Nordic Larp

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  • A Beginner’s Guide to Handling the Knudeblues

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    A Beginner’s Guide to Handling the Knudeblues

    By

    Elin Nilsen

    A note from the editor: Knudeblues is a term used to describe the post-con blues after the Knudepunkt conference. The 2015 edition just finished, which prompted the publication of this article on handling the Knudeblues.

    First I need to state that this text compiles my very personal opinions, I do not claim to own any truths, and I have no scientific background for any of my claims. But I do have a lot of experience with the post con/post larp blues. If you don’t, that’s normal too.

    Leaving Knutepunkt 2013. Photo by Johannes Axner. Leaving Knutepunkt 2013. Photo by Johannes Axner.

    You are on your way home, or you’ve already gotten home and thrown your exhausted self on the sofa. Maybe you’ve even stretched the bubble, feeling happy and inspired for a day or two, now certain it won’t hit you. But it does. Suddenly you realize that it’s over. It may hit you in different ways. Maybe you feel a mild, but persistent melancholia. Perhaps you still feel euphoric, but with an increasing discomfort of your emotions being stripped naked, of being too vulnerable. Maybe you feel a strong longing for all the people you met, your KP-crush, the magic circle filled with creativity, love and the best kind of madness. The bubble. And a sadness it is gone. If you are an organizer you may feel heartbroken that all the work you put in for this single, important event now only lives on in pictures, memories and memorabilia (and perhaps an impending accounting task). Or maybe you don’t know what you feel – I believe those are often the hardest cases. When your body is filled with overwhelmingly strong, entangled emotions that are manifesting in very real physical pain in your whole upper body, and physical discomfort that can’t be vented, and you feel an urge to use words like “soul” and “heart” in very embarrassing ways. And since you can’t make them out or define them or even keep them apart, though most of them are in fact very positive, it’s a full on acute depression.

    Congratulations, you’ve got the Knudeblues.

    Being a super emotional person (with – a fortunately very mild case of – bipolar disorder) with a 17 year long larp career and 9 KP/SKs behind me I have over the years developed a collection of strategies to handle this phenomenon, which of course isn’t associated with Knudepunkt/Knutepunkt/Knutpunkt/Solmukohta alone, but can occur after any intense, emotionally and physically exhausting, several days long event with bubble qualities, like a strong larp or another really good con. Maybe your own wedding? (I wouldn’t know.) Since we are all different people, I can’t know what will work for you, but I’m sure some of these tips will help. There are two slightly overlapping categories with things you can do to handle your blues – helping your body back to normal, and processing all the impressions.

    The Basics

    Processing after Knutpunkt 2014. Photo by Johannes Axner. Processing after Knutpunkt 2014. Photo by Johannes Axner.

    Make sure to get enough sleep. And then some more. Re-hydrate and keep hydrated. Eat healthy food. I’m not a nutrition expert, and I have no idea if food can heal you over a short time span, but I always feel better when I eat salmon, because my mother said it’s good for me. Eat comfort food/junk food. If the food can heal both body and soul, it’s even better. And don’t be ashamed, it’s medicine! Pamper yourself. Relax a lot. Have a shower or a bath in the way you like it the most, buy your favorite chocolate. If you have a partner, ask for a back rub or a foot massage. Exercise. Or go for a long walk. I know it works, I just can’t be bothered.

    Processing

    The emotions inside you need to find their places. To process all the impressions is important, and it can be done in an infinite number of ways. Don’t worry, you don’t have to make lists or do mental exercises, your brain will fix it all if you just give it the chance and time it needs. But there are some things you can do to help it along. The most important tip I’ll give you here, though, is process, but don’t dwell too long in you Knudeblues on purpose. It’s tempting to not let go of the euphoria that often accompanies the blues, to try to relive those special moments, to stay in the bubble as long as possible. And a pinch of that may be good for processing, but I don’t recommend trying to hold on actively. I think the KP euphoria is a hypo-manic state in many ways (as can being drunk or being in love be), and the longer you hold on, the more you risk a harder (and prolonged) fall.

    Processing Alone

    Processing alone. Photo by Johannes Axner. Processing alone. Photo by Johannes Axner.

    Your active brain and your subconscious will work on it no matter what, so sometimes it’s good to give yourself a break. Use distractions, but avoid important have-to-appointments the first day or two if possible. Your mind will be somewhere else anyways.

    Isolate yourself with some kind of entertainment. Watch movies, play computer games, read a novel. Depending on your blues and your ways, shielding yourself from strong impressions for a short while can give your mind space to process. (I recommend deep sea documentaries. With jellyfish.) Others may want to seek catharsis through an emotional movie or a song that they know will make them cry. Crying is good if you feel like it, but for some it can feed the depression. You know yourself best.

    Write something. For yourself or others – a diary, a report, a letter, a Facebook post, anything. I think expressing yourself in writing helps sorting your thoughts and feelings even better than talking, as you use slightly more time in deciding on the words and your brain gets to dwell on the content. (How do you think the words you’re reading right now came about?)

    Processing with friends

    Knutepunkt after-care. Photo by Elin Nilsen. Knutepunkt after-care. Photo by Elin Nilsen.

    The socially driven processing is also important. First: Add all your new, wonderful friends on Facebook! Then you read all the posts and comments people have made about the experience, and partake in the discussions if you want to. It’s not dwelling, it is hoard processing. Part of processing is forming the final narrative about the experience, the one you will keep with you, and connecting and exchanging opinions is part of that.

    Meet people from inside the bubble. Hang out with others who shared the experience. Talk about the event, what was good, what was bad, what was fun, but not only about that. Being around tribes-people talking about other things is also good, they are in the same state as you, they get you, and together you take a step towards normalizing the world. Feel free to get drunk with them if you are so inclined, but remember that might prolong your blues. In my case it’s sometimes worth it.

    Talk about the Knudeblues with others who share it. It helps. But try not to exhaust your friends. After all, you are just a little bit crazy right now. It will pass. I promise.

    Dare to Face the Mundies

    It can be a good idea to plan for a day off from work after Knudepunkt or another event that may throw you into the state of the blues. But don’t shun the mundies. You feel that people who weren’t present, even other larpers, can never understand, but it’s ok to tell your partner if you have one, your friends, your family and colleagues that you are in a state of emotional overdrive right now because of a very intense experience you had. They may understand more than you think. But don’t pepper them with all your stories and anecdotes, it doesn’t mean the same to them as it does to you. Not even if they larp themselves.

    Cuddle puddle. Photo by Elin Nilsen. Cuddle puddle. Photo by Elin Nilsen.

    And then – when you are back to your old self – start to utilize all that wonderful inspiration you got at the event and make some kick-ass larps and projects!

    Cover photo: The author after Knutepunkt 2013, photo by Johannes Axner.

     

  • Exit 3: The Bunker – Claustro-drama

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    Exit 3: The Bunker – Claustro-drama

    By

    Karijn van der Heij

    In July 2014, 30 players in the Netherlands split into two groups of 15 and allowed themselves to be all but locked up during two of the hottest days of the week. They were playing a larp game called Exit, the third installment in a series exploring interpersonal tension in enclosed spaces. This game was situated in the early sixties, in a cold war bomb shelter.

    Like in the previous installments there were no game masters present at all during the run time: all communications to influence the game direction and pacing were given per phone, speaker and a period-like machine made out of a receipt printer. The organizers kept track of the game through cameras and microphones. This way the illusion of being disconnected from the outside world was preserved.

    We were lucky to have two large, separate rooms with facilities. The first Exit was only playable for about 15 participants, with many more regretting not being there. In the second game we tried to fix this by doing two runs back-to-back in one weekend, but that significantly reduced the playtime of each run. This time we decided to do a parallel run of two games, which was challenging, but worked out really well.

    Characters

    Some characters alleviated stress by dancing (Play, Eline S.)The story started when the players awoke on Saturday morning and lasted until late in the afternoon on Sunday, after which there was some time for debriefing. Friday evening was spent socializing and doing some workshops, both for fleshing out character quirks and relationships and for communicating out of game fears and limits, since we know from experience these games can get pretty heated.

    In the previous games we had players send in three one-line concepts, and we would pick the ones that we thought best contributed to the overall drama and let them flesh those out.

    This time the characters would not meet for the first time when the game started; they were already part of a close-knit community. That called for a somewhat different approach.

    We did again not have pre-written characters, but we did have pre-written roles in the cast: there was an upper class family, a working class family, a childless couple, an outsider couple (players could choose why those two did not fit in), a lone weirdo in the house on the corner and three coincidental passers-by, who were the most unrestricted in making their concept.

    We cast everybody in one of these roles while allowing for their preferences, and then had them make online connections with the players of their families and neighbors on their own. To make sure that people had intersecting secrets we gave all the players two Dread-style questions, like „what are you hiding in the attic?“, thus establishing the existence of secrets without deciding on the nature of those secrets.

    Setting

    Making sure the tech works smoothly is important in the Exit series (Play, Evolution Events)The comparison with the Nordic larp Ground Zero is pretty easy to make, but apart from the setting the games are probably pretty different in intention and feel.

    In Exit, it was pretty clear from the beginning that there was no massive nuclear attack going on outside. Instead of that we opted for an apparent virus outbreak: the players could just wait for it to be over. The reason is that we did not want to explore the narrative of coming to terms with one’s imminent death and the loss of civilization. Instead, the Exit series has so far always been pretty Sartrian: the overarching theme is how the dynamics of a group of people are affected by a stressful situation. The answer, it turns out, is that those groups become pretty dysfunctional after a while.

    Mind you, we would of course never dare claim that the Exit series provides actual insights in that regard. There are not many full-weekend one-shot events in the Netherlands, so most people take their chance to try the concepts they always wanted to try but think unworkable for an ongoing series.

    That means the cast usually consists of an over-average amount of characters in extreme situations or with extreme opinions in terms of status, religion, sexuality etc. This is in no way discouraged by us, and it does contribute to a more volatile situation and thus, more drama. On top of that people of course aim to escalate instead of subdue their conflicts. They know that a secret that is still a secret at the end of the game is a missed chance.

    There was plenty of time for small player-made storylines like these two men pursuing the same young lady (Play, Eline S.)This time the players really went all out in including typical Sixties themes like the communist scare, emerging feminism and the American Dream. But there was also a lot of emphasis on more personal stories of addiction, betrayal, missed chances and shattered dreams. Some people had secrets as a family, others had deliberately kept things from their loved ones, like the mother in an upper class family who dabbled in witchcraft, or the young woman who had an affair with the man next door.

    Sometimes small props and gestures add a lot to the atmosphere: propaganda posters, flags, and food that added to the feeling of being in a shelter: boxes of canned food (including the rather dreaded canned bread) that the players of course had to prepare themselves. We played the Star Spangled Banner multiple times over the radio, and put the text on the wall of the bunker so everyone could sing along. The players couldn’t get it out of their heads for days afterwards.

    Player Input

    Characters discussing an inventory list: a small task to create tension (Play, Ork de Rooij)The few points for improvement that were mentioned by player reviews were mainly about the fact that we had no planned moments for escalation, no specific moments for the players to take the spotlight. Some of them would have liked something to encourage them to find the right moment.

    We deliberately chose not to do that. The reason is that we like to keep Exit easy to organize so we can create an episode every year alongside our other organizational duties, and writing a plot instead of just inciting incidents would increase this workload. But also because of the fact, that for every one of the three Exits we have decreased the amount of organizer input and have exchanged it with encouraging players to create conflict and play through their characters. We are curious to see what happens as we do that.

    The first Exit actually had a plot of sorts, the second one had challenges for the players, and both worked with a system where they had to collect, or fight over, tokens that seemed essential to their characters’ success. This Exit had none of that, there were only some radio fragments and a protocol for the bunker with things like physical exercises and other drills that the characters could perform.

    The content that we provided was very well received, especially the radio speeches by the president (some nice amalgams of actual Kennedy quotes), but there was not much of it and most of the time the players were left to their own devices.We were happy to notice that it still worked.

    The dimmed lights and concrete gave the room a bunker-like feel (Play, Eline S.)We are still looking for the perfect way to challenge players towards making great secrets and connections, and to make sure they do not leave this step until the last few days.

    Maybe more and better workshops are the answer, or those workshops might even provide an alternative character creation process.

    We did workshopping for the first time for this Exit. This is another possible point of improvement. The organizers were not very familiar with workshops outside of the usual improv exercises to get warmed up for playing. Something that didn’t help is that one of the organizers who dug into the workshopping aspect has the most unfortunate habit of not writing stuff down, and got sick so she could not be there for the game.

    Overall the players were positive about workshops on Friday, but the nature of the workshops could use some improvements.

    Reflections

    The many camera’s allowed the storytellers to see whether players followed instructions (Play, Evolution Events)The previous two installments of Exit took place in a medical research centre and a Big Brother style camera house, respectively. In each one we tweaked different aspects of the game. We plan to keep doing this for a long time to come, after all there are many more interesting closed settings, from prisons to space stations.

    Exit 3 was the first (but possibly not the last) installment exploring an actual historical period. The fact that Exit attracts mature players who expect drama makes it an easy try-out space for new ideas.

