Nordic Larp

Category: Opinion

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

  • I Will Never Larp Again

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    I Will Never Larp Again

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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.

    “I’ll never larp again.”

    You feel like there’s an invisible wall between you and everyone else. The others are laughing, joking and talking enthusiastically. But you’re not. Couldn’t things just have been different? After all that you invested, nothing has been returned to you; empty heart, empty wallet and lots of time that could have been better spent.

    Most times I leave a larp with a light heart. Even games that weren’t quite that good usually gives me back more than I invest in them. But not all. A few times a larp has left me feeling just as robbed as the previous paragraph indicates.

    At those moments its easy to get angry. At the organizers. At the co-players who didn’t preform as you had expected. At yourself for having invested in a game that you (you tell yourself afterwards) knew wouldn’t be that great.

    There are a lot of similarities between a larp and a relationship. In the best of times, you are both rewarded by your mutual interaction. In the worst of times, you end up rejected and all the energy, time and money you’ve spent is lost forever. As such, here are my basic premises for dealing with a really bad larp experience:

    • Accept that there is no way the organizers can give you back what you’ve invested into the game. Regardless of how angry or critical you are, they can’t remedy this, no matter how much they wish they could.
    • Remember that the organizers and co-players are also very sad that you had a bad experience, in the same way that it feels really awful to end a relationship and inflict pain on someone you like.
    • Sometimes it just doesn’t work and it’s nobody’s fault; in a voluntary and creative activity, you can’t force things to work just the way you wish them to.

    If you are unable to take these facts to heart, you are likely to feel bad about the larp even after posting a giant wall-of-text with feedback to the organizers.

    But since game design is also a factor, let’s look at some things that can really ruin a larp, and some suggestions on what the organizer and player respectively can do:

    Agency

    Lack of Agency

    Have you ever been to a larp where it felt like no matter what you did or how you acted, it didn’t matter? Like you were just an extra on a movie set and not important enough to get casted on one of the lead roles?

    Larp is a co-creative activity. While it is a well known fact that different roles may provide a player with more or less agency in the game, feeling that you have no agency to shape the story or the situation of your character is frustrating. Players are also highly unalike in this respect: Some are comfortable have little agency and mostly being “along for the ride”, while others highly appreciate being an active part of the story telling.

    • The under stimulated player. “Boooring!” This player needs something to do that is worthwhile and will be meaningful to the game as a whole – often this is more important than personal story satisfaction. Under stimulated players can, for example, spend a lot of time in the off game area or resting/sleeping instead of playing (while not sick or very tired for other reasons).
    • The decontextualized player. This player feels like she just lost her footing due to swift plot turns or too much stuff going on. This player needs to know what the greater picture is and what direction to move in. Remember that even if the game itself isn’t transparent in its design, some players might be better off if you give them a few hints on where to go next.
    • The supressed player. The supressed player is often very passive and can even behave passive-aggressive, both in and off game. The player has ended up in a group or situation where her character lacks in game affordances needed to make her story move forward. This player needs to get more agency, either by changing things in the in-game world or by talking to other players off-game. Simply asking the supressed player to “toughen up” won’t help, since in most cases the power structure is already established, both in and off game. The players who have the agency must be made to share it somehow, because larp is a co-creative activity and nobody should feel like an extra.

    And as a player, tell the organizer or game master how you feel, as they likely will have a hard time seeing your needs otherwise. If you don’t tell them during the game, be aware after the game that you never really gave them a chance to help you – no matter how disappointed you are about the game design as a whole.

    Also, consider if your interpretation of the game world might be too rigid; remaining overly faithful to your character although it ruins your experiences isn’t that great; you should consider adjusting it.

    Rejection

    Rejection

    Have you ever gone to a game expecting really great play from the relationships and stories you have prepared with other players, only to find out that they are too busy with other people to have the time to play with you?

    As a player you’re not just denied the experience of the story you had hoped for, but you are also rejected on a personal level. Remember that this rejection might not have anything to do with you personally; larp is a rather chaotic medium and it is not always possible for everyone to live up to their pre-game commitments. Try to find new paths in the game and ask the organizers for help.

