Tag: Knutepunkt 2017

  • Investigating Types of Bleed in Larp: Emotional, Procedural, and Memetic

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    Investigating Types of Bleed in Larp: Emotional, Procedural, and Memetic

    At Knutpunkt 2018, I somehow found myself holding a talk called “A Trinity of Consciousness.” This subject might seem an odd choice for someone who, although holds degrees in Nature Science and Public Administration, is pretty much void of any academic expertise on the subject of consciousness; I realize that my approach to the subject can be somewhat unorthodox as a result of this. As a trained actor with almost two decades of experience in Nordic larp though, I have spent a lot of time trying to understand the processes that are involved when we are shifting in- and out-of-character. If there are any concepts that can be considered central to these processes, they are consciousness and bleed.

    This article is a write up of a couple of the subjects that I touched upon in my 2018 talk. Since then, some of my thoughts have changed, hopefully for the better. In the aftermath of my talk, which was primarily on the subject of consciousness, the one thing people seemed to want to engage me in discussion on was my suggestion for further categorizing different types of bleed. In particular, the freshly coined term memetic bleed, which I in all honesty described fairly briefly, was something about which I received comments and questions in the following weeks and months. I am grateful to the people who contacted me and for the discussions that followed, as they have led to a furthering of my own understanding of the phenomenon

    A Brief Take on Consciousness

    In order to understand a little bit more about the nature of any type of bleed, we must first very briefly touch on how we understand — or rather perceive — consciousness. This is a subject that seems to present us with several new questions for every single answer we find. Yes, even an attempt to reach a consensus on the simplest definition is challenging, as it is an ambiguous term commonly used to describe a width of different phenomena. For sake of clarity, it can be helpful to make a distinction between the parts of consciousness that are possible to explain and define with the help of standard methods of cognitive science and the ones that, well… simply aren’t.

    Stained glass window of a woman in blue
    “St. Peter and St Paul’s church Fressingfield Suffolk: Stained glass” by David (CC BY 2.0).

    Chalmers (1995) calls these first aspects of consciousness “the easy problems” and among others names the following: “The ability to discriminate, categorize and react to environmental stimuli; the integration of information by a cognitive system; the reportability of mental states;…” (Chalmers, s. 2) The list can go on for some time, but the common denominator is that all of these aspects can be explained reductively in terms of neural mechanisms. Personally, I find it helpful to consider whether it would be possible to replicate the phenomenon with computational programming, and if the answer is yes, it belongs on this list of “easy problems.” For these phenomena, “consciousness” might not even be the correct term. “Awareness” — or rather “functions of awareness” — would be a better fit. A system that performs functions will be aware of the parts of its surroundings that are relevant to perform the function in question, but this awareness would not equate to “consciousness” in the sense that human beings are “conscious” or “sentient.”

    Then, what is consciousness? Good question. In fact, great question. British psychologist Stuart Sutherland’s attempt at an answer is one of the more memorable ones; the two last sentences went on to become rather infamous. Sutherland describes:

    Consciousness—The having of perceptions, thoughts, and feelings; awareness . . . The term is impossible to define except in terms that are unintelligible without a grasp of what consciousness means. Many fall into the trap of equating consciousness with self-consciousness—to be conscious it is only necessary to be aware of the external world. Consciousness is a fascinating but elusive phenomenon: it is impossible to specify what it is, what it does, or why it has evolved. Nothing worth reading has been written on it. (Sutherland 1989)

    Sutherland’s exasperation might be very understandable, although it does not really bring us any closer to an understanding. What it does do, though, is perfectly exemplify how our established scientific methods have not been capable of providing answers. So, while waiting for a future paradigm shift of thought, we will just have to accept that any work on this subject will have to contain a certain amount of subjective philosophical thought. Then again: what is human existence, if not a subjective experience of how it is to be the one who we are?

    Stained Glass vines, flowers, and water
    “Stained Glass Met” by Adrian Scottow (CC BY-SA 2.0).

    I am writing this, sitting by a beach in Spain. The sun is shining over a perfect azure sea, the wind keeps tugging at my papers and the air is full of languages that I do not speak nor understand. Now… the functions of awareness are explaining all of this to me; the colour of the sea, the strength of the wind, the words that I don’t understand. What they don’t explain though, is how I subjectively experience these factors. A mere description of the functions themselves does nothing to explain the deep pull within me, the longing for foreign shores that this scene awakens, this song of the sea that the poets have written about since ever there was written word. Clearly there is something that is like “being me” in this moment that defies both objective description and reductive methods.

    Chalmers (1995) calls this layer on top of awareness experience:

    When we see, for example, we experience visual sensations: the felt quality of redness, the experience of dark and light, the quality of depth in a visual field. Other experiences go along with perception in different modalities: the sound of a clarinet, the smell of mothballs. Then there are bodily sensations, from pains to orgasms; mental images that are conjured up internally; the felt quality of emotion, and the experience of a stream of conscious thought. What unites all of these states is that there is something it is like to be in them. All of them are states of experience. (Chalmers 1995)

    These musings into the fascinating field of consciousness could go on for some time. For the sake of this article, we can in summary say that while we do not fully understand consciousness, we can conceptualize it roughly in terms of external stimuli and our internal responses and perceptions to those stimuli.

    Reality and How We See It: The Stained Glass Window

    Stained glass window in Gaudi cathedral
    “Sagrada familia, stained glass window” by fry_theonly (CC BY-SA 2.0)

    Personally, I find it helpful to think of the world as a large building. My own particular cultural background makes it easy to imagine an old European cathedral, but any building will do. It does not have to be any particular one, and can be made up in your head solely for this exercise. The important part is that the interior of this building represents reality as it can be objectively described using the terminology of physical science. The size, layout, materials, structure of surfaces, and such can all be described in detail, providing us with an objective take on the reality we inhabit.

    In addition, there is a large stained glass window on one of the walls, like the ones you would find in many houses of worship that usually depict saints or religious scenes. This window is the only light source in the building and, in this exercise, represents the filter through which we experience the reality around us. Now imagine that every person that enters the building will have a personalized and different window from everybody else. So when I, for example, enter the building, my window is particular to me and is shaped by things that are particular to my life, like my long term memories, earlier experiences, skills, knowledge, and so on. When the light from the outside shines on the glass, the depictions and their colours will fill the empty spaces with sensory experience beyond the mere physical outlay of the building. The light will illuminate some areas while keeping others in the dark, in effect providing me with my very personalized experience of the seemingly objective reality. So, the world might exist objectively in a certain way, but the way we experience it changes from person to person.

    Furthermore, the glass is not permanently fixed, but rather it exists to be changed by the present, the future, and reflections on the past. Any action I take in my life can to some degree change it and most of them will. In my everyday life though, where most days are similar in both rhythm and content, changes are slow and minute. How many times will I have to drive the same 12 minute commute to work before that experience makes me reach new insights or have an epiphany that changes something fundamental about how I experience the world? My guess is: quite a few.

    Now, there are of course larger events in our lives that might change things both rapidly and oftentimes also violently: falling in love; the death of a loved one; sudden injury or loss of health; a new job in a different field; moving abroad; becoming a parent; and so on. Any event of comparable size to these is likely to bring more substantial changes in how I experience and see the world, and by that, what it is like to be me in any situation in the future.

    On Consciousness of Character: Altered and Othered

    When we larp, we consciously subject ourselves to simulated events like the life changing ones mentioned above. In fact, a lot of the time, the simulated events to which we subject ourselves will most likely be substantially more dramatic and intense than any we will ever experience in our own modern lives. In addition, most of us subject ourselves to these events at a rate that will probably be much higher than even the most dramatic life one could ever imagine. Of course, for the most part, our minds will know perfectly well that these events are just simulated, but the body and senses that we experience it with do not. In their article in the International Journal of Role-Playing,  Leonard and Thurman (2018) present a overview of the neuro-psychological processes that might lead to stronger bleed-out, stating, “These processes are fundamental, biological, and often outside of conscious awareness and control, which likely makes direct influence over bleed-out a fleeting or even illusory concept” (Leonard and Thurman 2018). I describe bleed-out in more depth later in this article.

    stained glass glass ceiling in a music hall
    “Palau de la Música Catalana” by Alvaro (CC BY-SA 2.0).

    In regard to the stained glass window, what we are doing is changing, substituting, or moving pieces of the filtered consciousness that belongs to us as a player in an attempt to create a distinctly different one through which our character experiences reality. The players’ window will of course never be fully substituted, but the simulated changes will affect how we see the world, even if it is just for a limited time. And as it is never completely static and fixed, changing with our experiences, it is safe to say that what we experience in character would also have an effect on us as players. In other words, when we simulate alterations to our glass painting, we will almost certainly also subtly alter it permanently, and thus we change what it is like to be ourselves.

    In summary, when we temporarily change the filter through which we see the world, we are adding a layer of altered consciousness. When the stained glass window of experience is sufficiently changed for the immediate experience of functions of awareness to overwhelm long-term established frames of “what it is to be you,” temporary states of “othered” consciousness can be experienced.

    Which Leads Us to Bleed

    The term bleed was coined by Emily Care Boss in 2007, and has since been generally accepted to describe when emotions “bleed over” from character to player and vice versa (Montola 2010). In the following years, the addition of thoughts and physical states were done by among others Sarah Lynne Bowman, who states, “Role-players sometimes experience moments where their real life feelings, thoughts, relationships, and physical states spill over into their characters’ and vice versa. In role-playing studies, we call this phenomenon bleed” (Bowman 2015).

