Nordic Larp

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  • Larp Tools: Pronoun Markers and Correction Mechanics

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    Larp Tools: Pronoun Markers and Correction Mechanics

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    In role-play, players and their characters do not always use the same pronouns. Some players use role-play to explore personal questions of gender identity, using the alibi of the character to give them a chance to try on a new identity and experience being known, seen, and referred to as that gender. Others are simply more interested in experiencing a particular game from the point of view of a gender that is not their own, often because they desire the challenge of the play, or because they feel that the roles of a specific gender are more intriguing or important. Others still are gender non-conforming in some way and experience misgendering in and out of games.

    More and more larpers are coming out as transgender — meaning that their gender is different from what they were assigned at birth — or non-binary, in which their gender doesn’t fit within the gender binary of male or female. As a result, the way larps and larp communities use pronouns, casting, and references to gender role-play also needs to adapt in order for a larp to be accessible and inclusive to participants of any gender. Terms like “cross-play,” which has typically meant to play the opposite of your own gender become problematized when moving beyond a gender binary. Casting based on what gender one presents as or passes as, instead of what gender one wishes to play is also something to question, and can sometimes feel at odds with the design goals of the larp or the ideals of immersion.

    A sign on a public wall that says "Gender Grammar: Never Assume Someone's Pronouns" with a person walking by “Grammar Wars #2: ‘Never Assume Someone’s Pronouns’” by David Bleasdale on Flickr. (CC BY 2.0).

    These important considerations are beyond the scope of this article, though, which deals solely with player and character pronoun markers and the introduction of a pronoun correction mechanic to use at larps. These tools are designed to allow players to ensure their pronouns are known and used for themselves off-game and for the characters they are playing. The goal is to minimize the amount of misgendering, to expose participants to the variety of gender identities people may hold, to create the norm that pronouns matter, and to implement a procedure for correcting a pronoun mistake. All of these are in place to establish a Culture of Care and Trust, as well as to make our games and communities safer and more inclusive spaces for all bodies, genders, and identities.

    Pronouns matter. Misgendering someone is a big deal that causes them discomfort and pain. A misgendered player experiences immersion breaks in their role-play at best and gender dysphoria at worst. Misgendering contributes to negative bleed and emotional distress. Assuming pronouns for a player or a character can lead to trouble. To avoid pronoun assumption, the triggering effects of misgendering, and the sometimes difficult process of correcting a misused pronoun, the following pronoun statement and correction mechanics were developed. They were created in 2016 for New World Magischola by Maury Brown, Sarah Lynne Bowman and Harrison Greene, with help from Sara Williamson and Liz Gorinsky, co-authors of the larp See Me Now, which explores queer identities. Brodie Atwater contributed to later workshop adaptations. Pronoun markers are now in use in several large larps and larp conventions, and the pronoun correction mechanic is in use at Learn Larp, Event Horizon, and Double Exposure events.

    Pronouns on Display: Two Methods

    There are two main procedures regarding using pronouns on name badges at larps or conventions. The first approach displays pronouns on all name badges as an expectation or norm; and the second allows participants to add their pronouns to badges (or wear a separate badge or patch) if they choose. In both cases, players designate their own pronouns, and upon seeing the displayed pronoun, other members of the community are expected to make every effort to refer to each person by the pronoun that they have displayed.

    Default Pronoun Listing and Default Gender-Inclusive Pronoun

    New World Magischola (2016-) and Event Horizon (2017-) display player pronouns on player badges and character pronouns on character badges as a default. Players are asked to list their preferred pronouns on the document or database prior to the game, and nametags are printed from that source. The expectation set by this choice is that pronouns matter and cannot be assumed. Participants check the nametag to give all co-players the courtesy of correctly gendering them. In the absence of knowing someone’s personal pronouns, the default pronoun is “they,” which may be corrected to another pronoun using the procedure below or by checking the name badge.

    A New World Magischola badge listing pronouns
    Badge for a professor in New World Magischola with pronouns. Photo by Learn Larp, LLC.

    Putting preferred pronouns on all nametags normalizes listing pronouns. This practice recognizes their importance for player safety and inclusion, and makes it a generally accepted practice to see them for everyone, not just those folks who are gender non-conforming. It brings awareness to the existence of other ways of identifying and includes those who identify beyond the gender binary. If pronoun markers are a choice, it can single out those who choose to wear the badge, and draw attention to them as different from the “norm” or somehow “needing” a badge more than someone else. It can also be more difficult for a trans participant to have to decide whether to make their pronoun choice explicit (sometimes outing themselves), or attempt to pass by deciding whether to use a pronoun badge. Such a practice can make them feel that they are different from the rest of the community by needing to wear one, since their presenting gender may not “adequately conform” to their preferred identity. When pronouns are listed by default, it removes this decision from any participant, as it’s just a matter of course that all participants’ pronouns will be visibly stated. All players display their pronouns on player nametags and all characters display their pronouns on character nametags. The font is large enough to be seen at a conversational distance.

    Separate Pronoun Badges or Patches

    The large networked North American post-apocalyptic boffer campaign Dystopia Rising added pronoun patches in late 2016 and the Polish-Danish perennial castle larp College of Wizardry added pronoun badges in 2017. Badges and patches are a way for players to self-select displaying their pronouns on their in-game costumes or off-game attire. DR made official patches that are sold through their company store, and made rules about wearing them to ensure that subcultures in their game network could not discriminate against them or ban their use. In addition, the singular design would be recognized across their many-game network, and the guidelines for displaying them helped to universalize where to look. Prior to creating their official badges, some players had been making their own, or writing pronouns on another part of their costume, and there had been dissension in the community about whether this was proper. The official patches were intended to end those arguments. She/her, he/him, and they/them patches exist.

    Dystopia Rising’s pronoun patches. Photo courtesy of Eschaton Media Productions.

    In their fall 2016 and spring 2017 games, College of Wizardry introduced pin-on buttons/badges, which they made available for free at the beginning of the larp, as players pick up their robes and ties. The badges have three choices of pronoun options available (He/Him, She/Her, and They/Them) and they are optional to wear and use. These 1” badges are generally pinned near the name badge and are in a font that is easily readable. While primarily intended for use in-game, some players also use them at the after-party as well, especially if their off-game gender differs from their in-game one. Many College of Wizardry students wear various badges already — such as a House crest pin, or a pin to show support for an activist cause or membership in a club — so the use of a pin-on badge makes sense in the world.

    In both cases of Dystopia Rising and College of Wizardry, any player may choose to wear a badge, but no player is required to do so. Some cis players choose to wear one to bring awareness to pronouns and help normalize their use in game. Some players, including trans and nonbinary players, do not want to make their pronouns explicit, so they choose not to wear a badge. Trans and nonbinary players have noted that this self-selection process can require them to out themselves in a way that may not be safe or desired. Some genderfluid players do not want to choose a specific pronoun, so they may choose to wear two or more of the badges. In either game there is no mechanic for a default pronoun. Players in both communities have expressed thanks that the patches and badges were introduced and used.

    Pros and Cons

    In either method of pronoun marker, it is important that the stated and enforced community norm be that a participant’s stated gender is accepted at face value and without question. Comments such as, “it’s difficult for me to call you [pronoun] because you so clearly look like [gender]” are harassing, unwelcome, and should not be tolerated.

    Not every game will want to use a name badge for characters in-game, or use pronoun markers of any kind. An immersive historical larp where everyone is in period costumes, for example, may find the name badges or pronoun badges to be disruptive to immersion. If you are using name badges, placing the pronouns on the badge itself is typically least disruptive, as there is only one article that is “out of place” on the Regency ball gown or the pirate couture, for example. Organizers should make a careful and calculated decision about using name badges and/or pronoun badges. They are weighing player comfort and safety against an immersion ideal. Whatever choice is made, they will have to justify it to themselves and their participants. Choosing not to include visible pronouns may make certain participants feel uncomfortable, especially if they worry about being repeatedly misgendered, which can disrupt their own immersion.

    a pile of pins with the pronoun "they"
    College of Wizardry pronoun pins. Photo courtesy of Dziobak Larp Studios.

    Listing pronouns on name tags as a default is not the same as mandating wearing a separate pronoun badge or ribbon. Separate badges are extra items to wear or attach, and requiring everyone to add them begs the question of “but what if I don’t need one, because my presentation is obvious” or “I don’t want these progressive politics introduced into my game” or “adding the badge breaks my immersion.” Leaving them as an option can create these conversations and invite these arguments, which can be difficult for genderqueer participants to hear and be part of. Making pronouns a part of a regular nametag normalizes them as an essential piece of information, not an option, and stops deliberation about whether they should be used. This practice also raises awareness for correct pronoun usage outside of the larp.

    However, sometimes the act of choosing, especially for a genderfluid person, creates discomfort. The design choice of having the default gender neutral pronoun, “they” can reduce that concern, as “they” is used if a pronoun is not indicated. Using “they” signals a lack of reliance on the gender binary, as “they” is neither expressly male or female. Without the default pronoun of “they” participants tend to fall back on the binary, which is already normalized. The default of “they” instead changes the norm, but allows gender binary pronouns to co-exist within it.

    Correcting a Pronoun Mistake

    Being misgendered is a big deal, and it should not be tolerated. Many people who use incorrect pronouns do so despite good intentions and are genuinely mortified when they make a mistake. While being misgendered causes negative and hurtful feelings and is in some cases used as a form of deliberate harm, aggression, or violence toward trans and nonbinary people, when seeking to create a safety tool to contribute to a culture of care and trust, it is important that all participants give each other the benefit of the doubt. The benefit of the doubt means that everyone in the community will do their very best to use each person’s correct pronouns, and that there is a shared responsibility for correcting someone who makes a pronoun mistake, promptly and matter-of-factly.

    A pronoun sticker with Ted's pronouns listed as he, him
    A name and pronouns sticker from the Human Rights Campaign. “2017.06.08 Pride DC People and Places, Washington DC USA 6108” by Ted Eytan on Flickr. (CC BY-SA 2.0).

    When a person is corrected, they should accept it graciously, thank the person who is helping them use the proper pronoun, and treat their co-players with respect. The overriding principle is: “If you make a mistake and use the wrong pronouns in spite of your good intentions, the best response is to acknowledge the mistake, correct, and continue the conversation.” Over-apologizing exaggerates the mistake, derails the role-play and makes both the person who was misgendered and the person who did the misgendering uncomfortable. This situation can lead the person who was misgendered to feel compelled to reassure the player who made the mistake, which can heighten feelings of dysphoria or alienation. Thus, a simple “thank you” is considered preferred etiquette and is least anxiety-producing for everyone involved.

    To enact this norm, the following pronoun correction procedure was created and implemented in New World Magischola beginning in June 2016. A similar procedure is used at Event Horizon larp and at Double Exposure conventions (DREAMATION, DEXCON, and Metatopia). Providing a mechanic that includes a script both normalizes and standardizes the correction. This makes it second-nature and ensures that a considerate correction/response is used and expected.

