butterfly-effect-manifesto/, ref. Jan 21st, 2020.


  • Heuristics for Larp

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    Heuristics for Larp

    Heuristic

    A heuristic technique, or a heuristic for short, is any approach to problem solving or self-discovery that employs a practical method that is not guaranteed to be optimal, perfect or rational, but which is nevertheless sufficient for reaching an immediate, short-term goal.
    Wikipedia, 2019

    Larps are complex. Once runtime starts, each individual player is expected to improvise actions that are, in an ideal world, in line with the thematic vision of the writers and designers, that further the story or plot of the larp, that are true to their character’s nature and motivations, and that don’t block play for others. At the same time, once a larp has begun, no one — including the organizers, knows everything that is going on. Needless to say, things can get messy and players get stuck. A bad larp experience can often originate from the first moment when a player doesn’t know what to do.

    Sometimes at the afterparty, when I tell a co-player about moments where I got stuck during a larp, their response is “oh, when that happens to me, I always do this…” This happens particularly often whenever I talk to players with more experience than I have — experience meaning general larp experience, experience with the genre or style, or experience with larps run by the organizing crew in question. On hearing their response, my mind goes, “why didn’t I think of that?” The answer is that strategies like these usually are employed as a substitute for thinking.

    Heuristic techniques help us reduce the load of decision making. They’re especially useful when it’s not possible (or just not worth the time it would take) to find an optimal solution. They are mental shortcuts that are generally good enough. Examples of heuristic techniques include rules of thumb, educated guesses, intuitive judgments, stereotyping, profiling, and common sense (Wikipedia, 2019). And we use them all the time, every day, not just in larp. Typically, they look something like this: “If X happens, do Y”, “If option X is available, always choose option X”, “When making a choice, always lean towards X”, or “If you don’t know what to do, try X first”. Heuristics sometimes don’t give us the result we wanted, but they often work as a starting point for getting us there. As you gain experience in a field, you typically build and refine a wide repertoire of heuristics.

    Let’s say you’re in a traditional Vampire larp and you’re feeling stuck. Heuristics that might help you get unstuck could include “if you don’t have anything to do, find someone and ask if they are in need of a favor” or “if nothing is happening, use obfuscate to spy on someone”. However, larp heuristics can be used for more than getting yourself unstuck. They can be about preferences, helping you generate scenes you typically find fulfilling, or to steer you away from play you find undesirable. A heuristic I employ in almost all larps I play is “if a council is about to be formed, look for the nearest exit” — I find that larp councils tend to generate play that rarely leads anywhere, so I avoid them when I can, and this way I don’t have to think about whether this time the council will be a good idea. To me, it’s worth sometimes missing out on a bit of interesting play to avoid what will most likely be an experience I don’t enjoy. Another great area for heuristics is during the awkward few hours at the beginning of a game, when players are all still mapping the larp and no one really knows what to do yet. An example could be “If you have no idea what is happening, find a character in a uniform and start demanding answers”.

    Heuristics are practical. They’re directly applicable to situations — they aren’t abstract concepts or theoretical knowledge. This means that they don’t tell you why something is the way it is, or why an action is a good idea in a situation, just that it generally works. They’re often also personal — they might not work for everyone. A heuristic is also not a general approach or philosophy for an activity (for example, “play to lose”
    is not a heuristic).

    In a situation where I’m trying to learn, I find heuristics useful because they provide a point to start practicing. Practice then leads to experiences that can be talked about, thought about, and analyzed, which allows one to see new perspectives that can be generalized and learned from.

    Across the wider larp community, players likely have thousands of heuristics they rely on. Gathering them so they can be categorized and compared to each other is one interesting place to start if we want to systematically explore what we do when we play.

    Example Heuristics

    If the arc of my character is driving towards something — killing a prince — and GMs stop me offgame — they need him alive — I have to resolve the tension in my character. Instead of dropping it, I’ll betray my character — I try, but fail — so I do the thing, but without the outcome.
    Monica Hjort Traxl

    Cold play makes me as a player very anxious. When there is a lot of it, I make it my character’s problem. I bleed-in the emotions I am feeling, and invent diegetic reasons why it’s happening. It’s like putting my play in a microwave.
    Moyra Turkington

    When I feel bored, I ask myself: What is my character lying to herself about? Then I find reasons to be with characters who complicate those feelings uncomfortably. Exposing character self-vulnerabilities boosts excitement and emotions in play, and diversifies who I’m playing with.
    Moyra Turkington

