Author: Martine Svanevik

  • Playing Safe?

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    Playing Safe?

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    In the last 12 months, a number of high profile articles and discussions about safety in Nordic larp have been published((From high profile articles explaining how to deal with harassment and sexual predators, proposed approaches to safety by committee to the appointment of semi-diegetic counsellors. There were lengthy (and sometimes heated) discussions about the effects of alcohol, threads about physical intimacy, and some disparaging comments about the so-called ‘cult of hardcore’.)). We were interested to find out if this represented a turning point for the community. Is safety the primary concern now and has this come at the expense of the ‘edge’ that the form once had? Or are new approaches to safety actually allowing Nordic larp to push the limits further and to explore the extremes of the human condition?

    To answer these questions, we conducted a series of email and video interviews with current designers, some who are associated with safety in larp and others who design extreme or challenging larps. This article is a summary of these interviews.

    We have tried to give equal space to different opinions, but have discovered a significant overlap in the approach to larp design and safety in larp design between what we assumed were diametrically opposed camps.

    Where our respondents have used larp specific jargon or terminology we have given a brief definition or explanation in the footnotes.

    Is larp dangerous?

    Simon Svensson

    The normal world is more dangerous than nearly any larp. I think that going out on a Friday night is almost in every way more dangerous than going to a larp. So of course, I don’t really think that larps are psychologically or socially dangerous in any way that normal life isn’t.

    Maury Brown

    Dealing with other people creates dangers, and pretending to play a character is also a radically dangerous activity. We give in to emotions that we may repress in our daily lives, and we allow the character to bleed into our ego.((Bleed refers to something that passes from player to character or vice versa. In larp this is often (but not always) an emotional response or an emotional memory.)) This is fundamentally dangerous and this is not a bad thing. It’s a core part of larp. The harm from this danger can come, however, if we are not prepared to experience things like bleed, or cathartic emotions, or the tearing away of communal bonds built through the collaborative storytelling.

    Johanna Koljonen

    In my design practice, we talk very much about the distinction of being safe versus feeling safe. If you are not safe, you are in danger. But if you do not feel safe, you certainly might be in danger, but many other conditions also produce that feeling–for instance, being socially uncomfortable, or not knowing what to do next. And those things are not dangerous at all per se, but they do prevent one from engaging with the larp fully. A core challenge when we talk about larp safety is that maybe 80 % of what we refer to is about feeling safe to play rather than being safe from harm.

    Peter Munthe-Kaas

    Dangerous is a heavy word to use. Dangerous for what exactly? And compared to what? It is definitely less dangerous physically than many sports. Psychologically, I guess that you can consider larp to be dangerous, as it potentially can change what you believe to be you and how you see the world around you.

    Charles Bo Nielsen

    It is a bit naive to claim that experiencing hardship for a day, on the level with what others survive a lifetime of without dying, should break you as a person. Where you even know that this hardship is temporary of a day or a weekend and is fake or an experiment. To be honest, I believe that the human mind to be stronger than that. As I see it, larp can trigger traumas, not develop them.

    Are there limits to the themes you can explore through larp? Should there be?

    Maury Brown

    The crux of the issue is not whether the theme should be explored, but whether it is explored with respect and honesty. We have to be very careful that we don’t trivialize or reduce complex human beings and complicated situations into playable elements or caricatures, and that we don’t reinforce harmful tropes. And we do have to be careful about co-opting identities that are not our own and allowing role-play to perpetuate stereotypes and opinions that continue to marginalize, oppress, and other individuals and groups.

    Johanna Koljonen

    It’s very weird to assume that any theme would be unsuitable for any medium. Just like all the others, the larp medium is better at some things and worse at others. Factors such as the skill of the designers, the play culture of the participants, and what kind of larp we’re talking about also play a big part–just like they would with lm, comics, or anything else.

    In larp cultures which have a collaborative baseline and are focused on ‘play’ rather than ‘competition’, larp is often conceptualised as closer to theatre and other arts, and both players and the people around them are more willing to accept that it’s possible to create appropriate frames for difficult topics.

    Simon Svensson

    I don’t think it is a good thing to explore themes like bullying each other for our real life looks or using racist stereotyping without exploring it as an active or discussed part of the larp. But almost any theme can be explored in respectful ways. The limits are context dependent. If you make a larp specifically about the tradition of using blackface as a racist stereotype then absolutely it can be included in that game, but the limit to most games would be, for example, to use blackface as a way of signifying that you were of a different ethnicity. If a game is specifically about our real life bodies and that is what we explore, then maybe a larp can be made with that.

    With safety in mind, how do you design larps that let you push your boundaries in interesting ways?

    Peter Munthe-Kaas

    I try to make sure that my players feel that they have agency to stop an interaction if they don’t want it; work extensively with workshopping((Workshopping: tools for informing players, developing in-game relations, or practicing techniques used in the larp, usually occurring right before play starts. A workshop can help you find your character and show you how to play within the game.)) to create a co-creative atmosphere where everyone agrees on how the larp should be played, and try to create a safe space to land in after the larp has ended, so there is time for taking in the experience.

    Johanna Koljonen

    Be super clear about the types of experiences players will encounter. Be very coherent, reliable, professional, respectful and courteous in all your communications with your players to demonstrate that you can be trusted.

    Sanity check your larp content with other people, especially if your organiser group is very homogeneous – someone I know just came back from a larp with a lot of dead baby plots and I think that’s a topic that looks very different to players of an age where they or people close to them are trying to have kids than to, say, a single 25-year old who has never been in a committed relationship. They can be a great writer and just not realize how personally painful a story like that can be to a couple in their forties.