    Pronoun Correction Procedure

    If a misgendering occurs, participants are taught and expected use the following quick, non-judgmental pronoun correction mechanic. This technique is used for both in-game and off-game interactions:

    1. Person 1 accidentally uses the incorrect pronoun to refer to someone. The person who was misgendered can be the person you are speaking to or someone you are speaking about.
    2. Person 2 notices the incorrect pronoun use and says the word “Pronouns” and shows the P hand signal. This can be one of two signals: the British sign language symbol for the letter P (which requires two hands) or the American Sign Language symbol for P (right hand only). If the player does not have one or both hands available, or chooses to, they can simply use the verbal cue “Pronouns.”
    3. Person 2 follows the verbal cue and/or hand signal with the correct pronoun for Player 1 to use. e.g. “Pronouns. They.”
    4. Person 1 says “Thank you” for the reminder and repeats the correct pronoun. Play or conversation resumes.
    cartoon hands make a P
    The British sign language symbol for P. Photo by british-sign.co.uk.

    Person 1: “We were leaving class at the same time, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to her.”

    Person 2: [Makes a P symbol] “Pronouns. They.”

    Person 1: “Thank you. I didn’t get the chance to talk to them.”

    This procedure can be repeated as often as necessary if the misgendering continues. Sometimes it is genuinely difficult to change one’s speech habits and use a different pronoun, especially when one is already under the cognitive load of roleplay. A person may need several reminders. The expectation is that one is corrected each time, both to help someone pay attention to their language use, and to encourage not letting a misgendering pass without correction. Anyone who notices the pronoun mistake is encouraged to speak up; it can be much easier for a friend to correct on behalf of someone misgendered than the person themselves. In each case, the response is the same: the person correcting uses the mechanic and states the correct pronoun and the person being corrected acknowledges with “thank you” and repeating the pronoun. Needing several reminders can be frustrating for everyone, but repetition is often needed as people learn new habits. If it appears that someone is intentionally misgendering or refusing to abide by stated pronouns, an organizer or member of the safety team should become involved. Deliberate misgendering or dismissal of the importance of using a person’s preferred pronouns is harassment and should be dealt with accordingly.

    Drawing of a hand performing the ASL P
    American Sign Language symbol for P. Photo courtesy of Pixabay.

    What the Mechanic Does and Its Usefulness

    1. Sends a clear message that your community is inclusive to people of all genders.
    2. Formalizes how pronouns are handled in your community.
    3. Reduces the amount of misgendering that occurs for players and characters.
    4. Gives a simple and quick correction procedure that is expected and minimally intrusive.
    5. Opens community members’ eyes to perspectives beyond a gender binary.
    6. Teaches participants how to get better at recognizing and using different pronouns.
    7. Helps trans and nonbinary participants feel more respected and safer.
    8. Allows role-play to continue quickly after a correction, rather than allowing a conversation to derail into obsequies and discomfort.
    9. Shares the responsibility for ensuring people are called by their proper pronouns to everyone in the community, not just those who use gender binary conforming pronouns.
    10. Opens your game to multiple gender expressions.
    Pink gender pins with he, she, they, and "ask me!" pronouns
    Pronoun Pins for XOXO Art and Technology Festival in Portland, Oregon. “Gender Recognition Pins” by sarahmirk on Wikimedia Commons. (CC BY-SA 4.0).

    Conclusion

    Pronouns markers and gender in games are a topic that needs further study in larp communities. Trans and gender-noncomforming players have stated that having a method for indicating and correcting their pronouns makes them feel more welcomed and included. Having one’s pronouns respected helps players feel safe and able to trust their fellow participants. Implementing a pronoun correction mechanic shares the responsibility for ensuring that correct pronouns are used with everyone in the community. Trans and gender-nonconforming participants have stated that it can be exhausting and difficult to continually correct others themselves, and that they appreciate it when others correct and advocate for proper pronoun use on their behalf. Many larpers and people in general society have little experience with people who identify beyond the gender binary, and tend to default to language or behavior that often is harmful to genderqueer co-players. Designers and organizers can put tools and techniques such as these in place to improve awareness of how default gender norms marginalize nonbinary and trans participants; to take steps to improve marginalization and toxic behavior within game communities; and to model better behaviors outside of the gamespace. While these tools do not solve the systemic issues that trans, nonbinary, and genderqueer people face in larps and everyday life, they make a visible and important step toward inclusion.

    Special thanks to Alex Rowland, Brodie Atwater, and Dani Higgins for feedback on early versions of this article.

    References

    Bowman, Sarah Lynne. “Bleed: The Spillover Between Player and Character. March 2, 2015. https://nordiclarp.org/2015/03/02/bleed-the-spillover-between-player-and-character/

    Brown, Maury. “Creating a Culture of Trust through Safety and Calibration Larp Mechanics.” September 9, 2016. https://nordiclarp.org/2016/09/09/creating-culture-trust-safety-calibration-larp-mechanics/

    Cover Photo: “2016.07.01 Nametags with Pronouns – Avery 5392_nonbranded” by Ted Eytan on Flickr. (CC BY-SA 2.0). Photo has been cropped.

  • 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).

  • Telling Character Stories

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    Telling Character Stories

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    There are many ways to tell a character story. Nordic larp design often implies that characters are written by the larpwright(s). Relationships and turning points in character stories are set up from the start, often being part of the overall design of the larp. With authorship comes a certain degree of ownership and control over the character for the larpwright. The player who receives such a character, continues telling a story that someone else started and owns.

    German larp design mostly leaves it to the players to bring characters they created completely on their own. Characters belong to the player alone. The story belongs to the player and every larp (and every piece of downtime in ongoing campaigns) is another piece in an ongoing tale, which the player influences as she sees fit. Those characters live whenever and wherever the player decides and often collect years of relations, experiences and tales at numerous events.

    This article will explore the effects and implications of a self-written, player-owned character on different levels: How do larpwrights, organisers and game masters incorporate this kind of character into a game? What is the influence on design choices? As a counterweight to the German concept, the article will look into the character creation at College of Wizardry (Nielsen, Dembinski and Raasted et al., 2014-).((College of Wizardry is a weekend larp, depicting the school life at a college for witches and wizards in an alternate version of our current reality.)) Originating from a nordic tradition of pre-written characters, the rerunning larp now faces an increasing amount of characters that are player-written. It will become apparent why both plot-driven and character-driven larps can incorporate self-written characters and how this can enhance the individual player’s experience.

    1. The German Concept: Bring Your Own Character!

    1.1. Terminology

    Talking about “the German concept” of larp characters does not imply that there is only one way all characters are made. The German larp scene includes a growing variety of playing-styles. This article will, however, focus on the most common way of character handling that is typically assigned to German larp. From here on, I will work with the following definition of “the German concept”: A player comes up with a character idea independently from any larp. She developes a background story and traits based on the initial idea, as well as a costume and possibly even props. The character may or may not be attached to the backstory or world-setting of any larp ever played. Anything from using pen & paper inspired backgrounds, references to settings from novels and movies, to free floating ideas is possible. There is no corrective or norm to follow. The only limit that has to be taken into account is the genre of the larp the character is supposed to belong to. As most German larps can still be summed up as based in a “fantasy” setting in the broadest sense, that will be the reference frame for this article.((Considering plot, the roots in pen & paper show again: The setting of most larps is “fantasy,” ranging from low fantasy (most characters would be thieves, rogues, healers or knights, plots are about politics, justice and fighting the evil) to high fantasy (characters such as elves and other fantastic races get involved, plots are about demons, rituals, otherworldly menaces and evil witches and wizards, etc).)) The newly created character may take part in campaigns such as ConQuest((Commonly known as ConQuest of Mythodea, mostly referred to as Mythodea in the international scene.)) (Guess et al., 2016) and Drachenfest (Schlump and Wolter et al., 2016) and may attend any other smaller larps of different campaigns, or events that are not associated with a campaign at all. There are no restrictions: any event can be attended with the same character, even if the different games do not refer to the same setting. The same character can be played in different campaigns.

    The word “campaign” is not used consistently in German larp. The biggest ongoing campaign is ConQuest of Mythodea, with three annual events, of which two add to the main plot.((ConQuest being the main event. Jenseits der Siegel serves as a prequel to this. Chroniken von Mythodea is set in the same world-setting and loosely tied to the plot of the main event.)) But “campaign” is also used to describe a loose assemblage of larp settings. Among various, one is well established in Germany: The so-called Mittellande Kampagne. (Deutscher Liverollenspiel-Verband, [date unknown]) This “campaign” works as a giant sandbox. Depicting a fantasy world, it contains various fictional countries, that vary in politics, population, and subgenres. Over the course of years, many larp organisers have established plotlines that tell the story of a freely scalable part of the fictional continent and uncounted one shot larps have been played in this setting. Other campaigns exist under this definition, but are less frequently played upon. (Larp Wiki, 2106) In this article, the term “campaign” refers to events like ConQuest of Mythodea and, to add another European example, Empire in the UK.

    Nevertheless, the very structure of the Mittelande Kampagne reflects the German approach to characters and their stories: It creates an environment, in which players have a huge variety of options on which larp to play next with one character and thus determining how the story continues, while the setting remains vaguely consistent as a bonus to the consistency of the character story.

    1.2. Roots of the “German Concept”

    In contrast to Eirik Fatland’s assertion that nordic larp has its roots in psychodrama (Fatland, 2016), larp in Germany emerged quite firmly from the pen & paper gaming tradition. Presumably the first German larp-like events took place in the late 1980s. The first event which is acknowledged to meet the definition of a larp in Germany and was directed at a public audience took place in 1991 under the name Dracon 1. (Neupert, 2002)

    Coming from a gaming tradition, early German larps were heavily regulated by rule systems, which defined what a character could do with a certain amount of experience. As the active larp scene developed simultaneously in different parts of the country, a number of rules systems were published, none of which achieved a leading position across Germany.((Prominent rule systems were among others: DragonSys, Phoenix-Carta, Silbermond, That’s live. As German larp develops away from the gamist approach of the early days, WYSIWYG “rules” now mark a majority of the games held. (Bolle, 2010))) What they had in common was a game-like structure: Skills were bought with experience points, which were gained by attending a larp. The aim was to translate pen & paper rules to a playable and practical framework for larp. Even the conversion between different rulesets was regulated,((Most larp organisers offering a set of “house rules” on how to convert your character from one system to another.)) enabling players to attend more events with the same character. Attending many larps was, save few exceptions, the only way to get to play a powerful, capable character. As previously stated, this collection of experience points could extend over campaigns and stand alone events alike. The amount of experience points that a character would receive after a larp depended on the duration of the event: One day at the larp was rewarded with a fixed amount of points. The skills and power had to be earned over actual years. Personal and systematic progress of the character went hand in hand.

    Today, the strict obedience to rule systems is broadly abandoned. Although many events still o cially follow a rule system, the rules have less influence on the actual game, which mostly shifts to a variation of WYSIWYG, called “you are able to do, what you are able to depict.”((“Du kannst, was du darstellen kannst,” commonly referred to as “DKWDDK.”))