    Share your character’s beliefs and skills with others precisely when your character doubts them — hold your values to the flames. During a crisis of faith, I recruit other characters who aren’t doing much and give them lessons, letting the doubt show.
    Evan Torner

    Whenever a crowd gathers to sing songs by the fire I find something else to do. I find it hard to play there — the fire makes people tired and they’re singing, so it’s hard to talk to them, and bringing a big scene in disrupts things and is rarely welcome.
    Karin Edman

    During the first few hours of a larp when everything is awkward, if you have no idea what is happening, find a character in a uniform and start demanding answers. You’re unlikely to get answers, but you’ll find some play.
    Magnar Grønvik Müller

    Find your character pre-game by devising three unique things —emotional, physical, or behavioral— to portray them. For example, “never smile,” “seek affirmation,” or “slouch.” They can be changed or abandoned mid-game if you forget them or they don’t work.
    Elina Gouliou and Simon Rogers

    Never forget the Max Weber dictum that the three ways to get humans to do things are bureaucracy or tradition, charismatic authority, and fear. Also: using any of the three can make your character seem like an asshole. Good. Let them think that.
    Evan Torner

    Try shouting or screaming your character’s name loudly. If it can’t be shouted, your character will need a nickname that can be — or you need to — pick a different name.
    Elin Dalstål

    When I find myself not having fun in a larp, I choose another player and Play For Them. I become an NPC serving their story. Reframing the game transforms it with new goals and measures of fun, turns frustrated play fruitful, and makes someone else’s game shine at the same time.
    Moyra Turkington

    When I feel disconnected in large games, I pick another character that my character is secretly in love with and a reason I can never confess it. It gives me charged connections and instant opinions on them and everyone they know and interact with in character.
    Moyra Turkington

    If I want an exit from a larp where it’s appropriate, I plan a dramatic death scene. Go out in a blaze of glory so my nemesis sees me become a hero and my best friend can mourn, or make a smaller moment and slowly expire in the arms of a loved one.
    Jeffrey Mann

    If a council is about to be formed, look for the nearest exit. I find that larp councils tend to generate play that rarely leads anywhere, so I avoid them when I can.
    Magnar Grønvik Müller

    If I’m going to plan a secret meeting or conversation, I always leave the doors open or at least ajar so other players can listen in. If the secret affair or money laundering-plot never gets out during the larp then what’s the point of having it?
    Elvira Andemore

    When playing with a competitive opponent in a larp with secrets, I always arrange to talk offgame options like transparency or fate play and to make sure we are on the same team: people who want to have a good time together.
    Michael Freudenthal

    If no one seems to notice that my character is ill or drunk, I go for a big loud gesture. Knock over a table while stumbling. Start a fight with a marine surrounded by all her buddies. Collapse on a table where a bunch of people are sitting (if it looks like they aren’t doing something intense). Drop a metal tray that will clang satisfyingly.
    Jeffrey Mann


    Bibliography

    Wikipedia: Heuristic. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heuristic, ref. Dec. 1st, 2019.


  • Personal Perspectives

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    Personal Perspectives

    What Do We Do When We Play? contained a number of short articles giving personal perspectives on play situations. These are gathered here.

    Ask Questions Later

    Kathaleen Amende

    I was raised on parlor larps where non-diegetic calibration is frowned upon. And despite running freeform games for years, I occasionally still find myself fighting the (unhelpful and sometimes harmful) instinct to always “do what your character would do.” Such happened recently at a two-day international larp.

    During the first night of the event, through reasons that were no one’s fault, I found myself feeling isolated from the game and my fellow players. I knew I had to make a drastic change in my story. I wanted the change to be true to me and good for the game, so I asked myself two important questions: 1) what kind of play at this larp looked the most fun to me? and 2) what could make a positive impact on the game? In this case, I’d been enjoying watching the blackmailers and criminals conduct business, and there was a clear and growing demand for a drug dealer who could access what drugs remained.

    I approached both the organizers and the person whose character controlled the drugs, and told them about my concerns with my game. They not only supplied me with access to the drugs, they worked with me to create a story for this change. My character, as written, believed completely in the rule of law, but by ignoring that fact, I was able to vastly improve my experience.

    What I discovered was that sometimes, the change has to come first, and then the narrative reason for the change. So now, when players at our own events find themselves disconnected or isolated, we ask them the two questions I asked myself that day, and we help them find the answers. So far, it’s worked every time.