    At my talk at Knutepunkt in 2018, I proposed a way to further structure the phenomenon by classifying it in three distinct sub-categories: emotional, procedural, and memetic. I also briefly touched on a potential fourth category that I named cognitive bleed, but the more I have studied it, the less I am sure that it merits its own category and as such I am leaving it out for now.   

    It is also important to note that even though it might be useful to categorize the different types of bleed, any actual bleed situation will most likely be a case of these categories both overlapping and clustering. It is also quite possible that such overlapping could be a catalyst for increasing both the duration and the intensity of the experience. For now, we will content ourselves with saying that the act of categorizing bleed might be useful, but it is important to remember that it is just a framework imposed upon a chaotic reality. In larping, as in the rest of the world, black and white are seldom the only colors.

    stained glass of three women lounging
    “San Francisco, St. Louis, New York” by Eugene Kim (CC BY 2.0).

    Emotional Bleed

    Emotional bleed is when emotions or feelings belonging to either the player or the character affect the actions and emotional state of the other. It is well-known, documented, and has been thoroughly described in theory over the last 10 years and more. It is the most easy to recognize and therefore its existence is not widely questioned in the Nordic larp communities. However, as a workshop that I conducted together with Jost L. Hansen at Knutepunkt in 2017 showed, there are players that report that they have never bled like this. Not even once. This workshop was partially the reason I started looking deeper into the concept of bleed, as the idea of exposing your body and mind to larping and not being affected by the consciousness of the character at all seemed very strange to me. I might not be the heaviest bleeder, but safe to say, I have bled a lot during my years a larper. For some time, I might also have been someone that actively steered my play to increase the chances of experiencing it.

    Bleed-in:

    Emotional bleed-in occurs when the state of the player’s emotions affect the actions of the character in the game. It is probably most easy to recognize when characters are exposed to things in-game that closely resemble experiences that the player has had out-of-game, be they loss, love, or other strong emotions that can be difficult to control.

    Bleed-out:

    Based on work done by among others Bowman (2013) and Leonard and Thurman (2018), out-of-game animosity and feelings of real life exclusion seem to be among the most common bleed-out phenomena. In “Social Conflict in Role-Playing Communities: An Exploratory Qualitative Study,” Bowman discusses how this form of emotional bleed-out can lead to negative effects on game communities:

    Participants explained that when overinvolved, the player assumes in-character interactions correlate with out-of-character personality traits and feelings. In addition, players may possess underlying psychological problems that events within the game world trigger or intensify. (Bowman 2013)

    Other well-known emotional bleed-out phenomena are commonly known as “larp crushes.” These are instances where the love played out between two characters are transferred to one, both, or all of the players that played said characters. As Sanne Harder (2018) describes, “Larp crushes are definitely real experiences of being in love. Larp crushes are real in the sense that the barrier between you and your character’s emotions are eroded to the point where you really, truly are going through limerence” (Harder 2018).

    In summary, emotional bleed is the sub-category that is most widely recognized. To me, the availability and quality of research and writings on the subject are sufficient evidence of the existence of this phenomenon.

    stained glass of male Olympian
    “Stained glass 1: Seen in the Centre for Modern and Contemporary Art, Veletrzni (Trades Fair) Palace, Prague” by Tony Hisgett (CC BY 2.0).

    Procedural Bleed

    Procedural bleed gets its name from procedural memory, more generally referred to as muscle memory. Basically, it refers to gestures, bearing, ticks, or any other kind of physical action that originates in either player or character and then surfaces in the other.

    Bleed-in:

    Getting rid of the physical things we do without conscious thought can be very difficult. Procedural bleed does not cover physical expressions connected to ability, but rather the ways of moving and carrying ourselves that come from for instance cultural conditioning and force of habit. For instance, the culturally coded language of gender will tell us as players how to stand, move, and walk. Players that play other genders than their own will often have to make considerable conscious efforts to change their body language, a task that is made harder by the existence of procedural bleed-in. For my own part, years of being a competitive powerlifter has made procedural bleed-in something that is sometimes very hard to overcome. For instance, I am  unable to hunch my shoulders forward in a subdued stance for some period of time without substantial conscious effort.

    Bleed-out:

    Procedural bleed-out is for all intents and purposes the exact same as bleed-in, only with the roles reversed. The biggest difference would probably be related to the force of the phenomenon. It is natural to assume that the years of physical conditioning of a player would exert more force on the character than the few days of portraying a character’s physicality could ever exert on the player. There might be some exceptions, though.

    For instance, right after the larp Conscience (NotOnlyLarp 2018) ended, I could not stop drawing my phone from my pocket and twirling it as I had done for days with the gun that I carried on my hip. A more horrifying example would be how my portrayal of a Nazi officer at the larp 1942 (FLH 2017) seem to have removed the issues that I had with the Nazi salute as a movement, which for me had caused a considerable amount of physical cognitive dissonance in the past. It would seem though, that in general, it is common that procedural bleed-out burns itself out within a relative short time of the larp ending.

    Some players have told me of lingering procedural bleed-out, which is something I myself have experienced as well. For instance, I carry myself with an air of authority, sometimes quite military in nature. This has lead to my (for some reason) numerous interactions with police officers and military personnel in my travels around the world always being quite enjoyable. However, there is very little in my life outside of larping that could explain the ease with which I interact with (and subtly command) gun-carrying soldiers and officers. Now, I was in the military when I was young, and even dabbled with command, but this was too low level to fully explain my current tacit skill. So to me, at least part of the explanation might be my numerous military and law enforcement commanding characters forming some sort of feedback loop originating from my original military experience over the years. These experiences have provided me with the physicality of someone used to command and having their orders obeyed.

    Two stained glass soldiers with the words Home Guard underneath
    “Stained glass at Bristol cathedral” by Heather Cowper (CC BY 2.0).

    Memetic Bleed

    In his 1976 book The Selfish Gene, Richard Dawkins presents the concept of the meme as a noun that “conveys the idea of a unit of cultural transmission, or a unit of imitation” (Dawkins 1976). Since then, the concept has of course been popularized and redefined a number of times. For the sake of understanding memetic bleed, we can say that a meme is an unit of culture that carries an idea, behaviour, thought, belief, ethical conviction, or similar from person to person. In this definition, a catchy pop song on the radio would be a meme, as would the idea of the earth being flat, although paradigm shifts over time as a result of the scientific revolution have rendered the second meme somewhat less successful in recent centuries. On a side note, this example also shows us that the potential successfulness of memes is dependent upon environmental factors and as such will be subject to change.

    This leaves us with the following attempt at a definition:

    Memetic bleed describes the process by which a meme — a unit of culture — carries an idea, behaviour, thought, belief, ethical conviction, or similar cognitive construct between player and character and vice versa. In addition, it describes the process by which memeplexes — complex structures of memes — are transmitted in part or in whole between players and characters that are part of a group, scene, or subculture and vice versa.

    Bleed-in:

    Since memetic bleed at least partly deals with societal and political structures, it seems to happen on both individual and structural levels. In the case of the latter, the most well-known phenomenon might be what some know as larp democracy, where the players, mostly without communication, “agree” to handle situations in ways that are more in tune with the values of the players than the characters. For example, characters in scenarios involving historical systemic oppression may “solve” the situation through democratic means, a political structure with which their players are familiar and appreciate, but one that might also be entirely alien to the characters themselves.

    “A bearded king” by Tijl Vercaemer (CC BY 2.0).

    A somewhat more subtle example might be how tacit cultural knowledge can affect the feel of a game. For instance, after the larp 1942 (FLH 2017), a larp set in a small village in occupied Norway during the Second World War, the organizers shared how the Scandinavian run and the international one had played out somewhat differently. The assessment expressed verbally was that the tacit cultural knowledge of the Norwegian players playing the bulk of the Norwegian civilian characters in the first run had moved the game in one direction, while the lack of said knowledge among the international players playing Norwegian civilians in the second had moved it in a different one.

    Being Norwegian myself, I can quite clearly see the validity of this observation. Norwegians “know” how life in a small village in the bottom of a fjord would have been, because most of us will have family or relatives that actually lived those lives. Our grandparents would have told us stories and our history books would have explained the societal structures in detail. As modern and progressive people, we might not always like to think so, but concepts such as the low church Haugean movement and the Law of Jante are still deeply ingrained in the culture within which we as Norwegians have grown up. As a result, in the Norwegian run, the civilian play was reportedly quite subdued and low-key. International players, on the other hand, not having access to the same tacit knowledge, based their play upon other sources. What these sources were would probably be pretty individual, but as a result, the run was reportedly richer in both dramatic scenes and amplified play.

    ja.corby on Flickr (CC BY 2.0).

    On a individual level, memetic bleed might affect our ability to play on certain traits or play out certain actions. The one that stands out to me is how some players report that they are, not from lack of trying, unable to play oppressors or antagonists of a certain type. The larp Conscience (NotOnlyLarp 2018) is a prime example of a larp where the oppressive characters are quite extreme; I have spoken to two players that more or less mid-larp had to steer their characters away from how they were written in order to be able to portray them. My opinion is that this impulse is at least partly a result of memetic bleed-in of ethical convictions that were too strong for the alibi of play to overpower. As previously noted though, any bleed might have aspects of more than one of the sub-categories; in this case, it is also probable that there was some emotional bleed related to, for instance, the players’ ability to feel empathy for the oppressed characters.   

