Editorial note: This article was originally published in the Knutpunkt 2026 book Seasons of Larp. It has been reprinted from there with the editors’ and authors’ permission. It has not been edited by Nordiclarp.org.
A few years back, during a humorous conversation among fellow ‘aging larpers’ – as we playfully describe ourselves – we riffed on the familiar ‘I’m too old for this shit’ whinging and whining. While we wrapped ourselves in blankets, munched on a few extra snacks we brought to the game, and laughed at our own growing list of comforts, I cheerfully chimed in with a wink and spontaneously proclaimed ‘I am a glarper and I am proud of it!’
That was the moment I realised I had accidentally named something I had already been living for years. In an ironic, hilariously self-aware, and slightly epic moment, the term ‘glarping’ was born – at least for me. Ever since, I happily kept spreading this idea and its spirit.
To get into the right mood I wrote this article in between three international larps, played in three different countries within four consecutive weeks. It was an intense endeavour, it pushed me to some of my limits. At the same time, it felt like the perfect opportunity to remind myself of what I need to experience a good larp – while being exposed to the stress of travelling abroad, sleep deprivation, emotional turmoil and intense experiences with mostly strangers, some of whom I hope will become friends, and some who might also see larp not only as escapism but also as a little holiday away from reality.
What is glarping?
When my wonderful hobby, larp, entered my life around thirteen years ago, I quickly realised that comfort is not only key, but king to me – especially in combination with international travel. With a few well-chosen life hacks and self-indulgent perks I organise for myself, glarping becomes a sort of hedonistic take on larping. As glarping is not a generally shared concept let me elaborate a bit.
‘Glarping’ is a coined word combining ‘glamping’ and ‘larping’. Some time ago the idea of ‘glamping’ emerged in the camping community, meaning glamourous camping, a lifestyle that combines nature with comfort – often in wildly over-elaborate ways. Think carpets, feather beds, bathtubs in tents, or a fully prepared campsite with a chef grilling Kobe beef on a BBQ stove and an open fire prepared by a park ranger. That kind of thing. While glamping is luxury despite nature, ‘glarping’ to me is about adding a bit of personal luxury or extra comfort to larping. It is attending a larp with an optional personal add-on bonus system I organise for myself. The idea kind of blends nicely, as some of us enjoy the set in-game drama and the deep character-play experiences, but perhaps not the prospect of spending the night on thin mattresses in damp sleeping bags with mediocre coffee in the morning (yes, to some coffee is a big deal). This is when glarping steps in, which is about pampering myself a little more on location so that comfort also enables more engagement and diving into the role.
Hedonism, immersion and why ‘glarping’ comfort matters
When I larp I do not only give my time and presence, but I give my personal energy, commitment and heart to the gameplay and fellow larpers. I also love tasty food, my cup of good coffee, a warm bed and hopefully a hot shower at least once a day. Overall, I would probably consider myself a bit of a hedonist. I have always had a taste for the good life, enjoyed comfort, and appreciated occasional indulgence – not in opposition to others, but in responsibility toward my own limits and needs.
Glarping means I make my stay even more pleasant by bringing or organising a few extra things for my personal comfort, when they are – for whatever reason – not provided by the organisers. I simply prepare myself for staying somewhere else and having a good time. We all know that intense larping consumes a great deal of our energy. When we are deeply immersed, we are so into the game that we often even forget to eat or drink. Nights tend to be short, beds may be uncomfortable, and we are often far from the usual treats and small comforts we have back at home. This is when the spirit of glarping becomes practical rather than glamorous. Initially the idea was about indulgence, but I quickly realised that sometimes even little things can be a dearly missed luxury. Ultimately, we are not at home and are instead guests at the venue. You may not fix a missing hot shower on location, but you can make sure you are well prepared, or might find solutions like booking a separate accommodation nearby. These little extras may also allow me to have an even greater larp experience myself. Being comfortable allows me personally to fully engage with the emotional, social, and creative depth the game asks of me.