    You need to design the process whereby the players start to trust each other enough to be able to play at all, let alone anything heavy.

    If you start by picking safety mechanics((Safety mechanics: The methods, techniques, and rules that are put into a larp by the designers in order to keep the participants from doing actual long term harm to themselves or one another.)) off you’re doing it ass backwards. The OK check-in((OK Check-in: A specific technique to check with another player that they are enthusiastically okay with what is going on right now. Any response other than thumbs up means the player needs help. See further Brown, this volume.)) will not make your larp safe. An off-game room((Off-game room: A place to go to rest, recover, or just to centre yourself prior to returning to the larp. Some offer a quiet space for reflection, other support, hot drinks and a hug.)) won’t make your larp safe. Larps are complex systems and the tools interact with everything else in the system. If the design elements are not aligned in support of the goals of the work, then a consent mechanism((Consent mechanism: A way of confirming prior to an interaction or scene that the other participants want to run with it. Sometimes an off-game negotiation, sometimes a meta technique.)) can actually create a false sense of security, through signalling that you take safety seriously when in fact you don’t even understand how it works.

    Caroline Sjövall

    Make a larp about pushing boundaries. Be clear about it. Don’t mix it or cover it up with something else.

    Simon Svensson

    The most important part is expectation management. Make sure that people know what they are signing up for. Don’t try to make it sound cooler or less serious or more serious than it is. Try to find a clear vision to describe what kind of play is available at this larp.

    Charles Bo Nielsen

    The first and most important part is communication. You need to be honest to your potential players what kind of experience you want to make. Is the larp about pushing the envelope of what is possible in a physical or psychological matter? Then label it with trigger warnings and designed intentions of pushing people’s limits.

    Do your research if your physical conditions are risky. Your players will play down your content for their own safety–so make sure that the conditions are safe enough to actually be able to push yourself. Making a mortal combat fighting larp on a huge hilltop with limited space to move around without being plunged to certain actual death, will result in players making very fake punches and getting less injured than in a fight club larp in a basement.

    Is it morally acceptable to create a space for players to break themselves?

    Maury Brown

    Yes, but. It is only morally acceptable if you have the systems in place to allow them to calibrate((Calibration: the process by which larpers discuss the uncertainties between their expectation of a larp and that which is actually happening. That which is calibrated can intersect with safety, for example calibrating the intensity of physical interactions between players, ‘I am happy for you to go harder’. We argue that calibration is a meta-technique rather than a safety technique because it is often used in act breaks as a method for calibrating story and character interaction as well as player safety. See)) the level of breaking, to assist them as they break and begin to repair, and to respect their privacy about their own experiences.

    Johanna Koljonen

    Here’s the thing about larps in which people can break themselves: I think all larps have that potential. Let’s say I run a concert venue instead of a larp. Some people will come in and drink very heavily and then listen to a band they loved during a particularly difficult breakup. I don’t think it’s reasonable to ask the venue’s designer or manager or the band’s promoter to stop people from doing this–but sometimes it will happen, and they will be a wreck, and may require some help.

    I will say, however, that I find it morally dubious for players to use larps to break themselves. Or even to explore how far they can go before they break. I think you should aim for a level where you won’t break, and then if you overshoot by accident and have a strong reaction, then that is within the normal range of What Larp Does.

    Simon Svensson

    I think it is absolutely fair to design larps that could break people as long as you tell people about them and say exactly what they will entail. Then people going there are saying: ‘Okay, I am willing to do this and if it ends badly then that is on me.’

    Should some larps come with a ‘strong content’ advisory sticker?

    Charles Bo Nielsen

    I would say ‘could’ instead of ‘should’, but if you don’t make simple trigger warnings, you should be quite open and frank about the actual content, so that people can decide for themselves if it becomes too strong for them.

    Maury Brown

    People should know what themes and content a larp is designed to explore. They should know how the larp organisers will handle emergent play and content and themes the players bring in. They should know that they are safe at the experience, that organisers have guidelines and procedures in place to ensure that participants handle the content responsibly and respect the rules of the community. They should know what physical and emotional demands will be made of them. In short, they need information to decide if this larp is for them at this time.

    Simon Svensson

    Absolutely. And a very specific one. Not just that this larp could contain offensive material, no, ‘if you go to this larp you are likely to play out acts of sexual abuse’ for example.

    Caroline Sjövall

    Better with a clear vision instead. Information: this is what we want to have in our larp. You will be naked at this larp. You will not have coffee.

    Do you think there is still a space for risk in larp design?

    Maury Brown

    Absolutely. Larping itself is risky–you’re taking on a persona that is not your own, you’re engaging in new activities with new people, and in some cases, you’re participating in an activity that dominant society may marginalize. It’s important to note that safety is not the absence of risk. Safety (and by that we mean a broad category of physical, psychological and emotional safety) is definitely about considering how to mitigate risk, but no amount of safety procedures and tools will ever fully remove all risks.

    Safety and calibration tools are more about being transparent about the risk–letting participants know the dangers that might happen and giving them the choice to take those risks and to consider what level of risk they are ready for. Part of the fun and thrill of many activities, including some larps, is about taking a risk and overcoming it. But you want that sweet spot of knowing the risks, wanting to confront them, and feeling capable of dealing with them, and you want the support system in place to be prepared to help participants for whom the risks are too great, and they require assistance. I would never advocate removing risk from design (nor do I believe it is possible). In fact, I believe that transparent safety and calibration tools allow larp design and larping to tackle even greater risks, because they are critical to creating spaces of trust, agency, and autonomy.