    Another thing that was different this time, as mentioned before, is the fact that most characters already knew each other. This worked really well to immediately create tension. On the other hand there is something to say for being in a tough situation with strangers as well. We may have to alternate in the future.

    A few weeks after the game I was discussing it with a player. I expressed my surprise at the fact that there are not more people in the Netherlands who run concepts like Exit, since it can create good, original games without too much organizing hassle. He said he could imagine that other people wouldn’t want to do all the hard work of matching and tweaking all those characters together so that the drama would maximize. He found it hard to imagine we didn’t.

    And it made me proud to have inspired such a talented cast of players to create such an intense experience amongst themselves. We told them to create their own backgrounds, their own secrets to be exposed and just go nuts. And nuts they went.

    Exit 3: The Bunker

    Credits: Evolution Events, René van den Berg, Karijn van der Heij, Brenda Hellenthal, Matthijs Kooijman, Cora Korsman (shared responsibility for game design, character creation assistance and game logistics)
    Date: July 25 – 27, 2014
    Location: Hunsel, The Netherlands
    Length: 3 days
    Players: 30 in total (two groups of 15 playing simultaneously)
    Budget: €1,800
    Participation Fee: €55
    Game Mechanics: Freeform larp with almost no game mechanics
    Website: http://evolution-events.nl/algemeen

    This article was initially published in The Nordic Larp Yearbook 2015 published by Rollespilsakademiet and edited by Charles Bo Nielsen, Erik Sonne Georg, et al.

    Cover photo: Sometimes a room needs little more dressing than a flag and player costumes will do the rest (Play, Ork de Rooij)

    Other photos by Evolution Events and Eline S.

  • Four Backstory Building Games You Can Play Anywhere!

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    Four Backstory Building Games You Can Play Anywhere!

    By

    Peter Woodworth

    One of the most difficult – but also most rewarding – parts of larp is coming up with a good character backstory. A sense of a character’s past gives great insights into how to play them in the present, for one thing; not to mention, it shines some light on where you may take them in the future. For some people developing a history comes easily, but for many others it’s a bit more of a chore, especially if you’re new to a particular game. Or maybe it’s a one- shot game and you want to develop your characters just a bit more before playing, but don’t have time to write out long backstories.

    Fortunately, coming up with a fun, interesting backstory (and accompanying character depth) doesn’t ha ve to mean nights of staring at a blank sheet of paper, waiting for inspiration to strike. Which is exactly where these games come in. Most of them require little or no preparation, and can be played equally well with friends or strangers.

    In fact, they also make excellent “ice breaker” exercises to help players warm up, get in character, and become comfortable with each other before play begins. These games generally presuppose the presence of other players; while most can be reconfigured to be played solitary, I believe all of them are enhanced by group participation.

    As far as game runners are concerned, these backstory games also make good pre-game workshop tools. They do not normally require any form of staff supervision; though if you want to cultivate particular elements, or avoid certain topics, you can offer guidelines, or even sit in and moderate play. This can be useful if you’re using these as quick exercises before a single-shot game, as you can guide players to creating fairly detailed and well-realized personas very quickly with these games.

    1 –The Hell of a Hat Game

    What You Need: Costumes and props.

    How You Play: Going around in a circle, have each player pick one of their costume or prop pieces. It doesn’t have to be a flashy one they might already have stories for, like signature weapons or prominent jewellery – in fact, it’s usually better if it’s not. Ordinary objects like coats and boots tend to work best, because they’re the pieces you might not think about otherwise, but can say very interesting things about a character’s day-to-day life.

    Once they pick an item, that player must talk about it. The player can say anything she likes, but here are some questions to provoke thought if they get stuck: Where did it come from? How did they get it – buy it, make it, steal it, receive it as a gift? What does it mean to them? What do they like about it? If they don’t like it, why do they still keep it? If it was lost or stolen, what would they do to get it back?

    If you don’t have any particular costume or props – say, because you just came into a game as a walk-on at a convention and didn’t prepare anything – you can still play! Simply describe what your character would be wearing, or is wearing in your imagination, as opposed to what you have on in reality. It might be a little tougher to remember all of it, but the point of the game remains the same.

    Variation – Eye for Style: If you want to have a different but equally interesting kind of fun, on each player’s turn have that player pick a piece from someone else’s costuming and props. Tell a story about where the item came from, what that character did to get it, etc. Naturally this doesn’t mean the story is automatically “true” – that’s for the player in question to decide – but it can certainly reveal a lot about how the other players feel about your character!

    Variation – Solo Play: If you want to play the game solitary, take a picture of the costume piece and write a short paragraph or two about it. Post the results to game forums or social media if you want feedback!

    2 – The Polaroid Game

    What You Need: Nothing except 2+ players.

    How to Play: Going around in a circle, each player asks the others to describe a snapshot image of his character, something they imagine might have happened at some point before the character entered play or that happened during downtime. It can be a funny image, a serious image, a mysterious image; any kind of moment at all.

    It doesn’t have to start off being terribly specific – “I picture your character, bloody, standing over a body while a woman cries out, ‘What have you done?’” is in many ways just as useful for this game as something like “I see your character, bloody, standing over Mary’s body behind the Northpoint Tavern.”

    Once the basic image is established, go around to all other player in the group, with each player adding another detail to the picture – “You’re bloody, but not wearing your armor or holding a weapon” – until it comes back around to the original player. Hence the name The Polaroid Game, because the details slowly come into focus as the picture develops. The details added don’t have to be strictly visual, though, despite the name of the game.

    When everyone has had a turn adding to the picture, the player being described makes a final comment and play passes to the next person. Naturally what is described isn’t necessarily “true” unless the original player approves it, but it can serve as a good inspiration.

    Variation – Topic: Have the person whose turn it is to be described provide a topic or moment she wants the others to imagine. “Tell me about my character’s first kill,” for instance, or “What did it look like when my heart got broken for the first time?” This is good for helping players who have difficulty coming up with appropriate moments for other people’s characters, or for soliciting help with a particular background element with which the player is having trouble.

    3 –The Card Game (Larper’s Poker)

    What You Need: A regular deck of playing cards.

    How to Play: Deal one card at random to each player, before moving around to each player in turn. When it is their turn, players must tell a vignette from their character’s past.

    The kind of story being told depends on the suit of the card selected. Hearts centers on mental health or an emotional relationship of some kind (not necessarily a loving one); Diamonds refers to stories focused on wealth, equipment and other material goods (or lack thereof); Clubs requires a story about a physical challenge, battle, illness or ordeal of some kind; and Spades refers to encounters focused around interaction with setting-specific supernatural or science-fiction elements such as zombies, magic, cyberware, superpowers, monsters, etc.

    If your game does not have elements of this kind, Spades becomes a “wild card” category where the player can tell any kind of story they like. You may want to at least roughly define what Spades involves before playing, if it could be unclear in your setting.

    Stories should be no longer than five minutes or so, and can be much shorter – a snapshot or moment is fine, as long as it says something interesting about the character. Players are encouraged to stick close to the subject matter of their card’s suit, but the categories are pretty broad, so it’s OK if there’s a little bit of crossover. It’s about telling an interesting story, after all.

    Variation – Five Card Draw: Each player draws a hand of five cards, and picks a card each round, returning it to the deck when it’s played. This gives players more control over the kind of story they feel like telling each round (and time to think about what they’ll be telling next), making it easier for new or nervous players.

    Variation – Face Value: As normal, except that the stories reflect the values on the cards – lower numbers mean it was more of a minor incident, while higher numbers mean it was more important, and a face card means a player must talk about a particular person who came into their life (or left it) as a result of the story.

    Variation – Pass Left: Players draw fivecards,butoneachplayer’sturn,the person to their left passes them a card to determine what kind of story should be told. After one full round, pass right instead, shuffle seats, or otherwise change the order so that people have new partners for their cards.

    Variation – Take Me to the River: Deal each player five cards and go around in a circle, with each player taking a turn. Each round, players play cards from their own hand, but the player must somehow continue the story they’ve been telling in the previous rounds, even if it is a different suit. So by the end of the game, they will have told one story in five installments, with elements dictated by the cards in hand.

    4 – The Mixtape Game

    What You Need: A mix CD or music playlist and some way to play it.

    How to Play: This game requires a little more preparation than most of the others, but the end result is worth it. Each player contributes several musical tracks to the collective mix or playlist, which is then placed on shuffle (if possible, disable repeated playing of the same track). This game is a good one for long trips to a game or breaks during play, so simply adjust the number of tracks that fits the time.

    Play itself is simple – start playing the music, and as each song plays, everyone listens to it and declares either “Play,” “Theme,” or “Pass.” “Play” means that you enjoy the song, but don’t necessarily feel it would be a song for your character in particular. “Theme” means that you could see that song as a theme for your character, something you’d put on a personal playlist dedicated to your character. (You can have more than one Theme, and more than one character can call Theme on the same song. It’s non-competitive that way.)

    “Pass” means that you’re just not connecting to the song in relation to the game; it doesn’t necessarily mean you think the song is bad, but you’re just not feeling it in this context.

    If you say “Play” or “Theme,” try to add what about it that got your attention – connect it to your backstory, to your impression of your character. Does the beat remind you of the thrill of a battle in your past? Does a line in the lyrics jump out as totally true to your character? Is the tone of the song putting you in the mood for game? Did the music capture a moment in your character’s history so perfectly it makes you jump up and down in your seat?

    If two players pick Theme, maybe it’s because they shared that moment in their past? You don’t need to have to be a long, detailed anecdote, just a quick image or moment or impression that it brings up as you think of your character.

    Play continues until all tracks have been played. It is perfectly acceptable to ask that a track be repeated, or to return to a track after all tracks have been heard, if players are responding to it strongly and have more stories to tell.

    Variation – No Preparations: If you don’t have time to put together a playlist or make a CD, or you want to put together a spontaneous session, you can still play! All you need is access to the internet on a device capable of playing music. Simply have each player look up a song online, and when it comes to their turn, they simply play it for the group on their phone or other device. Giving players a few minutes to find the song they want, making sure their device can play it and otherwise prepare is recommended before starting a round; otherwise, players may be distracted looking up songs instead of really listening on other players’ turns.

    Variation – The Score: Another variation is to treat the music like the score of a film or a television program, the music that is playing in the background to provide atmosphere and emotion. When each song comes on, have each player describe what their character would be doing “onscreen” while that song played, as if they were watching a movie and that was the music for the scene.

    5 – Post Game

    As players, you are encouraged to take some time after a game is complete to think about the material that was generated during play, perhaps even talk about it with the other players. It’s important to remember that while these games are intended to stimulate backstory creation and help flesh out characters, that doesn’t mean you must use it, or that you can’t alter, edit, or otherwise use what’s created as you see fit.

    Do not feel bound to keep something as “canon” for your character just because it came up in game, even if the other players really liked it and thought it fit. Even if you wind up using none of it, and take your inspiration in a totally different direction from what came up during play, then great! As long as you have fun making stories, that’s what it’s all about.

  • De la Bête – An Expensive Beast

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    De la Bête – An Expensive Beast

    By

    David František Wagner

    The beast I saw resembled a leopard, but had feet like those of a bear and a mouth like that of a lion. The dragon gave the beast his power and his throne and great authority.

    Revelations, 13:2, the Bible (New International Version)

    De la Bête (About the Beast) was a larp for 95 players, running over 48 hours, with 12 hours workshops before and some extra three hours post-larp workshops.

    It was probably the most expensive game in the history of Czech larps. We will go more into detail about size and realizations about using gender specific characters in the end. But first: What was the larp all about?

    Background and Theme

    For a Czech person, old France, the ‘Ancien Régime’, is always a place of great books and great stories. Dumas ́s brave Three musketeers, de La Fontaine ́s social critique and wisdom transformed into fables, and Balzac ́s fervent drive to describe all aspects of life in his novels, intrigue and romance of de Laclos ́s Dangerous liaisons. And of course Moliére ́s drama and the great works of Rousseau and Voltaire.

    Our imagination is maybe even more fired up by real-life events: the legend of Joan of Arc, countless stories of endless rivalry between France and Britain and the horrifying difference between the splendor of Versailles and the poverty of the common man.

    We feel that all those stories describe the human condition from really interesting angles – and we found the one story that enabled us to pull all that together in one story.

    The story of the Beast.

    Setting

    Huguenot service, viewed from the roof of the chapel. (Play, Ondra Pěnička)The game is not set in a specific year, but rather it attempts to depict the height of the French Ancien Régime in the second half of the 18th century as a historical phenomenon.

    That means that the absolutist and infallible King of France is Louis, without a given number. Technical innovations progress only very slowly, the Church plays a very important role in matters of the world, and volunteers are returning from the war in America.

    The key theme of the game is a conflict between different ways of thought. We see the collision between rationality and sensitivity, scientific and superstitious views, Catholics and Huguenots.

    These and other lines reflect one of the game’s features – it has several layers of interpretation, which are, from a strictly positivist point of view, mutually exclusive.

    Most events in the game can therefore be viewed from several different angles – and all of them can be right. After adding the element of character themes to the game, this feature proved to be very valuable, and the varying interpretations stimulated the game, rather than killing it.