    Bleed-out:

    With bleed-out, the most difficult part might be distinguishing between where memetic bleed ends and cognitive reflection begins. By this statement, I mean that not all changes in ideas, values, beliefs, and so on will be the result of bleed, but also that it can be quite a mixed experience where no single reason can claim to be the instrumental one.

    For instance, on a structural level, I propose that the spread in our communities of ideas and values found in intersectional feminism is partly due to it being a memeplex that for years has been central in both content and design choices in a variety of Nordic larps that have, one way or another, set the contemporary standard. Of course, it might be a question of whether feminist larpers demand the creation of feminist larps or if feminist larps create feminist larpers; personally, I think that the correct answer is probably a mix of the two. There is no getting around the fact that we somehow seem to have gotten a lot better at making larps that incorporate these ideals though, and I for one believe that memetic bleed-out has played a part. For my own sake, observing the struggles of marginalized groups in general society on an intellectual level is one thing; routinely dealing with structures within which these marginalization issues are recognized and addressed as the most natural thing in the world is a lot more efficient with regard to furthering my understanding and evolving my progressive views and values.

    isox4 on Flickr (CC BY 2.0).

    On the individual level, memetic bleed-out can be quite hard to recognize. Why do we hum that particular song? Why do we hold that specific opinion on that particular subject? Why have our views evolved over time? Why do we “know” how to act and behave in certain social settings? I think it is safe to say that why we behave the way we do is rarely the result of one single defining reason and there is possibly no right answer to any of the questions above.

    This is what makes memetic bleed such a difficult thing to grasp. In fact, the moment we become cognitively aware that we are affected by it, it might even be possible that the effect diminishes, maybe even disappears. The reason why it is important to understand though is that the memes with which our characters interact will latch onto and take advantage of the exact same functions in our consciousness that any meme that we encounter in our daily lives will. In addition, it might be that when subjecting our characters to ideas that we as players will find ridiculous or even harmful, we will without being fully aware of it have lowered some of our “shields,” thereby making ourselves more susceptible to them.

    For instance, in 2017, to portray a German officer that was a true believer in Nazism in 1942, I read Mein Kampf as part of my preparation. My short review is that it was a jumbled together mess of ideas that were sometimes ridiculously easy to counter. Yet, when I read it in-game, my character hanging on to every word, and me using the same words to explain the ideas to my fellow German characters, it felt very differently. I am not saying that the experience turned me on to Nazism, but it felt uncomfortable enough for me to decide to actively de-role by rereading the arguments against the particular points to which my character had attached himself. I must also mention that I used this larp as one of a few to see if I could detect the elusive memetic bleed-out. To this day, I am not certain if I did detect it or if I just think I did because I wanted to do so.

    “Cleveland Trust rotunda – pt. 2” by Chewy734 (CC BY 2.0).

    In Summary

    As larp continues to evolve and take ever larger steps into the realms of education, training, and therapy, so must we also seek to further our understanding of the phenomena connected to it. It is my opinion that better understanding bleed is crucial in order for larp to be as valuable an addition as possible in the mentioned fields. In that regard, in the last few years, important work that has furthered our understanding has been done by, among others, Jonaya Kemper who introduced the term emancipatory bleed, Whitney “Strix” Beltrán who introduced the term ego bleed, and Maury Elizabeth Brown who has written about the connection between player triggers and bleed.

    As I add my thoughts to the ongoing discussion, let me make it clear that I am acutely aware of how we all tend to fall in love with our own ideas. As Dan Ariely puts it, “In the scientific world, the Not-Invented-Here bias is fondly called the ‘toothbrush theory.’ The idea is that everyone wants a toothbrush, everyone needs one, everyone has one, but no one wants to use anyone else’s” (Ariely 2012).

    Let me then be the first to say that I am certain that there is a lot more out there to figure out, but I hope that my thoughts on possible structures can at least be useful as a point for further discussion. For all I know, there might be categories that are lacking or one of my proposed categories is only part of a larger one. And so let me end this little write up with a very familiar call for further research, and state my belief that either some of the great thinkers I have cited or maybe someone we haven’t even heard of yet will deliver it to us in due time. To me, at least, the future of bleed seems bright.

    “Stained glass 2: Seen in the Centre for Modern and Contemporary Art, Veletrzni (Trades Fair) Palace, Prague” by
    Tony Hisgett (CC BY 2.0).

    References

    Ariely, Dan. 2010. The Upside of Irrationality. London: Harper.

    Beltrán, Whitney “Strix.” 2013. “Shadow Work: A Jungian Perspective on the Underside of Live Action Role-Play in the United States.” In Wyrd Con Companion Book 2013, edited by Sarah Lynne Bowman and Aaron Vanek, 94-101. Los Angeles, CA: Wyrd Con.

    Bowman, Sarah Lynne. 2013. “Social Conflict in Role-Playing Communities: An Exploratory Qualitative Study.” International Journal of Role-Playing 4: 4-25.

    Bowman, Sarah Lynne. “Bleed: The Spillover Between Player and Character.” Nordiclarp.org. Last modified March 2, 2015.

    Brown, Maury Elizabeth. 2014. “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, 96-111. Los Angeles, CA: Wyrd Con.

    Chalmers, David J. 1995. “Facing Up to the Problem of ConsciousnessJournal of Consciousness Studies 2: 200-219.

    Dawkins, Richard. 1976. The Selfish Gene. New York: Oxford University Press.

    Hansen, Jost L. and Kjell Hedgard Hugaas. 2017. “To Bleed or Not to Bleed.” Workshop at Knutepunkt Norway 2017, February 24.

    Harder, Sanne. 2018. “Larp Crush: The What, When and How.” Nordiclarp.org. Last modified March 28, 2018.

    Hugaas, Kjell Hedgard. 2018. “A Trinity of Consciousness.” Presentation at Knutpunkt 2018, Lund, Sweden, March 15-18, 2018.

    Kemper, Jonaya. 2017. “The Battle of Primrose Park: Playing for Emancipatory Bleed in Fortune & Felicity.” Nordiclarp.org. Last modified June 21, 2017.

    Leonard, Diana J. and Tessa Thurman. 2018. “Bleed-out on the Brain: The Neuroscience of Character-to-Player Spillover in Larp.” International Journal of Role-Playing 9: 9-15.

    Montola, Markus. 2010. “The Positive Negative Experience in Extreme Role-playing.” Proceedings of DiGRA Nordic 2010: Experiencing Games: Games, Play, and Players.

    Osmond, Will. 2018. “A Game of Give or Take? A Methektic Analysis of Scene-making in Larping.” Filmed May 18, 2018 at Living Games Conference, Boston, MA, video, 26:41.

    Sutherland, Stuart. 1989. The Macmillian Dictionary of Psychology. Basingstoke: The Macmillian Press Ltd.  


    Cover Photo: Saint-Malo Cathedral in Brittany, France. “Pillar and pinnacle, arch and corbel” by Derek Σωκράτης Finch on Flickr (CC BY 2.0). Image has been cropped.

  • Tensions between Transmedia Fandom and Live-Action Role-Play

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    Tensions between Transmedia Fandom and Live-Action Role-Play

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    Larp is a medium that helps us co-create intricate shared fictions through subjective understandings of the story world around us. Meanwhile, large story franchises – the Marvel Universe, the Potterverse, the Star Wars Expanded Universe, etc. – both steadily add content to their story universes and also canonize (and copyright) this content. Larping in a franchise or adjacent to a franchise means that players can rapidly build competence and familiarity with the material. Yet franchises encourage fans to establish canons and traditions that occasionally contradict the flexibility of the larp medium. This essay addresses tensions related to larps that aspire to create larger story universes and/or draw on the fandom related to larger franchises. I argue that larp organizers and designers must attend to how their events interact with fandom behaviors, especially the impulse to 1) canonize specific practices, characters, and events, and 2) manufacture second-order knowledge and products related to the game. Both fan practices, while in many cases beneficial to the larp, have the potential to unintentionally supplant designer principles and goals. It will be helpful for us to figure out how to wield this double-edged sword of mass culture for larps in the future.

    Transmedia and Franchises

    In our current socio-historical moment, immersive story worlds connected to billion-dollar global franchises such as the Potterverse let us live and breathe the fiction thanks to those dollars purchasing ubiquity and high-quality design. By “ubiquity,” I mean that it becomes hard to avoid knowing at least something about a particular franchise, given that the material is everywhere and being discussed by a critical mass of people. By “high-quality design,” I mean that the money involved has given the universe an undeniable “look” that becomes part and parcel to its brand and affordances. Design has re-asserted its authority in the corporate world (Rhodes, 2015), as franchises abide by the truism that Harry Potter isn’t the same without robes and wands or Star Wars isn’t the same without lightsabers and Death Stars. Merchandising then ensures such objects can be purchased on the open market. These franchises engage us precisely because they catch our attention, provide an easily accessible basis of the premise (i.e., Harry Potter is about wizards trying to get through school while also investigating Voldemort’s potential return), and can be found everywhere. The last point would deem them “transmedia.”

    cover of a book with an iPod on it
    Cover of Convergence Culture by Henry Jenkins (2008).