    1.3.Practical: Implications, Influence on Design, Problems and Solutions

    1.3.1. Prerequisites: Players “versus” NPCs

    From the first events up until now, German larp has developed many forms of organisation and structure. Again, to make the case more clear, I will refer to the best known and widest spread structure, which is also typically connected to the fantasy setting. The larp is run by organisers and a rather big amount of non-player characters (NPCs), aiming at a 1:2 ratio between players and NPCs. The NPC roles vary in quality and importance, but altogether, they drive the plot.

    Because the characters don’t come along with a backstory that is inherently connected to the plot, they cannot be used to trigger events. This task falls completely to the NPCs as “tools” of the organisers, creating circumstances that push events forward. Characters and players alike start the larp with very little knowledge about the plot. Their task is to engage in play with NPCs, who carry information about the current in-game situation and try to manipulate the characters for their own advantage, give them mysteries to solve or help them in doing so. They can depict conflicting parties, which try to pull the players’ characters to either side. In general, NPCs are used to make the setting of the larp “come to life.” Dramatic escalation or factors such as time pressure to solve a plot are communicated in-game through NPCs. Depending on the game designers’ choice, NPCs can help move the plot forwards when it is at risk of being derailed by the players.

    1.3.2. Challenges for Organisers and Game Designers

    Along with this concept of character creation and ownership come a lot of challenges and implications for every party involved in a larp. Game designers and organisers certainly face the most of them. How can you create a plot, not knowing who will be there to take part in it? There are basically two ways to solve this challenge: One is to adjust the game as far as possible to the characters, which is mostly done for smaller events with up to 50 participants on the player side (e.g. Verushkou—Si vis Pacem, Bad Monkeys Crew, 2016). The second option is to let the characters adjust to the game, which has proven to be a good strategy for larger events, like ConQuest and Drachenfest.

    1.3.3. Know Your Players

    To gather information about the characters that will take part in the larp, many organisers combine the signup with the option to send in information about the background and special skills of the characters. This serves the purpose of identifying significant gaps between the planned plot and the set of people to solve it. Organisers get the chance to adjust their plans according to their audience and create personalized, small scenes for each player. This may be an individual in-game arrival to the site, during which players meet an NPC that in some way refers to their character’s background. It may also be a dream or vision scene during the game that picks up on personal plot hooks which the players gave to the organisers at sign up, intertwining the character’s story and the story of the larp. Less frequently, organisers design (side)-plots especially for the characters that have been announced to the game.

    Another influence of gaming tradition can be found in the “character check-in” and “check-out.” This used to be a standard procedure at German larps but has been dropped by many organisers over the course of years. During check-in, organisers go through the written character sheet and check if skills and experience points match and list up the items that a character brings to a larp. The check-out awards the character with new experience points and documents the new status on owned in-game items. The thorough, written documentation of the character makes it easier to switch between campaigns and settings.

    Although all these tactics give designers an idea of which characters are at their games and gives them the opportunity to a certain extent to tailor plot to groups, working with player-written characters does have the effect of disconnecting larp designers from their players.

    1.3.4. Beat Them with Mass

    If an event surmounts a certain size, it becomes undoable to adjust plot personally for each player. The challenge is met by offering a main plot for a certain set of characters, assuming that a fitting constellation will show up and/or that players will steer their characters towards the plot. Additionally, these events offer smaller side-plots. Those are designed for character types that will most likely not become involved in the main course of action and focus more on character game rather than following the more epic setup of the main plot. For example, a main plot could be “reconstruct an ancient magic machine to ward off a powerful demon” while a side-plot about “find out who stole the midwife’s healing herbs” happens. In events that reach a capacity of 1.000 and more players, again like ConQuest and Drachenfest, a part of the larp turns itself into a sandbox.

    1.4. German Character Concepts: An Epic Journey

    The process of writing characters is surprisingly badly structured and supported in Germany. Knowledge about how to create an interesting and functional character is not spread across players and most larp organisers don’t proactively support character creation for their players. It is assumed that players attend the larp with characters that are ready to be played. The responsibility for the playability of a character lies completely with the player.

    For creation, most players deduct from pen & paper experience. For example, they work with sets of questions that a player may answer about their character, determining background and traits, incorporating topics such as religious beliefs, biggest dreams and fears, turning points in life and so on.((Such as the sourcebook of the German pen & paper system Das Schwarze Auge, widely known in the German larp community (Römer, 2007, p. 294).))

    This process of creation leads to a set of recurring stereotypes((“My parents were killed by Orcs” has turned into a running gag in the German larp community. Additionally, many character stories are set up according to the archetype of the “Hero Quests.”)) and a huge amount of character stories that are very similar to begin with. The lack of originality in character stories leads to the common conception that telling another player your character background story is considered bad style both in-game and off-game. This does however not apply to telling the stories that make the character an original person, based on larps that have been played. The sharing of “war stories” around a campfire is an inherent part of German fantasy larp which is valued by many players as a part of what makes the spirit of a good game. The unoriginal starting point is kindly disregarded for the sake of stories that are truly unique because they were actually played out.

    The focus of character creation is not on making up a deep, highly dense and well designed character, but more about generating a starting point from which the player can immerse into the larp straight away, letting the course of events and the relationships that develop shape who the character is. This aspect of actually co-creating a character during the game is not unlike the process of creating character relations that takes place before a College of Wizardry run.

    1.5. Effects on Player and Playing Style

    Owning and playing a character in the long run also has various effects on the player side. These cover a broader range of categories. Starting on a practical level, one may assume that players planning on playing the same character across several events are more willing to put effort and money into costume and props. It can be argued that the longer a character is played, the higher the identification between player and character becomes.

    The longer a character story is being told, the more chances arise to form the picture of a natural person, including bad decisions, traumatic experiences, successes, romances, friendships and so on. Characters that have been played over years can grow to be a part of their player. They go through a development that may resemble the actual personal development of their player. “War stories” that a character experienced are told both in-game and off-game.

    Consequently, the death of a character is a highly important event to most players that is thoroughly planned to make it a memorable moment that is “worth it.” Players steer their character towards not dying on most of the larps they attend: They are less prone to take lethal risks to not end the story ahead of time, so for example, they may engage in physical conflict, but not without regard to their own safety. In this, the element of literally having leveled up a character with experience points over years certainly plays a part.

    2. College of Wizardry — A Sandbox for Your Character

    The College of Wizardry larps offer another perspective on how character stories can be told and fitted into the design of a game. There are two parallel developments to be observed with CoW: First, the opening of the initial setup from mandatory pre-written characters to opt-in pre-written characters and secondly, players extending the stories of their pre-written characters beyond the larp. Both developments are supported by the CoW game design.

    2.1. Nordic Concept: Pre-written Characters

    Locating CoW larps as a middle ground requires a look at the Nordic end of the scale. Just as for the “German concept,” there is no such thing as “the Nordic larp.” The applied approach to “Nordic concept” in this article will follow the idea of what is commonly perceived as “nordic” in the German larp community: Many nordic larps tell a standalone story not situated in a campaign. Characters are often pre-written by the game designers, including at least a basic setup for relations and personal character goals during the game. The characters are usually connected in a way that allow a low ratio of NPCs to players.((Of course, the defining aspects of a “Nordic larp” extend these parameters by far and it can be argued if there is a thing such as “the” Nordic larp.))

    In this setting, the game designers have a lot more potential influence on how the story of the larp will unfold. By retaining control of the characters, they can insert breaking points and levels of escalation beforehand by anchoring characters in relations and background stories. It’s possible to create a more coherent design, reflecting themes and moods in different elements such as plot, set design, props, and characters. The designers access and influence all layers of the game (Stenros 2014). The player takes part in someone else’s narrative, in which the character plays a fixed part.

    Opposed to that, the German concept means that a player continues to tell their own, independent character story in the framework that the larp provides.

    The more detailed the relations between characters are predesigned and the more their actions and goals during the larp are predetermined, the better drama and escalation can be anticipated and again be incorporated in the overall design. Games which follow this form are consequently much more characterthan plot focused.

    It can be argued that a pre-written character story, including connections to others, produces a higher level of drama at a larp than a self-written, unconnected character would experience. The fact that the nordic narrative is often more carefully crafted does not necessarily mean that it turns out as planned. Relationships and storylines that develop on the spur of the moment during a larp can be just as powerful as predetermined developments.

    2.2. Practical: Creating a College of Wizardry

    2.2.1. Design and Balancing of a Sandbox

    College of Wizardry is designed as a sandbox larp. Handing out characters that are only roughly sketched out, is a very different approach than predetermining every connection and in fact, the whole game is set up to give the players the biggest possible amount of freedom both in their playing style and with the topics they want to play on.

    “The larp will not fail because a certain character is played differently than it is written; it will just mean that different stories are created. This is important. Your character is your own.” (Raasted, Nielsen and Dembinski et al., 2014, p. 19)

    CoW follows a number of design choices that enable both self-written and pre-written characters and even allow the combination of the two concepts in one larp. Similar to the plot driven German larp that has been discussed so far, the key element for CoW is to give the players broad freedom in choosing the focus of their game.

    How a certain run of CoW turns out very much depends on how much players indulge into the co-creating aspect of the design. The larp offers both the space and time for different playing styles to coexist. No matter how many demon summonings go on in the dungeon, the college drama can still be gossiped about in the common rooms (Nielsen, 2016). Although the focus of character stories shifts from run to run, the overall framework that ties the larp together will still work.((Events that are fixed in time and place, such as lessons, school gatherings, and the Saturday night ball etc.))

    In a plot driven German concept larp, a lot of how well the larp goes depends on balancing the different kinds of characters. That can be done by announcing the larp to be mainly aimed at a specific group (rogues and thieves etc.) or adjusting the plot to the characters that actually attend, as described earlier. The individuals have a high impact on the game. Opposed to that, the structure of CoW is focused on groups and collectives. The College has to work as a whole and the Houses have to work as ingroups for their members. (Jankovic Sumar, 2016)

    This is achieved by a few, but effective fixed balancing factors at CoW: The large majority of players play students. Special roles such as headmaster, teachers, janitor and prefects are assigned by the organisers.((This may seem to be understood, but would not necessarily be in a German larp, where there is no given limit to how many kings and queens of made up realms may show up to an event.)) To make the collectives and groups at CoW work, players have to stick to the Houses and years their characters are assigned to. Whereas the design can take an excess of rich snotty students, evil characters or any other kind of personal alignment, it could not handle one missing House or a school in which no Juniors exist, because the game dynamic evolves around the interaction of Houses on a vertical and years of students on a horizontal layer. The design of CoW as a college eventually unites all individual characters due to the fact that they are all students in the first place. And in this, they are all the same and part of the same collective. (Jankovic Sumar, 2016)

    2.2.2. Character Creation

    After three runs, CoW went through a thorough redesign, removing all Harry Potter references and setting up a whole new background for the larp. What remained was the choice to hand out pre-written characters, which left vast options for individual interpretation and design by the players. (Again: “Your character is your own.” Raasted, Nielsen and Dembinki et al., 2014) Laid out as an international larp from the very start, CoW had to incorporate a broad culture of players. Openly created characters enabled various interpretations and playing styles. (Nielsen, 2016)

    The pre-written characters for CoW have never been balanced on a scale of royals and rebels, werewolves and hunters or other factions represented in the student body. Starting with a very diverse team of character writers and trusting the self balancing power of large groups as well as the natural inclination of players to aim for different styles, the organisers of CoW did not actively adjust characters to balance the game for the first five runs. (Nielsen, 2016)
    Relationships to other characters were suggested on an abstract level which fitted the character. For example, a bookworm would be suggested to find study partners, a dashing duellist would be proposed to assemble a group of fans. The characters were written action-focused, giving agencies for all kinds of play (Nielsen, 2016). Accordingly, suggestions for “things to do at the larp” were listed as inspirations to enhance the playing experience.