    Battling Perfectionism

    Julie Artula

    “Wait, I’m not ready!“
    “This doesn’t look right.“
    “Oh no, it’s not working…“

    I often catch myself wanting to get it ’just right’: just a little more of this, just a bit less of that. The risk: hyperfocusing on details rather than granting things the freedom to develop as they will.

    Playing Raine — a rebel character who didn’t give a fuck — helped me be more relaxed about this. Instead of checking on and chasing after all the things that could be happening, it allowed me to simply lie down on a lawn outside. If plot comes my way: great! If not: great, I can also just enjoy being present in character!

    Let’s face it: that cool plot waiting around the corner doesn’t depend on anything but YOU being there to take part in it. Nobody but yourself judges, expects or maybe even knows what you had in mind for whatever you’re worrying about! Mostly it will neither impact your ability to larp, nor what makes this larp memorable for yourself and others.

    Consider turning it into an advantage. I wore a fake tattoo carrying a lot of meaning for my character and was frustrated when it wore off faster than expected. But I realized that this could provide a great opportunity for play: why not let Raine’s fading tattoo symbolize her receding ability to remember her most joyful memory? Suddenly she had a new goal and more play-to-struggle material: admitting her drug addiction to herself and others, and finding a way to quit.

    Larp is all about giving ourselves permission to play. Let’s re-discover and celebrate the liberty of not having to fear bad consequences of something not working out as planned!
    Don’t let your perfectionism tell you otherwise — sometimes it’s refreshing not to give a fuck.

    Claiming Space

    Kaisa Vitikainen

    Two years ago I crossplayed for the first time. I had never larped a man before, and I was nervous about it. For three days straight, I would put on a binder and sideburns and pretend to be Samuel Skala, Prefect of House Durentius. Would anyone take me seriously?

    I needn’t have worried. The larp went amazingly well as far as crossplaying was concerned. It didn’t matter if the binder couldn’t quite hide my breasts, or if I was too short or too feminine. I was treated as a male, and the experience blew my mind. I didn’t have to claim space; I was given it. People listened to me. I was taken more seriously than I had been as the Headmistress at previous runs of the same larp.

    When I gushed about this experience to male friends afterwards, they seemed bemused, and at times amused as well. I suppose they couldn’t quite understand what a big deal it was, and my excitement about it might have seemed overblown. They couldn’t relate.

    But it was a big deal. At first I thought: I need to do this again! I need to do this a lot! But as the initial excitement faded, I decided not to let the satisfaction of being treated as a male be my only takeaway from the experience, as fantastic as it had been.

    I haven’t crossplayed since. I’ve learned to claim space in new and different ways, and in moments of uncertainty during larps I have sometimes asked myself, “What would Sam Skala do?” Surprisingly often, it works. It’s not the same, of course, and it’s much harder when not playing a male character, but using what I learned crossplaying to be given space as a non-male character can be just as satisfying.

    Cold Equations

    Elisa Tognari

    I played Bunker 101 twice. Some context: halfway through the game, a character does something that (while in good faith, done to save his seriously ill companion) puts the entire community at risk. The Bunker is too small and resources are too scarce for a prison. The only way to protect the community from criminals is exile; effectively a death sentence.

    The first time I played, I felt the duty to protect the community: the fragile balance that separated us from extinction depended on the isolation of potential dangers and the person responsible had to be thrown out.

    The second time, I was this man’s colleague and friend: I knew his desperation and anguish. He had to be protected and understood, not punished! Was life in a society without mercy or compassion worth it? If that was the cost of survival, I preferred extinction.

    The problem was that I wasn’t playing games. Both times I was sincerely, painfully convinced of my arguments. Both times I cried, frustrated and hurt, and struggled to make my voice heard, defending opposite positions.

    Thinking back, I still cannot decide which position was valid.

    Coldly, out of character, I evaluate the two points of view to find a definitive answer, but I see the reasons and the shortcomings of both, and cannot choose. Both times I perceived my opponents as misguided and foolish — once because they were blinded by sentimentality, once because they were cold and cruel.

    Through empathy people can be driven to dangerous actions, which elicit instinctive and irrational responses. However, cold calculations that do not recognize human suffering are just as dangerous, leading to cruelty that justifies itself with higher values, careless of what is left behind.