    Johanna Koljonen

    Yes of course; that is why I do this work. I don’t want games to be bland, I want them to be stronger. This always implies an element of risk, in the sense of social risk, or the risk of learning something about yourself, or the risk of experiencing something painful as part of a learning process. We can’t do that kind of role-playing if we’re not safe as well.

    Where does safety feature in your design process?

    Charles Bo Nielsen

    I aim to include my players in the safety process as much as possible, since they are the ones who have to go through the experience. Some designers like to test their design extensively until they feel safe, I like to engage in dialogue with my players about what they are okay with and build the larp around that.

    Johanna Koljonen

    Everywhere. Not every second of design time of course, but in each iteration of each element it’s there. It’s one of the basic questions–just like we ask ‘how does this serve the intention of the piece and how does it produce or inspire the player actions we want to see?’, we also ask ‘how does this affect the interaction system between the players?’

     

    Simon Svensson

    We usually start off with a ‘fuck safety’ perspective, just in order to get the wild ideas out there. We want to design interesting larps; we want to make something cool for our own sake but then afterwards we sort of ad-lib safety onto the larp to see what we need to change to realize our vision, to get players in, and to be able to communicate our vision in a sound way.

    I think that sometimes, people are too wary or careful with their own experiences and that people too often use safety valves and like going off-game instead of experiencing a larp the way they could have. Their experiences would have been deeper and more meaningful if they had not gone off-game, or if they had not laughed it away or taken breaks.

    Peter Munthe-Kaas

    I think it is usually an ad-on that comes after the core experience design has been made. It is more based on ‘what could potentially be unsafe/ uncomfortable’ for the players and then figuring out some ways of dealing with that.

    Where is the sweet spot between responsible design and danger?

    Johanna Koljonen

    The sweet spot is zero danger but enough social and emotional risk that you have to be a little brave to engage. As a designer, you enable that bravery through taking care of real safety and designing player culture, calibration and consent mechanics right.

    Peter Munthe-Kaas

    I think transparency((Transparency: Some larps have no secrets. For players who are interested, everything that could happen or will happen in the larp is made available to them in advance. Simply put, there are no surprises and participants are fully aware of what they are getting into.)) is a very important part of any ‘extreme’ larp design. The ability to describe the experience that the players are going to have (or at least what you as an organiser are designing for) in an open and honest way, makes it easier for potential players to choose if this is an experience they want.

     

    Simon Svensson

    I don’t think every larp should be super hardcore nor that everyone should always push themselves to the limit in every larp they play, but if we are making a larp where they are supposed to push themselves then I think the sweet spot is the moment when they can start trusting that other people want them to do these things to each other.

    There is a sweet spot when the safety techniques put the responsibility on the one who thinks they cannot handle more, not the person who is doing things and is still comfortable with them. In my personal opinion, I do not want to design or play larps that constantly force you to check in with people to make sure what you are doing is good, because it won’t be good larping.

    Conclusion

    Safety plays a part in every larp design process, even though the focus on safety might differ from designer to designer.

    All the designers we interviewed believed that an important part of designing for safety is about expectation management and clear communication. Telling the players what the game is about, which boundaries they were going to push, and how far they would be expected to go, is key. Players need to know what the larp is about to see if it is for them.

    One other interesting finding was that vocal proponents of safety in larp design still want to make larps that explore difficult and potentially painful themes. And, as importantly, vocal proponents of larps that do push the limits of the form still care about safety and still consider it a key element in their larp design. As long as the themes and tools are clearly communicated up front, everyone agreed that larp could, and even should, explore themes that are uncomfortable.

    There is still room to explore the darker and more difficult aspects of the world through larp. We can legitimately explore the extremes of the human condition, as long as we do it with informed consent from all participants, and to do that we must clearly communicate what each larp is about.

    The larp designers interviewed for this article

    Maury Brown has navigated the legal labyrinth of bringing large-scale Nordic larp to the famously litigious North America as the author and lead organizer of New World Magischola, Immerton, and Beat Generation. She regular publishes and speaks about safety in larp and roleplay, and believes that safety systems are a prerequisite for these inherently emotionally risky activities.

    Johanna Koljonen is behind the most significant work and writing on safety in larp. She coined the term calibration and has contributed safety design to intense larps such as Inside Hamlet.

    Peter Munthe-Kaas is one of the minds behind KAPO, a larp that did not so much as play on the edge as redefine what the edge actually meant.

    Charles Bo Nielsen has a reputation for designing and playing hardcore larps. The most famous being What Are You Worth, which featured on a Discovery Channel documentary about Nordic larp. During the larp participants were told that events would continue to escalate until they called cut; this led to both rectal examinations and mock executions.

    Caroline Sjövall is a larp designer whose work includes the 2017 game Gården (The Farm), a larp about a religious re-education centre where no meta techniques were used to simulate violence, sex or any other type of interaction.

    Simon Svensson is behind larps such as The Solution, Do Androids Dream? and Echo Chamber, all of which explore dark themes and have a reputation for pushing the limits of players emotionally and psychologically.


    References

    Maury Brown. Safety & Calibration Design Tools & Their Uses: OK Check-In, Lookdown, Pronoun Correction. 2018. In “Re-shuffling the Deck” Edited by Annika Waern and Johannes Axner. ETC Press.