    The setting also clearly showed how the advantage of having weapons which the characters could use in conflicts that turned bloody; these being blank firing pistols and steel weapons – mostly different kinds of knives, swords and rapiers, provided by us.

    Story

    While the rest of the town is feasting, there is a secret mass in the church... (Play, Ondra Pěnička)The game does not have one story that unifies all the players. It takes place in a region suffering under the attacks of the Beast, and although many plots are linked to the hunt for the Beast, many others, based on religious conflicts, witchcraft or schemes at the court, are just as important to the game.

    The game begins and ends with symbolic moments (return of the veterans from the war, a speech by the baron de Morsange, followed by individual epilogues, which we will discuss later in more detail). It is divided into acts which outline the game’s framework, both from the point of view of rules (increasing use of violence) and the story. The game works not only with natural escalation of the stories and their setting by us, but also with explicit meta-game information – some of the conflicts, decisions etc. are limited by “You have to solve this before XY”.

    This timing allows for quite sophisticated work with the game’s dramaturgy, and very accurate use of plot twists, fakes, double climaxes, etc. In the third run, we also solved the dramaturgic problem of many dramatic games: too many plots reaching their peak in the same time almost leads to comedy, where a tragic love story reaches its climax right next to a young scientist turning mad, while only a few meters away, an unjustly sentenced convict decides to take his revenge.

    To players who do not know their plots this naturally seems like random groups of people who are suddenly making dramatic gestures and dying in various ways, without any reason. Our solution used more significant stratification of the content, which caused some plots to reach their climax sooner than others.

    The fact that one character always had a role in more than one plot meant that even after the end of one plot the players still had enough content to keep their game going, because they could engage in another plot. We have also changed our approach to scenography and attempted to use the space as effectively as possible, offering various spaces for various uses to the players.

    We actively promoted suitable locations for different types of scenes, and from the beginning the players were informed of that: “This romantic pond can be used for a rendezvous, this courtyard for a duel and this table for an argument.” We also tried to support the story’s progress using musical intermezzos between acts, which moved from period tunes (introductory cheerful military march, deliberately used to create contrast with the destitute unit) to unsettling modern ambient.

    The lack of a central story served to untie our hands in many aspects, and we were able to work with three levels of plots (according to the number of characters involved):

    1. Mass plots, concerning tens of characters, based on a specific feature – for example a problem concerning all local Huguenots. These plots provided more of a framework and points of reference: in reality, the players did not spend that much time with them, and the emphasis was on the other two categories.
    2. Group plots, which were meant for groups of 4 to 8 players, from obvious and official (families, hunting groups), to unofficial ones (gambling societies, collectives of veterans) and secret ones (conspiratorial organizations). The goal was to have every character involved in at least 3 – 5 such plots (depending on their intensity – being a member of the Freemasons generated a lot of content in itself). Various private groups were meant to provide sufficient interconnection between character groups and create a believable, and above all interesting network of relationships, which allowed the player to see different parts of the game and play out scenes in different contexts.
    3. Personal plots, which included a small number of characters. This category included personal goals and motivations of the characters, which correspond to the characters’ themes if possible, and support them. The theme of a character was the most significant game design element of De la Bête.

    The market gave a chance to swap goods, information and favors. (Play, Ondra Pěnička)

    The Character As a Novel

    Each character has its theme, problem, and main question that is usually phrased in a rather general way: “What boundaries does scientific knowledge have?”, “What does it mean to become an adult?”. These are reflected in concrete situations in the game: “Is it morally tolerable to carry out an autopsy, though the relatives are against it?”, “Can I steal to provide for my siblings?”.

    The theme also provides the main interpretative angle of the game: everything the players encounter in the game can be integrated in their theme, or overlooked because it does not support their story.

    An important creative shift for us was to explicitly acknowledge the theme on a meta-level, right in the character text. The text of the role, which the player received, contained a brief summary of the character’s life story, clearly stated goals, relationships, and values, and an explicitly described theme of the character.

    Apart from that we also added a song to each character, which served as an inspiration and which we thought depicted some aspect of the role (we used a great variety of songs and tunes, from classical music, to Stairway to Heaven, to Polish and French mutations of Still Alive from Portal).

    This approach to the characters also significantly influenced the ways the game was played. Inclusion of individual scenes into one’s own story led to a situation when emotional scenes are not perceived as the pinnacle of the game, but rather the scene submits to the general storyline, which conforms to a general message and meaning.

    The game style, which presented individual scenes as means to piece together the story and let the whole game be interpreted through the prism of a character theme, was completely new in the Czech Republic. We will later present a more detailed explanation of how it was created in a specialized article, The cure for the stuffed Beast. But for now, the key factor for the game was that this style of gameplay did not require any kind of sophisticated training – only an outline of the general direction for the players during the workshops.

    During the game itself, there was a specially designated room in the pub in which the players had the possibility to consult with organizers. The organizers were trained for this purpose, had a complex overview of the game, and also performed basic evaluations of the players’ mental state and problems (we assign great importance to mental hygiene).

    The players were openly instructed to visit them at least once every act, to talk about their plans and options, or at least to reflect on how they had progressed in the game using the available information, additional texts and such. The idea was to get detached from the role for a short time, in order to come back to the game with a better idea how to advance and perhaps even a new perspective.

    The epilogues, which concluded the game, have the form of one clearly phrased question which the player answers not from the point of view of their character, but rather the author of a novel. These questions were not necessarily the same as in the original text of the theme in the character sheet, but they could address the theme from an unexpected angle.

    It is answering these questions that really ends the game. A secondary goal of this system of game conclusion is to support an important design plan: we tried to write the characters without using classical archetypes or dramatically functional division to good and bad, or one-dimensional. We used the system of varying groups and plots to show different sides of the characters’ personalities, and a void one-sided archetypes, such as “mother”, “mistress”, “murderer”, etc.

    Realization

    Nothing says "intrigue" like soldiers holding a lantern. (Play, Ondra Pěnička)We spent quite a long time deciding whether it would be reasonable to write a game from a period, where costumes would create a challenge for most players. In the end we decided to avoid the problem by providing all costumes, weapons and other props for the game.

    Despite the non-simulationist nature of the game, we decided to invest as much effort as possible into the setting, props and scenery. The logical result was to create three organizer teams, connected by two main organizers and other links.

    The PR team was involved in communicating with the players, promotion, photographers, managing payments and so on.

    The realization team had four permanent members, who worked together with the creative team throughout the whole year. Their responsibilities included creating props, coordinating volunteers, logistics and production. At times, there were over fifty volunteers participating on the production of the event.

    For maximal optimization, we had ten people dedicated to scene setting, cooking and packing up the game throughout the whole weekend, and a number of others, who were involved only for some time (players, working before and after the game for a discount on the fee, stagehands, who went off to play a short-term role for a while, and vice versa).

    From the point of view of total costs, it was probably the most expensive game in the history of Czech larps, with the total costs slightly exceeding one million crowns. The only game with higher costs is the forthcoming larp The Legion: A Siberian Story. But it was well received, though costly, and we plan to run the game again in 2015.

    We are considering translating it into English, and if there are enough players interested in participating, we would start working on it in March.

    The game uses a vast amount of texts, and requires high-quality literary translation.

    Size

    The time for the game itself is 48 hours, adding approximately 12 hours for pre-game workshops and half an hour for the compulsory after-game workshops, and potentially also 2 hours for facultative after-game workshops.

    The game is for 95 players, with 57 male characters and 38 female ones. Our choice to use strictly set gender of roles was quite instinctive: it is completely traditional in the Czech Republic, and during the first phases of creating the game, the thought of the possibility of using gender unspecified or cross-gender roles didn’t even occur to us.

    Reasons for gender specification of roles:

    We still believe that dividing the characters into clearly male and female ones and lack of cross-gender playing is important for the game and for us, for reasons concerning not only the historical setting and costumes that we provide for the game.

    There are many multigenerational family plots in the game, and we aim to present stories of people who go beyond the place traditionally assigned to them by society.

    Uncovering of a conspiracy results in public trial. (Play, Ondra Pěnička)These themes are especially strong with women, who for instance take a strong stance against their family and the demands that it places on them (e.g. an illegitimate daughter de Portefaix, hardly tolerated at the court), become significant moral authorities (e.g. Claire Gravois, a saint), or disturb the order of the society in general (e.g. the galley prisoners – it should be mentioned here, that the inner social order of the galleys includes two male prisoners, who are, however, at the bottom of the prison hierarchy).

    We see these kinds of stories as substantially more interesting and natural in the game when the roles are clearly identified as male or female. We have dismissed the option of casting female players for roles of men and vice versa for the above mentioned reasons, and in order to maintain the visual illusion of a historical world.

    Conclusion

    De la Bête is a game, which tries to connect classic larp elements (including action, shooting, fencing and running around) with novels (including romance, mystery stories and huge family sagas) and philosophy (attempting to depict a great number of contemporary schools of thought, which we see as interesting and topical even in the present).

    And we think that when the Beast howls in the forest, even we, the authors, will shiver for a long time to come…

    De la Bête

    Credits: Adam Pešta (chief of production); David František Wagner (chief of game design and writing); Kamil Buchtík, Ondřej Hartvich, Lucie Chlumská, Mikuláš Pešta, Petr Turoň (game design and writing); Alice Ďurčatová, Slaven Elčić, Iva Vávrová (PR); Tomáš Bazala, Eva Mlejnková (costumes); Vít Filipovský (website); Alena Kučerová (accounting); Michal Olbert (pre-game photos); Rosenthal o.s., Rolling and another 30 people.
    Location: Valeč castle, Czech republic
    Length: 2 days + 1 day of pre-larp
    Players: 95 per game
    Budget: €12,000 per run
    Participation Fee: €65 – €95
    Game Mechanics: Pre-scripted characters, pre game workshops, rules for combat, act structure
    Website: http://delabete.cz/

    This article was initially published in The Nordic Larp Yearbook 2014 which was edited by Charles Bo Nielsen & Claus Raasted, published by Rollespilsakademiet and released as part of documentation for the Knudepunkt 2015 conference.

    Cover photo: Philosopher stands trial (Play, Ondra Pěnička).

  • Behind the Larp Census

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    Behind the Larp Census

    By

    Aaron Vanek

    29.751 larpers can’t (all) be wrong

    On January 10, 2015, 101 days after launching, the first global Larp Census closed to replies. 29,751 responses were logged from 123 different territories in 17 different languages. The data from this survey is freely available via a Creative Commons license at LarpCensus.org.

    Barring death, dismemberment, or debilitating drunkenness, the total results from each question will be revealed in a presentation at Knudepunkt 2015. This article goes under the covers to expose the motivations, methods, and madness of the squishy humans behind the hard numbers.

    The Beginning

    At Wyrd Con II (a Southern California interactive storytelling convention) in 2011, I was out at a late dinner with some friends. Mark Mensch, a longtime boffer larper, asked me what I thought was needed to unify live action role players.

    Without missing a beat, I laid out my

    Three Big Ideas

    1. A user-customizable larp map-calendar where people can search for any kind of larp anywhere in the world up to a year in advance.
    2. A digital archival repository of larp events—what was run, by whom, when, where, using what system, and any notes or links to further documentation.
    3. A larp census to track all larpers around the world.

    I actually mentioned #3 first, but it’s more dramatic to bury the lead.

    I don’t know why I said those three things, and I probably had the ideas before I said them, but that was the first time I voiced them aloud.

    Regardless, the conversation turned to other matters and never went anywhere. I kept the ideas in the back of my head, however. I repeated them at a workshop session at Solmukohta 2012, where Claus Raasted and a few others offered help in making the map-calendar: which has since been created, roughly, by Larping.org and Larpcore.com.

    In mid-February, 2013, New Zealander Ryan Paddy and I started communicating via email after he asked the Larp Academia (or International Larp Academia) mailing list for demographic statistics on larpers. He wanted to know if live action role- playing was “popular” and in which countries.

    No one on the list had figures beyond their own larp group’s roster or a few isolated surveys from years past, e.g., Joe Valenti of NERO offered a range from “fifty-thousand to two million.” I again floated my census idea and Ryan took the bait. According to Elizabeth Kolbert((Kolbert, Elizabeth,“The Big Kill: New Zealand’s crusade to rid itself of mammals,”The New Yorker, Dec. 22, 2014)) it is not unusual to find Kiwis with “a cheerful, let’s-get-on-with-it manner” that she claims she “eventually came to see as very New Zealand.” This is good, because without Ryan, I would still be whining about kooky concepts that nobody builds for me.

    We get along well and communication between us, while spotty, has been robust. Ryan edits the English language entry on “LARP” for Wikipedia and has a background in psychology and programming, skills I lacked to get the Census done.

    Both of us wanted to know the answers to basic questions about larping worldwide: how big is the community, what are its demographics, how long have people played, what are they playing, and why?

    We set out to make the Larp Census a reality.

    The Grind

    The first choice we faced fell between using a prepared polling system, such as Google’s, or develop our own. Ryan said “Google Forms can only receive a limited amount of data (400,000 answers to individual questions); we wanted more. Also, there were several things we wanted to do it that it couldn’t have achieved. If it was up to the job I would have been happy to use Google Forms.” Thus Ryan did the programming for the Larp Census site.