When I decide that I would like to play a larp, I first register what is provided by the organisers before signing up for a spot. I assess if there is anything crucial that I could really be missing, and if this larp is suitable for my needs. I do this by checking the larp announcement to see if I can possibly find any additional information about the location online, or simply asking the organisers in case I’m looking for something special. Transparency on the organisers’ website regarding services provided on location helps me a great deal to decide if the larp is suitable for me. I then decide what I might want to bring for myself as my own personal level of comfort or luxury.
Knowing what to expect allows me to relax into the experience rather than brace against it. Of course, I also recognise my own limits and do not sign up for games where my basic needs clearly cannot be met – for example, playing on a ship when I know I get seasick, or committing to a physically active and strenuous outdoor larp that would exceed my endurance. At times sleeping in a tent outside or a room with twenty people might just not be the right thing for me.
Some larps are played at great locations with a lot of add-ons, some offer a great location but no additional services. Some higher-priced larps already offer glarping, but it is not about the big things. The location and services provided are clearly what they are, and this is totally fine. Mostly all organisers are very clear and transparent about what amenities to expect on location and this is super important for us players so we can plan ahead.
Once I have been accepted, I do a bit of additional research. Like if there is a supermarket nearby in case I forget anything, or checking facilities and services in the area. I may ask organisers to clarify questions on certain amenities, like whether there is a kettle available. If necessary, I take certain things into my own hands – transparently and without interfering with the overall organisation, like organising a separate place to stay in case I do not want to stay on location and sleep in a tent.
Ideas of how to glarp
So why do I sign up for a larp when what is offered by the organisers does not fully meet my needs? Because I love larping, and I understand that everybody’s expectations are different, and that is perfectly fine. I realised that I might need a few cherries on top that others might not want at all. It does not always have to be a big or fancy thing. For some larpers a good warm coffee or hot drinks and a tasty bite for hunger outside strict mealtimes could already be a glarping factor.
For me, glarping can be something very small, ranging from a delicious homemade snack in between, to a water kettle I bring for my hot water bottle that goes into my sleeping bag. An electrical heating blanket or reusable hand warmers have found their way into my suitcase. A nourishing face mask for my skin and eye patches after a short night is standard already, and I love to share them with my roomies. Or I bring wet toilet paper in case there are portable toilets available, or wet body towels when there are no showers on location. It can also be a little coffee maker for delicious coffee so I can begin the day grounded, and my favourite oat milk and caffeine-infused-chocolate snacks for in between are also helpful. It can be a flask of delicious liquor I enjoy in private (when allowed) or booking a massage treatment to cool off and relax after the larp, when adding an additional day before I travel back home. When travelling with friends, it may extend to sharing an exclusive off-game accommodation close to the larp location that allows us to rest and recover together. What all these choices have in common is intention. Glarping is not about overindulgence, but about personal sustainability – ensuring that I can give my best to the game without burning out because of a lack of personal comfort, and leave feeling relaxed enough to jump back into my daily life.
Glarping as a holiday lifestyle?
Over time, I have come to see glarping not only as a personal practice, but almost as a shared mindset among some players around me. Many resonate with the idea of a dash of extra comfort as they also lead demanding lives: stressful jobs, busy family situations, and a wide range of obligations that already consume much of their emotional and physical energy on a daily basis. For many of us, larp is a hobby we lovingly squeeze into already full schedules. We plan for it months in advance, sometimes sacrificing other holidays or leisure activities to make it possible and often commute longer distances. In that context, it feels natural that some players would like their larp experience to be especially nourishing – not because they are unwilling to commit, but because they want their limited free time to be meaningful, joyful and restorative. Especially international larping often comes with significant financial and logistical investment. Travel, costumes, props, and time off work add up quickly.