    This article is part of Re-Shuffling the Deck, the companion journal for Knutepunkt 2018.

    All articles from the companion can be found on the Knutpunkt 2018 category.

  • Pre-Bleed is Totally a Thing

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    Pre-Bleed is Totally a Thing

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    Pre-bleed is the experience of emotional bleed – usually but not exclusively from character to player – prior to ever playing the character in a larp setting. This paper considers multiple instances of pre-bleed experienced by players of College of Wizardry 5 (“CoW5”).((Charles Bo Nielsen, Dracan Dembinski, and Claus Raasted, et al., College of Wizardry 5 (Poland: Liveform and Rollespilsfabrikken, 2014).))

    In the months before CoW5 a number of players used a mixture of prolonged online role-playing, Google Hangouts, co-authored documents, and an in-game Facebook-inspired social media platform called Czochabook to build their characters and create a shared backstory. This allowed players to stay continuously in-game for a prolonged period, which led to a heightened level of character engagement and deeper player and character relations. However, the intensity of emotions experienced was unexpected, particularly for larpers who were yet to play their characters in a physical setting.

    For this study, we’ve chosen a mixture of research methods: a survey, semi-structured ethnographic interviews with a cross-section of respondents and autoethnographic pieces. The paper is a mixture of interviews with experienced larpers and first time players, with autoethnographic analysis of player-generated pre-game documentation. The paper presents initial conclusions regarding causes of pre-bleed and identifies similarities between preparation for larp and method acting. It concludes that intense emotional role-play without a means of releasing stress can be traumatic((By traumatic, we mean causing emotional responses that exceed the player’s ability to cope.)) for players.

    This is a condensed version of the 2015 article published in Larp Realia.

    Introduction

    In the run up to CoW5, players were invited to develop their characters online by building character relations, shared memories and plot for the game. Two months before the start of the game, these players started to notice bleed. Some had already begun role-playing their characters, but others had done little more than form tentative relations and writing backstory. This paper documents instances of what we called pre-bleed((As referenced by the Facebook hashtag #prebleedistotallyathing.)) and considers to what extent intense emotional role-play without a means of releasing stress can be traumatic for players.

    We argue that the continuous connection between a player and a character they have yet to play can cause a particular form of bleed. The juxtaposition of connection and distance is interesting. Much like Todorov’s((Tzvetan Todorov, The Fantastic: A Structural Approach to a Literary Genre (Cornell University Press), 1975.)) concept of hesitation where, at “the frontier between the uncanny and the marvellous,” a reader asks herself the question “can this be real?”, here the player asks “is this the character or is it me?”

    Most important though is the word remember. In the pre-game before CoW5, players were not only pretending to remember, they were creating memories in connection with other players in real time. And yet, typing a story is not the same as playing it out. The pre-bleed experience is closer to what a writer feels when they see a character on the page come to life. It is powerful because of the distance between the player and the character they are creating because they are not playing it yet.

    College of Wizardry

    “Imagine our world, just as it is today. Except that magic is real.”
    College of Wizardry Design Document((Claus Raasted, Charles Bo Nielsen, Dracan Dembinski, College of Wizardry Design Document, 2014. http://www.rollespilsfabrikken.dk/cow/dd/designdocument.pdf, ref. December 19th 2015.))

    CoW is structured as a sandbox game. There are a lot of plotlines and potential for play but these are all opt-in rather than opt-out. The focus of the game is on immersion and character drama. Players are encouraged to create their own stories. They have access to the NPC team whom they can ask to help with scenes. This approach can make for a very intense game experience.

    Characters

    CoW5 had pre-written characters. Some aspects of the characters were fixed (year, path, house). Players were told they could change any other part of their character.

    This freedom was key because it effectively put character creation in the hands of the players. Very few pre-written character relations were provided. Players were encouraged to connect to other players and create shared memories and backgrounds together.

    During the time leading up to CoW5, we (the authors of this paper) began experiencing emotional spillover from our characters, and we were not the only ones.

    Interviews

    After the game we interviewed eight players including ourselves. Six of these had experienced pre-bleed, two had not. Out of the players who did not experience pre-bleed, one had spent several hours on Czochabook but had done no other preparations, the other started preparing for the larp later. The ones who reported pre-bleed all spent over 40 hours preparing for the larp.

    We have anonymised the interviewees, giving their reported gender, age and larp experience. In some instances we have removed character names in order to preserve this anonymity.

    Microphone (photo, public domain)
    Photo by Gavin Whitner (source).

    We have used samples from the interviews throughout this paper to illustrate a number of points; we have tried to select single examples rather than repeating similar statements from interviewees.

    Our own, autoethnographic observations are indented and begin with the author’s name.

    The process of character creation

    The players used a Facebook group set up by the organisers to build relationships. Players could give a brief description of their character and what sorts of relations they were looking for.

    BRIND: Thomas was the youngest of seven dysfunctional siblings. He was a young man with no moral compass from a highly privileged background. One of the first things I wanted for him was one or more ex-partners to represent his failure to form any kind of meaningful relationship.

    Ksenia and Thomas’ original relationship was as a couple who had recently split up. Somewhere along the line we decided they still had feelings for one another and this formed the basis of much of the larp for me.

    SVANEVIK: Ksenia started as a pretty rough concept. A Russian fighter from an old family with no money or inherited status, someone whose merits were based on their fists rather than their blood or bank account. As we prepared for the game, a lot of her identity ended up being shaped by her relationship with Simon’s character. I think this was because we spent time describing the same scenes from different perspectives. In these shared documents, Simon and I figured out who our characters were together.