    I still cannot find a balance between these two positions, but I will always be grateful to this larp for putting me on this road paved with doubts, which leads me every day to be more aware of the choices I make.

    Larping the Language Barrier

    Ada-Maaria Hyvärinen

    In Ennen vedenpaisumusta (“Before the Flood”, 2019) my character Viktoria was a recent Russian immigrant to Finland. I’m a native Finnish speaker but wanted to somehow demonstrate that Viktoria wasn’t. We discussed language issues within our small character group of Russian immigrants. We definitely did not want to be offensive, so we decided to avoid fake accents and concentrate on what kind of mistakes or hypercorrect forms a non-native speaker with a Slavic language as their mother tongue would make in Finnish. I tried to think about non-native Finnish speakers that I know, and a co-player consulted their linguist friends and shared some tips with us. At the beginning of the game we asked other players to play up our character’s lack of fluency.

    This all combined made it possible to find Viktoria’s language. Playing with others that also spoke this way reinforced the patterns. Our characters were highly educated, so it was also natural to sometimes use English or other foreign words instead of common Finnish ones. Just occasionally stopping to think about a word had a great effect and gave other characters the chance to fill in missing words or to correct my character.

    Language was an effective tool in in-character relationships. Friendly characters were helping out and encouraging my character to speak. When Viktoria encountered Finnish officials, the language barrier made me feel the same helplessness and desire for validation that my character was feeling — after all, she was not stupid even if she didn’t speak perfectly. I also often dropped the broken Finnish when speaking to Russian contacts to point out that it was easier to talk to them, although we didn’t explicitly agree on simulating Russian this way.

    Overcoming Larp Shyness

    Mátyás Hartyándi

    My initial return to boffer larps was a boring and frustrating experience. I did not know anyone, felt that I had been left out of the main plot and was constantly worried about ruining play for others.

    I value larps as secure spaces for bold behavior experimentation where consequences are interesting but not real. I am an impulsive player who likes to jump into tense situations and escalate quickly, but I also care a lot about others and do not want to dominate scenes. I felt utterly powerless as I did not know how to use my improv skills and consent techniques in this setting.

    I did not give up. I asked for suggestions from veteran players and started planning. I wanted attention regularly but not exclusively. I was defining goals and searching for types of interaction which are exciting but not limiting to others, etc. I wanted to hack the traditional experience.

    Thus a decadent poet character was born. This way I could easily get my quick attention fix by reciting witty or naughty verses I had memorized. By playing a drunkard I could be uninhibited, unpredictable but harmless. Ah, those mood swings! I was sobbing in the corner after dancing on a table. I was pitiful, overly honest, mushy, funny, childish or wise at times.

    Heavy in-game drinking enabled me to escape situations by collapsing, and letting others help or exploit me (both are great!). I was dragged up and down, robbed and saved, fooled out of money, etc. Enacted blackouts also allowed me to start any conversation over and over again (a soft, diegetic repeat technique!).

    This well-prepared role was a useful excuse to be over the top but not dominating. A memorable experience for every participant!

    Show, Don’t Tell

    Ruska Kevätkoski

    You have crawled into the skin of your character and become my sister, officer Hali Okuma. I am reporter Oriel Cook. We are onboard ESS Odysseus and the world has ended. Throughout the larp we try and ultimately fail to find shelter in each other.

    Our characters have been out of touch for several years, ever since they fell out over differences of opinion. In their every interaction there is bitterness and doubt mixed with love and implicit trust. We let ourselves be drawn together and then push each other away, again and again, with increasingly small gestures.

    There is an easy familiarity in the way you talk to me, interlaced with uncertainty. We share secrets; we invite each other to understand and misunderstand. We create play out of half-finished sentences, hesitant pauses and interruptions. Shared laughter turns sour with a single wrong word. The downturned corners of your mouth tell me your character disapproves, so does a huff, the way you cross your arms and look away. But simply by coming to sit by my bed you communicate there is still love. When I improvise a “remember when…”, you say you do, and just like that shared history is born and becomes meaningful. Later a single glance tells me Okuma is worried for her little brother. Later still a memento tossed at me says: this is the end.

    I have known this before, but you have shown me again how powerful and beautiful it can be to communicate not with full explanations and grand gestures but with things so small and fleeting they can be easily missed.

    You don’t tell me who Hali Okuma is. You show me and trust me to understand.