    Transmedia, or the instantiation and narration of events in a story world across multiple media platforms, pervade today’s globalized society. Coined by Henry Jenkins in his widely cited book Convergence Culture (2006), “transmedia” describes a climate of media production in which franchises seed fan participation: “The circulation of media content––across different media systems, competing media economies, and national borders––depends heavily on consumers’ active participation” (Jenkins 3). These consumers, or “fans,” are prompted to seek more information about and connect the dots between the content of a G.I. Joe movie, a G.I. Joe comic book, and a G.I. Joe action figure. The business model is simple: get a niche audience to emotionally invest in your content on at least one platform, and then support these devoted fans as they promote this fictional universe and consume related products. Much as we would like to dismiss transmedia as purely cynical, however, the fan practices of promotion and consumption cultivated by the business model (and transmedia’s ease of accessibility) affect our storytelling practices in fundamental ways.

    Arran Gare (2016) has argued recently that most of our societal rewards now stem from a “dematerialized economy,” and that our habitus, our whole way of life, encourages us to divorce ourselves from reality as much as possible. Fans spend huge portions of their lives laboring on behalf of immersive story worlds, largely uncompensated for their efforts (De Kosnik, 2013). Fans write fan fiction (“fanfic”) about their favorite characters, much of which is readable for free on http://archiveofourown.org or Tumblr. They crowdsource and maintain Wikis and “story bibles” that are then referenced by the producers of the content, who are in turn pressured to keep continuity with previous “facts” in the story worlds. Pierre Lévy observes that this “circuit” formed between authors, readers, spectators, producers, creators and interpreters blurs the distinction between them all, as they each work to support the others (Lévy, quoted in Jenkins, 2006, 95). In the end, genre fiction and transmedia story worlds guide us to a pleasurable divorce from reality: they give us clear characters to follow, a language to communicate, and a pre-established set of expectations about the world that give us easy entry into a complex fictional world. When transmedia spreads to larp as a platform, however, the complexity of that world, its corresponding fandom, and the practices that fandom engenders all strain against the possibilities that larp affords.

    Larp is above all an ephemeral medium, heavily reliant on the narrative and social emergence that happens when you get actual humans together in a space (Montola, 2012). The first-person audience (Sandberg, 2004) of the form ensures that each player experience within a larp is radically subjective, may not correspond with agreed-upon “facts” about the world, and is not readily reproducible. Yet we also have within us the impulse to make larp a canonical medium, i.e. one that builds worlds with their own intricate history and weight. Although the 360° illusion so popular in larp theory is but a myth – “a complete environment alone does not generate better role-playing” (Koljonen, 2007) – the guiding principle that one should larp in a well-conceived, deeply structured aesthetic world is endemic to most larp cultures.

    photo of a man in vintage military coat and hat
    Photo of the author in his Inside Hamlet Stormguard costume as Colonel Perdue.

    We have a couple of practices that we regularly use to establish “world facts” in our ephemeral medium. We articulate them in large PDFs and books, writing dozens or even hundreds of pages of text normally not readily available during role-play that we hope some people have committed to memory. We create visual media, physical artifacts, fictional maps, acoustic environments – anything to give players a foothold on what the fictional world would look, feel, and sound like. We also form small groups on social media and strategize. In Inside Hamlet (Ericsson, Pedersen and Koljonen, 2015), for example, I was given the character of Colonel Perdue, commander of the Stormguard. Given that we wanted to make them “seem real,” we had a four-person Facebook group in which we co-created fictional aspects of the Stormguard that were to come up during play, including our own insignia patches and musical anthem. These aspects formed part of what Moyra Turkington calls our “socket” (Turkington, 2006), or the “place where people plug themselves into a game and give and take their focus and energy to and from.” We invested, and received returns on that investment. We gladly invented this ephemera to secure our character immersion and help others with theirs, but we also did not expect for this material to survive the run: it was for the Stormguard’s use in Run 1, and we let the Stormguard in Run 2 come up with its own material. We assumed that none of our own world building should impose any further on other runs as a matter of etiquette, that our fictional “facts” would remain an artifact of our play, rather than as aspects of the game that future players must attend to.

    The act of “attending to” anything in a larp is not neutral. As J Li and Jason Morningstar (2016) recently argue it costs player energy and cognitive load to keep the fiction in focus. “Players need their working memory to fictionalize,” they write. “Structure plot so that each person only has 4-5 things to keep track of” (19). The same could be said of a story world. If I need to know off the top of my head that engineers are categorically unable to revive the ship’s computer, or even the name of that one CoW House with the unspeakable drinks (Sendivogius), then I am often committing working memory to internalize that information. If a fact about a game is recorded on some Facebook thread or some fan Wiki and I cannot readily access it in character, there is a question as to whether or not that ephemera will even exist in the duration of the larp. Transmedia from major franchises actually help us secure more fiction in our brains, as we have engaged with that story universe before and have more of its nuances stored in our long-term memory. Yet much of that readily-available fiction vanishes when creating even a re-skinned version of a franchise: new words must be remembered, new fictional events attended to, and new casts of characters with their own personalities met and judged. If a larper has to keep a “story bible” in their head as they try to navigate to find food in a place unfamiliar to the player while also navigating their complex relationship with a half-hydra, chances are that the story universe information will be forgotten.

    The Case of the Wizardry-verse and the Magimundi

    In 2014, the wildly successful Polish-Danish blockbuster larp College of Wizardry (CoW, Nielsen, Dembinski and Raasted et al. 2014) took the larp community by storm with its high concept and low bar for entry: players get to play wizards in a Harry Potter-esque school for several days in Czocha Castle, co-creating immersive fiction as they compete for the coveted House Cup. The “-esque” suffix in “Harry Potter-esque” is important. The organizers had to attend to Warner Brothers’ request to separate their story universe from that of the famous wizard school series due to copyright following the first 3 runs (CoW1-3). The transition from the Potterverse to the College of Wizardry-verse for CoW4 and on (or, for that matter, the Magimundi for the American adaptation New World Magischola (NWM, Brown and Morrow, 2016) proved a model lesson in filing the serial numbers off of a well-known franchise. “Muggles” became “mundanes,” Hogwarts was wiped off the map, and suddenly necromancy took on an increasingly central role as a story device.

    On the one hand, a player from CoW1 in the fan-expanded Potterverse reported that having all the names, creatures, places, and events already established in the world as canon “[made] it possible to play almost without preparation and without having to remember background text, if only you knew your HP.” On the other hand, players of the post-Potterverse CoW and NWM runs remarked how much space had been established for them. Peter Svensson writes that “the emphasis on diversity and acceptance is something where NWM [and CoW] shone. I’m a gay man. The Harry Potter books could only hint at the existence of people like me. But NWM firmly established that this is a world where I exist. Where people like me are and have been part of the historical record.” The framing of our fictional lives matters. Content and expectations around the immersive story world let players know what is and isn’t possible to see happen during play.

    Nevertheless, fan culture also sets expectations, with CoW and NWM taking center stage as larps adapted from the propositions of the larger Potterverse. One fandom expectation example is the concept of the OTP (One True Pairing), a term from fanfic meaning one’s emotional commitment to two franchise characters being destined to be together. In Harry Potter, for example, popular OTPs include Sirius Black and Prof. Snape, Harry and Hermione, and so forth. This is fine in fanfic, but becomes an issue when one as a player wishes to have an OTP-type experience in a larp. At the end of CoW and NWM, there is a dance that involves characters showing up in pairs or groups. Players who privately reported expecting something resembling a OTP experience were often sorely disappointed that the relationship did not go the way they (as a player) had imagined it, and were unable to fateplay((http://fate.laiv.org/fate/en_fate_ef.htm)) or “play to lose”((https://nordiclarp.org/wiki/Playing_to_Lose)) as a means of controlling the situation. Larps promise living out one’s fantasies, but the expectations that come with those fantasies must be managed around the natural emergence within the game. Fandom does not necessarily prepare us for this.

    a wizard in a rob, flying hat, and sunglasses
    DJ Dizzywands at New World Magischola 1. Photo by Sarah Lynne Bowman for Learn Larp, LLC.

    Another example from CoW and NWM involved canonization. During a pre-game video call with NPCs from a previous run who would participate in my run of NWM, I mentioned in passing that I might be able to step in and do some music at the dance, in keeping with organizer expectations for us to use the affordances of the playspace. One former NPC was shocked: “But… but… DJ Dizzywands!” they stammered, thinking it inconceivable that anyone but the designated NPC whom they enjoyed from a previous run could possibly help run the dance. Although DJ Dizzywands –– played by Austin Shepard in a smashing wizard’s cloak –– did not exist in any of the game materials, he had become canonized as part of the NWM experience.

    Finally, both CoW and NWM are exploring the marketing of merchandise, as one does with a franchise: control of one’s product across platforms creates multiple financial outlets for fans to show their support. The problem arises when the making and marketing of merchandise confuses relevant information about the game with fandom. A NWM player lamented to me about the constant upselling of the game through products such as T-shirts, wands, and supplemental world materials, such that one of their friends dropped out of the game “when the ‘game’ became no longer apparent amidst a marketing machine.” Second-order products, such as fan art or homemade merchandise, suddenly fall into the gray area of having to be “endorsed” or not by the larp, and can help further canonization of specific aspects of the game that may or may not remotely resemble someone else’s first-person audience experience. While larp is a means of expression and a catalyst for other forms of expression, expressing oneself through material means about a larp also has transmedia fan assumptions underlying it.