    The option to bring a self-written character was not proactively advertised, but was allowed by the organisers on personal request. For the very first run, organisers put a lot of effort into developing characters together with the players, which turned out to be impossible to uphold with the increasing feedback they received from outside the player community as the popularity of CoW grew. (Nielsen, 2016)

    One element of design, however, was written into the characters in order to set the tone for the larp. CoW was designed to be fun experience but also a serious larp, so most characters came with a “darker tone and atmosphere.” (Nielsen, 2016)

    For run 10, which is upcoming by the time this piece is written, the option to bring a self-written character has been incorporated into the signup form. A 50/50 division between preand self-written characters is expected for that run (CoW 10, Casting Document, 2016). Many players who’ve previously played with pre-written characters now opt to return with characters they’ve created on their own (CoW 5, Casting Document, 2016). It can be argued that this degree of opening up the sandbox even further is possible because of two factors: the mood of CoW has been successfully established and settled in numerous runs. And a huge part of players keep returning, carrying on this spirit both through their own depiction of their characters and actively helping newcomers and first time larpers to adjust to the setting (Nielsen, 2016). Foremost, this means to pass on the idea of creating an action-focused character and encouraging the creation of character relations.

    The combination of both the design focus on collectives rather than individuals and the strong player community enable CoW larps to not only incorporate self-written characters, but merge them with a set of pre-written ones.

    2.2.3. Telling CoW Character Stories — Extending the Game

    The organisers choice to hand over creative ownership of the characters to the players worked well for a large group of participants. As the runs proceeded, an increasing amount of online pre-game took place. Events leading up to the larps were played out in Facebook groups and chats and collaborative fiction. The social online platform “Czochabook”((“Czochabook; an in-game social media platform in which players sign up in-character. The platform mirrors a Facebook-style format and is thus immediately familiar and accessible to most players who choose to engage.” Ashby, Charlotte: Playing around the Event: The College of Wizardry pre-game and postgame, in this book)) served as a tool for characters to stay in touch and forward their plots (Mertz, 2016). After several games, uno cial spin offs were held,((The Debauchery Party, 2015 To hell and back, 2016, CoW5: A Midwinter Night’s Dream, 2016.)) continuing to tell character stories.

    For example, for a group of around 28 people, a story arc developed that started with pre-game before CoW5, extending to the spin off larp To hell and back after CoW5 had taken place, and ongoing text based role-playing up to CoW8, which was set up as a sequel to CoW5 and CoW6 (Jankovic Sumar, 2016). On the final event, most of the character stories of that specific group were led to some kind of resolution. The overall feeling was that they had now been told to a point at which the players could find closure.

    This dynamic developed due to the fact, that in the course of intense prebleed (Svanevik and Brind, 2016), bleed and immersion, the members of this group created not only an individual character story each, but a complex network of social connections that shifted and grew throughout the process.

    This development was heavily favoured by the action-focused design of the characters in the first place. Starting from pre-written characters, the intensity of the experience lead the players to embracing their characters as their own creations and they tasked themselves with telling their stories in the best (most dramatic, immersive and intense) way possible. Whilst this development in general resembles the German concept in so far as that the storylines evolved over a number of events, there are significant differences. A CoW character cannot be played outside the CoW setting and it is not possible to bring a character from any other larp campaign into the game. Instead of “just” attending more larps with one character, the players of CoW created events, plots and life for their characters outside the hands of the organisers.

    3. Conclusion

    At first sight, the difference between the German concept of character creation and storytelling on the one side, and the nordic-inspired approach of College of Wizardry seem to bear a lot of differences. Having taken a closer look, it has become apparent that both concepts enable players to take control over their character’s stories and the option to play them longer, either moving one character from larp to larp, or extending the story of one larp with pre-games, spinoffs and sequels. Both mechanics create high identification between player and character and thus intense immersion during the game.

    Both a self-written German character and a pre-written CoW character start as sketches that are designed to allow an action-focused, immediate start into a larp, where they can grow and develop during the game and in interaction with other characters. A part of that process is put before the game for CoW, where players create relations before the game, online and in workshops. As both design and player community favour the incorporation of self-written characters, CoW has successfully opened up to this character concept.

    In essence, the German concept and College of Wizardry prove that there are (at least) two core strategies to design larps for self-written characters: One is to adjust the larp to the characters, focusing plots on their backgrounds and skills and giving the characters a strong guidance towards a determined goal. The second one is to do much the opposite: Let the individual characters play freely in a sandbox, where they will be re-collected regularly in various collectives that frame the experience.

    Giving players freedom to run their own characters and play them over time—through pre-game or several events—has a chance to make them identify more strongly with their characters and immerse more deeply, even if the character only started out as a list of traits or two paragraphs on a character sheet. The war stories they tell are real, in a sense, not just written as background story. As they play the same character again and again (on Czochabook, in co-creative fiction or across events) they experience, grow, learn, and create stories that are much deeper than what you may find at a stand-alone event with no pre-game.

    Bibliography

    Personal Communication

    • Fatland, Eirik. A New History of Live Role-playing. Talk. Solmukohta: 11/03-2016
    • Jankovic Sumar, Edin. Email interview. [held 16/10-2016]
    • Nielsen, Charles Bo. Email interview. [held 17-Oct-2016]

    Ludography

    • Bad Monkeys Crew, Verushkou 2—Si vis Pacem. Strange Land e.V. 2016 [date of access 01/11-2016] http://www.strange-land.de/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=225&Itemid=99.html
    • Deutscher Liverollenspiel-Verband e.V., Mittellande Kampagne. [date of access 25/102016] http://www.mittellande.de/
    • Geuß, Fabian et. al., ConQuest of Mythodea. Germany: Live Adventure Event Gmbh. 2016 [date of access 30/10-2016] http://www.live-adventure.de/ConQuest/start.php
    • Geuß, Fabian et. al., Jenseits der Siegel. Germany: Live Adventure Event Gmbh. 2016
    • Geuß, Fabian et. al., Chroniken von Mythodea. Germany: Live Adventure Event Gmbh. 2016 [date of accessed 30/10-2016] http://kampagnenspiel.live-adventure.de/StartSeite
    • Mertz, Thomas. Kin. 2016 [date of access 25/10-16] http://getkin.org/
    • Moisand, Alexis, Alissa Murray, Sarah Verbisky and Ben ‘Books’ Schwartz. CoW5: A Midwinter Night’s Dream. 2016
    • Nielsen, Charles Bo, Dracan Dembinski and Claus Raasted et al. College of Wizardry. Poland: Liveform (PL) and Rollespillsfabrikken (DK), 2014-
    • Pennington, Matt et al., Empire. United Kingdom: Profound Decisions. 2016 [date of access 01/11-2016] http://www.profounddecisions.co.uk/empire?3
    • Schlump, Fabian, Sandra Wolter et. al., Drachenfest. Germany: Wyvern e.K.. 2016 [date of access 30/10-2016]. http://www.drachenfest.info/df/index.php
    • Skjøns ell, Aina, Martine Svanevik, Ingrid Storrø and Charlotte Ashby. To Hell and back. Oslo, Norway: Valkyrie Larp. 2016
    • Skjøns ell, Aina and Charlotte Ashby. CoW 3 Mini Spinoff: Two Parties. Copenhagen, Denmark: Valkyrie Larp. 2015

    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.

    Cover photo: Osmond von Bar, leader of the Heereswacht, during battle. Conquest of Mythodea 2016. (Play, Holger Sommer)

  • A Matter of Trust – Larp and Consent Culture

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    A Matter of Trust – Larp and Consent Culture

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    Consent culture in larp communities is a subject of great interest in the current discourse. While previous decades have witnessed roaring debates on the superiority of various rules systems, distribution of narrative control, or emphasis on specific themes, several larp communities have shifted their focus to discuss issues of emotional and physical safety. In the last several years, the annual Nordic larp conference has featured panels and workshops on safety. The Living Games Conference 2016 showcased a series of keynotes on Community Management, with presentations from organizers such as John Stavropoulos, Avonelle Wing, Maury Brown, and Johanna Koljonen. Several scholarly and popular articles have emerged on topics such as emotional bleed from player to character and vice versa; triggers and larp; how to calibrate play styles; steering play to maximize role-play potential; the importance of debriefing; post-larp depression/”blues”; and playing for empathy. Other recent panels have focused upon playing intense emotional content more safely; role-playing as potentially therapeutic; and crisis management in communities, including policy, deliberation, and decision making.

    Of central interest in many of these discussions is the rise of consent-based play, where actions within larps must take place according to a collaborative agreement between players. This style of play has gained recent popularity in games such as College of Wizardry, New World Magischola, End of the Line, and Convention of Thorns, although earlier precedents certainly exist. For many participants, consent-based play provides greater degrees of trust between players, personal autonomy over one’s story, and collaboration in the larp community.((See for example Maury Brown, “Creating a Culture of Trust through Safety and Calibration Larp Mechanics,” Nordiclarp.org, last modified September 9, 2016.))

    wizards point their wands at each other
    In consent-based resolution magic systems like College of Wizardry, the recipient decides the effect of a spell. Photo courtesy of Dziobak Larp Studios.

    Controversy around Safety and Consent-Based Play

    Participants in some larp communities express resistance and scrutiny in consent and safety discussions. In the past, any discussion of the social and psychological effects of role-playing was a taboo subject, as religious extremists groups and the mainstream media often portrayed the hobby as psychologically damaging. During the so-called Satanic Panic, many non-players worried that larpers would “lose touch with reality,” commit suicide, or become drawn to the occult.((Lizzie Stark, Leaving Mundania (Chicago, IL: Chicago Review Press, 2012).)) Thus, many role-players prefer to downplay any social or psychological effects, instead emphasizing the alibi of “it’s just a game” and “it’s what my character would do.” Additionally, role-players often claim that their communities are far healthier and more inclusive than mainstream society as a result of many participants feeling marginalized as “geeks” or “nerds” throughout life.((See for example, Sarah Lynne Bowman, The Functions of Role-playing Games: How Participants Create Community, Solve Problems, and Explore Identity (Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Company, Inc., 2010).))

    Two vampire players looking at one another
    In the Nordic vampire larp End of the Line, players use scripted consent negotiations before enacting intimacy. Photo courtesy of Participation Design Agency.