    Next we looked for a website host. We hoped to deliver this baby in an academic institution, but they either didn’t reply or replied in the negative, e.g., University of Tampere. We then sought other entities, leading to one of the Big Mistakes (possibly the biggest).

    One of the sites I asked to host was Larping.org. They immediately agreed, as they were already considering doing a similar project, but during the negotiation process I withdrew. I worried about protecting the privacy of the respondents and the data.

    A massive email list like what the census would generate is gold to larp businesses; but neither Ryan nor I wanted anyone, including us, to make any money off of it. While discussing things with Larping.org, I sent over a first draft of the questions. This boomeranged back, and badly. We cut off talks in mid-April and eventually bought the domain larpcensus.org with money out of our own pockets.

    Most of Ryan’s and my time was spent designing the questions, which proved surprisingly difficult. First we had to decide what we wanted to know. I felt that a self- identifying larper’s location, age, gender, and how long they have been larping gave enough information.

    Ryan wanted more info (much more), which I quickly agreed with. We split the census into two parts: the first page of questions asked for only the required info. Everything else was optional. Tough decisions and some generalizations had to be made for each inquiry. Plus, each question was weighed for informational necessity against the time it would take to answer it, as we wanted to avoid a too-long questionnaire.

    One thing was asked of us a few times, “What is your hypothesis?” But we had no thesis going in, nothing we hoped to prove. We merely strived to gather as much data as possible and turn it over to others to see if it confirmed or refuted their hypotheses. My analogy is that we are farmers harvesting data. It is up to chefs—larp scholars, business folk, and independent researchers—to use what we gather and turn it into dissertations and Power Point presentations.

    We sent out two iterations of the motivation questions to a few hundred larpers for comments. The first batch had over 50 questions that we edited to below 30. We also asked as many larp scholars as we could manage (herd like cats) to look over the census and provide feedback. One of the comments we received was that it appeared “too American,” something we aggressively trying to avoid. We remained cognizant of the American spelling of words as well as terminology and larp style emphasis. Our goal was to be as broad as possible, to capture something about every kind of larper, straight boffer action to Nordic arthouse and all in between. But this goal, plus the fact that we were talking to larp scholars who stereotypically ha ve a pedantic viewpoint (not anyone at Knudepunkt, of course!), led to some complaints, which I will discuss later.

    Remarkably, Ryan was also setting up the website at the same time. Suddenly in the middle of August 2013, we were blindsided: Larping.org released their own Larp Census.

    The Larping.org census, in my extremely biased opinion, seemed to be heavily based on the first draft of questions we sent earlier. They used a Google poll form, required respondents’ emails, and skewed it to American larpers, e.g., using the U.S. dollar as the only type of currency, and asking a lot of questions that only made sense to campaign players.

    I was livid, and immediately began chewing out the new census, until Jordan Gwyther of Larping.org proved to me in a private mail conversation that I had given them permission to create their own and even promised support:

    Jordan: On the census/survey, I think we should go our own directions. We’ll be launching our own here shortly and will have no problem briefly promoting yours when it is ready. We hope that you will do the same for ours. 🙂

    Aaron: Yes, of course!

    D’oh!

    They received just under 4,000 replies, and, according to their own admission, over 17,000 complaints((Larp Census FAQ (English version)))—I do believe that is an exaggeration, though. Two weeks after their launch, Ryan and I bought our own domain.

    Ultimately, seeing the mistakes they made inspired us to tweak and revise our project and make it as good as we possibly could. We dove back into reiterating questions, testing, revising, etc. We were totally on our own, without any group or organization helping, sponsoring, or overseeing us.

    Besides the very generous and dedicated handful of reviewers and translators who worked on the Larp Census, everything else was the work of Ryan and sometimes myself. If you’re going to credit anyone, credit Ryan or the other names acknowledged on our FAQ page5. If you are going to blame anyone, blame me.

    Securing translations was also partially prompted from the Larping.org census. In order to avoid making ours “too American,” we introduced alternate currencies and continued that thought into offering the census in different languages. We really wanted to emphasize the global nature of larping. This was irksome because some words ha ve diff erent meanings in diff erent countries. Ryan and I spent at least fifteen Skype minutes debating the definition of “park,” which isn’t quite the same in New Zealand as it is in America.

    After weeks and weeks of iterations— although really it was days of nothing followed by bursts of work and conversation—Ryan finally decided to pull the trigger after most of the translations had arrived.

    The Larp Census went live on October 1, 2014, but the big launch occurred October 2, nearly 20 months after we began. What we had wasn’t flawless, but it was as good as we were going to get and still have it out in 2014. By the time translations started, the original questions in English were locked— we couldn’t change a word without asking all translators to change their versions, an odious task.

    Here’s a secret: from the beginning I knew we were doomed to fail. There was no way we were going to get every larper on Earth to answer the census or even close to it. But we wanted to get as many as possible. I hoped for 100,000 replies; Ryan, one million.

    The Run

    Once we publicly announced the census, it almost went viral. Here are the numbers of responses that came in per day for the first week, which made up more than half the total((Initial week’s totals provided by private email correspondence from Ryan Paddy)):

    DateResponses
    10/2/20145520
    10/3/20146564
    10/4/20141492
    10/5/20141044
    10/6/20141637
    10/7/20141176
    10/8/2014828

    I was smugly pleased to know that in two days we got triple the responses the other census garnered after running more than a year. Great numbers for us, but we never came close to these initial daily figures again. The server even crashed for a brief time in those first hours: but it was up and running again soon, thanks to Ryan and, probably, because we never returned to that level of activity.

    We didn’t have much of a marketing plan, if any. Social media such as Facebook worked best, while the ability to email your friends (once) was hardly used. Ryan and I are both old, so the new-fangled youth methods of communication are lost on us. Plus, we had no budget to do any ad buys—remember, this was just the two of us.

    Some translations required minor corrections in the first two weeks, which Ryan repaired with aplomb. We accepted offers to translate the census into Danish, Swedish, Japanese, and Hebrew, though we only completed the first three.

    We did give a few interviews on larp sites, and our push was always to larpers and larp groups. I sent press releases to mainstream geek sites like io9, Boing Boing, and Kotaku, but they didn’t reply. If only we had associated with College of Wizardry.

    All things considered the run went well even though we didn’t get the amount of responses we hoped for.

    The Lessons and Casualties

    Irrespective of the data, I learned a few things just from the census existing.

    First, there is no way to ever make everyone happy, ever. This should be obvious, but the point was nailed home after we received specific complaints from four people. Two said the census skewed tow ards boff er combat, and two said it favored theater-style.

    It even prompted one newcomer to write, “I’m a little turned off to larping as a consequence of filling out this survey.” By making sure every larp style was represented, we shrunk the spotlight on one person’s particular larp preference, which, to them, seemed like a slight.

    Second, race and racism are not the same in America as other countries. On the first page of the census we asked respondents to self-describe their race or ethnicity. I don’t know how it translated out of English, but the question upset a few people. Even asking about race offended them.

    On the other hand, for many Americans, to not ask the question would be seen as racially insensitive. Although it appears to be a Catch-22 situation, I hope to repair the issue in subsequent censuses with the phrasing “Please describe your racial and/or ethnic heritage. We understand this question may be offensive to some, and it is not our intention to do so. You can refuse to answer.” Or something equivalent.

    Third, and more positively, the census is provoking exactly the kind of discussions and issues we hoped it would. A long thread on LARP Haven spun out of Christopher Amherst’s analysis of the preliminary American statistics((Amherst, Christopher Preliminary Analysis of American Larp Census data)). The original poster noticed the male-female ratio in the U.S. is roughly 60% – 36% (with about 3% genderfluid or not answering) and wanted to know why more women weren’t participating in larps. A boisterous conversation ensued.

    Although I am aware of the dangers of relying too much on statistics, especially ones pseudo-scientifically generated, having nearly 30,000 larpers respond to the Larp Census will at least plant a few guideposts toward a deeper understanding about this art, hobby, or sport we enjoy. I am proud to know that our Census will finally provide some factual basis to confirm or refute a few Internet arguments while spawning hundreds more. This, I feel, is a Good Thing.

    By the way, we’re going to ask if you consider larp to be a sport, hobby, or art in the next version, coming up in about five years.

    For more information and to receive the data from the Larp Census, go to LarpCensus.org or find us on Facebook.

    No one on the list had figures beyond their own larp group’s roster or a few isolated surveys from years past, e.g., Joe Valenti of NERO offered a range from “ fifty-thousand to two million.”

    Ludography

    This article was initially published in The Knudepunkt 2015 Companion Book which was edited by Charles Bo Nielsen & Claus Raasted, published by Rollespilsakademiet and released as part of documentation for the Knudepunkt 2015 conference.

    Cover photo: “Hollerith Census Machine pantograph” by Marcin Wichary is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

  • Six Levels of Substitution

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    Six Levels of Substitution

    By

    Lauri Lukka

    The Behaviour Substitution Model

    You are gliding over the parquet, in a constant battle over who’s in charge. You lock eyes and tighten your grip pulling your partner just a bit closer. Your posture and precise footwork radiate confidence. Other players are holding their breath to see which one gives up the battle first. Actually, there is much more at stake: the dance is a metaphor for a duel. The game In Fair Verona, held in Stockholm in 2012, used dancing to simulate aggression and passion.

    There are many things that cannot be acted out in a game – and for this reason the behaviours acted out by the player cannot be identical to the behaviour of their character in the game world.

    Firstly, the behaviours may be illicit, unethical or dangerous to perform.

    Secondly, the behaviour of the character can be simply impossible: sadly, we do not actually have superpowers or control magic.

    Thirdly, the player may not have the skills or the knowledge to perform as their character.

    Fourth, the player may find it difficult to act out as their character due to a significant discrepancy between the personality, traits and demeanour of the player and the character, or lacking skills or confidence as an actor.
    Whatever the reason for the distinction between the actions, we strive to understand them. We have a constant, automatic tendency to seek meaning in other people’s behaviour, and we attempt to attribute a cause for it. This requires us to make interpretations about each other.

    In order for these interpretations to be valid, we must understand how big a difference there is between the behaviour we observe and that of the character. This article proposes a model of behaviour substitution by which the diff erence between the behaviours in- and outside of the game can be described hierarchically.

    In other words, the model can be used to assess whether a behaviour is simulated, and in what way. The model proposes six categories whose implications are discussed. Finally, it is suggested that this model can also be applied to other genres in which there is a fictional reality.

    The Behaviour Substitution Model

    The Behavior Substitution Model describes to what extent the actions of the player physically resemble those their character takes. When there is a high similarity between actions, the behaviour of the player is easily and unambiguously interpreted by other people from close and afar. When the behaviours are not similar, they do not physically resemble each other, and they require prior knowledge to interpret.

    The model proposes there is a continuum, divided into six categories, between the two extremes (Table 1). On one end, the actions the player and the character take are identical: there is no substitution.

    On the other end, the behavior is unrecognizable, impossible to understand and interpret without prior knowledge, or there is no behavior at all.

    LevelDescriptionAn Example
    No SubstitutionThe behaviour is nearly equal in the game world and outside of itFighting is real
    AdaptationThe behaviour is slightly adapted, yet it clearly resembles the one intendedFighting slowly using safe techniques
    GrotesqueThe behaviour is changed moderately, it requires effort to be interpretedFighting with grossly exaggerated movements
    SymbolicalThe behaviour is considerably changed, and does not resemble the original behaviourFighting is symbolized by dancing
    MechanicalThe behaviour is replaced by agreed upon game mechanics, and acted out by the playerFighting is resolved by a game of rock-paper-scissors or a computer game
    AbstractThe behaviour is not acted out, but communicated through other meansThe results of a fight are written down on a paper
    Table 1: The Behaviour Substitution Model

    Dual Process Theory

    To understand the model proposed more thoroughly, it is analysed through dual process theory. According to this theory, we have two complementary information processing systems: an implicit and an explicit one. The first system is very fast, automatic, nonverbal and unconscious. For example, consider your friend pushes a bottle from a table at a party. You instinctively try to catch it mid-air, without any conscious thought.

    Your reactions were guided by the implicit system that steered your attention to the object, and your hand to grab it. The explicit system operates in a very different way. It is slower, linked to language, logical, and often involves conscious reasoning. This type of processing happens for instance when we strive to learn something new, or try to figure out how to assemble an Ikea chair.

    These two systems work constantly together. When we are writing a letter on a computer, or driving a car, we do not have to pay attention to the individual movements of our hands or feet. Rather, the movements are automatic, guided by our implicit system. At the same time, our explicit system focuses on planning the outline of the text or route.

    Not surprisingly, these two systems are active also while during role-playing, and they tie closely to the proposed model: there is a correlation between the two systems. When there is no substitution, the more the implicit system can be used. The further we go toward the abstract end of the model, the more the explicit system comes in to play (Picture 1). This argument is elaborated below by each category.

    Picture 1: The Behaviour Substitution Model and the Dual Process Theory

    The Six Levels of Substitution

    #1: No Substitution

    On this level, the behaviour of the player is nearly identical to that of their characters’ in the game world. No substitution is required because the player is able and wants to physically, emotionally and socially act the behaviour out. Importantly, the player receives immediate, visceral feedback within themselves while acting. This strengthens the immersion: the player feels what their character is feeling.