    Responses to Transmedia

    Larp communities have been responding to franchises for decades, and in various ways inventing interesting strategies to the dilemmas around fandom. To escape the tyrannical ubiquity of J.R.R. Tolkien-esque fantasy worlds, for example, Mike Pohjola created what he calls “folk fantasy” to re-localize and re-nationalize globalized transmedia products. “Could we retell our own myths and say something relevant to our time?” he asks (Pohjola 51). Täällä Kirjokannen alla (2011) was a larp derived from specifically Finnish folk legends, which ultimately served as a means of reinvigorating a local storytelling culture. In this capacity, neither overt, garish nationalism nor fandom serves as a proper response to the material: larpers had to negotiate their own national myths and the fact that deep, immersive story universes ultimately came from somewhere, while also being cautious against the exclusionary idea that these folk legends are “superior” to others. The larp embraced specificity over ubiquity, and emergent qualities of these narratives rather than relying on fandom and franchise familiarity to drive play. Eliot Wieslander’s Mellan himmel och hav (2002) and the Danish team behind Totem (Schønnemann Andreasen and thurøe et al., 2007) both heavily relied on workshops and co-present co-creation((i.e., players actually in the space working through their characters, rather than on social media)) to formulate ways to make science-fiction stories and stories of indigenous societies respectively neither cliché nor too abstract for the players to grasp.

    One can also turn to rules and regulation as part of the design. The common practice of using social media groups to structure in-game relations can also prompt player-characters to start play via post and even prompt the organizers to moderate or intervene such play. Having a clear policy about pre-game play and the in-game larp consequences allows organizers to not have to attend to every piece of fanfic or “what-if” scenario created by the players. Establishing that no single player has rights over a specific character in the fiction is also important: these characters are roles, not canonical figures, unless designed that way. Merchandise should above all serve play or memories of play, and memes and merchandise that point to specific moments in-game should generally have the run title (NWM2, CoW4, Inside Hamlet Run 2, etc.) somehow associated with it, so as not to create the impression that this is an eternal moment of the “classic” version of the game. Better still, organizers can connect multiple images of the same character or comparable situation across multiple runs, so as to engage with the dynamic of cosplay, in which one celebrates the labor of performance across multiple different representations of emergence (Scott, 2015). Such strategies assist prospective players in imagining themselves into their roles, rather than championing and canonizing the ephemeral acts of the past players.

    Conclusion

    Although franchise story worlds function through ubiquity and high-quality design, most larps do not. Our internal fictions, however cool, largely dissipate beyond war stories and actual-play reports. Few know our larp worlds, and fewer still keep track of all their details. This is fine, for it removes the pressure to establish anything we’ve done beyond the ephemerality of play. However, as we lay down track in our story worlds, we should be mindful of our impulses to canonize the configuration and results of our play across multiple runs of a game not designated a campaign. Canonization creates more laws, facts, and general overhead for other players to deal with later on, and it serves to cheapen future experiences by according social capital only to those who played the “classic” earlier runs. Especially in a climate in which Kickstarters and global simultaneous ticket release dates determine who gets into which larps, the players who had the benefit of a fast Internet connection should not get to pre-determine storyworld aspects of the game for other runs beyond what the organizers and designers have already established. Each larp run in a non-campaign larp benefits from its “reset” switch. Furthermore, fan-created ephemera about the game can comment on it and its world, but should not be confused with the material of the larp itself, which remains yet-to-be-determined.

    Inside Hamlet 2017 promotional photo. Photo courtesy of Participation Design Agency.

    As larp moves into becoming a platform for well-worn fan properties – albeit re-invented without the burden of their original franchise – we must now figure out the contradictory balance between being a good fan and a good larper. A good fan knows the story world inside and out, perhaps contributing their own small portion of it in keeping with the general spirit of the fiction. A good larper knows that the rules, design, objects, and setting of a larp are but playthings for their imagination and the co-creative space of their fellow players. They understand the intent and spirit of a component, and use it for emergent play as it develops. A good fan, however, also speculates and chooses favorites from among the various fictional options available. A good larper, at least for the time being, leaves much up to chance encounters in play, leading sometimes to bittersweet results after months of preparation. Pre-playing as the good fan can sabotage the good larper; the vast storyworld overhead becoming instead a ballast as pre-game role-playing and the established canon of previous runs take on more importance than an individual run itself. Moreover, seeing certain players as the only ones able to inhabit the “classic” versions of characters inhibits the emergent properties of a larp’s design in favor of establishing a rarefied high court of “key” larpers and their social politics. Merchandising of franchise-related materials pulls in much-needed revenue, but also puts fetish objects at the center of organizer attention, the proverbial act of “selling the T-shirt” perhaps overtaking the event itself.

    Now: much of this argumentation could constitute my overly precious attempt to preserve some particular larp aesthetic in the face of imminent commercialization, such as through Disney’s impending licensed Star Wars larp attractions or expansions of the Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal Studios, but I find the corporation cooptation of the larp artform much less a threat than the colonization of our minds by fandom. Larp is a medium through which we can say anything we want, provided negotiation with the design, the organizers, and one’s co-players. We must therefore be agentic and proactive with respect to our designs, adopting Bjarke Pedersen’s (2016) ethos that not only is design everything, but that what we call “tradition” is its opposite. When we unintentionally encourage players to use fandom interests to patrol other players, then that is, indeed, the fandom tradition sneaking into our larp design. Whatever Jedi Knights or their analogues happen to do or be in our larps, they must follow the design of the larp first and the dictates of the franchise second. Whatever strict adaptation one wants to make of the Doctor Who universe, the larp should include the points of departure in its initial write-up, lest competing fandoms overtake the preparation and implementation of the game. Whatever character you thought you played well in one run of the larp, the next person will have an entirely different interpretation and that will be perfectly fine. As we calibrate our play with each other, let us know that our impulses to create fan Wikis, fanfic, speculation about what characters will and won’t do, fan-favorite actors and portrayals, and second-order merchandise have an overall effect on the larp in question and larp culture in general. Worldbuilding is an act we can undertake together, but let us recognize our fellow players first before the franchise.

    Bibliography

    De Kosnik, Abigail. “Fandom as Free Labor.” Digital Labor. Edited by Trebor Scholz. New York,US: Routledge, 2013. Pg 98-111.

    Gare, Arran. “Beyond Modernism and Postmodernism: The Grand Narrative of the Age of Re- Embodiments.” Edited by Ruth Thomas-Pellicer, Vito De Lucia, and Sian Sullivan. New York,US: Routledge, 2016. Pg 27-46.

    Jenkins, Henry. Convergence Culture: Where Old and New Media Collide. New York,US: New York University Press, 2006.

    Koljonen, Johanna. “Eye-Witness to the Illusion: An Essay on the Impossibility of 360° Role- Playing.” Lifelike. Edited by Jesper Donnis, Line Thorup, and Morten Gade. Copenhagen,DK: Projektgruppen KP07. 175-187.

    Montola, Markus. On the Edge of the Magic Circle. Ph.D. Dissertation. Tampere: University of Tampere, 2012.

    Morningstar, Jason and J Li. Pattern Language for Larp Design.  2016. http://www.larppatterns.org/

    Pedersen, Bjarke. “Game Design Tools for Intense Experiences.” Living Games Conference. May 19-22, 2016. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gYAZupokjEw

    Pohjola, Mike. “Folk Fantasy: Escaping Tolkien.” States of Play. Edited by Juhana Petersson. Helsinki: Pohjoismaisen roolipelaamisen seura, 2012. 48-53.

    Rhodes, Margaret. “Take It From An Expert: Design Is More Important Than Ever.” WIRED. 17/03-2015. https://www.wired.com/2015/03/take-expert-design-important-ever/

    Sandberg, Christopher. “Genesi. Larp Art, Basic Theories.” Beyond Role and Play: Tools, Toys and Theory for Harnessing the Imagination. Edited by Markus Montola and Jaakko Stenros. Helsinki: Ropecon, 2004. Pg 264-288.

    Scott, Suzanne. “‘Cosplay is Serious Business’: Gendering Material Fan Labor on Heroes of Cosplay.” Cinema Journal 54.3 (Spring 2015): 146-155.

    Turkington, Moyra. “Covering the Bases.” Sin Aesthetics. 13/11-2006. http://games.spaceanddeath.com/sin_aesthetics/34

    Ludography

    Björk, Katarina and Eliot Wieslander. Mellan himmel och hav. Denmark. 2003.

    Brown, Maury Elizabeth, and Benjamin A. Morrow. New World Magischola. US: Learn Larp. 2016.

    Ericsson, Martin, Bjarke Pedersen and Johanna Koljonen. Inside Hamlet. Copenhagen,DK: Odyssé. 2015.

    Nielsen, Charles Bo, Dracan Dembinski and Claus Raasted Herløvsen et al. College of Wizardry. Poland: Liveform(PL) and Rollespillsfabrikken(DK). 2014.

    Pohjola, Mike, et al. Täällä Kirjokannen alla. Helsinki. 2011.

    Schønnemann Andreasen, Peter, Kristoffer Thurøe, Mathias Kromann, Peter Munthe-Kaas and Rasmus Høgdall. Totem. Denmark. 2007.


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

    Cover photo: The heads of New World Magischola, Nibelungen, and College of Wizardry speak before those assembled at The Challenge. Photos by Made by Iulian Dinu, Nicky Sochor and Brent Rombouts for Dziobak. Photo has been cropped.