    Meanwhile, academics have begun to study these effects in detail, investigating the ways in which role-playing impacts individual consciousness and community dynamics. For example, I have studied qualitatively the ways in which larp communities are negatively impacted by conflict and bleed, and am conducting a follow-up quantitative study with Michał Mochocki.((Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Social Conflict in Role-Playing Communities: An Exploratory Qualitative Study, International Journal of Role-playing 4: 4-25.)) Diana Shippey Leonard has examined the sociology of larp groups, including their life cycles and the ways in which creative agendas lead to conflict according to Larp Census 2014 data.((Diana Leonard, “The Dynamic Life Cycle of Live Action Role-playing Communities,” in Wyrd Con Companion Book 2013, edited by Sarah Lynne Bowman and Aaron Vanek (Los Angeles, CA: WyrdCon, 2013); Diana Leonard, “Conflict and Change: Testing a Life-Cycle-Derived Model of Larp Group Dynamics,” International Journal of Role-playing 6: 15-22.))

    Similarly, Brodie Atwater has examined the ways in which marginalized people in larp communities report feelings of exclusion and alienation due to their social identities. Gender, sexuality, and race are also at the forefront of the academic conversation, as people from marginalized groups do not always feel that their identities are respected or represented appropriately in role-playing communities. These conversations spill over into discussions on social media networks and are often the cause of much divisiveness when perspectives differ. Some players believe that sexism, racism, and homophobia no longer exist in contemporary society or are not problems in role-playing communities, whereas others cite personal experiences to the contrary. For example, members of some larp groups insist that plots should no longer feature sexual assault or rape in order to avoid triggering abuse survivors in the community, whereas other participants feel that such content is appropriate to the setting and, therefore, permissible.

    While these debates will likely continue for years to come, many designers find their game spaces less accommodating than they would like and are working to develop strategies for more consensual play. Some role-playing groups have methods for players to opt-out of content that they find uncomfortable, such as safe words, whereas others discuss ways to make content more opt-in. For example, some larps feature trigger warnings, content advisories, or ingredients lists to warn players ahead of time about the sorts of themes they will likely encounter.((Organizers like Karin Edman advocate for such lists, also called Content Declarations. See for example “Content Declarations,” Nordic Larp Wiki, last modified October 8, 2015 and the Ingredients list for the Dystopia Rising network.))

    Other larps build consent-based play into the mechanics of the game. For example, in College of Wizardry and New World Magischola, the recipient of a spell determines its effect, not the rules or the initiator. Similarly, End of the Line, New World Magischola and Convention of Thorns have instituted a script for consent negotiations, in which organizers instruct players on how to calibrate with one another when enacting specific physical and verbal content around intimacy, violence, romance, bullying, and other sensitive topics.((For an example, see the consent mechanics from Convention of Thorns: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1yTgK4ZKqg9H9opBKau7nKZC3y5jOqwlo7D4PWCKPB5s/edit?usp=sharing))

    Players in Convention of Thorns must negotiate intimate scenes off-game before engaging. Photo by Przemysław Jendroska for Dziobak Larp Studios.

    Originally developed by Participation Design Agency, these consent negotiations require discussion of specific actions rather than generalities in order to ensure each player understands the agreement. Consent negotiations adjust to the comfort level of the person with the strongest boundaries rather than expecting them to become more flexible with their limits. For example, in a romance, if one player is comfortable kissing, while the other prefers only to verbally flirt, the negotiation would resolve with flirting as the agreement.

    Another emerging aspect of consent-based play is the development of safety and calibration mechanics that allow players to communicate their levels of comfort during the larp. The Okay Check-In is a non-verbal signal for making sure a player is comfortable in a scene; it involves one participant flashing the Okay symbol to another, who can respond with thumbs-up, thumbs-down, or so-so hand gesture. This mechanic, originally developed in the Los Angeles area by Rob McDiarmid, Aaron Vanek, and Kirsten Hageleit, has seen significant recent adoption in New World Magischola, End of the Line, Hidden Parlor Austin, and the Dystopia Rising network. Another new mechanic is the Lookdown or “See No Evil” signal, developed by Trine Lise Lindahl and Johanna Koljonen. With Lookdown, a player shield their eyes with one hand in order to exit a scene at any time without explanation or request that others pretend their character is no longer present. With these tools, the emphasis is on the comfort and emotional safety of the player rather than the importance of the continuity of the scene. The common refrain for these mechanics is, “Players are more important than larps.” Koljonen’s Participation Safety blog features additional information on these tools and others.

    Fairness, Immersion, Competition, and the Cult of Hardcore

    Violence is prenegotiated ahead of time in Convention of Thorns. Photo by John-Paul Bichard for Dziobak Larp Studios.

    While many players laud these innovations as affording them a greater level of comfort to explore sensitive content, common complaints against consent-based play emerge in larp communities. The first centers upon the traditional emphasis on rules in role-playing games, where any form of conflict – including many social interactions – are arbitrated by a rules system and an authority figure, such as an organizer or game master. Many players feel that such rules level the playing field by providing a non-arbitrary method by which a character can succeed in a scenario. These players may perceive the introduction of consent-based play as threatening to their preferred style, as it opens the door for individuals to “avoid consequences for actions” or act unfairly. In spite of these claims, as Planetfall designer and organizer Matthew Webb explains, “In three years of using emotional safety techniques, we’ve never had a complaint of dodging consequences though we explicitly say we will deal with that situation if it arises.” While any rule can be abused, including consent mechanics, few players actually manipulate consensual play to impose their will upon others or “cheat.” On the contrary, many players use consent negotiations in order to orchestrate playing to lose — where something dramatically terrible happens to their character — by planning the scene ahead of time through collaboration. John Wick advocates for this “friendly enemies” approach in his Houses of the Blooded setting.

    Another common complaint against consent negotiations and safety/calibration mechanics is that they negatively impact immersion. Immersion itself is a widely-debated term, with many schools of thought emerging regarding what experiences the concept actually describes.((For recent theories on immersion, see Sarah Lynne Bowman and Anne Standiford, “Enhancing Healthcare Simulations and Beyond: Immersion Theory and Practice” International Journal of Role-playing 6: 12-19.)) For the purposes of this article, immersion will refer to the sense of feeling highly engaged in the narrative, world, or character of a game. Since checking for consent requires brief off-game negotiations, some players protest this practice as “breaking their immersion.” However, immersion is best viewed as a spectrum rather than an on-off switch. A brief check-in may lessen someone’s immersion, but will rarely impede their ability to re-engage. Similarly, discrete off-game consent negotiations that are designed to run smoothly tend to proceed quickly, often without other players noticing. As opposed to disrupting the intensity of play, brief consent discussions can allow larpers to feel more comfortable playing deeply with one another, taking chances they might normally avoid because they established a greater sense of trust.

    satirical comic about the okay check-in breaking immersion
    Satirical comic about some American boffer larpers’ reactions to the Okay Check-In system. Copyright by Paul Scofield.

    Some proponents of competitive play, such as Matthew Webb, suggest that competition brings out the best in people when conducted in a fair manner. Through competition, players are challenged to greater levels of achievement and agency, potentially training social skills in the meantime. Competition also provides motivation for many players, as the system, mechanics, or scenario encourages achievement through challenge and the desire to win.((Matthew Webb, “Let’s Fight – In Defense of Competitive Play, Part 1,” Nordiclarp.org, February 2, 2017.))

    These potential benefits make strong arguments in favor of competitive play in certain contexts. For example, students in edu-larp scenarios may find competition inherently motivating, especially in classroom environments where achievement is already encouraged through grades and social status. For players living in what sometimes feels like an unfair world, knowing the rules in a larp space and learning how to succeed in a clear manner are deeply rewarding.

    However, in order for one person to succeed, other components of the larp environment must fail, whether they are the scenario objectives, organizer-generated antagonists such as non-player characters (NPCs), or other players within the game. The latter two styles of play are often called player vs. environment (PvE) and player vs. player (PvP) respectively, although some prefer the term “character” here to distinguish between on- and off-game antagonism. Such a loss is not always perceived as negative; indeed, playing to lose can often feel fun for larpers. Also, losses in the short term can provide learning experiences for winning in the future.

    On the other hand, if a player in a larp has invested a significant amount of time and energy into their character and another person socially humiliates or physically harms that character without consent, the experience can feel unbalanced, unfair, and alienating.  Therefore, while competitive play holds risks that some may find acceptable, these risks can be ameliorated in large part by consent negotiations. Indeed, consent discussions can often enhance antagonistic play, as both parties feel that they have opted-in to the experience. Thus, cooperative competition is also possible as a middle ground approach.

    In End of the Line, the recipient decides how to react if a vampire enacts a Discipline. Photo by Participation Design Agency.

    Finally, a potential problem in role-playing groups of all sorts is the cult of hardcore. Whether in a competitive or collaborative play environment, the cult of hardcore refers to the group imposing a certain degree of emotional intensity or mature content onto its members. In a competitive larp group focusing on interpersonal politics and backstabbing, the cult of hardcore often manifests as pressure to engage in socially antagonistic play. Such antagonism sometimes results in simulated violence or emotional hazing. Even players who attempt to opt out of the political part of such larps may be subject to aggressive play such as economic warfare, the arbitrary use of political power, or forced interactions through role-play.

    In cooperative larp groups with scenarios based on serious themes, the pressure of the cult of hardcore is somewhat more insidious, in that players are often expected to push their own emotional limits in order to preserve the immersion of the rest of the group or keep the story moving. In both competitive and cooperative larps, players can feel coerced into accepting situations that make them feel uncomfortable. The logic of this playstyle is that if a player enters the social space of a larp, they are implicitly accepting the social contract of that space: anything that occurs within that environment is acceptable as long as it adheres to the rules and setting.

    While the cult of hardcore style can produce high intensity, cathartic experiences for many players, it calibrates group play to correspond with the participant who has the more flexible boundaries. In other words, the player who is able to tolerate the most emotional or physical intensity becomes the baseline for the rest of the group, as they will likely play to their own limits. If other players experience discomfort or distress, the common response in hardcore play cultures is that the larp is “not for them.” This statement begs the question: who, then, are cult of hardcore larps for? In general, such larps are designed for people who a) do not often experience emotional distress, b) are willing to experience distress as a means of “toughening up,” or c) are unwilling to risk losing their social status or connections by expressing their distress. Thus, these environments are often problematic for people who are trauma survivors, neuro-atypical, from marginalized groups, or simply prefer lower intensity play.

    New World Magischola students participate in an academic case study competition, trying to earn a job at a major corporation. Competitive play can co-exist with consent culture in larp. Photo by Learn Larp LLC.

    Consent-based play does not negate the possibility for high intensity play to exist within the larp space. If the lessons learned from the BDSM subculture are any indication, consent negotiations actually facilitate more intense brink play, as both parties can discuss limits and steer toward the desired experience. The cult of hardcore can ratchet up the intensity for one another without level-setting the larp for everyone else. Similarly, competition is entirely possible within consent-based spaces as long as limits are discussed between the parties involved. Thus, the notion that consensual play will eradicate intensity or competition is a false dichotomy.

    More Accommodating Spaces

    Diablerie scene from Convention of Thorns. Photo by John-Paul Bichard for Dziobak Larp Studios.