Once, with friends, we rented a 400 square meter villa that came with a pool, a gym, a cinema room, a BBQ-area and a sauna. We mainly chose the accommodation due to the big space, the many beautiful bedrooms and most importantly, the short ten minutes’ drive distance to the larp venue. It was of course not necessary to have all that exaggerated luxury. But we felt very privileged to have all that available, as though we were on an exclusive larp holiday getaway. The official event accommodation would have meant taking a bus and travelling at least 30–45 minutes to the hotel twice every day, so it was about comfort and good planning for a small group of people. Some of us even extended the stay for one day so we could properly recover after the game before driving back home for about eight hours. Yes, it does involve some planning for a little group of around ten larp-holidaymakers and so far, this villa has been the most exclusive place I organised besides a few extra nice boutique hotel rooms. But when a few people get together, have a vision and throw a bit of a budget in the pot, super glarping can surely be achieved.
When larp might become the primary form of holiday for some of us, it makes sense to approach it with the same care we would apply to any other valued break. Seen this way, glarping is not about avoiding hardship or escaping immersion. It is about choosing where hardship serves the story, and sleeping off-game in a warm bed or staying in a nearby hotel does not make someone a worse larper. On the contrary, glarping often allows me to show up as a more present, resilient and active player. My preparations and perks may allow me to stay more grounded, focused, and emotionally available – which ultimately benefits both my own experience and that of the people I play with. Glarping might have a collective dimension in that sense as well. Players who take responsibility for their own regulation by adding additional levels of comfort could place less strain on organisers and thus on fellow participants.
It means being prepared, allowing myself to take good care of myself, and treating myself with kindness and little treats rather than endurance-based pride. This is why I often go the extra mile not only for a good character portrait, but also for a small stash of guilty pleasures and smaller practical comforts I bring to the location. At the same time, I still consider myself an all-in larper. Wanting comfort off-game – or even occasionally in-game – does not diminish my commitment. It simply means that I want to show up regulated, present, and able to give generously to the shared fiction.
Psychology of care and psychological depth
Larp is a playful, joyful, and in a way a very intimate leisure activity. I am willing to put effort not only into my character play, but also into my personal surroundings, so I can make sure I truly make the most out of the game – for myself and, of course, for others. I personally enjoy the Nordic larp genre a lot, and for me larp is about self-awareness, exploring inner roles that are often archetypal, and engaging fully with interpersonal dynamics. The personal development I strive for in larps often happens through escalating drama and the descent of my characters.
The psychiatrist and psychoanalyst Carl Gustav Jung once stated, in the context of role and individuation, that “we do not really understand anything unless we experience it“ (Jung, 2024) – so, only the experience makes us fully understand. Jung is often regarded as one of the psychological fathers of roleplay, together with Jacob L. Moreno, who stated: “The patient learns by doing, by experiencing, by living through situations“ (Moreno, 1946). Moreno believed that people learn and heal through the active enactment of situations. For me, this understanding is not abstract. To truly dive into the depth of roleplay – to fall into a role and to let go of any shame, inhibition and inner constraint – I need to feel comfortable in a very tangible, physical sense. I feel this most clearly when my body is calm enough to let my character fall apart. Only then can I take emotional risks without holding back.
Comfort, for me, is closely tied to safety. And safety is not a vague emotional promise, but something grounded in basic needs being met. At some point, I need to be (hopefully well) fed. I need to know there is a place where I can rest. I need to trust that when I step off-game, I am taken care of as well. I am willing – and often eager – to deprive myself on several levels for the sake of immersion. I can explore the inner world of my character and go hardcore into a role when the gameplay asks for it, and I am ready to do it. I just need to know that deprivation is temporary and consensual. If there is no food provided in-game, it would be great if nutritious snacks or hot drinks like tea or coffee are available off-game, maybe even in the safety room if there is one. Ideally, these recreational options are accessible even outside strict mealtimes, because my body does not always follow tight schedules. If such a service is not possible or not in the budget, this is fine, I just need to know beforehand so I can organise myself accordingly. For me personally, the feeling of being safe, sane and in consent is connected to food and resting possibilities for my physical and mental health.