    Talking to Strangers

    Suus Mutsaers

    I usually try to avoid joining ongoing campaigns. I’ve often felt that it’s harder to get involved in ongoing stories when joining halfway. Last year, contrary to my usual modus operandi, I joined a campaign retelling The Three Musketeers in steampunk.

    I had the pleasure to play Agnes, a young beggar who was called a saint by the people of Paris. When I received the character sheet she had several connections, most of whom were upper class characters with full agendas, which showed at the game. Although all her connections acknowledged Agnes’s presence, there was little to actually play on besides the formal introductions. Very soon, I started to feel bored. I felt my character was lacking plot hooks that would properly draw me into the story.

    Agnes had a few dominant characteristics. Carefulness and standoffishness were the major ones, the result of a childhood on the streets of Paris. But she also cared deeply about the people around her. I decided to amplify that aspect and started approaching characters who were alone and in distress. I decided to disregard some of the distance she was written with in favour of my own fun.

    Observing the other player groups, picking up on discussions and fights and then approaching the to me unknown characters afterwards when they were alone brought me just what I needed. In vulnerable moments most of them actually wanted to talk to the innocent-looking stranger who was offering a shoulder and a smile. Many of them entrusted Agnes with their secrets, giving me plenty of plot hooks to continue with.

    Disregarding the characteristic that got in my way while playing brought me a story that I’ll gladly return to. After all, I definitely want to figure out if she actually makes it to become an official church-acknowledged saint.

    The Larp I Won and the Larp I Lost

    Berber Wierda

    Once upon a time, I won a larp. I played a cooperative game without a win state, yet I came home claiming I won, and even the larpwright agreed with me. Why? Because my character, against all my expectations, achieved all she could have possibly hoped for. A closer bond with her one surviving relative, an explanation of her past, two friends where first she had none, and even two suitors to round things off. It was awesome. This larp is among my favourite games ever.

    Once upon a time, I lost a larp. I wasn’t playing to lose, per se. The game was a beautiful symbiosis of characters enhancing each other’s stories. Still, at the afterparty, I was quite adamant I lost the larp, and the organisers seemed to agree. Why? Because my character lost everything he thought he had. His certainties, his hopes and dreams, his family bonds, and the love of his life, all gone in an instant because of his own actions but despite his every intention. It was awful. This larp is among my favourite games ever.

    Both of these games were two-day one-shots, a format I had found difficult because it offers less time than longer-running series to achieve the immersion that I want and need from a larp; the experience of becoming someone else and seeing the world from another perspective. Winning and losing, in all their intensity, were a shortcut to immersion, showing in clear, exhilarated or desperate outlines what a character wanted or needed, how they were wired. Large emotions and life-changing events, I found, are a story hack. They’re a form of shorthand, a window to a character’s essence.

    And that essence is my ultimate participation trophy.

    The Mum, the Boss, and the Nymph

    Hanne Grasmo

    My youngest son was taken away by the almighty Grey Ones, to live forever as one of them in their castle in the sky. My tears, they wet my cheeks, my blouse, my skirt, the floor. I did not care about the comfort of my seven other children. This was the one I could never lose.

    Vintereventyr

    I have always used larps as a way to learn about myself, to explore possibilities for who I can be. 25 years of larping has made me who I am today, I think. In 1996 I decided to maxi-mize three of my personal features and build three different characters around them: With the Mother, from the example above, I wanted to be the kindest, most caring version of Hanne. I asked for a character who was a mother in the Nordic fairytale larp Vintereventyr (The Fairytale of Winter), and they gave me a pre-scripted one with eight kids! The youngest was my own real-life son, eight years old. So of course the bleed was enormous when HE was the chosen one. He even wanted to leave with them. I am sure I cried two buckets full during the larp, for all the things that happened to my kids!

    The next one I wanted to play was the myth “Hanne Grasmo” — I already wrote for an erotic magazine then — and as purely sexual as possible. The designers of the philosophical fantasy larp Løgnens Rike (The Kingdom of Lies) had a long inter-creative process together with each and every player, and together we made the nymphtroll Ediiitha. I even had sexual magic to seduce the humans together with my two nymph-friends. All through the larp’s seven days I only whispered or climaxed. The most fierce and explorative one was maybe in full day-light, outside the village inn, when I orgasmed three times riding my staff. The villagers thought some weird magic was going on!