    As an organizer, you might be struggling to just make the larp follow the game design and have very little time and focus for individual player needs. Having a designated player host and being mindful of your casting method might help. As mentioned, in voluntary activities such as larp it’s impossible to force things to work. It’s often better to find a different group or pairing for a lonely player than to force the original plan to work.

    Be prepared that rejected players can feel hurt and sad even if they don’t express it. Having a designated player host or co-organizer with energy and time to talk to and help lonely players can be very helpful.

    Disappointment

    Disappointment

    Have you ever gone to a larp that initially promised to be the most glorious experience ever, but turned out merely mediocre? Or lacked some of the features that you felt were absolutely essential for your experience?

    Organizers: Remember that players will start imagining what the larp will be like at a very early stage. If you as an organizer pull back features that you have promised early on, there will be a cost. Depending on what features, it might be insignificant or staggeringly high. It’s better to be absolutely honest from the beginning with your players about what you are 100% sure you can deliver, and what you hope to deliver. Often players will be just as happy with what you can deliver, but dismally unhappy if disappointed.

    As a player, try to be generous. Consider the level of importance of the withdrawn game feature: Perhaps it didn’t really affect your experience that much?

    The Ending

    The Ending

    Have you ever been to a game that felt completely solid, or at least acceptable, until the end scene? And the ending was SO bad for you that it – at least temporarily – contaminated your memory of the entire rest of the game? Like your every in game action, every moment of invested effort, was suddenly made pointless?

    For many the greatest disappointment of a larp is a bad ending. Player preferences can vary enormously, and it’s very difficult to make everyone happy. And an ending that looks great on paper might get a terrible execution and fall completely flat. But if you as an organizer choose an ending that is either (or a combination of):

    • Predetermined with no transparency: You have already decided how the game will end and haven’t told the players about your choice. (For example: Everyone will die in the end, but they will only know this once it happens.)
    • Binary: You are forcing the all or a select few of the players to make a choice between two or a limited number of optional endings. (For example: Allowing the players who play the captain and quartermaster to decide if the ship will sink or not; a binary choice which is affecting the fate of all characters in the game.)
    • Absolute: There is little room for individual player interpretation. (For example: Ending the game by telling the players what happened in the story after the end of the larp.)

    …the odds are that you’ll have one or a few players who are unhappy. That doesn’t mean it’s always a bad idea, but it comes with certain risks; a larp has as many storylines as there are players, and either of these choices are highly likely to collide with at least one of these storylines.

    Expectations are often the key here: Even if a player might not get the favoured ending, at least having some idea of what is going to happen makes it easier to play the offered ending in a way that is satisfactory. If you are for example using a binary ending, be super-duper-clear with the players about what conditions apply, who makes the decision and when it is made. If you have a predetermined ending and don’t want to spoil a plot turn, give information about the general mood and direction at the end of the game, as “the game will end with a victory” or “the game will end with a reconciliation” or “the game will end in horror and misery; expect bad things to happen”.

    I have no solid advice for the player here. A bad ending is a bad ending, after all. But try to remember that while it was awful for you, it might have been perfect for others. Also, the ending you imagined as the perfect one for you is not wrong or less valid just because that wasn’t the choice of the organizers or lead players in this particular instance: You are the author of your own story, and nothing can take this away from you. If you want, you can even put the ending in writing as a short story to share this idea of an outcome with others who were at the same game. They might appreciate it more than you think!

    Final Thoughts

    This article was written based on my experience both as a player and organizer, with a high dosage of self critique and ‘wish I’d thought of this’ in the backpack.

    I hope this text has given some hope, sympathy and comfort to anyone out there still struggling with ‘getting over’ a really bad larp experience, and that organizers might have received some ideas for design choices that might help them get a higher percentage of happy players.

    Thank you Tor-Kjetil Edland and Anna-Karin Linder Krauklis for proof reading and feedback.

  • We Don’t Abide to the Law of Jante

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    We Don’t Abide to the Law of Jante

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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.

    Editors note: This is a reply to the opinion piece by Sanne Harder titled “The Law of Jante in Nordic
    Role-playing    ” that ran on Nordiclarp.org on 11 July 2014.

    I read Sanne Harders text about “good role-playing” with great interest. Harder pinpoints some very important issues
    within the Nordic larp scene. Status and nepotism are indeed present, though we perceive ourselves as open minded and
    egalitarian. We are absolutely lacking a discussion about “what makes a good role-player” and how to improve ourselves.
    I will however argue that discussion must have different premises than the ones Harder suggests.