    For example, here is the same scene from different character viewpoints((The pieces were written in separate documents. The scene has been edited together for this article. Different viewpoint shown in italics.)):

    “Thomas was talking to one of the society girls. They went on and on about things that didn’t matter; something to do with a favour owed. Favours are important; you pay your debts, you repay your gifts. That is the way of things. She wanted him to let her friend off? Ain’t gonna happen.

    Thomas was whispering with some girl at the back. Their conversation seeped into her ears, distracting her from the teacher’s long-winded rant about the soul of magic.

    The words didn’t make much sense to her, but Ksenia didn’t have time for distractions. She marched over to their desks and slammed her book down.

    “Shut your fuck mouth!” she exclaimed, calmly.

    It was one of the angry ones. Russian? Eastern European? Whatever. Grey eyes, vodka, barely suppressed rage. Thomas raised an eyebrow and put one finger on his lips as if to say ‘shhh.’”

    BRIND: I am not a pen and paper role-player. I steer clear of online role-playing and downtimes((UK LRP systems often provide a formal process for characters to take actions between events.)),  and am intrinsically uncomfortable with larp over instant messenger. I need the feedback of real world interactions to be able to feel my character. My pre-game preparation was almost exclusively limited to the creation of shared documents. I made some posts on Czochabook, but these were more like blog updates. I was writing fiction in the past tense, rather than role-playing in the here and now.

    Between August 5th and November 17th 2015 we co-wrote around 20,000 words of fiction which covered how the characters first interacted, their romance, and their breakup. We also described many of the events that took place after this traumatic event.

    SVANEVIK: My approach to the Ksenia and Thomas story was the same one I have used for romantic relations in other larps; imagine the powerful moments and shared memories that will make the characters and their interactions feel real. This took a couple of weeks of emails, chats and a few shared documents. Once that was done, Simon wanted to keep building the relation continuously towards the larp. I think that continuous connection between the characters and the players is one of the key reasons for the emotional spillover effect I had between my character’s feelings and my own.

    Setting some narrative rules

    Pre-game, we decided that we would not let the characters speak to each other between the moment of their breakup and the start of the larp. This decision had a significant impact on our pre-bleed experience.

    SVANEVIK: We did not want the plot to finish before the game. The result was a surprisingly powerful dramatic and emotional tension where my character so desperately wanted to see Simon’s that I felt guilty for keeping him from her.

    Instead we wrote scenes happening to the characters at the same time in different places. This shaped the characters in relation to each other. Where are you now? What are you doing? How are you feeling?

    “Ksenia stood, watching the world burn, knowing there was only one thing she should be doing and only one person in the world she wanted to be next to.”

    “Finn had gone, and Thomas sat alone in front of his teacher’s tomb, and listened to the wind howl around the tower like a wolf in a storm.”

    BRIND: Reading the two stories side-by-side surfaced the tragic romance of the two characters. Despite their differences their emotional responses were almost the same.

    As a writer of long form fiction I often fall in love with my characters. The surprise, for me at least, was that Ksenia and Martine started to conflate in my mind. I was feeling Thomas’ love for Ksenia, but this was projected onto Martine.

    Blood (photo, public domain)

    Pre-Game Experiences

    Waern states “the bleed concept thus capitalizes on the (table-top and role-playing) design ideal of a fictional character in a fictional context, as this creates an alibi – safe zone – for exploring emotionally complex or difficult subjects.”((Annika Waern, “I’m in love with someone that doesn’t exist!’ Bleed in the context of a computer game”, in Game Love: Essays on Play and Affection, ed. Jessica Enevold and Esther MacCallum-Stewart (McFarland & Company, 2011).)) We were able to apply this to a romance plot; here the player and the character became confused, but before play had begun. This was pre-bleed in its most intense form.

    SVANEVIK: As we got closer to the game, I found myself contacting Simon more and more to ask how Thomas was, where he was, if he was OK. Somehow, letting me know how he was doing soothed some of the tension I was feeling from my character, despite the fact that she would not be allowed to know the answers I got from Simon.

    We were not alone in creating this type of shared continuous build leading up to this larp. A relatively large group of participants for the game played out their character’s life from the moment the online forum opened till the larp started. Several of the players interviewed reported moments when the pre-bleed became too much.

    “I felt the hurt that [my character] felt. I just felt it even though I knew it was coming. When it was actual reality, it became crushing.” (Cis male, 23, experienced larper)

    When co-writing fiction, each writer only controls their part of the narrative. The act of creating a story together adds tension and excitement. Waiting for the response of someone else can be a cause for pre-bleed. Several players felt the need to take breaks from the pre-game; this was a clear indicator that the emotional stress was intense.

    BRIND: The most intensity of pre-bleed I had came through the co-writing of fiction rather than role-playing the character. There is a distance between writer and character and that is where the bleed comes from.

    SVANEVIK: Most of the pre-game felt distinctly different from larping to me. The divide between player and character was much more pronounced when role-playing or writing before the larp. There was always a part of me that guided the interactions and managed the dramatic tension of each scene. As time progressed and the word count mounted, however, I started feeling like this character lived inside my head. I was constantly aware of how she was feeling.