    I also wanted to play strong and bad. In my career and organisational life I have often been in a manager position. So I chose the dystopian sci fi-larp Kybergenesis for this. I just stated I wanted to play one of the administrators, and I made my pre-scripted character come to life with the strongest and worst sides of my role as “leader”. Just once I went out of character to check if I had treated someone too bad: I cut a scene where a young worker had spent two hours in a stand-up cell, and was then interrogated, to ask if he was okay. After all, he was shivering all over. It was my fault: I forced him to have sex with me and placed a condom in his pocket. Since sex was forbidden for the worker class, I tipped the Police Force and they caught him hard. Then the young man met me, The Ultimate Leader, as the Judge in court.

    So who was she, Hanne Grasmo, after this self-explorative year of larp? I found all the characters spoke truth to me. The Mother, the Nymph-troll, and the Boss are aspects of me I both fear and cherish. I learned I could be even more shamelessly heartful, horny, and bossy. I think I still have self-confidence to be more of me because of those three characters. On the other hand, the interactivity and embodiment of larping taught me how my powers can affect others very negatively, and make them avoid or even hate me.

    The most important lesson, which I have striven for since, is to play as close to home as I can. Then may larp characters have transformative powers.

    Uplifting Antagonism

    Jasmin Lade

    For On Location (2019), I was cast as The Diva. By establishing her status through pre-game calibration, I made sure the threshold for others’ emotions towards her was somewhere between “respectful pity” and “scared shitless”. However, it was very important to me not let the character become a caricature and slip into antagonist NPC territory.

    I didn’t make her lose her cool over every little thing. She had a temper, yes, but more like a ticking time bomb with a hidden countdown than an active landmine. For example, when another actress showed up wearing the matching skirt to my top, the diva didn’t have any reason to be angry about such a petty thing. My character remained calm and we had fun with it, which had a surprising element to it because it played with the established expectations towards my character. Because I didn’t push the other character away, we had several lovely interactions throughout the day and created play for others around the fact that we wore matching clothes.

    In general, gracefully walking the established baseline will make every deviation from it all the more impactful. The Diva’s extreme was explored at a point in the larp where all characters were on edge after having been in this house for several weeks. She was annoyed at another character and ultimately had him cowering in a corner after slapping him. This short scene helped cement a fearful respect and it gave many others a topic to discuss.

    When playing an antagonist, you don’t have to play at extremes the whole time. Often it can be enough to just establish that the extremes within a character and their status exist, and let the tensions simmer.

    You Make Me Brave

    Ruska Kevätkoski

    On the other side of the curtain, a nightmare world awaits.

    My heart is pounding, but not out of fear. I feel eager, excited, exhilarated. I glance at my watch, tighten my grip on the prayer beads. I look at my teammates with a reassuring smile and step through the curtain. I am admiral Radford Luke, the Master of the School of the Endless Journey. I am a Dreamwalker and as I step into the dream, I am not afraid.

    Which is a little unfortunate. This is a horror larp, and as a player I expected to be frightened. I wanted to feel fear in a safe and supportive environment. I wanted to experience that adrenaline rush, and after the larp ends, I find myself a little disappointed that I have not.

    Strong immersion into a character’s mindset, I have just confirmed, can override my own deep-seated inclinations. A fearless character can make me brave for the duration of the larp. A calm character can soothe my often hyper-active mind. A character with a healthy appetite can help me eat. The same is also true in reverse. In the next part of the campaign I experimented by inflicting Radford with some neurological problems. By the end of the larp I was genuinely stuttering and feeling weak.

    I can make this “immersion override” work for me. I can take on challenging characters and trust that I will be able to handle whatever my character can, or I can give my characters traits that will make the larp a little easier for myself.

    And the next time I immerse myself into Radford’s mind, I can rectify my previous disappointment. I will give him a fear, and then we can both be frightened together.


  • Steering for Survival

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    Steering for Survival

    We need bread, yes, but roses too.

    Helen Todd

    All humans have experienced being shy or uncomfortable, and we generally fear being unwelcome — in larps as elsewhere. For some participants, though, the stakes are higher. What they are worried about is not a lonely moment or a frustrating experience, but being singled out, experiencing social violence like out of character humiliation or racism, or even for a stranger to become physically violent towards them.

    When such worries come true, the result for them is not just a bad larp, but pain, anger and heartbreak. It is bad enough to have to face prejudice in daily life. To not be allowed to escape it, even in other lives in fictional worlds, can feel like being robbed of an especially important freedom. Such experiences have led players to disengage from larp entirely, which is a loss for our communities and a failure for us as collectives of players.