    Ultimately, the goal of consent-based play is to make larp spaces more accommodating and enjoyable for participants. Instead of calibrating the group to the playstyle of the person with the most flexible boundaries, consent-based play allows people with multiple backgrounds and degrees of sensitivity to engage. For example, a veteran with PTSD triggers may have difficulty playing a larp with flashing lights and pyrotechnics. Organizers can make the space more accommodating by disclosing ahead of time that such effects will take place and by limiting them to a particular physical location where players can opt-in to that experience. Thus, organizers can pay careful attention to the scenography and design of the space in order to facilitate different levels of engagement.

    Organizers can also disclose themes by providing content advisories, ingredients lists, or trigger warnings, making the specifics clear to participants ahead of time. Knowing that content will be present in a larp enables players to make informed decisions about their participation. For example, many people feel uncomfortable playing themes of sexual violence due to personal experience or object to designers using the theme as a plot device. However, when these themes are discussed respectfully beforehand with a clear understanding of how the larp will address them, players often feel more comfortable opting-in. Therefore, consent negotiations can engender greater trust within the community and enable more people to feel comfortable participating.

    Finally, thinking about consent-based play as a spectrum rather than an on/off speech is likely to prove more fruitful. In other words, a group need not redesign their entire larp to include consent. Instituting calibration mechanics that seamlessly communicate comfort levels — such as safe words, the Okay Check-In, and the Lookdown signal — can help existing spaces feel more consensual for players. Brief off-game negotiations for sensitive scenes, pre-planning antagonistic interactions, and discussing physical boundaries can enhance trust in even competitive larp environments. Ultimately, as Troels Ken Pedersen has suggested, the techniques themselves do not increase feelings of safety, but the safety culture established within the community does.((Troels Ken Pedersen, “Your Larp’s Only as Safe as its Safety Culture,” Leaving Mundania, August 4, 2015.)) Workshopping and modeling these techniques help establish the safety culture by indicating that the group takes the emotional needs of the individual seriously. The more that players can learn to empathize with one another and adjust play according to one another’s needs, the more cohesive and strong a larp community can become.

    Cover photo: Students dance at the ball at New World Magischola Yuletide Escapade 1. Photo by Learn Larp LLC.

  • Creating Play in the Magical Classroom

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    Creating Play in the Magical Classroom

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    Creating Play in the Magical Classroom is a multi-part guide to playing a teacher at the College of Wizardry and New World Magischola larps. While it was written specifically with these events in mind, it can be applied to many other larps and settings.

    The texts in this series are written collectively by (in alphabetical order) Maury Brown, Stefan Deutsch, Johanna Koljonen, Eevi Korhonen, Ben Morrow, Juhana Pettersson, Maria Pettersson, Mike Pohjola, Staffan Rosenberg and Jaakko Stenros. The series is edited by Johanna Koljonen.

    The seven part series is available here:

    This work is distributed under a CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 license. That means you are allowed to use elements of this text beyond the extent of referring and linking to it as long as you credit the original authors and source. It’s not allowed to use parts of this work for commercial purposes, if you are unsure if this applies to your project, please contact us.

    This is not intended as a cut and paste smorgasbord but rather a complete text. Please reference it, but avoid using parts out of context. It’s better to just link the articles where it’s appropriate for use.

  • Creating Play in the Magical Classroom: Part 7

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    Creating Play in the Magical Classroom: Part 7

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    Creating Play in the Magical Classroom is a multi-part guide to playing a teacher at the College of Wizardry and New World Magischola larps. While it was written specifically with these events in mind, it can be applied to many other larps and settings.

    The texts in this series are written collectively by (in alphabetical order) Maury Brown, Stefan Deutsch, Johanna Koljonen, Eevi Korhonen, Ben Morrow, Juhana Pettersson, Maria Pettersson, Mike Pohjola, Staffan Rosenberg and Jaakko Stenros. The series is edited by Johanna Koljonen.

    Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 – Part 4 – Part 5 – Part 6 – Part 7

    Part VII: Example/Examples of How to Teach a Spell so That the Teaching Makes It Clear How to Play

    This final part of the series gives practical examples on how to apply the techniques and ideas explained in the previous parts.

    The Opt in/Opt out Truth Serum

    The class brews a babbling beverage that is then tested on a volunteer student.

    The class is told that the potion will force the object to speak out loud anything on her mind for a specific period of time (not too long, 90 seconds for instance), and therefore can be used as a truth serum by asking or tricking the subject to think about specific things (or have an antidote at hand to counter the effect, this is also usable to create an artificial stop to the exercise).

    The class is also told that the point of this exercise is to practice methods of resisting the potion: you can’t stop talking, but you can cover your mouth with your hand (this is good to demonstrate to the class – keep talking but muffle the sound with your hand, so they know what to do), or you can eat something at the same time to make your speech unclear, or try to focus your mind on for instance a strong childhood memory to only tell things that “aren’t secret”.

    All of these instructions are given at least once before students are asked to volunteer, so that the player knows what she is asked to do in front of the class – some will find this specific exercise very easy, others will find it hard to think of things to say and will then opt out by not volunteering.

    Others from the group will be given tasks – to barrage the subject with questions (everyone can do this if the group is not enormous, in which case it can get so loud you’ll need a whistle to silence them), to hand the subject food, to clock the effect on an old-fashioned stopwatch and count down the last ten seconds, etc.

    The test subject player will understand from the teaching (and can be reminded during the experiment by repeating the above) that they can now choose to do different things under the influence of the potion: speak the character’s inner monologue, blurt out secrets to further play, share something very personal about the character that they get to be embarrassed about later – or if they can’t think of anything to say (because it can actually be quite hard to speak non stop for 90 seconds) either clamp their hand in front of their mouth while continuing mumbling, or stuff themselves with cookies while talking and spray everyone with crumbs. Most will do a mixture of the above.

    If the player panics or freaks out or goes completely silent or is struggling to find things to say, you as a teacher will immediately blame the potion, which was clearly not correctly brewed – “Aha! Group one, your potion is not working! As you see here, Ms McNally is sometimes silent for several seconds”, or if the player looks tormented and falters “Group two, Ms McNally manages with an impressive mental effort to resist the urge to speak – the potion works, but it’s not strong enough!”

    The purpose of this is to make sure that the PLAYER can never fail. If you manage to babble for 90 seconds, that’s great play and very entertaining or moving or horrible (depending on what comes out) –  but they don’t, that is still great storytelling because it manufactures a fíctional truth about the quality of the potion. And you can reward the player for volunteering by telling them, honestly, that they did great.

    The groups whose potion works (or might work, if you don’t have time to test them all) can keep them for use in the game. You can urge them as homework to perform the same experiment on each other to practice resisting the potion. Another option is to tell the students that it is absolutely forbidden to take the potion from the classroom and then turn your back to them and give the student an opportunity to steal them.

    The characters now know how to use the potion to get secrets. The players now know how to use the potion to give secrets, and how to brief other players about the potion while playing, so they too can access this experience of functional magic without breaking for briefing. (If the other player doesn’t understand the in-game instruction and do something else, don’t break the game to correct them – clearly the potion was unstable, or dysfunctional, or reacting badly with some other magic the target was using. Your character can wonder at this out loud).

    Torture Curses in Class

    This is an excerpt from Mike Pohjola’s article about playing a Dark Arts teacher at College of Wizardry.

    For the larp I had prepared two lectures, and Bane gave both of them three times. The first one started with a test on their natural learning ability and on theory of the Unforgivable Curses. The second one was all about practicing the Torture Curse on other students.

    He found these great one-use Solberg wands where some anonymous person had already imbued with the unforgivable Imperius Curse. (The Imperius forces the victim to do whatever the caster says.)
 As you know, in a case like this, the legal responsibility for the Torture Curse is on whoever placed the Imperius Curse on the wands, but unfortunately we will never know who that wonderful person is.
 So as you can see, it’s all perfectly legal and moral and educational.

    The students were divided into pairs (“Partner up with someone you will have no trouble hating.” This suited Bane’s character perfectly, and also provided interesting play for the student players.), and each pair was given one of these wands.

    The victim would cast the Imperius Curse on the torturer saying: “Cast the Torture Curse on me for one second.” Then the torturer would torture the victim with their own wand. After this, the victim would tell the torturer what they felt. Then they would switch. (The wand had one use per caster.)
At the end of the class we would discuss our experiences, and figure out ways to use what we have learned for defense.

    In one of these classes Bane had one pregnant student, Norah Asar (Pernilla Rosenberg). She was partnered up with Sebastian Dolohov (Markus Montola).

    Bane did have a soft spot of sorts for protecting babies, and another one for Norah Asar. So he didn’t want the baby hurt.

    Dolohov: “Professor! Can the baby be accidentally hurt when you cast the Torture Curse on the mother?”


    “NOT UNLESS YOU REALLY WANT TO TORTURE THE BABY. BUT THEN YOU WOULD HAVE TO TARGET YOUR HATRED AT THE BABY, WHICH CAN BE DIFFICULT.”


    At this Bane remembered how his own pregnant wife had been taken to Azkaban to be tortured by Dementors.
”BUT REMEMBER CLASS, YOU SHOULD NEVER USE THE TORTURE CURSE ON A BABY, ESPECIALLY AN UNBORN ONE.”


    Class snickers.


    “IN FACT, YOU SHOULDN’T USE THE TORTURE CURSE ON ANY BABY.”


    More snickering.


    “TO CORRECT MYSELF, YOU SHOULD NEVER USE THE TORTURE CURSE AT ALL, SINCE IT IS COMPLETELY ILLEGAL.”

    This work is distributed under a CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 license. That means you are allowed to use elements of this text beyond the extent of referring and linking to it as long as you credit the original authors and source. It’s not allowed to use parts of this work for commercial purposes, if you are unsure if this applies to your project, please contact us.

    This is not intended as a cut and paste smorgasbord but rather a complete text. Please reference it, but avoid using parts out of context. It’s better to just link the articles where it’s appropriate for use.

  • Creating Play in the Magical Classroom: Part 6

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    Creating Play in the Magical Classroom: Part 6

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    Creating Play in the Magical Classroom is a multi-part guide to playing a teacher at the College of Wizardry and New World Magischola larps. While it was written specifically with these events in mind, it can be applied to many other larps and settings.

    The texts in this series are written collectively by (in alphabetical order) Maury Brown, Stefan Deutsch, Johanna Koljonen, Eevi Korhonen, Ben Morrow, Juhana Pettersson, Maria Pettersson, Mike Pohjola, Staffan Rosenberg and Jaakko Stenros. The series is edited by Johanna Koljonen.

    Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 – Part 4 – Part 5 – Part 6 – Part 7

    Part VI: Reasons for Your Professor Character Not to Get Personally Involved in Students’ Life-shattering Personal and/or Occult Drama, and How to Play Them

    Most of the larp (but especially the last six hours of the game, when every remaining plot-line is culminating at the same time) will be great for students riding their respective plot trains, and an incoherent mess for anyone with some overview of the situation. (That’s people like you, because students will run up to you continuously to report what’s happening).