    How can the good larpers help the Nordic larp scene as a whole?

    There are problems
    within the Nordic larp arena concerning the perceived equality. Questions about accessibility, equality and everyone’s
    right to feel welcome and getting the support one needs (regardless of gender, ethnicity, sexuality, ableness etc, not
    to forget previous experience or lack there of). This of course overlaps questions such as “what makes a good larper”. A
    non willingness to address questions about what makes “a good larper” can conceal underlying structural problems
    concerning status. Status among larpers and status concerning different genres. Believe me, as a player and producer of
    Vampire larps, somewhat perceived as the larping
    equivalent of Harlequin novels, I have some experience in the matter. But let’s focus on the text itself. What problems
    are determined, what is the solution and – of course – what is a good larper? And how can the good larpers help the
    Nordic larp scene as a whole?

    “The Law of Jante”, I would say, is one of the most misleading descriptions of scandinavian
    collectivistic culture.

    To pinpoint the essence of the problem Harder exemplifies with “The Law of Jante”.
    “The Law of Jante” (established by danish-norwegian author Aksel
    Sandemose    ), I would say, is one of the most misleading descriptions of scandinavian collectivistic culture. The
    premise is highly individualistic – the collective holds back and shames any individual that outshines, or threatens to
    do so, any other member in the collective. For instance the 6th law of Jante is – “You’re not to think you are more
    important than we are”. Well, guess what – I couldn’t agree more. Nobody is more important than anyone else. I do
    believe this sentence should pervade every larp. Even if you are an outstanding larper (I will address this question
    later on) your experience and your presence is not more important than anyone else. An “anti-Jante-approach” to larping
    would be somewhat dangerous or at least counterproductive. Do we want larpers to strive after outshining each other? To
    teach them that talent makes you more important than others?

    Harder also exemplifies with a stereotypical (and yes, I absolutely agree, highly recognizable) character; the
    Gamemaster of Doom. A big problem seems to be letting newbies have their first experience lead by such a person, risking
    scaring them off. But what about the Gamemaster her/himself? Who should she/he play with? How should she/he become a
    better player/gamemaster? I don’t see how “rescuing” newbies from this horrible first experience benefits the larp scene
    as a whole. Simply because the larp scene is a collective. Simply because elitism and focus on individuals will always
    be somewhat excluding.

    Let me be crystal clear. Opposing elitism does not mean avoiding boosting each other or acknowledging talent. It means
    that a talented person (in one particular area) is not more important than a non-talented person. It does not mean not
    acknowledging people’s safety concerning questions about gender, ethnicity, sexuality or ableness. What it means is that
    no person is more important than another because of talent.

    A good experience starts long before the larp itself – making props, building the group, making
    people feel welcome and safe, taking care of possible conflicts, communicating and inspiring people.

    So what
    makes a good larper? I will address two issues here. The authors focus is individual talent, acting especially. It seems
    like the author means that a good larper enters a group and inspires them with formidable acting. But first of all;
    larping is not about acting, not only.  A good experience starts long before the larp itself – making props, building
    the group, making people feel welcome and safe, taking care of possible conflicts, communicating and inspiring people.
    Not by outshining them, but by making the experience interesting and of course somewhat challenging on a personal level.
    This demands a whole set of different talents – logistics, a bit of leadership, communication, craftsmanship, writing,
    composing, creativity, social skills and – this is important – the ability to step back and let other people into the
    limelight. Not everyone can possess all qualities, but everyone can possess one or a few, which are equally important
    and – of course – should be boosted and verified.

    A focus on the acting part of larping also makes a rather narrow path to walk on the way of improving. A path demanding
    talents that not all players have to begin with. Hence arguing good acting makes a good larper is somewhat excluding.
    But once again, there are so many other qualities that benefits the group, should we choose to change our focus. And I
    believe we should. Because, second:

    Larping is namely not individualistic, it´s collectivistic. Larping is not a tabletop RPG; the “good larper” being the
    equivalent of the hero/PC and the “not so good larpers” the NPCs. Every players experience is equally important, some
    needing more boost and guiding, others quite self sufficient, and some very experienced and/or talented can help and
    push their fellow players.