  • The Blue Ribbon Collective

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    The Blue Ribbon Collective

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    Blue ribbons tied with a safety pinTowards the start of Knutepunkt 2017 in Norway, we organized a workshop, High on KP, for people who were interested in avoiding or limiting their drinking of alcohol during the conference. The reasons for this choice were varied; perhaps they were drawn to using drink as a social enabler, or they felt social pressure to drink.

    This attracted a good mix of people. Some interesting personal stories and strategies were shared. We were also joined, and went on to be approached later, by a number of people who didn’t drink at all themselves but who wanted to help and support those who were avoiding alcohol.

    The project was informed in part by our related work on alcohol at larp and at larp-related social events, and the problems that can sometimes arise from it. It became apparent from responses to our survey that social pressure making people drink more than they were comfortable with was one of the factors causing adverse incidents.

    Two men display the blue ribbons pinned to their badges
    Members of the Blue Ribbon Collective at Knutepunkt 2017.

    As part of the project, we introduced the blue ribbon badge. This symbol is a light-hearted homage to the ribbon worn by those who took the temperance pledge in the 19th century, although our aims for it are rather different. This is what we intend wearing a blue ribbon to signify:

    1. I am sober;
    2. If you would like to stay sober, or to drink no more than you have done already, I can support you in that resolve.

    We anticipate offering blue ribbons and running workshops at future KPs – if organizers are happy with that. And we would be glad to see them being used at other social events where alcohol is generally part of the social structure. They’re not official emblems and don’t have anything special about them; any length of blue ribbon, held by a safety-pin, will send the same message.

    Finally, we should add – to avoid potential misunderstanding – that this project is absolutely not about trying to discourage people from drinking, or to shame drinkers, or to reduce the amount of alcohol at KP. It is simply meant to help people who don’t want to drink, or who don’t want to drink too much.

    The Blue Ribbon Collective

    Blue ribbons tied with a safety pinMoving forward, we are developing a Blue Ribbon Collective of participants who are interested in staying sober at events and helping others with alcohol-related issues. Anyone can be a part of the Collective: that just signifies being aware and supportive of our work. Then if someone chooses to wear a blue ribbon pinned to their clothing at a particular larp event, that signals their sobriety (at that event) to others. Being part of the Collective does not mean you should feel under any pressure to stay sober, or to wear the ribbon. Feel free to contact us if you would like to be included on the list.

    Current members of the Blue Ribbon Collective:

    Frederik Vindal Andersson

    Johannes Axner

    Sarah Lynne Bowman

    Banana Chan

    Jon Cole

    Liz Gorinksy

    Harrison Greene

    Charlie Haldén

    Sanne Harder

    Cleo Hatting

    Mo Holkar

    Kjell Hedgard Hugaas

    Torgrim Husvik

    Antti Kumpulainen

    Janusz Maxe

    Morgan Nuncio

    Stephanie Nudelman

    Tuomas Puikkonen

    Tadeu Rodrigues

    Pedro Rodríguez Marín

    Francesco Rugerfred Sedda

    Liv Kristine Slyngborg

    Susanne Vejdemo

    Melissa Whitlock

    Mila Ould Yahoui

    If you’re interested in the blue ribbon, or in the project generally, or would like to help in future, please get in touch!

    (Edited on 6th March 2019 to clarify details of the Blue Ribbon Collective.)


    Cover photo: A blue ribbon pinned to the lapel of a black leather jacket. Photo by Sarah Lynne Bowman.

     

  • Three Roads (of Translation) Not Taken: Different Degrees of Openness of the Work (and of the Game)

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    Three Roads (of Translation) Not Taken: Different Degrees of Openness of the Work (and of the Game)

    Abstract

    From the Julio Plaza’s proposition that, based on the concept of open work of Umberto Eco, categorises the relationship author-work-reception in three degrees, and the division in cultural events in reception, interaction and participation, seen in the research of Kristoffer Haggren, Elge Larsson, Leo Nordwall and Gabriel Widing, this study plans to compare three works called The Road Not Taken: a 1916’s poem by Robert Frost, a 2008’s larp by Mike Young and a 2014’s music piece by André Mestre. Besides that framework, this research uses the notion of game from communication and culture theorist Vilém Flusser, which divides them between open and closed. In open games, the translation process would be seen as a modification of the structure of rules in a given game. From this theoretical basis, the objective is to draw a relationship between the open work and open game. In this context, the poem would stand as receptive work, the music piece as interactive work and the larp as participatory work.

    Keywords: Communication; Narratives; Poem; Music; Larp.


    Three Different Roads Not Taken: A Brief Presentation of the Works

    In 1916, the US poet Robert Frost (1874- 1963) published a collection of poems called Mountain Interval. The opening poem was called The Road Not Taken. In general, the four stanzas of the poem make up the story of a traveller who finds himself at an impasse after the initial event in which “two roads diverged in a yellow wood”. (Frost, 1916, p. 9) After watching each of the paths, the traveller chooses one. However, he keeps thinking about the other. The end of the poem perpetuates a puzzling atmosphere, since the poem ends complementing the initial starting sentence, pointing that “two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference”. (p. 9)

    In 2008, the larp The Road Not Taken was created by US game designer Mike Young, described by him as “a game of emotions and decision” (Young, 2008, p. 3). In his script, designed for six to twelve players, each one will be the main character in a scene of about ten minutes, where he or she will be in a moment of critical decision. The other participants represent voices that indicate different views or decisions to the protagonist. According to the author,((Although the relationship with the Frost poem is not made clear in the larp script, it was clarified by Young in an email conversation on 05.03.2016.)) the influence of Frost occurs since both the poem and the larp are about decision making, so it seemed appropriate to give an eponymous title.

    In 2014, the Brazilian composer André Mestre writes The Road Not Taken, an “open piece for two instrumentalists” (Mestre, 2014, p. 2). It is clear that Frost inspired more than merely the title, since:

    (…) The two voices contained in the work poetically represent the path taken and the path that could have been. One acts upon the other as a shadow, a memory, an anxiety. It is my hope that the spirit of the poem can also be extended to alllevels of decision-making of the piece, especially those pertaining to performance. Contemplate the multitude of options at every moment, take the road less traveled.

    Mestre, 2014, p. 2

    Mestre’s proposal extends beyond the literary sphere and the musical sphere to the imagery sphere, since the very music score escapes from a more orthodox pattern to merge itself with the poem and the wood’s image where (in Frost’s poem) the decision was taken, as seen in Figure 1.

    In order to immerse the instrumentalists deeper in the experience of playing the roles of path taken and path that could have been, Mestre suggests the use of live electronics, as pointed out by indicating that the piece:

    (…) makes use of two electroencephalogram headsets, to be used in real time by the performers. These headsets are responsible for measuring and monitoring focus levels and performative efforts. This data is then used to process and trigger recordings that are constantly being made during the performance. Both performers should be microphoned. Each of them, however, can only access the other’s recordings — “playing” the other on the level of the mind. It is a poetic metaphor for our constant pursuit of alternatives, of “what ifs?”, of trying to go beyond our fate of always having to choose one instead of the other.

    Mestre, 2014, p. 3

    Thus, we present here (although superficially) three different works. Two of them, despite being made to other artistic platforms (music and visual elements in the case of Mestre, the larps’ dramatisation in the case of Young), derived from the Frost poem.

    Figure 1 – Excerpt from The Road Not Taken music score. Source: Mestre, 2014. Figure 1 – Excerpt from The Road Not Taken music score. Source: Mestre, 2014.

    A Road Less Travelled in Translation

    For the scholar Vilém Flusser (1920-1991), a Jewish Czech who spent 32 years of his lifein Brazil, the game is a comprehensive concept, considered “all systems composed of elements combined according to rules” . (Flusser, 1967 p. 2) Flusser (1967) calls repertoire the set of game elements, while the set of rules is called structure. Competence in this case would be “all the possible combinations of the repertoire in the structure” (p. 2), while the universe of the game would be all of such combinations already performed. In games where repertoire and structure are unchangeable, “competence and universe tend to coincide. When this happens, the game is over”. (p. 3) Once defined, Flusser’s relevant terms for this study (repertoire, structure, competence and universe), it is observed that:

    The game’s competences, although specific, given their disposal, tend to interpenetrate themselves. There is a tendency for anthropophagy between games. In spaces of anthropophagic interpenetration of competences there is the possibility of translation, and does not exist outside of these spaces. And the translation is always a modification of structures.

    Flusser, 1967, p. 5

    In this manner, one arrives at one of the focal points of this study: the notion of translation. In the works cited, understanding that we are dealing with three different formats (literature, music and larp), there is a translation process. The common element in all of them is the notion raised by taking a road. Each of the works (or each of the games, adopting Flusser’s term) fits the elements to its structure, thus creating a completely different game, yet with elements that refer to each other. Thus, from the element taking a road, it allows to relate the polysemy of the poem both the decision-making of performers and visual presentation of the musical play score as in the creation process of a narrative in larp.