    Many of your co-players at different larps will have real-life experiences of violence, harassment, and social rejection based on racism, homophobia, transphobia, or other kinds of cultural bias. Some will have experiences of fearing for their lives because of acting or being “wrong” relative to social norms in the real world. You may or may not know; they might even come across as strong and unbothered. Either way, the calculations they make as they larp are necessarily different from someone whose expectation of the world generally is to be seen and respected. This article will try to illustrate how our differences in experiences and expectations can affect how we larp.

    When we play, we automatically use our cultural knowledge to make assumptions about the goals, intentions, identities, and personalities of the people who play with us. However, inserting our social bias into play also has counterproductive results. We often miss cues or opportunities from our fellow players, and may unintentionally associate them with their ingame role — to the point where it’s quite common for the player of the villain to introduce themselves to people after the larp by saying that no, they’re not actually that horrible character.

    You might assume that the player of a character you read as socially confident or sexually aggressive is equally comfortable being socially confident or sexually aggressive when the larp is over, or that someone whose attempts to play a powerful character fell flat is a bad leader in real life. In most cases, we know not to trust our assumptions about who the player is after a larp is over. But with everything going on in a larp, we’re not as good at not assuming things about people during play. Most assumptions are harmless, and often our co-players won’t even notice. But when those assumptions reflect internalized bias, they can cause harm.

    When we engage in play during a larp, we are always betting that our suggestions — our social bids (Edman 2019) — will be picked up on by others and create interesting interactions.

    When you burst into the room with an urgent message for the Queen, you are betting that other players will respond to you, will give you space to interact, and will mirror the role you are performing back to you — treating you as, say, a royal messenger, not as the court jester or ignoring you entirely. Internalized bias affects how co-players react to the bids we make as we larp.

    Ignoring a character as “not serious” or dismissing them as somehow “obviously not important” is one example of internalised bias. Another one would be automatically assuming that a player from an oppressed minority is interested in bringing that oppression into the larp and seeing their character go through it as well. Cultural bias can make it difficult for us to imagine more than a narrow set of stories that would “fit” certain player bodies.

    It is not your fault that such prejudiced norms exist in society and inside your mind, but it is everyone’s responsibility to be aware how they limit us, and to work actively to change them. Unwittingly playing on your own internalized bias can entirely derail your co-player’s experience in ways you didn’t intend (Kemper, 2018). You can set the tone of their larp in ways they didn’t want, and in some cases, ruin it entirely.

    Most of the time for most players, the outcome of play invitations are safe and predictable. For some players though, certain play situations can be wildly unpredictable, even if they spend more time than their co-players reading the social dynamics of the room and managing risk. This risk management work takes them away from play, weakening the fabric of the larp and hurting everyone’s experience.

    Let’s look at some (fictional) examples:

    • A middle-aged woman, cast as a beautiful libertine, finds herself continually rebuffed by players who say, “It would be like playing with my mom.” She wonders how to get her co-players to play her up without making them uncomfortable and without herself being made to feel undesirable or wrong.
    • A tall, heavily built man is playing a brooding, emotionally volatile character. He repeatedly asks himself in each scene how much anger he can express to be seen as accurately portraying the character without scaring or hurting his co-players, or removing their agency.
    • A person who is an amputee is cast as a warrior. Despite meta-techniques that make it clear they are just as capable, they worry players will find excuses to keep them from fighting. “What can I do to make my co-players want me on the battlefield instead of guarding the camp?”
    • A racialized((I.e., read by others as “not white”)) person playing a historical game notices many players singling them out for play on racism, despite it not being a theme of the larp. They ask, “What can I do to stop my co-players from performing racism they think is historically accurate? What can I do to put myself on the same level of agency as my white co-players?”
    • A trans player in a larp that engages with physical desire finds herself nervously reading each player, trying to guess who will be willing to engage and where their limits are. Despite a play contract that emphasizes slow escalation and opt out, she isn’t certain that other players will engage at all if she initiates a scene, and is afraid they may react violently.

    While most participants in a larp will be steering for a fun or interesting experience, others will be steering around cultural bias or — especially players from marginalised groups — even steering for survival.

    Steering is “the process in which a player influences the behavior of her character for non-diegetic reasons” (Montola, Stenros, and Saitta 2015). Steering for survival is the experience a marginalized player has in a larp when they’re trying to get through the game without being hurt more than they can afford, while hopefully getting some of the positive or healing things they’d hoped to find.