    The good role-player’s focus is one the group, not on her/himself.

    The players I have
    encountered that I would describe as good role-players are the ones that makes the inexperienced player feel more
    confident, the ones that easily can take over an entire scene but takes a step back and boosts the quite wallflower to
    take the lead, the ones that make people solve problems, challenge themselves and step out of their comfort zones. I
    would argue a good larper builds the group, facilitating other players, plays in a giving, generous and not self
    centered manner. The good role-player’s focus is one the group, not on her/himself.

    I do agree that “leading by example” is not a bad thing. I do agree this is a discussion we should have to improve
    ourselves as players and producers. I do agree that recruiting “good larpers” can lift an arrangement or a group, but
    not by making it a “one man show”. It`s all about the group. Discussions about what makes a good larper and how to use
    the good larpers to inspire and challenge other players are more than welcome. But if so I do believe the premises must
    be larp as a group effort where nobody is more important than anyone else, where nobody is excluded due to lack of
    talent. Not even the Gamemaster of Doom.

  • The Law of Jante in Nordic Role-playing

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    The Law of Jante in Nordic Role-playing

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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.

    Outwardly, the Nordic role-playing scene seems like a tolerant, egalitarian place where everyone is welcome. But the truth is that we are so busy being equal, that we fail to see excellence, and are downright fearful of elitism. Our fear of saying out loud that some role-players are better than others fosters secret social structures, where people are included or excluded depending on how well-connected they are.

    There’s a taboo in Danish role-playing. On the surface it’s about openness, tolerance, and equality, but in reality I believe it boils down to the infamous Law of Jante, the first paragraph of which says: “You’re not to think you are anything special”.

    Back in the days of yore, when I started role-playing, conventions still held competitions about who was the best role-player. As a matter of fact, I once made it to the second round in such a contest. A good role-player was defined as somebody who could not only rack in loads of XP (experience points), but was also capable of doing some degree of acting. It was up to the gamemaster to decide if you lived up to these criteria.

    Somehow along the line, these competitions died out. ‘Being a good role-player is not about winning or losing’ became the general approach in the tradition I belonged to – and actually, I had to agree. Once free-form became a norm at conventions, counting XP became meaningless. Role-playing became less about the game, and more about immersion. A good game should be about the individual experience of the player: How the story and the setting moved you, what the chemistry between the players were like, what you took away from the experience.

    In addition to this, a lot of role-players came from backgrounds where they had been more or less ostracised or even traumatised for lack of social skills. If being a good role-player was no longer just about counting XP, the competitions could have come very close to popularity contests. We didn’t want that.

    The Gamemaster of Doom

    In the 1990s, the general consensus was that everyone was welcome. “Everyone can role-play”, is what people were saying. It didn’t matter if you couldn’t act if your life depended on it. Even people whose social skills were so bad that they consistently ruined everyone else’s experience were welcomed. I remember a specific “Gamemaster of Doom”, who was so bad he would just sit there, leafing through papers, without even speaking to his players. It didn’t matter: We had room for the freaks and the outcasts that had nowhere else to go.

    If you were really unlucky, that might be her first and last experience with role-playing.

    Except for the fact that it quickly became a lie. Because secretly, there was a selection process going on. If you had played with the above mentioned game master, you were not likely to do so again. Why should you? It was not a good experience. No, someone else had to take their turn with him, in the name of tolerance and openness. Sadly, said person would usually be the unknowing outsider, who did not yet have her social network to warn her. If you were really unlucky, that might be her first and last experience with role-playing.

    As I got to know more about the other people who played role-playing games, I got better at knowing whom to avoid. But perhaps more importantly, I got to know those people who had a reputation for delivering. At conventions they were gamemasters, writers, and players. At larps, they were organisers or players.

    These were people who could take an otherwise mediocre scenario and boost it so thoroughly that it became not just a good experience, but actually unforgettable. They were dynamos in their own right. At conventions, you would amble over to stand next to them, hoping to be put in the same group. At larps you could do even better, if you had the nerve: Why not phone them up beforehand and ask for your character to be a sister, a close friend, or even a lover?

    The system of nepotism favoured people who were in the know. People who were already well-connected, and who weren’t afraid of asking for favours. People like me.