    The behaviours, however, have to occur inside the magic circle of the game. This means that the player views themselves rather as a character in a game world than outside of it. At the same time, other players understand the player has transgressed the line to the game world. This can be communicated through the tone of one’s voice, clothing or the physical game space. When this distinction is clear, the behaviour itself is easily, intuitively and swiftly interpreted by the other players.

    #2: Adaptation

    On this level, the behaviour is slightly adapted to the situation, without compromising its communicative function to the player themselves and others. The player feels as if they are acting out behaviour, and other players often unambiguously understand what the player is doing within the reality of the game.

    #3: Grotesque

    The behaviour is moderately changed to suit the situation. In comparison to the levels above, the behaviour is clearly a compromise: it is acted out, but it does no longer clearly resemble the action portrayed. Therefore, it can be difficult to interpret, and in the worst cases it is unintentionally comical or embarrassing.

    The behaviour may be seen as true within the game reality, yet it seems somehow out of place, unnatural, acted, or false.
    The grotesqueness is exaggerated due to the discrepant information received through the two systems. The explicit system is telling the player they are doing one thing, but the information they receive through the implicit system does not support this. For instance, the player may walk but within the game they are running.

    Yet, they are not sweating or out of breath. At the same time, the other players struggle to interpret the behaviour. They have to remind themselves about the previously agreed upon rules, forbidding running, to understand the behaviour. Everyone has to invest conscious effort to correct the information received and possibly suppress conflicting physical reactions. This conflict between two levels of information may break or weaken the immersion of the game. Compare this to T-1000 from the Terminator 2, or zombies: they are both alive and dead at the same time, a key conflict behind their unnaturalness.

    #4: Symbolical Substitution

    On the symbolical level, the behaviour is given new meanings or it is substituted by another, similar behaviour. In the above mentioned example, tango was used to simulate interaction between two people. The relationship between the behavior and its meaning is no longer completely transparent. Observers oblivious to substitution may see the act as merely intensive dancing, while the players understand a fierce fight is occurring.

    This level can be used to give the player skills they do not have or cannot employ.

    Further, it can be used to simulate things blatantly impossible using the skills the player already has. The range of behaviours is no longer bound by the player’s skills or the physical world. It is important the players receive sufficient practice in the substitution before the game. The more the method is practiced, the easier it is for the players to interpret in the game. Also, the substituting behavior should be something that is not often acted out in the game. For instance, if knocking on the door means casting a spell, some awkward situations may arise.

    Even if one behaviour can be substituted by nearly anything, it is not irrelevant at all by which it is replaced – the choice of substitution greatly affects all the players. For example, social interaction can be simulated by a game of tennis, tug of war, or dancing. Each of these communicates differently to the player themselves and to others. Some behaviours can more easily and clearly convey emotions than others. Basically, the more you have options to move about, use your voice and gestures, the better your emotions will be conveyed.

    The substitutive behaviour also crucially affects the players acting it out. The more the behavior physically resembles the original, the clearer the implicit connection is. Substituting bull-riding by dancing or pulling a rope does not give the same sort of visceral feedback. When the two behaviours are intuitively connected, they are easy to compare and interpret. Consider again the example of dancing: the tone of the dance, which person leads, and how they hold their hands, is indicative of the relationship to the viewers, the partner, and the player themselves.

    The symbolical behavior can also be more allegorical, an extended metaphor. The game I love Ana used group exercises, support and writing rules to reinforce the players’ dedication to the cause.

    The whole game could be a metaphor in itself. A game could be about walking, a common metaphor for leading one’s life. The feeling of walking would give players visceral feedback they could explicitly interpret, making the core of the game. The road would add another layer to the game: the surface, inclination, views and other travelers would be given new meanings.

    To sum up, on this level the behavior is interpreted through prior knowledge. When the substituting behavior is physical, and intuitively connected to the behaviour portrayed, it can be used to convey a wide enough range of emotions.

    #5: Mechanical Substitution

    Playing poker in the game world is not a mechanical substitution, but a case of no substitution, while playing poker to determine the winner of a gun fight would be a mechanical substitution. This sort of substitution happens clearly outside the game’s reality, and requires rules and explicit explanation. As the name implies, the substitution often includes rolling dice, drawing cards, or comparing values.

    This is a fast and clear way to resolve anything from brief interactions to world- changing events, but it can feel light. The substitution underscores that everything within the game world is merely agreed upon, make-believe. This may break the immersion by reminding the player about the rules, which can be a welcome break from intense action.

    #6: Abstract Substitution

    On this level behaviour is no longer required, as it is implied by the consequences. For example, there may be a sheet of paper declaring there is a hovering sphere within the hallway.

    This level can be used to introduce players to elements of mystery, or to avoid mechanical substitution. At times, the behavior cannot objectively be deduced from the signifiers, but educated guesses can be thrown around. This lets the players use their imagination and storytelling skills which can result in more vivid and elaborate description than any above. This is especially true for such hard to simulate events such as magic, gross changes in the environment, or communicating events to players not present.

    Implications and Conclusions

    The six levels described above are already widely used in live action role-playing games. The model can be used to describe individual occurrences of substitutions, the range and the primary level used. It can also be extended beyond games, to genres of arts where there is a fictional world. No substitution is used as a primary level in 360 degree live action role-playing games, historical enactment, and many theatre productions. Adaptation is employed by many live action games, digital music games, and theatre performances. Grotesque level is generally not used as main level, but it is often briefly and unintentionally visited. The symbolic level is used in modern dance, and jeepform or freeform games. Table-top and digital role-playing games often mostly use the mechanical level. The abstract level is used, for instance, in the description of games.

    The level of substitution should be chosen based on its overall suitability for the game experience. The designer should carefully choose the techniques and levels of substitution to fit the message of the game, the theme, and the atmosphere. An ill- chosen level may break immersion, while a harmonious one can keep it up for hours. The culture affects the level of substitution. In some countries or subcultures hugging may be a convention, while in other places

    it may be frowned upon. The norms of the culture shape not only which behaviours should be substituted and simulated, but also how they are substituted. The more unconventional something is, the more abstract the level of substitution should be. For instance, sex can be such a taboo in some cultures that it can only be indicated indirectly; but in other parts of the world it could be presented symbolically. The level of substitution can often become silent information: new players are unaware of the conventions of the group. Therefore, substitutions should be clearly stated, preferably written down, to assure a pleasant and safe game experience for new and old players alike.

    In Summary

    The Behaviour Substitution Model describes the degree by which the actions of the player correspond to those their character takes within the game world. At times, the behaviour of the player and the character is identical: there is no substitution. In cases when the player is unable to act as their character due to their attributes, limitations of the physical world, or for ethical reasons, the behaviour may be substituted: simulated by something representing it. This can resemble the intended behaviour closely, symbolically or very remotely.

    How the behaviour is substituted should be assessed in the light of several factors. Optimally, the behaviour should convey the intended message clearly and richly, it should be physical, and it should be intuitively comparable to the activity portrayed. The result of the behaviour is easily understood by all the participants. In the best cases, the substituted behaviour adds to the game and gives it new depth. The way that something is substituted should be explicitly stated before the game, to ensure it is understood by all the participants.

    This article was initially published in The Knudepunkt 2015 Companion Book which was edited by Charles Bo Nielsen & Claus Raasted, published by Rollespilsakademiet and released as part of documentation for the Knudepunkt 2015 conference.

  • Brudpris

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    Brudpris

    By

    Anna-Karin Linder Krauklis

    Honor. Love. Patriarchy

    The Game

    Rune family, Katrin, Hilda, Rune, Terje (Post-game, Anna-Karin Linder Krauklis)Brudpris (Bridal Price) is set in Berge, a rural village in the fictional Mo culture. The culture of Mo is inspired by Nordic rural 19th century aesthetics. They live isolated from the outside world according to their strict patriarchal honor culture.

    The culture of Mo requires every adult person to show control and restriction. Mo believe women carry a potentially dangerous force inside them – the Force of Life. If harnessed, this power will grant them children and allow the Mo people to live on. However, if women are not controlled by the men of Mo, the Mo people believe this power will destroy their land in a blaze of fire and chaos. The chaos within every woman can be stronger or weaker, but it is always there. Therefore, every woman must be the responsibility of an adult man, who will make sure her behaviour doesn’t endanger Mo.

    The story in Brudpris revolves around the young boys and girls who are ready to leave the relative freedom of childhood behind and step into their respective roles as adults. Their fathers will find suitable partners for them, and every young woman will be married to a man who, from then onwards will be responsible for her. For the girls, this means an end to freedom; for the boys, the beginning of a crushing responsibility.

    Design Note

    The men, eating breakfast, separate from the women (Play, Simon Svensson)The original idea for Brudpris was to ‘turn up the volume’ on real world gender roles to make visible social norms and cultural practices we rarely notice in our real lives or would attribute to our own culture.

    We chose the Nordic historical inspired setting to avoid creating an ‘otherfication’ effect. Had we, for example, chosen to set the larp in a setting close to what we as westerners consider to be ‘typical honor culture’ countries, we would not only have had severe problems navigating some cultural appropriation dilemmas, but also risked making it look like “these people are not like us” – which was the opposite of what we wanted.

    Katrin is shaking after the forgiving-ritual. Hilda leads her beloved little sister into their tent where Katrin breaks down and starts crying. Hilda holds her and feels her own tears burning behind her eyelids, but she does not cry, just comforts her sister and dries her tears.

    You did so well says Hilda, You did not cry out there where others could have seen! She corrects her sister’s head scarf and gives her a smile before they exit the tent again. Hilda walks with a straight back. She is a woman of Mo.

    Siri Sandqvist, player

    The meal is finished. The wife, Runa, says: Tonight is the last night we dine together as a family. The sky, the moon and the heavens fall on Lars. But instead of showing this, he asks: Does anybody want some more water? Each member of his family replies with a nod. No words. No tears. It simply isn’t done in public in this family. They seek each other’s eyes, giving hints of their true feelings behind the facade. Still, the time they have left together isn’t enough. Not even close. Lars remembers he must get more water: Empty glasses look bad. He rises and imagines how his heart is left on the floor when he walks away. To feel and not allow yourself to show it. To love and not be allowed to say it.

    Anders Ohlson, player

    For the people of Mo, living a respectable and good life is about control and order. The patriarchs of the families are the carriers of both their own and their family’s honor. Everything their family members do will reflect on them. Most families have a little more leeway in private, away from the eyes of others. Internal struggles are common, but no family would willingly expose these problems to others.

    Design Note

    Another design challenge was explaining and using honor as a design feature. Although most are familiar with the term honor culture, we knew that the full meaning of honor, and the impact it has, would be hard to communicate to the players. For this reason we chose to create a religious explanation as to why women had to be controlled and why men had to take responsibility for them. This was the Force of Life. It gave a reason why it was important to control women’s behaviour. As a natural consequence, women in this culture had the sexual initiative, since men were expected to control both their own and their wife’s sexual drive.

    We also wanted to make clear that the honor culture of Mo was not a matter of personal choice or preference for the characters. It was integrated in every aspect of life, and going against the cultural norm would ha ve severe social consequences. Brudpris is chamber drama where the family unit is the focus of everyone’s play. Every family has secrets that can cause a public scandal if they are revealed. The feeling of constant pressure is kept by making public outbursts costly for everyone involved. Public scandals always have severe consequences. And if it is a woman who shames her husband, father or brother, she might be beaten publicly. Or in the worst case even killed.

    The men watched each other, or they believed the other men watched them. At no point could a man show his true feelings or show any sign of weakness without losing face in front of his peers. For me, this was one of the hardest parts: To be forced to do terrible things, while not being allowed to share it with anyone in Mo. In the game setting, this was normal and part of the responsibility of being a man.

    Mads Dehlholm Holst, player

    The Keips are the third gender of the Mo culture, recruited from boys who either fails the manhood test, or who don’t want to become men. The Keips are the only ones who can talk freely to anyone they wish; they play a key part in making the Mo culture function as a whole, crossing the social and cultural firewalls between men and women.

    This culture makes for a slow and quiet gameplay. Players rarely show ‘big’ emotions; the drama is played out with discreet gestures instead of obvious ones. Things are said with gazes, a discreet touch, a mumbled word of comfort, a quiet tear that is quickly wiped away.

    All the women beg forgiveness for their behaviour the night before. (Ritual) (Play, Simon Svensson)

    It was a terrible experience on many levels, this was really the quintessential nordic larp self-traumatizing emotional masochism that we all love and celebrate. But not a gratuitous one, like many strong games it had a basis in reality, that crept up on you afterwards and made you realize new things about people in the world.

    Oliver Nøglebæk, player: excerpt from Play report

    Forgive us. You had no way of changing your life. For your sake – and mine – I will make my own life different.
    You are just 34 years old and have many more years to live. I’m also 34, but my life is vastly different from yours and I will not let it go to waste.

    The only thing I want to keep with me from your life, is how your lust was so simple and powerful. It was probably the only positive thing about Mo. I will not be ashamed or let the culture – my culture, in the real world – turn me into a sexual object.