    Towards the very end of the game, it therefore makes good sense for at least a few of the most powerful teacher characters to accidentally incapacitate themselves with port wine or potions to conveniently miss most of the plotting and battles  – of course rewarding themselves with some other kind of awesome play, like sitting around a fireplace talking about other memorably failed proms, or making their own incoherent expedition in the wrong direction, or choosing to help the students with the most inconsequential problems, or drafting very long documents for some purportedly urgent purpose, or having an earnestly moving heart-to-heart with an unhappy student, or dancing “old people” dances on the dance floor.

    A Good General Strategy All Through the Game Is to Be Exceedingly Optimistic and Trusting of Student’s Abilities

    Downplay the severity of any situation and tell them that you trust them to sort it out themselves. If they are alone in the problem, ask them to go to a more senior or specialised student or get a bunch of their friends and get them to help (“you’re all smart students, of course you can do a simple banishment ritual”). If you must be co-opted into a plot, you can say this is a wonderful learning opportunity for students, so they should do most of the work and you are there just as backup in case things go bad.

    You Can Ask Students with Similar Problems (or Situations That Appear to Have Narrative Similarities) to Collaborate on Solutions

    If you have a student in your class with a special skill you can try attaching them to some other students’ plots (this is especially great if it’s a student who has performed poorly in the actual subject of your class: if you can identify a positive quality anyway and send them on an adventure they’ll love you for it).

    Your Character Might Also Not Care about Students or Their Troubles That Much

    If you have created a comically grumpy or snobbily cold-hearted character, they might simply not care if a student has gotten themselves into trouble they cannot get out of (“it’s probably their own fault”). Or they might be secretly or even openly glad that students might get injured or die (it’s weeding out the weak and the stupid or you’re just happy there will be less students for you to worry about). You might also think students are lying and telling tall tales (but this might cause them to try to prove it to you and you get sucked in).

    If Your Character Has Been a Teacher for a Long Time, There Is Very Little in the Way of Student Generated Drama They Have Not Seen Before

    You can play on generational differences, in an infuriating manner if possible. “When I was your age, all seniors actually had to banish a Yeti as part of their final exams – we don’t do it these days, because students just don’t have that kind of mettle”… or “this reminds me of that unfortunate business with the Harpies in ‘86…of course very few of them made it out, so I think we can all agree that the philosopher’s stone is NOT going to be the answer to your question!”

    Also, You Can Always Remind the Students That There Is One Force Greater than Magic: Bureaucracy

    You would love to help defend the school but there are overdue performance evaluations that need to filled right now — or there will be no school to defend come morning. Alternatively, you can start by reflecting on how to go about saving the school through the proper channels. “First of all you need to put in a request to stay mobile during curfew. Then we need to check that the janitors are informed that watering the lawn should be cancelled, if there is a pack of werewolves on the lawn. Indeed, why don’t I do that.”

    This work is distributed under a CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 license. That means you are allowed to use elements of this text beyond the extent of referring and linking to it as long as you credit the original authors and source. It’s not allowed to use parts of this work for commercial purposes, if you are unsure if this applies to your project, please contact us.

    This is not intended as a cut and paste smorgasbord but rather a complete text. Please reference it, but avoid using parts out of context. It’s better to just link the articles where it’s appropriate for use.

  • Creating Play in the Magical Classroom: Part 5

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    Creating Play in the Magical Classroom: Part 5

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    Creating Play in the Magical Classroom is a multi-part guide to playing a teacher at the College of Wizardry and New World Magischola larps. While it was written specifically with these events in mind, it can be applied to many other larps and settings.

    The texts in this series are written collectively by (in alphabetical order) Maury Brown, Stefan Deutsch, Johanna Koljonen, Eevi Korhonen, Ben Morrow, Juhana Pettersson, Maria Pettersson, Mike Pohjola, Staffan Rosenberg and Jaakko Stenros. The series is edited by Johanna Koljonen.

    Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 – Part 4 – Part 5 – Part 6 – Part 7

    Part V: Authority Awry: Stop, Shut Up, Do What I Tell You

    In this series, we have had lots of examples of what is encouraged play for professors. Here are a few examples of discouraged play. Professors sit in a position of authority and players (and characters) will be conditioned to obey them. This is good to an extent — the game needs to function and having students follow the directions of in-game authority figures is an important part of the game continuing to work. However, this style of larp is opt-in, which means a player always must be given a choice about what to play and how to react.

    As a consequence, you should refrain from the following kinds of play.

    Denying Agency

    For example, a professor can offer the opportunity for a character to tell (under a spell) what is on their mind (see above). However, a professor should not suddenly put a character under a spell and then tell them what they are thinking, or what happened to them, or a family member, etc. Remember both the design of the magic system and your position as a teacher inside the fiction actively encourage you to explain what you magic will do – you can do this in an open-ended way (and perhaps even taking some extra time doing it) to allow the player choices and a second to reflect on how they want to play it.

    Players should not feel ambushed, or that they have to stop what they were doing or playing as a result of what someone else did to them. An example is a professor turning another student into a vampire without their consent, or telling them that their character’s parents have died, or killing/incapacitating a student or faculty member and exorcising or resurrecting them, unless these scenes have been agreed to beforehand.

    Shaming the Player (Not the Character, Whom You Have Agreed to Play Abuse With)

    Professors teaching magic are also, on the meta-level, teaching the availability of safety techniques and the importance of consent-based play. A professor should never make it impossible or difficult for a player to use a safety technique such as cut or break, or make it difficult to step away or exit a scene. “Impossible” or “difficult” does not have to mean physically blocking the door or refusing to stop when asked (though these have happened). Because of a professor’s explicit in-game authority, a player who is feeling uncomfortable about continuing (like a student with a fear of snakes continuing with a cryptozoology class that may include an encounter with a snake-like creature), or even triggered by a scene, may not want to opt-out for fear of losing house points or social status.

    House points should never be threatened or deducted for off-game reasons, and a player who has their character leave a scene for off-game reasons should not become the object of derision. But unless there is a specific game mechanic in play to signal off-game reasons for opting out, you will in practice not know which reactions are in and which are off. This makes it even more vital to offer students in-game opportunities to leave or not participate.

    The organisers can encourage players who opt out for offgame reasons to discreetly tell the teacher-players so, just to make sure their characters will not be punished for it. But actually this can also be handled mostly or entirely in-game, assuming that all players know that playing punishments will be just as much fun as any other part of the larp. In that case, players can choose for off-game reasons to opt out of certain situations, safe in the knowledge that this might either pass entirely uncommented or open the door to a fantastic in-game experience. (For instance, at the first College of Wizardry, then set in the Harry Potter universe, the janitorial staff had students in detention participating in a dangerous ritual to destroy a horcrux).

    Focusing the Attention on You, Your Power, or Your Plot to the Detriment of Other Players

    For example, a professor is bored at the dance, where students are having a good time. They decide to create a scene that disrupts the scene in progress, for their own excitement and amusement.

    The most problematic use of the spell casting system to my anecdotal observations were spell effects that stopped people from doing what they wanted to do, and spell effects that denied players voice (and consequently, agency).  These types of actions tended to disrupt others’ gameplay without providing any “replacement play”. While these are might be enacted by student players on their own, student players are looking to Professors for behavioral precedents. What a professor does in controlled circumstances for entertainment purposes only, has a strong possibility of being reproduced by the student players.  With this in mind, if the outcome of your professor’s interactions with students can be summarized as “stop/shut up”, try to find alternative outcomes that set a better precedent. (Ben Morrow)

    This work is distributed under a CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 license. That means you are allowed to use elements of this text beyond the extent of referring and linking to it as long as you credit the original authors and source. It’s not allowed to use parts of this work for commercial purposes, if you are unsure if this applies to your project, please contact us.

    This is not intended as a cut and paste smorgasbord but rather a complete text. Please reference it, but avoid using parts out of context. It’s better to just link the articles where it’s appropriate for use.

  • Creating Play in the Magical Classroom: Part 4

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    Creating Play in the Magical Classroom: Part 4

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    Creating Play in the Magical Classroom is a multi-part guide to playing a teacher at the College of Wizardry and New World Magischola larps. While it was written specifically with these events in mind, it can be applied to many other larps and settings.

    The texts in this series are written collectively by (in alphabetical order) Maury Brown, Stefan Deutsch, Johanna Koljonen, Eevi Korhonen, Ben Morrow, Juhana Pettersson, Maria Pettersson, Mike Pohjola, Staffan Rosenberg and Jaakko Stenros. The series is edited by Johanna Koljonen.

    Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 – Part 4 – Part 5 –Part 6 – Part 7

    Part IV: Professor Personalities

    Being a Fun Professor Without Playing It All for Laughs

    Magic school professors are inevitably strong characters. Whatever they are, they are to the extreme. Super wise, or bitter, or dotty, or eccentric. Actually, most of you can be eccentric, that just adds to the game.

    Here are some questions to round out your character:

    • What is your character like in class vs. out of class?
    • Do they enjoy teaching? Like students? Why?
    • What are their pet peeves, their bitter disappointments?
    • If they are super controlled in class, what is something you can build in that will allow you to show another side of the character?
    • What is their attitude toward house points? Are they generous or stingy with them? Do they give positive points or mainly take them away for infractions?
    • Do they have a favorite house or branch of knowledge?
    • What sort of students do they favor, if any? Do they downplay or do they relish in this favoritism?
    • Also, what kinds of emotions do you want for the professor to inspire in the students?
    • What kinds of interactions would create the most interesting play for them – and you?
    • Will you offer to explain their dreams and other omens to them?
    • Will you ask them to assist you on a research project?
    • Will you invite a few people from each of your classes to a secret society? (Remember that secret society meetings should be designed just as much as classes are; this is true even if they are mostly social events – always ask yourself “what can we create together in this group that makes the experience of the larp richer?”)

    Playing a Strict or Evil Professor

    A magic school should have all kinds of teachers. Many of them are supportive, encouraging and wise role models. But at least a few should be strict and of dubious morals, who may even base their pedagogy on fear and terror. It can be a lot of fun to play at being terrified and being reprimanded, as that is such a big part of fictional magic schools.

    Note: some players may be triggered by abusive play, especially from authority figures, so please save the really harsh stuff for those you have agreed to play that way with ahead of time. All play should be opt-in, because when a player (not the character) is genuinely afraid, they can lose the ability to opt out.