    “Well, I certainly found myself, like, writing things that I wouldn’t, well I, like getting, feeling like I got input from my character when I was writing things on Facebook and on Czochabook […] so it influenced my actions.” (Cis male, 18, experienced role-player)

    Foucault states that “Writing unfolds like a game that inevitably moves beyond its own rules and finally leaves them behind.”((Michel Foucault, Language, Counter-Memory, Practice: Selected Essays and Interviews (Cornell University Press, 1977).)) When we are writing fiction, we may not be playing characters but we are – by necessity of creating a cogent and meaningful fiction – getting right inside their head. The semantic position may be different, but the outcome is the same. But is it role-playing?

    “I would say the Google Docs were not role-playing, at least not for me because most of the time I had a parallel Facebook chat with the other people on it and we talked about how the scene could go on at some points or reflected on what we had just written – even if it was just ‘oh my God, oh my God what is happening now,’ – but there was still some distance between what is happening and me.” (Cis female, 29, experienced role-player.)

    Notebook (photo, public domain)

    Harviainen writes that it is not until “the moment when a game begins, [that] the play-space becomes a temporary pseudo-autonomous reality that is isolated by three factors: authority, language and the larp sign-interpretation state”.((J. Tuomas Harviainen, “Information, Immersion, Identity: The Interplay of Multiple Selves During Live-Action Role-Play”, Journal of Interactive Drama 1 (2006), 2.)) Before that moment, still in the pre-game, information flows differently; characters are in a different state, not in costume, not in person, not fully immersed in the ritual space of the game. The rules of the pre-game are different – it is possible to talk in-game and off-game at once, the scenes are played out remotely, not in person nor in real time.

    In the game, most players navigated between a narrativist approach and immersion, weighing whether something is better for the story against how it fits with the character’s state of mind and traits. We would argue that the pre-game was more narrativist than the larp event precisely because of the in-game/off-game simultaneous talk. It allowed for the time to craft the reactions right, and may have led to different or perhaps even truer character interpretations.

    “We met, planned the scene, keynotes and then wrote it out together. This meant that I ‘played my character’ better than I managed at the larp.” (Cis male, 23, experienced larper.)

    “I wasn’t really role-playing. I was me. [My character] was talking through me.” (Cis female, 29, experienced larper.)

    Whether it was pre-play or play, for those players who reported bleed prior to the larp the intensity of the experience was striking.

    “I was chatting to another player and she shared part of a co-authored scene between her character and the character playing my brother. I was overcome with a feeling of betrayal and jealousy when I saw what he had told her. I tried to step back from the fiction, and I could, but the feeling persisted.” (Cis female, 31, experienced larper)

    Lieberoth talks about immersion as “an aspect of decoupling ability, where players try to ignore the scope-syntactical tags placed on the remembered present, that tell us ‘this isn’t real!’”((Andreas Lieberoth, “With Role-Playing in Mind. A Cognitive Account of Decoupled Reality, Identity and Experience”, in Role, Play, Art, ed. Thorbiörn Fritzon and Tobias Wrigstad (Föreningen Knutpunkt, 2006).)) This is interesting; it is hard to immerse while sitting in front of a computer keyboard unless you are in a diegesis that involves a character who is creating a character. To what extent can an immersionist experience any kind of bleed pre-game?

    The answer to that question lies in the distance between player and character, and in the act of creating something together. The player may be sitting behind their screen, but they are not alone. They are sharing the experience of telling stories with others. Although it is not larping, it is a shared experience between players which elicits an emotional response, and that emotional response makes the memory feel real and vice versa.((Hamann states “that emotional stimuli engage specific cognitive and neural mechanisms that enhance explicit memory. Stephen Hamann, “Cognitive and neural mechanisms of emotional memory”, Trends in Cognitive Sciences 5 (2001), 9.))

    Before the larp Dragonbane,((Dragonbane was a large international larp project. The game itself took place from July 27th to August 4th, 2006 in Sweden. Timo Multamäki, et al., Dragonbane (Älvdalen, Sweden: 2006).)) the players spent a day workshopping their characters together through what they called if-games. We understand the term if-game to mean when players have an opportunity to play their way into their characters and develop common memories for them. This is important because as we can learn from 19th and 20th century drama theory, memory is very powerful.

    Affective Memory

    One of the pervasive myths about the early incarnations of Stanislavsky’s affective memory was that memories needed to derive from the actor’s real life experiences. “He never advances the actor’s personal memories as the sole source of emotions. Beyond the actor’s lived experience, Stanislavsky asserts the validity of whetting the emotion memory through empathy with the character’s situation, observation of other’s experiences, imagination, and immersion in the actual onstage experience.”((Cheryl McFarren, Acknowledging Trauma/Rethinking Affective Memory: Background, Method, and Challenge for Contemporary Actor Training (University of Colorado, 2003), 111.))

    Lee Strasberg’s development of Stanislavsky’s work, which formed the basis for the American Method, invited the actor to explore the physical space of a memory. To put themselves into the time and place they wanted to (re)experience and to consider what they could see, hear, smell, taste, and feel, their balance and their relationship to the world around them.

    BRIND: This is very close to my approach to the writing of fiction; for example a lot of scenes in the shared Google Docs started or ended with sensory descriptions.

    “If he closed my eyes he could remember the taste of blood and the sensation of swallowing one of his own teeth, of the loving embrace of oblivion as the cold ground came up to meet him; Avalon taught him his first lesson; he learned it the hard way.”

    Several players spent considerable time describing body language and physical reactions in their co-written scenes. We suggest this was an attempt to mitigate the lack of physical cues that they use to communicate during a larp, but it had the added effect of the author writing themselves into the time and space of the memory they were creating.