    Sofia Stenler, player: excerpt from Letter to Dina

    Some larp experiences you carry with you as not just a memory, but physically in your body. For me that is what happened after Brudpris. My character Hilda was a young woman. She was mature for her age and perfectly adapted to the violent honor culture she had grown up in.

    It was easy, comfortable even, to slip into her subdued body language and thought patterns. It was like an amplified version of my own teenage insecurities. And after the larp I felt that it was hard to move quickly and act out; my mind had also been partly absorbed by her. I still can’t feel hatred towards the men who mistreated her, I just feel love.

    Love because the violence was proof that she was loved and cared for. A Stockholm Syndrome so strong, it still lingers long after the larp is over.

    Siri Sandqvist, player

    And yet, that alluring lack of responsibility for my choices, that wish to be carried, that fear of talking and laughing too much, all resurfaced in you and moved you to give up everything.

    I wish it all had come from you (Beatrice) – because I certainly didn’t want to find that in me. I’m sorry.

    Annika Waern, player: excerpt from Letter to Beatrice

    Design Note

    Grownups in the Gere family: Dina, Gere, Aina (Post-game, Anna-Karin Linder Krauklis)We can’t be sure if this is the first game designed with honor as its main design feature, but we can tell that we sure didn’t have many examples to look at. We wondered at several instances if this larp was playable at all, or if the extreme imbalance in player agency would make it entirely dysfunctional. Regardless, we knew the game would put pressure on both the male and female cast.

    We wanted the (players who played) men to be powerful, and the (players who played) women to be close to powerless. Still, one must not believe we designed this game only for misery. We wanted to balance the horror and injustice by adding love, desire, affection, music and dancing. We wanted characters and families to feel relatable, like real people.

    Brudpris is a game that will stay with us a long time. Seen from our eyes as organizers, it was both gut-wrenchingly sorrowful and soberly beautiful, horribly cruel and heartwarmingly human. And although we put as much dedication as we could into the game design and preparations, it is the players who made the vision come to life.Their dedication to this game, their characters and each other have been complete. It is by far the best reward a larp organizer can get.

    Anna-Karin Linder Krauklis and Carolina Dahlberg, organizers and writers

    Brudpris

    Credits: Anna-Karin, Carolina Dahl- berg, Tor Kjetil Edland (producer) and Trine Lise Lindahl (producer)
    Date: September 17 – 21, 2014
    Location: Vestmarka, Norway
    Length: 3 days
    Players: 50
    Budget: €6,000
    Participation Fee: €110 (normal) €75 (youth)
    Game Mechanics: Minimal. In-game cultural rules.
    Website: http://brudpris.wordpress.com

    This article was initially published in The Nordic Larp Yearbook 2014 which was edited by Charles Bo Nielsen & Claus Raasted, published by Rollespilsakademiet and released as part of documentation for the Knudepunkt 2015 conference.

    Cover photo: Jan and Eskil in a conversation (Play, Simon Svensson). Other photos by Simon Svensson and Anna-Karin Linder Krauklis.

  • Post-larp Depression

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    Post-larp Depression

    By

    Sarah Lynne Bowman

    This text was originally featured in Analog Game Studies: http://analoggamestudies.org/2014/08/post-larp-depression/

    Larp occupies a unique place among analog games, for it demands as much from players’ bodies as it does from their minds. It comes then as no surprise that many players find themselves in the situation of feeling confused, exhausted, and emotionally raw after a larp event.1 In fact, larpers frequently exhaust themselves in advance through the leisure labor of planning their costumes, character actions, possible outcomes, and interactions. Subsequently, the event itself often features what some would describe as “intense content” – dramatic interpersonal dynamics, improvisational comedy, combat, political struggles, problem solving, etc. Intense content is there by design in order to maximize the emotional impact of the game. The sheer amount of emotional intensity experienced in a short time frame can impact any given larper, regardless of whether or not they found the experience enjoyable.2

    As with any high, the comedown can often feel shocking and depressing.

    According to many larpers, the return to the “real world” can feel deflating. The mind must divest itself from the vivid social reality of the larp, and attempting to communicate with outsiders about the events of game can feel alienating. Petri Lankoski and Simo Järvelä have argued that role-playing immersion and emotional bleed between the character and the player are, in fact, cognitive processes and “natural consequences” of how “the brain works.”3

    The emotional highs of game most likely have a hormonal component; endorphins, adrenaline, dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin levels shift as the result of game stimuli. As with any high, the comedown can often feel shocking and depressing.

    In-game photo: A former slave grapples with the emotions arising from the arrival of an arrogant slaver in town and a potential slave auction.
    In-game photo: A former slave grapples with the emotions arising from the arrival of an arrogant slaver in town and a potential slave auction.

    Post-larp depression is a common phenomenon and should not cause players excessive concern. Indeed, participants report similar experiences after attending events at fan conventions, conferences, kink scenes, festivals, and so on.4 The BDSM community in particular has developed strategies for aftercare, referring to the depression participants experience after a scene as “crash” and “drop.”5 Both scholars and practitioners have noted the connection between BDSM and role-playing scenes,6 indicating that the phenomenological mental processes are probably similar. Mental illness and role-play are not necessarily interrelated,7 but the drop after an intense event may trigger imbalances already in place. This article describes strategies some larpers employ for transitioning between the game to the “real world” and coping with post-larp depression. By mobilizing these diverse techniques, larpers recognize the larp as a non-trivial intervention in their daily emotional lives.

    The drop after an intense event may trigger imbalances already in place.

    One of the most common strategies is to tell war stories and/or hold a debriefing afterwards, both of which constitute a reframing of the larp material. Larpers often process the experiences they had by sharing memories of what transpired in the game with one another. War stories tend to valorize, intellectualize, or make humorous moments that occurred in game, whereas debriefing tends to take emotional content seriously in order to process and move through it.8

    Both forms of “reframing” are important for larpers, allowing them to validate their experiences in the eyes of others. Storytelling also permits larpers to structure the oft-chaotic experience of a larp, drawing together a cohesive narrative that is easier to master.9

    War stories can be found anywhere there are larpers. However, those who choose to debrief are perhaps best able to do so in small groups with trusted friends and/or in a structured fashion with a moderator. Some larpers also assign each other debriefing buddies, who promise to contact each other in some fashion later. These debriefing buddies are expected to remain available to each other long-term as they share feelings that come up days, weeks, or months after the larp.10

    In-game photo: In the zombie survival game Dystopia Rising, a character comforts a couple who just experienced a miscarriage. Such experiences can leave lasting emotional impacts.
    In-game photo: In the zombie survival game Dystopia Rising, a character comforts a couple who just experienced a miscarriage. Such experiences can leave lasting emotional impacts.

    Adapted from psychotherapy, some larp circles also employ the process of deroling to recover from larpers’ adoption of an alternate persona for long periods of time, which requires a different frame of reference. Regardless of whether a larper’s “real” persona is similar, pleasant and unpleasant in-game memories, thoughts, and emotions persist long after the larp has ended. Such thoughts, emotions, and experiences may bleed-out into one’s daily life.11

    Some larpers thus perform de-roling rituals to avoid problematic forms of bleed. These de-roling rituals vary in activity and scope, but include: taking off a piece of one’s character’s costume and placing it in a circle, saying goodbye to the character for a time12; thinking of one or more aspects of one’s character that one admires and “taking” it with them; thinking of one or more aspects of one’s character one dislikes and wishes to leave behind13; speaking about one’s character in the third person during war stories or debriefing to emphasize a sense of distance14; and making sure to interact with all the people from a larp both in-character and out-of-character to emphasize the distinction15.

    Socializing with one’s fellow larpers actually tends to increase the feelings of emotional safety in the larp space

    Other larpers forego the angst and throw a party instead. Oftentimes, relaxing pre- and post-game social events unaffiliated with the game fiction help players connect with one another and relieve post-game depression. These social events include MeetUps, “afters,” dinners, parties, coffee dates, online discussions, etc.16

    Socializing with one’s fellow larpers actually tends to increase the feelings of emotional safety in the larp space, so that players get to know one another well and can better distinguish between in-game and out-of-game actions. Also, interacting in new contexts tends to deepen bonds of friendship that already get forged at the game. Social events give larpers the space to have conversations with one another that might not otherwise take place, working through conflict and increasing trust.

    Some players further emphasize nurturing their physical and emotional well-being after a larp, taking care of mind and body. They insist upon players sleeping, eating, bathing well, and not pushing themselves too hard. Human touch is also said to be helpful, if one feels comfortable with hugs.17

    Return to the everyday. Photo by Ali Edwards CC BY-NC-ND.
    Return to the everyday. Photo by Ali Edwards CC BY-NC-ND.

    Depending on the intensity of the larp, sometimes people can take days to recover. For the mind, some players find it helpful to write about their experiences after events. Players may share these memories or keep them private. The mere act of committing events to paper helps individuals externalize and order their experiences in a meaningful way.18 Players may also seek to simply distract themselves, moving from one immersive activity to another: watching a few episodes of a television show, reading a book, playing another role-playing game, and so forth. Transporting the frame of reference from one to another may smooth the transition for some players.

    Lastly, one effective strategy to ease the transition back to the mundane world is the act of showing gratitude to the other larpers and the organizers themselves. This act of storytelling can boost morale. It dignifies the presence of all involved, and lets everyone know that they mutually enhanced each other’s experience. The organizers in particular expend a great deal of time and energy to create a fulfilling experience, and players who acknowledge that effort may find the overall experience of returning to life less deflating.

    Not all players experience post-larp depression, however. Some fluidly transition back to their daily lives. Other participants have noted an inverse phenomenon called “post-larp charisma,” in which players are fueled with an abundance of creative energy.19 Others still object to the use of psychological terms such as “depression” or the more conversational phrase “post-larp blues,” preferring to refer to the phenomenon as “post-larp” to avoid the connotations of mental dysfunction.20 Responses to intense game events can vary and no one strategy works for all people. The most important point remains, however: the effects of larp on the players are often too significant to ignore, as are the impact of the techniques outlined here.

    Featured image borrowed from Liqueur Felix @Flickr.

    1. Eirik Fatland, “Debriefing Intense Larps 101,” The Larpwright, July 23, 2013; Peter Munthe-Kaas, “Post-Larp,” Munthe-Kaas.dk/blog, October 23, 2013; Tobias Bindslet and Pernille Schultz, “De-Fucking,” Playground Magazine 2, 2011, pp.30-33. ↩︎
    2. Fatland; Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Bleed: How Emotions Affect Role-playing Experiences,” Nordic Larp Talks Oslo, 2013. ↩︎
    3. Petri Lankoski and Simo Järvelä, “An Embodied Cognition Approach for Understanding Role-playing,” International Journal of Role-Playing 3, 2012, pp.18-32. ↩︎
    4. Beth Dolgner, “Post-Con Depression: Its Symptoms and Treatment,” Beth Dolgner: Writer, Editor, September 4, 2012; Munthe-Kaas. ↩︎
    5. Gregg Norris, Glossary of BDSM (Bondage, Discipline, Dominance, Submission, Sadism, Masochism, Brian Phillippe, 2010. ↩︎
    6. J. Tuomas Harviainen, “Sadomasochist Role-playing as Live Action Role-playing: A Trait-Descriptive Analysis,” International Journal of Role-playing 1, pp.59-70; Hanne Grasmo, “Taking Care” Playground Magazine 2, 2011, pp.28-29. ↩︎
    7. Fatland. ↩︎
    8. Fatland; Lizzie Stark, “How to Run a Post-Larp Debrief,” Lizzie Stark.com, December 1, 2013. ↩︎
    9. Johanna Koljonen, Peter Munthe-Kaas, Bjarke Pedersen, and Jaakko Stenros, “The Great Player Safety Controversy,” Panel at Solmukohta 2012,  Nurmijärvi, Finland, April 13, 2012; Johanna Koljonen, “The Second Great Player Safety Controversy,” Presentation at Knutepunkt 2013, Haraldvangen, Norway, April 19, 2013. ↩︎
    10. Fatland; Stark. ↩︎
    11. Markus Montola, “The Positive Negative Experience in Extreme Role-playing.” Proceedings of DiGRA Nordic 2010: Experiencing Games: Games, Play, and Players, 2010; Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Social Conflict in Role-playing Communities: An Exploratory Qualitative Study,” International Journal of Role-Playing 4, 2013, pp.17-18. ↩︎
    12. Stark. ↩︎
    13. Munthe-Kaas; Sarah Lynne Bowman, ed. The Book of Mad About the Boy (2012 US Run): Documenting a Larp Project about Gender, Motherhood and Values, Copenhagen, Denmark: Rollespilsakademiet, 2012. ↩︎
    14. Stark. ↩︎
    15. Stark. ↩︎
    16. Fatland; Bowman, “Social Conflict,” p.19; Stark. ↩︎
    17. Fatland; Bowman, “Social Conflict,” p.19. ↩︎
    18. Fatland ↩︎
    19. Fatland. ↩︎
    20. Søren Ebbehøj, “The Great Player Safety Mess,” Presentation at Knutpunkt 2014: Sharpening the Cutting Edge, Gullbrannagården, Sweden, April 4, 2014. ↩︎
  • Baltic Warriors: Helsinki

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    Baltic Warriors: Helsinki

    By

    Juhana Pettersson

    Saving the Environment with Zombies

    Characters listening during the debate. (Play, Sarita Sharma)Tourists are standing in the queue for the Ferris wheel. Some are eating ice cream. Suddenly two viking zombies, covered in seaweed, shamble from behind the ticket booth. They stumble and crawl to reach the higher platform of the popup cafe. The zombies ignore the tourists and other bystanders, because they’re not players.