    The ability to read social situations is a learned skill; so is learning to read a larp. As we learn to larp, we all learn to pick up on things like the play bids of others and to read the arc that our character is on so we can evaluate if it’s one we want. Many players find as they larp that they only need to read the fictional situation, and can forget for long stretches of time that the players are actually from our societies and our time. This is a kind of privilege. Their lives and/or their experiences with the particular players have not given them reason to trust that the pain and bias of the real world will not follow them into imaginary places.

    In just the same way that learning to read the emotions your co-players are performing makes you a better player, so does learning to read the choices and decisions they may be forced by their experiences of the world to make in their interactions with you. The following is a list of questions your co-players from marginalized identities may be asking themselves during runtime.

    • Will it be physically possible for me to be where the most play is happening?
    • How do I need to modulate this (real or portrayed) emotion for my (or my character’s) behavior to not be read as socially unacceptable?
    • Will other players react negatively to my body in game-breaking ways if I take this action?
    • What stereotypes are being projected onto me that I cannot modulate via actions?
    • What kind of play will I not be permitted to engage in that other players are permitted?
    • How will people misread my emotions or my actions?
    • How will I be (uniquely) socially penalized for my (perceived, normal) actions?
    • If I do this, will I be physically or emotionally able to do other things I need/want to do?
    • What don’t I know, where my ignorance will shock other players or will be held against me?
    • Will I be able to understand others and/or will I be able to get others to understand me?
    • Does my role in this larp push me to perform a negative stereotype others may have of someone like me? Can I avoid playing into it, and if so, how?
    • Are there other players like me also attending? Will their presence be enough to change what I’m able to do or experience, or the consequences it has?
    • If I do this (normal) thing, will other players react/treat it as real in the fiction/pay attention?

    This list isn’t exhaustive, and we’re trying to generalize here — some of these questions will matter more in some play cultures than others. Almost everyone will have to ask some of these questions sometimes; you probably have. Now imagine how exhausting it must be to constantly perform social risk management and navigation as you move through the world. How it might drive you to fear violence or rejection from your environment, and the ways it might make you wary of trusting strangers.

    Larp is at its best as a medium when we can push boundaries together, as one ensemble. Pushing together means each of us realizing that our narrative can’t come at the expense of other players. To create space for deep exploration, we first need to build deep and mutual trust within the ensemble. One of the places trust comes from is first understanding the challenges faced by others, and then showing by our actions that we care enough to help them overcome those challenges in whatever way that they want us to, even if it’s inconvenient.

    If you are aware of questions your fellow players may need to ask, you’re going to be more able to play together on difficult themes without accidentally hurting anyone or making light of serious issues. If you know your co-players may be steering for survival, you’re less likely to be the reason they need to. Being attentive to how other people’s agency may differ from yours will make you a better co-player for everyone, not just marginalised groups, and contribute to a play culture where all participants will feel more confident engaging in brave play.

    While playing and pursuing games with difficult subject matter may be liberatory, there is no point in making games about hard subjects if they drive us apart. If we refuse to acknowledge both our own internal bias, and the need for many of our co-players to adapt around bias, we will not be able to play as deeply as we might hope.

    Larp as a medium can tell serious and nuanced stories, but doing so requires us to be brave together. In Nordic larp, we like to tell stories about things that matter deeply in the real world. Many of the subjects we want to explore, like sexism, racism, sexual violence, or the experiences of migration or class oppression, come much closer to the lives of some players than others. To be forced without warning to recreate or re-experience oppression from your everyday life inside a larp can cause emotional or social harm, whether serious or subtle. On the other hand, in some other larp, the same scene can be genuinely liberating — if you have actively chosen to engage, and have the agency you need around the experience and its framing.

    Bibliography

    Jonaya Kemper. (2018) “Playing to Create Ourselves: Exploring Larp and Visual Autoethnographic Practice as a Tool of Self Liberation for Marginalized Identities” (Unpublished Master’s Thesis). New York University, Gallatin Graduate School.

    Karin Edman (2019): “Social bid”-method of playing on oppression in larp. WonderKarin. https://wonderkarin.se/2019/11/15/social-bid-method-of-playing-oppression-in-larp/, ref February 5th, 2020.

    Markus Montola, Jaakko Stenros, and Eleanor Saitta (2015): The Art of Steering. Knudepunkt. The Knudepunkt 2015 Companion Book.