    Using affective memory and intense pre-larp preparations to create characters that draw on our own memories and traits can be particularly powerful.

    SVANEVIK: About six weeks before the larp, I noticed that I was looking for my ex-fiancée everywhere. I realized that a lot of the pain I was pouring into my character came from that breakup. I borrowed from my past experiences to create a more believable emotional response. I was reframing and rethinking my own heartache.

    Affective memory, in any form, has risks. Even Stanislavsky recognised this when his student, Michael Chekhov, had a nervous breakdown. This led to Stanislavsky “focussing on the actor’s imagination rather than personal memory”((Fintan Walsh, Theatre & Therapy (Palgrave Macmillan, 2013).)) as a means to evoke an emotional response.

    “The bleed. It’s all about running after someone to whose standards I cannot live up to. About not being loved back. Someone who treats my character/me with a weird mixture of kindness and refusal. Always at risk that there is some girl else who can offer what I cannot. That is the essence of a long relationship I had in my early twenties. I don’t know why this found its way into CoW.” (Female, 29, experienced larper)

    Seton coins the term post-dramatic stress, he admits this is a deliberate provocation but believes the risks associated with some of the techniques of method acting are “a significant area of neglect and culpability for stakeholders in Western performance contexts.” Most telling is his belief that “the enactment and witnessing of trauma in the context of rehearsal and subsequent performance can also leave its imprint on the actors’ lives, even if they had never experienced the trauma prior to performing the role.”((Mark Cariston Seton, “‘Post-Dramatic’ Stress: Negotiating Vulnerability for Performance”, in Proceedings of the 2006 Annual Conference of the Australasian Association for Drama, Theatre and Performance Studies (2006). Emphasis added.))

    Burgoyne has similar concerns, “it occurred to me that my theatre training not only had not prepared me to deal with the psychological fallout my actors were experiencing, but that no one had seriously warned me that I might encounter such a phenomenon.”((Suzanne Burgoyne, “A Crucible for Actors: Questions of Directorial Ethics”, Theatre Topics 1 (1991), 1.))

    “The intensity of all the scenes in the game also stick with me more than it would if I hadn’t been that much into character. Yeah, so I keep like being overwhelmed by memories that feel so real, because they are real, right?” (Cis female, 31, experienced larper)

    For larpers playing with bleed we would argue that they are operating at the edges of aesthetic distance; “When an individual can return to a troubling, unresolved experience without either becoming overwhelmed by it (too little distance) or disconnecting from it (too much distance), s/he achieves aesthetic distance in the cathartic, intrapsychic sense of the concept.”((Cheryl McFarren (2003), 206.))

    “[The] first meeting between [our characters] was really intense. I had this difference between my feelings and [my character]’s. Like you’re writing a book and you’re experiencing first hand what’s happening and it’s exciting but you’re not the character you’re reading about.” (Cis female, 29, new larper)

    Some forms of dramatic and narrative stress exist because there is no opportunity for catharsis, no opportunity for release. As we described above we had deliberately prevented our characters from talking. This simple in-game action would have started the resolution that allowed the characters to progress, but this could not happen until the larp started. We were not alone.

    “I did not want to carry these feeling around day to day and that, especially in the context of a relationship that is known to be doomed but that cannot be played through until play officially starts, there was a very uncomfortable frozen effect of being stuck in the plummeting moment of dawning horror/sense of rejection/denial without the possibility of processing or resolving this moment through play. In fact of actively rejecting the processing of this moment in order to preserve it for live play-through.” (Cis female, 36, new larper)

    We agree with Bowman: “if-game thinking can become detrimental when players have difficulty letting go of character and story motivations.”((Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Social Conflict in Role-Playing Communities: An Exploratory Qualitative Study”, International Journal of Role-Playing 4 (2013).)) Combined with intense bleed and an inability to resolve the emotion through play, this difficulty becomes traumatic. Glenn((Marti Glenn, “Trauma, Attachment, And Stress Disorders: Developmental Issues”, Healingresources.info (2015). http://www.healingresources.info/trauma_attachment_stress_disorders.htm, ref December 19th 2015.)) defines “traumatization” as “stress frozen in place – locked into a pattern of neurological distress that doesn’t go away by returning to a state of equilibrium.”((Tzvetan Todorov and Arnold Weinstein, “Structural Analysis of Narrative”, NOVEL: A Forum on Fiction 3 (1969), 1: “The minimal complete plot can be seen as the shift from one equilibrium to another. This term “equilibrium,” which I am borrowing from genetic psychology, means the existence of a stable but not static relation between the members of a society; it is a social law, a rule of the game, a particular system of exchange. The two moments of equilibrium, similar and different, are separated by a period of imbalance, which is composed of a process of degeneration and a process of improvement.”)) Thus without the ability to relieve the stress, there was no way to return to that point of balance. We believe there is a clear parallel here between the experience of some larpers’ pre-play and trauma.

    Conclusions

    There appears to be some correlation between the methods used by players during the pre-game and some affective memory techniques. We did not investigate whether those players explored real (traumatic) memories or simply used their imagination to get close to their characters,((We would suggest that such a study if it took place, should consider the emotional safety of the participants as a priority.)) but overall the cases of bleed were higher than we would have expected and – in the reported cases – more intense. We identified that in some cases the players did not consider they were role-playing during this period.