    There’s a public discussion of the state of the Baltic Sea going on in the cafe. There are politicians, activists and lobbyists arguing what should be done to save the Baltic Sea from an imminent ecological catastrophe, and who should do it. This is the larp.

    At first, the characters look at the zombies in confusion, but after the first couple are infected, panic ensues. As one of the organizers, I scramble around picking up purses, shoes and other items the players drop during their impressive zombification scenes. The zombie victims are rushed into makeup so they too can join the undead horde, and I take personal items to the back room of the cafe for safekeeping.

    Baltic Warriors: Helsinki was the first in a hopefully longer series of political larps about environmental issues related to the Baltic Sea, and especially to the way oxygen depletion in the water can lead to “dead zones” in which nothing lives. These are caused by many different things, but one culprit is industrial agriculture.

    This and future larps are part of the wider Baltic Warriors transmedia project. The creative outline of the project is by Mike Pohjola. He was also the principal designer for this larp, with some help from me. The Baltic Warriors project is a complicated international co-production, steered by the German film company Kinomaton.

    Baltic Warriors: Helsinki was played at the Allas popup cafe on the Helsinki waterfront on the 30th of August, 2014.

    Zombies

    Viking zombie design by Julius Sepponen (left) of Make Up For Ever Academy Finland. (Play, Juhana Pettersson)In 2011, I published an article called The Necessary Zombie in one of that year’s Knudepunkt books, Talk Larp. I argued that even an experimental larp must have some elements that are familiar to the participants, and that they are comfortable with. It’s hard to be creative if all the elements of the game feel foreign and opaque. I called this familiar element the Necessary Zombie because zombies are one example of an element familiar to most. We all know what to do in a zombie game.

    I never really expected to end up actually making a game with zombies, necessary or otherwise, but in the spring of 2014, I was asked to join the organizing team of Baltic Warriors. My job was to act as a larp producer in the context of the wider transmedia work.

    The Necessary Zombie has more to do with Baltic Warriors than just the zombies. Baltic Warriors is a political creative project, and that means it’s supposed to reach people. As transmedia projects tend to do, it consists of many different kinds of media operating on different levels. Some are national or international, and others, such as larp, are local.

    In Pohjola’s larp design, the zombie is meant to liven up an otherwise dry subject, and to make the game easier to approach for the participants. It also acts as a blunt metaphor. In our fiction, the Dead Zones forming and growing in the Baltic Sea would make long-dead viking warriors rise from their watery graves as terrifying undead monsters seeking to attack the living. In the game, the political debate was cut short by the attack of the viking zombies.

    This went into the heart of the political analysis underlying our game: Everyone agrees that something should be done to help the Baltic Sea.

    Yet very little is happening. If this continues, soon it will be too late. Too much talk, too little action, and the viking zombies will get you. Or the damage to the sea will be so severe, it can’t be fixed.

    Risks

    The Finnish Minister of the Environment in the post-game panel discussion. (Post-game, Miia Laine)In its first game, the Baltic Warriors project was following ideas about rapid prototyping and iterative game design championed by Eirik Fatland and Bjarke Pedersen, as well as following my own experiences in the use of a test game to help with the design of the larp Halat hisar. The basic idea is pretty simple: Since larp is relatively cheap and easy to produce, why not try out ideas in smaller games before committing resources and time?

    This attitude also encourages taking creative risks. Will it work? We’ll see! It’s a test game. We also had a reason to run a test game that went beyond the demands of the game itself. The transmedia nature of the wider Baltic Warriors project demands that we document the larps thoroughly. In the test game, our documentary crew would get valuable experience with how to shoot larp.

    The location was provided by one of the partners, the Korjaamo cultural center. As a larp space, the open-air cafe was pretty much the opposite of private: In addition to our documentation team and reporters and photographers from various media, there were tourists and random passersby. Indeed, this was part of the design. You could jump into the game after a brief talk with an organizer.

    It was supposed to work so that you’d get a short instant-character, a couple of pointers about what you could do, and you’d be ready to start playing. You were a citizen, a version of yourself, who had come to the meeting to air some of your own concerns about the state of the Baltic Sea.

    Unfortunately, this was one of the parts of the game that didn’t really work. We only had two people who did this. One of them managed to become part of the game, the other didn’t until the zombie attack, which had a democratizing effect.

    Baltic Warriors is the second political larp project I’ve been involved in, after Halat hisar. In both cases, using the game to get media attention for the issues has been a part of the overall strategy of the project. Getting media interest for a game is really about how good a story it makes. Halat hisar was easy to publicize: Palestinian larp in Finland is a good story. Baltic Warriors was not especially difficult, but definitely harder than Halat hisar had been. It didn’t have an exceptional hook, which meant it had to compete with all other newsworthy events and cultural happenings going on at the same time.

    We got a few mentions on radio and local news, and one really nice article and video in Helsingin Sanomat, the biggest newspaper in Helsinki. I only later found out how this had come to be: through relentless badgering of the paper, by many different people in our organizing group.

    Organizer Mike Pohjola being interviewed by Helsingin Sanomat during the larp. (Play, Juhana Pettersson)

    The Participants

    During the production we joked that we had more partner organizations than we had players. The punchline was that this was literally true. Of course, this was because our small game was the pilot for a big project. It had the support structure of a much more ambitious production.

    Our system for who played in the game was somewhat chaotic. We had a public sign up, we invited players, we had people just show up, and at the very last minute, many of the people from the organizations we worked with decided to play. This proved to be a very good thing: Larp is hard to grasp if you don’t try, but when you do try, its power becomes manifest. In complicated transmedia projects, it’s good that the people who are involved understand and appreciate the form.

    As a result, we had a strange player base: Some were larpers who knew how to make game but didn’t have a lot of personal experience with environmental politics. Others were professional activists who were new to larp but knew the subject of the game very well.

    At least in my estimation, this combination worked well, with larpers helping to make the game work and the newcomers giving it some authenticity.

    In practice, we tried to cast characters so that there would be mixed groups. For example, a larper could play a politician and an activist could play her assistant. We planned the characters so that the politician in this scenario would be more of a “face” character, and the assistant more of an “action” character.

    Some of the participants were given characters who were the opposite of who they were in real life. For example, one activist player had a business lobbyist character. A participant who was a real business lobbyist got a character who was an environmental activist.

    I believe that most people can larp pretty well on their first try, especially in a game with experienced players. That’s how it went this time too. It was fun especially because some of the players from the partner organizations were of an older generation. It gave the game verisimilitude. After the game, we held a public discussion about the issues raised in the game. The idea was that it would be good to show how things were in the real world: What was fiction, and what was true. In the panel discussion, one of the participants was the Finnish Minister of the Environment at that time, Ville Niinistö.

    Unfortunately, we couldn’t get him to play in the larp itself.

    The Attack

    Organizer Juhana Pettersson (left) and a participant during the debrief. (Post-game, Miia Laine)The political debates of the game ended in a pre-designed non sequitur: The zombie attack. We had briefed players about this beforehand. Practicing the rules had doubled as a warm-up exercise before the game started. What had until that point been a very social, discussion-oriented game suddenly turned into everyone running around the place trying to complete the ritual to banish the zombies.

    If the players managed to carry enough clean water in their hands to the ritual location, they would win. If not, the zombies would win.

    Trying to care for clean water was a game mechanic, and according to player feedback, it worked on a conceptual level.

    The zombies were a structural choice I had been a little worried about, because on a story level, it was kind of random. It proved to work in practice, though, probably because it gave the game an action- oriented, fun ending. The characters could only survive by working together to achieve a common goal. That was a good thing to finish with.

    Baltic Warriors: Helsinki

    Credits: Mike Pohjola (Design), Juhana Pettersson (Additional design and production), Sarita Sharma (Production), Harmke Heezen & Miia Laine (Production Assistance), Julius Sepponen & Make Up For Ever Academy Finland (Zombie Effects), (Film documentation), Kinomaton Berlin & Made Partners: Goethe Institute, Baltic Sea Action Group, Korjaamo, Helsingin kaupunki, Finnland-istitut in Deutschland, AVEK, Medienboard, Berlin-Brandenburg, Media, Filmförderung Hamburg Schleswig- Holstein, Nipkow Programm, EsoDoc (Production)
    Date: August 30, 2014
    Location: Helsinki, Finland
    Length: 3 hours
    Players: 20
    Budget: €1,000
    Participation Fee: none
    Game Mechanics: First minimal, then light zombie mechanics
    Website: http://balticwarriors.net

    This article was initially published in The Nordic Larp Yearbook 2014 which was edited by Charles Bo Nielsen & Claus Raasted, published by Rollespilsakademiet and released as part of documentation for the Knudepunkt 2015 conference.

    Cover photo: Participants discuss the game while a member of our film crew records sound (Pre-game, Juhana Pettersson). Other photos by Miia Laiene and Juhana Pettersson.

  • Returning to the Real World

    Published on

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    Returning to the Real World

    By

    Sarah Lynne Bowman

    Debriefing After Role-playing Games

    Debriefing is a somewhat controversial topic in role-playing communities today. While some individuals feel that games should remain distinct from the mundane world and debriefing is an unnecessary complication, many role-players have grown concerned about difficulties in the process of transitioning between intense game experiences back to mundane life.1 As part of our Nordiclarp.org series on emotional safety and conflict resolution in role-playing communities, this article analyzes the various formats, benefits, and drawbacks of post-game debriefing after a role-playing experience. Though debriefing is most often discussed in larp circles,2 the process can also be useful in tabletop role-playing.

    Ritualized Post-game Activities

    Several scholars have noted that the role-playing experience is similar to a ritual

    Several scholars have noted that the role-playing experience is similar or identical to a ritual, in which participants engage in a liminal experience.3 Liminality describes an in-between, amorphous, and ephemeral space where the social rules of reality are changed and new roles are inhabited for the purposes of the ritual. Drawing upon Arnold van Gennep’s and Victor Turner’s theories, role-playing scholars note the ways in which just as in religious or other social rituals, role-players experience a preparation, liminal, and return phase.

    In the preparation phase, individuals engage in various activities to transform themselves physically and emotionally for the ritual. In the case of larp, for example, preparation might include creating a backstory, assigning points to a character sheet, crafting a costume, memorizing game rules, or building character ties with other participants. Recent larp practitioners have advocated for workshopping as another powerful tool during the preparation phase,4 in which players have the opportunity to build trust with other participants, develop their character backstories through scenes, and try out mechanics or techniques that may come up in the game.

    Photo by Johannes Axner
    Photo by Johannes Axner

    Similarly, role-playing groups have several informal activities for the return phase of the ritual that have emerged in various communities as needed. Examples of solitary post-game activities include in-character and out-of-character journaling, which players may choose to share with others as game memories or keep private. Immersion into other games, narratives, or work activities can also help people switch gears to another mental and emotional framework. Many post-game activities are more social in nature, such as dinners or parties, often called afters. In recent years, post-game social activities often take place on the Internet, as players post on social media sites such as Facebook, Google+, blogs, and forums about their experiences and connect with other participants. We can consider these emergent activities forms of informal debriefing.

    The bulk of the content of these forms of sharing involves war stories, in which participants narrativize events from game as their character experienced them.5 War stories often have a humorous or excited tone regardless of the subject matter of the story, as the process of retelling is often experienced as exhilarating. During war stories, players do connect with their characters by reliving their experiences, but they also are able to create a form of distance by telling the story in a humorous or otherwise distanced way. This distance is quite healthy for the psyche by allowing for reframing. Reframing is a way for the psyche to make sense of the amorphous, confusing, and ephemeral experiences that transpire within the liminality of role-playing by creating a linear, controlled narrative of that gets committed to memory with each retelling. War stories also work to reinforce social ties between others who were part of the experience as they are allowed to hear events from the perspective of others.

    Photo by Johannes Axner
    Photo by Johannes Axner

    Ultimately, war stories are most pleasurable for the players telling the stories; their experiences are validated when others listen and retelling allows them to relive the intensity of both high and low moments in the game in a positive framework. However, war stories rarely allow players to express some of the deeper emotional content that they experienced in the game. The format of the war story focuses on “awesome” experiences and emphasizes a sort of exhilaration in the retelling. If a player is experiencing a negative response to the game, the war story format is generally not compatible with a more serious expression of sharing, which might feel like a “buzzkill” to other gamers.

    Recent discussions in experimental groups such as the Nordic larp and freeform communities about emotional safety in role-playing6 emphasize the need for these deeper, serious forms of sharing, especially in powerful games where physical and emotional limits are tested. Such forms of testing can produce the experience of bleed – where a player’s emotions, thoughts, relationships, and physical states bleed over into the character and visa versa – which can often produce lasting emotional impacts after the game.7 For example, if one’s character dies or the life of a loved one is threatened in game, a player may experience those emotions of fear and grief after the game is over. Similarly, if a character has a negative interaction in the game such as a physical or social attack, they may experience confusing feelings of anger or frustration toward both the character and the player in question.