    This position could be supported by a separate definition. For the Spanish multimedia artist Julio Plaza (1938-2003), the translation process between the three briefly outlined works could be considered an Intersemiotic translation, a term supported by the Russian linguist Roman Jakobson (1896-1982), which defines it as the interpretation of a sign system to another (Jakobson apud Plaza, 2003a). Plaza extends the concept of Jakobson, because for him the Intersemiotic translation would be an artistic practice, since it is:

    (…) a critical and creative practice in the historicity of the means of production and re-production, such as reading, metacreation, action over event structures, dialogue of signs, synthesis and rewriting of history. It means, as thought in signs, such as tra c of meanings, as transcreation forms in historicity.

    Plaza, 2003a, p. 14

    The common point between both hypotheticals is that the translation would refer not only to an adaptation of one language to another. Because they have different rules, they form different games.

    The (Gradually) Open Works: Reception, Interaction and Participation

    Although not the aim of this study, exhausting or even encompassing the myriad of possibilities related to the concept of translation, the notion presented here allows us to bring to light the second of its focal points: the concept of open work. Coined by Italian philosopher and semiologist Umberto Eco (1932-2016), open work refers to the idea of a text that conveys not only one interpretation. In these works, “a plurality of meanings coexist in one significant”. (Eco, 1991, p. 22)

    The concept of Eco concerns the subjectivity of enjoyment, and not the objective structure of a work. Thus, while closed (in the sense of finished) as an author creation, Eco points out that:

    (…) in the act of reaction to the web of stimuli and understanding of their relations, each spectator brings a concrete existential situation, a particularly conditioned sensitivity, a determined culture, tastes, trends, personal biases, so that the understanding of original form is found in an individually designed perspective.

    Eco, 1991, p. 40

    Plaza (2003b) starts on this definition of Eco to demonstrate three different degrees of openness in the work. To Plaza, the fruition of the work would have different degrees of participation of the spectator, following a designed pathway between passive participation, active participation, perceptive participation and interactivity.

    In this logic, the first degree of openingwould be the open work advocated by Eco, characterised by polysemy, ambiguity, multiplicity of readings and wealth of meanings (Plaza, 2003b). The second degree of opening, in turn, was unrelated to the ambiguity, which is related by Plaza with a passive participation. Instead, counts with the active and/or perceptive participation of the viewer, aiming to bridge the gap between creator and viewer, using as tools playful participation, randomness and creativity of the viewer (Plaza, 2003b). Flourishing as a counterpoint to the mass culture, this “art of participation” (Plaza, 2003b, p. 14) understand the perception of the spectator as a re-creation of the work, as opposed to the polysemy of the first degree of opening. Finally, the third degree of opening would refer to the interactivity, placed by Plaza as the art related, above all, to contemporary technologies. Here, artists were “more interested in the processes of artistic creation and aesthetic exploration than in the production of finished works” (Plaza, 2003b, p. 17), so that both the artist and the work “only exist for effective participation the public” (Plaza, 2003b, p. 19). Because of this requirement of a receiver so that there is the author and the work, Plaza also gives this degree of opening the name of communicational art as it “allows a creative communication based on the principles of synergy, constructive collaboration, critical and innovative”. (Plaza, 2003b, p. 17)

    Synthetically, the different degrees of openness proposed by Plaza could then be called in accordance with the inclusion of the viewer in the work on:

    1. First degree of openness: passive participation;
    2. Second degree of openness: active/ perceptive participation;
    3. Third degree of openness: interactive participation.

    However, polysemy also affects the very theoretical concepts that underlie it. This is the case of the positioning of Swedish researchers Kristoffer Haggren, Elge Larsson, Leo Nordwall and Gabriel Widing. Similar to Plaza, they divide the arts according to therelation author-work-reception in three different categories.

    The first artistic category would be spectative art, assuming that “to spectate an event is to subject an individual to a solitary internal mental process: our senses perceive stimuli, we interpret them and create an experience for ourselves” (Haggren et al, 2009, p . 33). For the authors, the works of art encompassed by this category would occupy the space of thinking, had here as the “potential experiences that a certain sensory stimulation can bring up at a certain time in a certain observer” (Haggren et al, 2009, p. 36), including that spectrum “all possible thoughts, emotional reactions and associations that the subject can connect to the stimulation of the work” (Haggren et al, 2009, p. 36).

    The second category is the interactive art, which “can be described as a perception of stimuli driven by choice” (Haggren et al, 2009, p. 39), since the works in this category “gives the observer the possibility to choose which sensory input will be exposed “(Haggren et al, 2009, p. 40). Here, although the authors show that the vast majority of works generate a space of potential thinking, we also have the space of choice, or “the range of all possible stimulus where the viewer can choose” (Haggren et al, 2009, p. 41).

    The third (and last) category would be participative art. Participation in this context is understood as “the process by which individuals produce and receive stimuli to and from other subjects in the framework of an agreement that defines how these exchanges will be performed” (Haggren et al, 2009, p. 43). Here, the viewer’s notion breaks down, since he becomes a participant, a simultaneous consumer and producer of stimuli. The rules of stimuli exchanges make up a pillar of the participative art, since they give to this agreement a social meaning and, therefore, communication. It comes as the space of action, that “indicates to participants subsidies and restrictions to act communicatively”. (Haggren et al, 2009, p. 46)

    The main difference between these two theories are in the meaning employed to the word interactivity. While, in Plaza’s research, interactivity refers to the “reciprocal relationship between the user and an intelligent system” (Plaza, 2003b, p. 10), showing the position of the author of that interactivity is related to “issue of technical interfaces with the notion of program” (Plaza, 2003b, p. 17), for the Swedish authors interactivity refers to the notion of choice. From this concept, the categorisations of both are distinguished by creating distinct incremental positions.

    In this respect, this study is based on the second theory, marked by the apparatus notion viewed in Flusser (2002; 2007): the apparatus would be the producer of information, or non-things (as opposed to tools and machines that perform work or, in Flusser’s terminology, produce things), always subjected to a program. The person operating the apparatus (or that for it is operated, if we take the servant’s notion mentioned by Flusser) seeks to exhaust the options already pre-prescribed in the program. In this sense, it points to a connection between the use of the term interactivity both by Plaza and by the Swedish authors: interactivity would occur for a series of choices resulting from the user’s relationship with the program. The participation, however, is part of a more complex level: a deprogramming of the apparatus, namely the freedom to incorporate noise as part of the repertoire (Flusser, 1967) of the apparatus. The American media researcher Henry Jenkins also points to this sense of insubordination to the apparatus as ulterior to the interactivity, under the name of participatory culture (Jenkins, 2009). Explaining: only a culture that has dominated the apparatus, as seen in some contemporary groups, could insubordinate themselves as the way we see in the Jenkin’s participatory culture that deprogram the apparatus moved mainly for entertainment and pleasure.

    In short, the spectative art is a first degree opening, polysemic, where there is a dependence of an viewer on a finished work by an author. In interactive art, the third degree opening restricts the dependence between author and spectator just to one program mediating the process, and no longer to a work. Finally, participative art, the relationship between the participants (a second degree opening in Plaza studies) is given by an agreement.

    Open Work and Open Game

    Once demonstrated, the three aspects that make up this study (i.e. the aforementioned works of art, the concept of translation, and the opening of the work), this research reaches its central point: the relationship between opening of the game and opening of the work. It is evident that by opening the game means the increase or decrease of the repertoire and/or modification of its structure (Flusser, 1967). The increase or decrease in the repertoire would occur by the transformation of noise in game elements, and vice versa, understanding noises like “elements that are not part of the repertoire of a particular game” (Flusser, 1967, p. 4).

    In Frost’s poem, the original((Despite the use of the term original, it is assumed that even the poem can be considered a possible translation of Frost’s thoughts, memories, perceptions and interpretations.)) of which the other two works has operated translations, could be admitted an opening of the first degree, or a spectative art. The possibilities of game openness are limited to the repertoire of each spectator, i.e. the set of elements, in this case the meanings, that he can give to the work. However, the structure of the game/work remains unchanged.

    In Mestre’s music piece, the translation, or modification of structure (an openness in the game), incorporate different elements to Frost’s poem. The usual score’s pentacle is replaced by a structure that unfolds in the image of a tree, in allusion to the point where the roads diverged in the poem. The two musicians take on the role of the possible paths, invited to improvise on the suggestions of musical notes that they may possibly take from such subjective musical notation. The very distinction between the two demonstrated interactivity concepts here have their place: on one hand there isthe third degree opening, the interaction between user and program, seen as changing the music through the capture of concentration and relaxation states of the performer (hereinafter also receiving the output of the other performer) by electroencephalogram (EEG).((This study highlights the metagame played by Mestre, who incorporates a noise to the electroencephalogram repertoire, which could be understood, in Flusser’s terms, as a deprogramming of the device in question.)) On the other hand, the relationship with the possible choices, based on the music feedback returned to each of the performers, suggests a second degree opening.

    Finally, in Young’s larp, the very perception of the participants on the few lines describing each scene and each role is the heart of the matter, because it allows them to create, in every execution, a completely different work for producing and receiving completely distinct stimuli.

    Which Road to Take Forward?

    Although Mestre never played Young’s larp, he has been a role-player for several years. To which degree would the immersion in a participative art affect the production in other (and sometimes less opened) artistic structures?

    Larps have been around for a while: about 20 years as an artistic expression, if you take the nordic larp slope; about 40 years if you take a common origin with the tabletop role-playing games; or even millennia, if you take the relationship between larps and Roman Saturnalias, as pointed out by Brian Morton (2007).