    Practical tricks on how to play a terrifying professor:

    • Start a class by making everyone stand up. Wait a moment before letting them sit (as it establishes authority).
    • Expect punctuality, berate students who are tardy.
    • Hand out too much homework. (But demand that it is turned in “in five days” so that players need not actually complete it if they do not want to.)
    • Pick a name for your character that is impossible to pronouce, have the class practice the pronunciation (but not long enough for the class to learn it), then deduct points if someone mispronounces it. (“How can you understand someone’s ideas if you cannot even pronounce their name?”)
    • Don’t smile, glare a lot, keep pregnant pauses.
    • Keep your voice steady, never shout. When you want to emphasise something force the students to really pay attention by whispering your words.
    • Never use your wand. Build up expectations, but know that whatever the students have envisioned, you’ll never be able to top in game. Keep them guessing. (This is most efficient if only one teacher does it).
    • Place students in danger (obviously NOT the players), for example by having the student practice dangerous, illegal magic on each other. Remember to do this in a way that ensures that players can easily opt out without losing face if they don’t like the emotional content of the scene – for instance, you can ask for volunteers to take notes, observe and evaluate, or even construct a reason for students to choose to leave. If a player chooses to leave a class, never shame them or threaten them or gossip about them, in or out-of-character.
    • Discuss key events in history from the point of view of the “bad guys” and explain how history is written by the victors and how the “good guys” in power have done terrible things that have been hushed up. (“In this school we pride ourselves in looking at the world as it is, not as we wish it was. Your education thus far has been rife with propaganda. However, I vow to tell you what the world is like — even when the knowledge is deemed “dangerous”, “blasphemous”, or even “treasonous”.)
    • Have enough redeeming qualities. Maybe hint at lost innocence or a tragedy hard not to empathise with? Be fiercely devoted to your students, or maybe the protection of the school? Interesting villains are always multi-faceted. Perhaps your character is very strict until students get them started on that one topic they love, when they will suddenly spill all the dirt about their past or share magical stuff that is “really not for the undergraduate level”.

    Here are some anecdotes from teacher players about expressing their personality:

    “It’s fun to have very strong opinions on some things. My character for example despised Avalon school of magic. (I picked Avalon because I could remember the name.)

    So I would constantly go:

    “By now you should be able to cast some memory altering spells, change a person’s mood a little and boost your mental abilities. Except for those who graduated Avalon, they can barely spell their own name.”

    “I’m only joking of course. I went to Avalon myself. Once. Those are the two hours of my life I’ll never get back.”

    Etc etc. I was later told that it was fun especially for those who had indeed graduated from Avalon.” (Maria Pettersson)

    “Ridiculous hatred is the best 🙂 My hate was directed towards a specific way to hold a wand I called “The Farmer’s Fist”. Everytime I saw someone doing it, I deducted points and said: “You’re a witch, not a farmer! Act like one!”” (Juhana Pettersson)

    “I was really good at reading minds, right? So if I wanted to play somebody up I just did this.

    • Me: “Who created the Fides Completum spell?”
    • *silence*
    • Me: “Yes, Miss Seel, that is absolutely correct. One point to house Faust.”
    • The class: “But she didn’t say anything!”
    • Me: “Is that so? Didn’t you say it out loud, Miss Seel?”
    • Miss Seel: “No…”
    • Me: “Oh, my apologies. So, as Miss Seel here was THINKING, the spell was indeed created by Isobel Gowdie in 1658.”
    Maria Pettersson

    I was a mostly logical, precise and demanding teacher in the classroom, but responded to most situations outside class with either direct and snobbish judgement or positive enthusiasm. I was enthusiastic about 90% of the time when students came to me with problems. Everything that happened was WONDERFULLY interesting, or ABSOLUTELY delightful, and if student had any ideas about a solution to their problem I would very earnestly tell them that was a great idea. If they asked for immediate assistance, I’d either tell them in a blithely optimistic way that it was clearly not needed, or if it was (like some kind of actual battle with enemies outside) just be so incredibly inefficient about gathering other teachers and so on that the students had to agree to go on ahead and we’d catch up. I don’t enjoy playing battles anyway, and the best feeling is to arrive too late at a fight, patch up broken students, while listening to their jubilant war stories about how they beat the monster with just a group of JUNIORS at hand.

    Johanna Koljonen

    This work is distributed under a CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 license. That means you are allowed to use elements of this text beyond the extent of referring and linking to it as long as you credit the original authors and source. It’s not allowed to use parts of this work for commercial purposes, if you are unsure if this applies to your project, please contact us.

    This is not intended as a cut and paste smorgasbord but rather a complete text. Please reference it, but avoid using parts out of context. It’s better to just link the articles where it’s appropriate for use.

  • Creating Play in the Magical Classroom: Part 3

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    Creating Play in the Magical Classroom: Part 3

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    Creating Play in the Magical Classroom is a multi-part guide to playing a teacher at the College of Wizardry and New World Magischola larps. While it was written specifically with these events in mind, it can be applied to many other larps and settings.

    The texts in this series are written collectively by (in alphabetical order) Maury Brown, Stefan Deutsch, Johanna Koljonen, Eevi Korhonen, Ben Morrow, Juhana Pettersson, Maria Pettersson, Mike Pohjola, Staffan Rosenberg and Jaakko Stenros. The series is edited by Johanna Koljonen.

    Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 – Part 4 – Part 5 – Part 6 – Part 7

    Part III: Class Objectives and Making Up Knowledge

    As discussed in the previous section, a good class will provide players with something useful for the game as a whole: a deeper understanding of their own character, an opportunity to develop the relationships between their characters, knowledge or gossip that is actionable in the game, or a tool or a skill to bring into the rest of the game.

    The fictional or actual knowledge you impart is of course also in itself fodder for the game, since it imparts knowledge about the world that the larp will not directly explore. At the end of this section are some pointers about handling the pressures of inventing the universe in an authoritative voice.

    But first, some practical suggestions about what to do in class, tested by the authors in game.

    Self-reflection Goals

    • Have an ethics debate, forcing student characters to verbalise their opinions about controversial magical/moral topics (they’ll be surprised about what they find out about themselves).
    • Ask your students to design a magical rune or sigil for themselves (or identify their totem, etc). It should reflect who they are and their passions and goals. Perhaps tell them that drawing it on their bodies will release a slow magic that will make them more like the thing they want to be – but to be careful, because our secrets and fears can seep into this kind of magic as well…
    • Some divination techniques can be used in this way. E.g. tea leaf reading is ideal for self-reflection, as the symbols are always somehow ambiguous and players can thus interpret them in any way that fits their character’s story.
    • Lead the group in a mindfulness-suggestion exercise. Have them first slowly pay attention to a raisin, how it looks, feels, sounds, smells, tastes (check a website, a book, or a video of this). Then have them feel the magic inside them, warm and moving, surging, just barely in control, trying to escape towards the wand hand. Have them “breath out” the magic. Explain how this teaches control. (This has no game mechanics value, but more immersive players have reported it as a moment when they really ‘felt’ the magic inside them.)

    Relationship Goals

    • Teach a spell that brings secrets to the forefront, for instance one that forces one to blurt out what one is thinking about. Demonstrate with a student or a few (you can practice this in advance with one or a few students if you’re worried about them getting it). This will demonstrate a few possible ways to create play with this tool – like comedy (“uh… uh… blue… cows.” or the obvious “sex”), plot-driving (blurting out a secret) or relationship-building (“Miranda is so beautiful” or “I want to take Bob to the prom” or “The girls from [some house] just made me cry at lunch”).
    • In your first class, especially if you teach juniors, ask students to introduce themselves, and (if this is the kind of topic they’d have studied before), to say how good they were in [your topic] in their previous school. That will help people to know whether to play them up or down, and remind them of their classmates’ names.
    • You can affect the social dynamic in the classroom by having favourites, or students you hate (set this up with the player in advance), or perhaps giving people successes without them even doing anything (see the Mind Magic anecdote under “Playing a fun professor” in the next instalment of this article).
    • If you divide the class into groups, think about how. Random groups help players build relationships to characters they might not know. You can have students count off, or pull their names from a hat, or divide by the predominant color they are wearing or hair color, or any other randomizing technique.

    Playable Tools Goals

    • Teach a dance they can dance at the ball.
    • Teach them a spell they can use in the game and practice it together.
    • Have them make a potion with a specific effect that they can steal some of, then or later (you can ask them to mark their bottles with a label describing the effect, and the names of everyone in their group, and to leave them in a specific place so you can grade them “later”). Please note – if any potions are to be ingested by any players at any time during the larp, all potions present at the larp should be potable and edible. You can still do impressive experiments with kitchen chemistry!
    • Ask for model/bright students before the game in the FB group. Share your lesson plan and all questions you plan to ask with everyone who wants to play a model student, to give them a real chance to experience success. For the majority of the students that will have missed the post it will feel magical. (You can plant a few gold star moments for students in your class in advance even if you don’t otherwise work from a detailed plan).
    • Set a task that will create play as it is solved outside of class. Here is an example from a Mind Magic class: “On Friday I gave them homework and told them to return their essays before the Saturday classes. I gave them two options: you can either write an essay OR you can use any means of mind magic to produce one. About 20 people wrote an essay. The rest used Mind Magic to make their friend write it for them, to hex me into believing they had already turned in the essay (which was of course the BEST essay I had ever read) and so on. (I told them I’d call off my mind protection spells for 24 hours so they would have a chance to actually hex me.) Some used telepathy to deliver the essay directly into my mind and one even brewed her essay into a potion. Very fun!”
    • Palm reading was used by students outside classes to “find out” what will happen (i.e. reveal information known to one student, but not the others).
    • Use the lectures to seed relationship information to the students. What are the other teachers like, really? What kind of a dark history do you, their favourite teacher, have? Hints tend to work better than more overt explanations. It makes the students feel like they have stumbled on a secret. You can of course also have them work on solving a “hypothetical scenario” that is a real problem experienced by some students at the college or even in your class. This offers great opportunities for resentment, disappointment in you, passive-aggressive sniping among students, as well as allowing the real parties or their sympathisers to argue their case.

    Making Stuff up During Class

    You will be forced to improvise, because students will ask you questions you never even thought of. Don’t panic! Here are some choices you can make in that situation:

    • Make something up. If you’re not sure whether the stuff you’re spouting syncs with the canon, frame it as myth, folklore, a controversial opinion that your character has, and make bitter allusions to Some Other Teachers or Magical Authorities who, as the students well know, may not agree with your obviously correct ideas on this topic. (Or similar, as appropriate for your character.) This makes magic more like actual academia, and contributes to building the world. Make a note after class about what you now so firmly believe, so you can use it later in the game.
    • Ask the other students what the correct answer is. This gives the characters a chance to shine, but in addition players also get an opportunity to contribute. The answers can be considered “right” by your teacher character or maybe disputed, thus generating interesting discussions out of nowhere. In a situation like this, when a student player exposes themselves, you should never downplay them – except if you agreed to do exactly that with the player involved in advance. If no one has anything, ask them to look in their textbooks, or ask leading questions, or describe a hypothetical scenario (or a personal anecdote from your character’s exciting life) and ask them to make deductions from the facts you’ve just presented. When they come up with something good, reward them with praise and/or house points. (Make a note afterwards of the thing you have just claimed to be true. You can also bring it up with some of the other faculty in a social situation – “my students were discussing this principle in class…” – because it might be valuable input for their classes, whether their characters agree or disagree)
    • Divert or delay. If they ask something during class, tell them it’s a good question and that we shall discuss that topic later this semester – or if it’s not related to class, tell them to come talk to you after class. If they come to you outside class, you can always be busy and tell them to come back to you later or ask another Professor (who might be more knowledgeable on the subject than your character!). If they are asking about something suspicious, you can always question their reasons (“why are you asking about love potions anyway?”)

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