    The alibi of the game allows players to distance themselves from any events that take place in-character and in-game

    While the informal debriefing strategies described above may create space for people to express these feelings and contextualize them, players may feel uncomfortable sharing, especially if the play culture does not encourage such types of discussion. Some communities strongly emphasize the difference between player and character, which role-playing theorists call alibi.8 The alibi of the game allows players to distance themselves from any events that take place in-character and in-game. Classic statements reinforcing alibi include: “It wasn’t me, it’s what my character would have done,” “It’s just a game,” and “You can’t separate fantasy from reality.” While alibi does exist in that role-players are distinct from their characters, statements such as these are often used to minimize or invalidate the experiences of others in distress. If someone wishes to express their feelings in a culture where such statements are common, they are often seen as “taking the game too far,” “having no life,” or needing to “walk it off.”

    Formal Debriefing as an Alternate Strategy

    A formal debrief is integrated into the game as part of the experience

    As a result of these issues, individuals in communities such the Nordic larp and American freeform traditions9 have started implementing formal debriefing into their games. A formal debrief – as opposed to an optional afters — is often integrated into the game as part of the experience and is sometimes complemented by a pre-game workshop session. This practice was adopted from theatre, educational games, and military exercises; though the learning connotation is not emphasized as strongly in the leisure activity of role-playing, formal debriefs can certainly encourage an atmosphere of learning from one’s experiences within the game. In a formal debrief, participants take turns sharing their experiences from the game in a serious tone, focusing on deeply emotional moments, both positive and negative. Ideally, each player is given the opportunity to have equal sharing time in a formal debrief and no one person should dominate the conversation. Thus, a moderator is often necessary to maintain the debriefing format. This moderator need not be one of the game organizers, who are often overwhelmed with other logistics, but should have at least some experience leading group exercises.

    Formal debriefs are often confused with other formalized post-game activities that have emerged in some communities. Examples include game wraps after one-shot games, in which each player explains what secrets their character kept from others and their true motivations,10 or MVP Awards, in which each player nominates another for enhancing their experience in a significant way. Alternately, players may critique game design or implementation in such formal settings, providing feedback to organizers. Again, while these activities are technically formalized, they often do not allow space for individuals to share troubling emotions and usually resemble war stories more than formal debriefs. Games that feature “lighter” content or greater degrees of fantasy are sometimes considered safer emotionally and assumed to not need a debrief. However, in some instances, these sorts of games take people by surprise in terms of the depth of their emotional responses, particularly if they experienced a trigger to some past emotional trauma unrelated to the game.11

    Photo by Johannes Axner
    Photo by Johannes Axner

    No one formula exists for the length, content, or number of participants in formal debriefs. Based on personal experience, an optional two-hour debrief after a three-day campaign game in groups of 3-6 has proven beneficial, although we also eat dinner during this time period, which serves the purpose of afters as well. During these debriefs, we first ask players to share the most profound emotional experiences they had in-game for one or two rounds, then ask participants to share their happiest moment for one round in order to end on a positive note. Alternately, two Larps from the Factory instructional videos detail a 2-3 minute debrief one-on-one followed by a thirty second debrief to the group, in which all players must limit their discussion to a succinct statement.12

    Other games, such as the U.S. run of the Norwegian game Mad About the Boy, featured a multi-tiered debrief, in which individuals shared one-on-one, in small groups, in larger groups, and then as a big group over the course of a couple of hours.13 After this debrief, compulsive sharing took place over the group mailing list for at least a week, which was compiled in a documentation book.14 Mad About the Boy also featured de-roleing buddies: groups of three players who exchanged email addresses and made themselves available for serious discussion in the future.

    De-roleing strategies are helpful at the start of the debrief as a formal transition

    Other de-roleing strategies include symbolically placing a personal item of the character’s into the center of the group; describing one quality that the player likes about the character and wants to keep with them; and admitting one quality that the player dislikes about the character and wishes to leave behind. These strategies are helpful at the start of the debrief as a formal transition. Additionally, players can make an effort to use third-person language to describe their character’s feelings and actions during the debrief,15 which can create additional distance from the role and diffuse negative dynamics with others.

    Players should also take care to avoid saying “you” when addressing other players, especially in an emotionally charged context. After all, alibi still exists, and the character performed the action, not the player. Some advocate for separating players in debriefing groups who have experienced emotionally-charged dynamics in games – such as victim and villain, or lovers experiencing a difficult quarrel — allowing individuals to feel free to express themselves without inhibition. Others suggest keeping the debriefing space open for all participants to hear, as such sharing might help people learn from one another’s perspectives and develop empathy. In this case, the multi-tiered option might be most beneficial, allowing players to share as little or as much as they like in small or large groups. Additionally, game organizers may also need a formal debrief with one another, which can help curtail issues of burn-out, feelings of under-appreciation, and exhaustion.

    Critiques of Formal Debriefing and Possible Solutions

    Formal debriefing is not without its detractors

    Formal debriefing is not without its detractors. Some individuals dislike having others reframe their experience by feeling compelled to listen to another person’s sharing. Others prefer to process their feelings independently, reaching out to others when they feel ready. Others have felt that the formal debriefing process is too long, taking away from valuable game, cleaning, or travel time. Some feel that debriefing encourages a “culture of victimhood,” in which individual players’ negative emotions are disproportionally featured over the positive experiences they and other members of the group have had, which colors the whole experience. Some feel they do not need to debrief and others dislike feeling compelled to speak.

    Such problems are not, in my view, reasons to discard the debriefing process completely. Much of these issues are resolvable through sufficient moderation. Players should be allowed to opt-out of formal debriefing, but also highly encouraged to participate as an important part of the ritual process. They should not feel compelled to speak; moderators should open space for individuals to share, but allow them to pass if necessary. Moderators can use a timer to make sure that each individual has enough time to share. They should remind players to “cut to the emotional chase” in terms of avoiding long war stories and addressing the core emotional components of the event.

    Photo by Johannes Axner
    Photo by Johannes Axner

    Moderators should intercede if a debrief becomes too heated or accusatory, as debriefing should feel like a safe space for everyone to share. Encouraging third-person address for participants is a helpful strategy for reducing negative bleed, i.e. “My character felt scared when your character screamed at her” rather than “you yelled at me, which made me feel scared.” Ultimately, encouraging players to end debriefing with happy stories helps each individual remember why they enjoy playing the game. “Happy” stories may include stories with darker content, i.e. “It was so awesome when your character yelled at my character! I was laughing inside, but she was so scared!” However, ideally, “happy memories” might include moments of connection with other people, such as, “My character was so scared, but it felt so encouraging when Johnny’s character placed a hand on her shoulder in support.” Finally, formal debriefing should not be viewed not the only method to resolve emotional reactions after a game, as players can also process in informal debriefs, one-on-one, or in a solitary fashion.

    Feeling Heard

    Ultimately, the goal of any sort of post-game sharing — be it war stories, critiques of the game, or debriefing — is for players to feel heard. Often, groups can avoid long-standing grudges, loss of players from a community,16 or post-larp depression17 if they simply provide space for others to share their feelings. Return to the mundane world can feel alienating after the intensity of experiences within a game. The other players who participated in that shared fiction are often the best and most qualified individuals to help one another transition. Formal debriefing establishes a play culture in which emotional experiences are considered valid and speaking about these moments is not only acceptable, but normative. The more debriefing is practiced in games, the less strange or undesirable serious sharing will seem to players unfamiliar with the process.

    1. Sarah Lynne Bowman and Evan Torner, “Post-Larp Depression,” Analog Game Studies 1, no. 1. ↩︎
    2. Eirik Fatland, “Debriefing Intense Larps 101,” last modified July 23, 2013, The Larpwright, http://larpwright.efatland.com/?p=384; Peter Munthe-Kaas, “Post-Larp,” last modified October 23, 2013, Munthe-Kaas.dk/blog, http://munthe-kaas.dk/blog/?tag=post-larp; Tobias Bindslet and Pernille Schultz, “De-Fucking,” Playground Magazine 2, 2011, 30-33; Lizzie Stark, “How to Run a Post-Larp Debrief,” last modified December 1, 2013, Lizzie Stark.com, http://leavingmundania.com/2013/12/01/run-post-larp-debrief/. ↩︎
    3. For a few examples, see Christopher I. Lehrich, “Ritual Discourse in Role-playing Games,” last modified October 1, 2005, The Forge, http://www.indie-rpgs.com/_articles/ritual_discourse_in_RPGs.html; J. Tuomas Harviainen, “Information, Immersion, Identity: The Interplay of Multiple Selves During Live-Action Role-Play,” Journal of Interactive Drama: A Multi-Discipline Peer-Reviewed Journal of Scenario-Based Theatre-Style Interactive Drama 1, no. 2 (October 2006): 11; Sarah Lynne Bowman, The Functions of Role-playing Games, Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2010, pp. 15, 48-53; J. Tuomas Harviainen and Andreas Lieberoth,“The Similarity of Social Information Processes in Games and Rituals: Magical Interfaces,” Simulation & Gaming (April 10, 2011): 528-549. ↩︎
    4. Jesper Bruun, “Pre-larp Workshops as Learning Situations – Matching Intentions with Outcome,” in Think Larp: Academic Writings from KP2011, edited by Thomas Duus Henriksen, Christian Bierlich, Kasper Friis Hansen, and Valdemar Kølle (Copenhagen, Denmark: Rollespilsakademiet, 2011), 194-215; The Workshop Handbook, last modified July 29, 2005, http://workshophandbook.wordpress.com/. ↩︎
    5. Stark, “How to Run a Post-Larp Debrief”. ↩︎
    6. Johanna Koljonen, Peter Munthe-Kaas, Bjarke Pedersen, and Jaakko Stenros, “The Great Player Safety Controversy,” Panel at Solmukohta 2012,  Nurmijärvi, Finland, April 13, 2012; Johanna Koljonen, “The Second Great Player Safety Controversy,” Presentation at Knutepunkt 2013, Haraldvangen, Norway, April 19, 2013; Johanna Koljonen, “Safety in Larp,” Presentation at the Larpwriter Summer School 2013, Vilnius, Lithuania, last modified Aug. 1, 2013, YouTube, Fantasiforbundet, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qho9O_EMG34; Johanna Koljonen, “Emotional and Physical Safety in Larp – Larpwriter Summer School 2014,” Presentation at the Larpwriter Summer School 2014, Vilnius, Lithuania, last modified Aug. 3, 2014, YouTube, Fantasiforbundet, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g-cPmM2bDcU. ↩︎
    7. Markus Montola, “The Positive Negative Experience in Extreme Role-playing,” Proceedings of DiGRA Nordic 2010: Experiencing Games: Games, Play, and Players, 2010; Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Bleed: How Emotions Affect Role-playing Experiences,” Nordic Larp Talks Oslo, 2013; Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Social Conflict in Role-playing Communities: An Exploratory Qualitative Study,” International Journal of Role-Playing 4, 2013: 17-18. ↩︎
    8. Markus Montola and Jussi Holopainen, “First Person Audience and Painful Role-playing,” in Immersive Gameplay, edited by Evan Torner and William J. White (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2012). ↩︎
    9. Lizzie Stark, et al., “How to Debrief a Freeform Game,” last modified on July 15, 2012, Lizziestark.com, http://lizziestark.com/tag/freeform-debrief/ ↩︎
    10. Fair Escape, “Game Wraps,” last modified August 1, 2012, Fair Escape: LARPing Thoughts from a LARPer Fair, http://fairescape.wordpress.com/2012/08/01/game-wraps/. ↩︎
    11. Shoshana Kessock, “Ethical Content Management and the Gaming Social Contract,” in The Wyrd Con Companion Book 2013, edited by Sarah Lynne Bowman and Aaron Vanek (Los Angeles, CA: Wyrd Con, 2013), 102-111; Maury Elizabeth Brown, “Pulling the Trigger on Player Agency: How Psychological Intrusions in Larps Affect Game Play,” in The Wyrd Con Companion Book 2014, edited by Sarah Lynne Bowman (Los Angeles, CA: Wyrd Con, 2014). In press for December publication. ↩︎
    12. Larps from the Factory, “Debrief: Make a Round, ‘Runda’ – Part01,” last modified Oct. 25, 2013, YouTube, EidZemVideo, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K11k5toOScA&index=8&list=PL5ZRxNgrfrSEx6sRyJLeiFv1TvWjVmMPC. ↩︎
    13. Lizzie Stark, “Mad About the Debrief,” last modified October 22, 2012, Leaving Mundania: Inside the World of Larp, http://leavingmundania.com/2012/10/22/mad-about-the-debrief/. ↩︎
    14. Sarah Lynne Bowman, ed., The Book of Mad About the Boy (2012 U.S. Run): Documenting a Larp About Gender, Motherhood, and Values (Copenhagen, Denmark: Rollespils Akademiet, 2013). ↩︎
    15. Stark, “How to Run a Post-Larp Debrief”. ↩︎
    16. Bowman, “Social Conflict in Role-Playing Communities.” ↩︎
    17. Bowman and Torner, “Post Larp Depression”. ↩︎