    The Good and the Bad

    The fact of the matter is that some role-players are better than others. When people ask me why I role-play, I usually say: For my own sake. Not for an audience, not to impress anyone. Just for the experience. However, this is not the entire truth. We are each-other’s audience. But more than that: We affect each-other’s experiences in good ways and bad ways. A good role-player knows this, and takes that responsibility seriously.

    Some people are bad role-players, and some people are good ones.

    Even though we don’t want to be open about it, it is not random: Some people are bad role-players, and some people are good ones. Sometimes the bad ones get lucky and manage to get through a game without ruining anything for everyone else, and sometimes the good ones have a bad day. But the trend is clear. In the name of our all-accepting, egalitarian community, we refrain from saying it out loud. But that doesn’t make it any less true.

    Why This Is a Problem

    Why should I care? I am one of those people who gets to play with all the best. And yet, it bothers me. It bothers me for several reasons.

    Obviously it’s a problem that the opportunity to play with really good role-playing partners does not present itself to you unless you happen to know the right people. Often enough we even wind up scaring potentially interested newbies off by letting them play with lousy co-players. If we want our hobby to be characterised as a closed-off society where you have to fight your way in, then we are doing exactly the right thing. However, that doesn’t serve us very well in the long term.

    The other problem is for the bad players themselves. Because we refuse to (publicly) acknowledge the good players, we cannot give the bad players the tools to get better. Simply put: We have not analysed what it means to be a good player, so there are no shortcuts. You have to go on spoiling a lot of people’s games before you see the light – provided you ever will. No-one will even tell you why they only play with you once, they just kind of seem to move on without you.

    Solutions, Please!

    At present time, I do not have the solutions. However, a good starting point would be to acknowledge the situation. If we were open about who the good players were, it would become much more legitimate for organisers to cast them into particular functions: Why not do the opposite of what we are doing now, and actually make sure that there is at least a few skilled role-players present when running games for newbies?

    Similarly, larp organisers who cast solid players who can be counted on for a good delivery in pivotal roles should not be accused of nepotism. They should be applauded for making conscious choices, as they do this to give the rest of the players the best possible experience.

    We need to direct our attention towards the good players

    First and foremost, we need to direct our attention towards the good players. What is it that they do? Most of them tend to be seasoned role-players, with many years of experience. So it is probably not a question of an innate genetic talent, but rather a thoroughly honed skill set.

    Currently there is an undergrowth of bloggers who are working on charting what skills a good role-player possesses. Needless to say, it is a difficult chore. We all play for different reasons, and being a casual gamer, you would look for different qualities than an immersionist or a dramatist would (see ‘The three way model‘ for an introduction of these terms).

    Mapping Good Role-playing Skills

    However, one trait seems to crop up everywhere: Social skills. As Lizzie Stark puts it: “Larp is a social activity”. The same can be said of all role-playing games that aren’t digital (and some that are). This implies something we already knew, but didn’t want to admit: Maybe not everyone is as welcome as we would like to believe. Maybe the same people who lacked the social skills to get through school unscathed find themselves confronted with their shortcomings once again.

    Another Anecdote

    Good role-players are the people we should be looking up to

    I’m going to end this article with yet another anecdote – but this time a recent one. I was running a game for some teachers who were interested in using role-playing as a tool, but who needed to be shown what it is. I wanted to give them a good experience, so I asked a friend who is an experienced role-player to join them. Within a very short time, his mere presence managed to escalate the game in a way that none of the others would have been capable of doing. It happened in many ways: By way of imitation, but also because he was able to create action that would beget action. His participation lifted the experience for everyone else.

    Pretending that ‘everyone can role-play’ is a huge underselling of the skills that good role-players have. If we want to continue making increasingly complex games, we need players that can measure up to the games. That is something we will only get if we are working consciously towards it.

    There is a reason why Danes don’t like to mention that some people are better at what they do than others. We come from an egalitarian society, and we don’t like braggarts. But we have to stop equalling skill with status. What is wrong with being a skilful role-player? Absolutely nothing. Being good at something doesn’t make you an arrogant elitist. More likely, it means that you have invested a lot of time in getting good.

    Good role-players are the people we should be looking up to. We need to start seeing them as a resource which should be made available. Not as a hidden discourse. As for the bad role-players: We don’t need to put them down, but we do need to show them the way.