I believe psychologist and psychiatrist Abraham Maslow’s model of human motivation reflects this well with his hierarchy of needs (Maslow, 1943). His idea of continuous progress is displayed as a pyramid with five tiers. It displays the process of coverage of basic physiological needs such as food, water, and sleep in the first tier. He then moves to safety needs, followed by the needs of love and belonging, like the stability to love, a feeling of belonging and interpersonal relationships. The fourth tier shows self-esteem, and finally on the top is self-actualisation. All this resonates strongly with my larp experience. In larp, personal growth, fulfilment and thus deep play become possible when the tiers are reliably covered.
Neurodivergence, self-care and personal responsibility
I am not only a hedonist, but also a neurodivergent person diagnosed with ADHD. This matters here because neurodivergent people often experience Maslow’s pyramid more intensely, with additional challenges layered on top. ADHD can affect sleep patterns, hunger cues, sensory processing, and daily routines – all areas that larp could disrupt quite dramatically. You can imagine that larp can stir up my daily routines and rhythms immensely. Time collapses, mealtimes are different, or I even skip meals because I miss the time slot, sleep becomes fragmented, and emotional intensity rises quickly. To avoid unnecessary stress, I need to take conscious care of myself. I do not want to rely on others to regulate my wellbeing, nor do I expect organisers or fellow players to manage my personal limits for me. The agency stays with me and glarping is a practice of responsibility.
When I commit to a larp, I do not only give my time and money. I give my presence, emotional energy, trust, and often vulnerability. In return, I always trust for transparency and reliability regarding basic needs. Food does not need to be luxurious, but it should be sufficient, nourishing, and accessible, at least off-game. Sleeping arrangements do not need to be extravagant, but they should be clean, safe, and honestly communicated in advance.
In hindsight, the idea of glarping did not emerge from abundance alone, but also from a series of challenging and sometimes disappointing experiences over the years. Some larps had different standards to what I had anticipated. That made me aware of how deeply accommodation, food, and basic care influences my ability to play. Some locations were cold, wet, windy, mouldy, or simply dirty and thus very dusty. Coffee was sometimes absent, sometimes barely drinkable. Food could be scarce, poorly prepared, unhygienic, occasionally accompanied by flies. None of these experiences were dramatic on their own: every one of them could be stressful, but together they shaped a growing awareness in me. Each of these moments taught me to look more carefully at what is provided by the organisers on location next time – and what is not possible to cater for. It might be helpful though to maybe add a few more pieces of information when advertising a larp, because for some players some services might make a big difference. Coffee or hot tea is a good example of this. This is not a critique of organisers, but an act of self-responsibility. When my basic needs, which might differ from others, are covered well, glarping becomes a joyful option rather than a coping mechanism. If I can easily arrange some extras for myself without interfering with the organisers’ plans – and inform them where necessary – I see no harm in this.
For me, glarping is also not about demanding luxury from organisers. It is about retaining agency with transparency. To me, this is not about entitlement, but probably about good project management and making information available, like a checklist of what to bring and what is offered. I guess organising a larp means planning for human bodies as much as for stories.
This article is written with heartfelt gratitude to all larp organisers. Their dedication, care, love and competence make these experiences possible. Even small gestures can have a powerful impact on how safe and comfortable players feel and many offer glarping perks even though they are not aware of it. Because even a minor thing can make a big difference to us players. Thank you all for your hard work!
This article only reflects my personal and obviously biased opinion. So what do you think of glarping, what is it for you, and have you ever super glarped before? I am inspired by the quote ‘When life gives you lemons, turn them into something sweet and opportunities!’ Let’s start a friendly discussion on ‘glarping’!
Bibliography
Jung, C. G., 2024. ‘The Symbolic Life’, in Collected Works, Vol. 18. Princeton University Press.
Maslow, A. H., 1943, ‘A Theory of Human Motivation’. Psychological Review, 50(4), 370–396.
Moreno, J. L., 1946, Psychodrama, Volume I. Beacon House.
This article is republished from the Knutpunkt 2026 book. Please cite it as:
Poor, S. 2026. ‘The Spirit of Glarping.’ In Seasons of Larp eds. Erlandsson, A., Svanevik, M., Holkar, M., and Brind, S. Gothenburg. Knutpunkt.