    The pre-game at CoW5 was powerful and important to create emotional connections and shared memories between characters and between players and their characters. It lessened the time players spent getting into character once the larp started and in several cases led to deeper immersion.

    The pre-game is not a larp, however. The creation of shared memories causes a distinct form of bleed that is different because of the distance between the player and their character. In the pre-game, the players are telling stories rather than living them.

    For some of the pre-game players, CoW5 became the finale to a long game where most of the story had already played out. The last chapter in a novel, the last act of a play. For the ones who managed to – deliberately or unconsciously – keep key plot strands from resolving before the game, however, the larp became an emotional roller coaster of epic proportions.

    If we create shared memories and stressful situations, prior to the opening of the magic circle, our options appear to be to disconnect entirely from the character, or to feel emotions over which we have little control. CoW is a powerful game. It has been very intense before, during and after. We would argue that we have some tools and techniques to make the space emotionally safer, but to what extent are we re-discovering things that the theatre already knows?

    This is not the last CoW larp or the last larp with a dedicated player base that will have an intense pre-game. We suggest that larp should look to the theatre to find effective tools for managing the bleed and/or pre-bleed that will occur when players create powerful memories together. The rush of the pre-game and the intensity it brings to a larp is amazing and powerful, and intense experiences are part of the reason we play.

    Žižek, when talking about the relationship between (video) games and reality, states “Because I think it’s only a game, it’s only a persona, a self-image I adopt in virtual space, I can be there much more truthful. I can enact there an identity which is much closer to my true self.”((Slavoj Žižek, Sophie Fiennes, Brian Eno, and Tony Myers, The Pervert’s Guide to Cinema, (P Guide, 2006).)) But he is wrong. It is not only a game, it is never only a game; as larpers we should remember that.

    Interviewer: Did you enjoy the pre-bleed?

    Cis male, 45, experienced larper: Yeah. Fuck yeah. I’m not sorry, I’d do it again.


    Cover photo: A Death Eater’s mask with a dagger through it (photo, John-Paul Bichard).

  • Response to Charles B. Nielsen

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    Response to Charles B. Nielsen

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    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.

    This text is a response to an earlier text by Charles Bo Nielsen. He has in turn written a reply to this text.


    I agree with many of the suggestions Charles B. Nielsen makes in Loyalty to Character. It is true that larps do not follow a script, that even if you write a character for a certain player, that player may pull out at the last minute. What sounds like fun play for a character writer may not be fun for the person playing the part, and any game may take an unexpected turn. As a larp designer, it is therefore tempting to go down Nielsen’s route, to say: “your character is your own, make of it what you will.” But does this approach make for a better larp? Or a better experience for the players?

    From a designer’s perspective, this open approach to character writing seems to work best for loosely designed, sandbox style games. When you have a specific story in mind, with a set of characters and relations, every player cannot change as much of their character as they want. Take a murder mystery, for example. In order for the drama to be intense, each character must have a connection to the victim and a reason to want them dead. The players may not know who the victim will be before the game starts, so if you allow each of them to change whichever part of their character they want, the mystery may fall to pieces on day one.

    There is beauty in a carefully crafted plot where snippets from a character description comes into play during a game, where each character plays a small part in a larger story. Although most larps do not—and arguably should not—run on rails, there is a particular joy in being surprised at a twist in a story you did not know you were an integral part of. Giving players complete control over the characters requires game designers to either craft plots that are independent from characters—which is a great loss, if you ask me—or to design games that are played with open cards so that every player knows the ramifications of any change they make. This second approach removes the opportunity to surprise players by in-game turns of events. By releasing control of character creation, the designers leave it to players to build their own stories, plots and relation networks to a much larger degree than in a more tightly designed game. This will naturally favour those players who enjoy and are adept at building and sustaining such networks and who enjoy building their own stories, rather than reacting dynamically to unexpected events.

    In addition, it is a known truth that left to our own devices, players have a tendency to repeat the same tropes. A player with a penchant for drama will almost always end up bleeding, broken and crying alone in the dark. A player who loves experiencing the rise to power might turn even a mild-mannered romantic into a power-hungry, machiavellian mastermind. I’m not saying that this doesn’t happen when players are asked to play parts as written, or even that changing characters is a bad thing, but complete freedom means that there’s no external push to try something new. Larping offers such opportunities to try on new roles and experiences, but sometimes you need to be offered a part you did not know you would enjoy playing in order to experience it.

    If you always get to build your character, you might subconsciously end up playing the same game over and over.

    I’m not against character steering. Sometimes it is necessary to step out of a game and change direction. The shortfalls in Nielsen’s approach is that it limits the types of stories game designers can tell, and that it removes the external push for players to try something new. In Nielsen’s games, I suspect many of the players will end up telling the same story over and over and, more importantly, that the stories they tell will be player-written and player-controlled.

    Nielsen is right when he writes that “the idea to take a character sheet and change as much of it as you want is alien to many larpers and it requires a shift in both player mentality, and in larp design.” I am just not sure if this shift is the right choice for every player and every game. Any larp designer wanting to employ Nielsen’s character design needs to be aware of the knock on limitations in terms of the game they can write, and any player going to such a game needs to be aware that by owning their character’s past, they also need to own that character’s future.


    This article was initially published in Once Upon a Nordic Larp… Twenty Years of Playing Stories published as a journal for Knutepunkt 2017 and edited by Martine Svanevik, Linn Carin Andreassen, Simon Brind, Elin Nilsen, and Grethe Sofie Bulterud Strand.