    Eco stays in the metaphor of a wood to the narrative. The Italian semiologist, with this term, honours the Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986), for whom:

    (…) a wood is a garden of diverging roads. Even when there are not well-defined paths in a wood, everyone can draw their own path, deciding to go to the left or tothe right of a particular tree and, in every found tree, choosing this or that direction.

    Borges apud Eco, 1994, p. 12

    Using this metaphor, the narratives, whether they be literary, imagistic, musical or ludic, would be composed of options all the time. Eco even compares the fruition of a work to a game, given the relationship between the author and the spectator, whom he defines as “someone who is eager to play” (Eco, 1994, p. 16). As pointed out by the Brazilian communicologist Monica Martinez, human expressions, even over the millennia and innovation of techniques, relied on “new interpretations layer overlaps on the same content”. (Martinez, 2015, p. 4)

    Thus, passed this literature review, it is suggested that a possible road to be taken in the future would be to research, learn and absorb how a participative art, as is the case of larps, could contribute (or already contributes) to the choice of new layers to overlap the elements contained in different artistic expressions and/or structures.

    Bibliography

    Ludography


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


    Cover photo: Allison Balcetis and Manuel Falleiros performing The Road Not Taken (Mestre, 2014) at University of Campinas in 2015. Photo by Luciene Mourige.

  • High on Larp: Alcohol at Larp Events

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    High on Larp: Alcohol at Larp Events

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    In January 2017, Mila Ould Yahoui, Sarah Lynne Bowman, and I conducted an online survey about experiences with and attitudes towards alcohol at larps and at larp-related social events. The survey link was shared in various Facebook larping groups and it gained just over a thousand responses.

    This survey was not a representative or weighted sample, and it makes no claims to be scientific. Responders were self-selecting and might be assumed to have some interest in the topic of alcohol, either to support its use or to express concern about negative alcohol-related incidents. Even so, we feel that some of the findings are of interest and we hope they may stimulate discussion.

    Demographics

    Rather than asking which country responders came from, we asked which country they did most of their larping in. We felt that, with the increasing internationalization of the hobby, this question would be a more reliable indicator of a responder’s “larping culture.”

    pie chart showing a variety of countries

     

    The results showed considerable variation between countries. For example, the likelihood of having often or sometimes consumed alcohol at larp varied from 30% in the USA to 47% in Poland.

    Responders’ ages ranged from 13 to 63, but over 80% were in the 21-40 range.

    Pie chart of age ranges of respondents

    Frequency

    We asked a series of radio-button questions about frequency of various experiences with alcohol. Responders could answer Often, Sometimes, Rarely, or Never.

    • Have you larped while under the influence of alcohol?
    • Have you larped with other people who were under the influence of alcohol?
    • Have you been under the influence of alcohol at larp-related social events?
    • Have you been at larp-related social events while other people were under the influence of alcohol?
    graphs of alcohol use
    Participant experiences with alcohol use at larps and larp-related events.

    Experiences

    We asked two free-text questions about responders’ experiences:

    • “Have you done anything that you regretted (at the time, or later) while you were, or other people were, under the influence of alcohol at a larp or at a larp-related social event?” and
    • “Has anything been done to you that you wish had not been done, while you were, or other people were, under the influence of alcohol at a larp or at a larp-related social event?”

    24% and 29% of responses respectively were affirmative. As responses were given confidentially, we won’t quote from any of them here, but these are the types of experiences that were listed:

    • Examples of things that people regret:
      • Nausea; hangover; oversleeping; losing possessions and clothing; injuries to self; loss of memory; loss of focus on the game.
      • Inappropriate talking in-game; being offensive; bad moods; fighting.
      • Transgressing personal boundaries; inappropriate flirting/kissing/etc.; inappropriate sex; infidelity.
      • Several people mentioned drinking as a social facilitator or because of social pressure.
    • Examples of things done to people that they wish hadn’t been done:
      • OOC talking and action that harmed immersion; injury from another’s “playful” behaviour; drinking culture detracting from larping; boredom from drunken ramblings; rowdiness.
      • Homophobia; sober-shaming; insults; psychological abuse.
      • Being vomited upon; suffering violence.
      • Sexual harassment; had sexual photos taken with and without consent; sexual assault; rape.
      • Several people mentioned tens of such incidents. Some spoke of pressure to drink and of how once alcohol is present and open, it can take over the event.

    Many people said in their responses that the problems they’d experienced with alcohol weren’t particular to larp – that the same things could happen at any other party, etc. This detail makes the point that we can’t assume that larp is a safe bubble outside of society, where we are with our own tribe, and where bad things aren’t going to happen. Alcohol may not be in itself problematic, but a lot of people consume it in a problematic way, and so, trouble can be caused.

    Some respondents said that at their events, players knew how to drink responsibly, and so there were no difficulties. Which is great – but we have to recognize that at many larps, and at many social gatherings – including KP, where a number of responders reported having experienced assaults – that is not always the case. Also, just because an organizer has not received a report about an incident does not mean no incident occurred. Indeed, people may feel uncomfortable reporting incidents for various reasons, including fear of reprisal, shame, or ostracization.

    In Favour of Alcohol?

    Mo propping up the bar at the 2014 larp Café Casablanca. Photo by Charlie Paull.

    Finally we asked whether respondents were in favour of allowing alcohol at larps (60% said Yes) and at larp-related social events (92% said Yes).

    We did not ask about positive outcomes from the presence of alcohol, which gives a skew to the survey data. In the subsequent presentation at Knutepunkt 2017, we sought additional responses about positive experiences from participants in the session. People mentioned that alcohol can provide a pleasant social atmosphere; that it can help people relax; that it can add to realism of larping characters who are drinking alcohol; and that it can help shy people perform socially.

    To conclude: this survey and presentation are not part of a campaign to ban alcohol from larp, or from larp-related social events. However, we do feel that it demonstrates that real and measurable adverse effects can and do occur. It’s important for us all to be aware of the potential downsides and risks that alcohol can bring with it. We hope that this work will contribute to opening up a discussion around these topics.

    The Blue Ribbon Collective

    Moving forward, we are developing a Blue Ribbon Collective of participants who are interested in staying sober at events and helping others with alcohol-related issues. Members of the Collective may choose to wear a blue ribbon pinned to their clothing at larp events to signal their sobriety to others. Feel free to contact us if you would like to be included on the list.

    Current members of the Blue Ribbon Collective:


    Johannes Axner
    Sarah Lynne Bowman
    Banana Chan
    Jon Cole
    Liz Gorinksy
    Harrison Greene
    Charlie Haldén
    Sanne Harder
    Cleo Hatting
    Mo Holkar
    Kjell Hedgard Hugaas
    Torgrim Husvik
    Antti Kumpulainen
    Janusz Maxe
    Morgan Nuncio
    Stephanie Nudelman
    Tadeu Rodrigues
    Francesco Rugerfred Sedda
    Liv Kristine Slyngborg
    Susanne Vejdemo
    Melissa Whitlock
    Mila Ould Yahoui


    Cover photo: Cocktail Poured into Orrefors Balans Glass by Didriks on Flickr. Image has been cropped. CC BY 2.0.

  • Keeping Volunteers Alive

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    Keeping Volunteers Alive

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    Organising larps is a multi-disciplinary exercise at best. At its worst, you need a witch’s cauldron of different skill sets, and being negligent in one area can mean that no matter how much you shine elsewhere, you still have a failed larp on your hands. A large part of my larp work consists of managing somewhat large (25+) teams of people, most of them volunteers. Doing that for big larp productions like College of Wizardry (Nielsen, Dembinski and Raasted et al., 2014) and Convention of Thorns (Raasted, et al., 2016) has given me some insights that may come in handy for others.

    Pretend It’s a Video Game

    If you think of your helpers/volunteers/team as being human versions of The Sims characters, then you’ll have an easier time managing them. Each of them comes equipped with a number of “status bars” that you need to be aware of. They have to be fed, housed and instructed, if you’re to get anything useful out of them—no matter if they’re at your larp to play the hostile orc army appearing out of nowhere, helping with getting the location ready, or doing cleanup.

    It doesn’t matter much whether you call them helpers, minions, team members or something else. It matters how you treat them, though. To aid you in your larp organising, I’ve compiled a list of tips, structured into three chapters. And while I use these strategies when working with larpers, it’s just as easy to apply this sort of checklist elsewhere.

    And with all that in place, let’s jump right in!

    Health Points

    Health Points represent the physical side of things. If this was a video game, these would be the different status bars that could be boosted using physical remedies. If your helpers are low on health points, it’s very hard to make them do anything (at all).

    • Water. It may seem like a simple thing, but if your helpers don’t have easy access to water, they will suffer. If you’re using an outdoor location, it’s extra critical.
    • Food. People need to eat. Food should be plentiful, nutritious and if possible account for dietary needs and wishes. Both meals and snacks are important.
    • Accommodation. Without a place to sleep, it’s hard to be a hero. Taking care of this can be tricky, since you have to deal with things like snoring, privacy and the general psychological makeup of your helpers.
    • Temperature. I’ve worked on a film project in Abu Dhabi, and I nearly melted. I’ve also frozen my ass off during late Autumn larps in non-heated castles. You need to make sure that either you or your helpers are taking care of making the temperature bearable.
    • Toilets. What goes in must come out, and access to sanitation is vital. One toilet for 50 helpers is not good, and if you’re feeding them well, it’s even worse!
    • Physical safety. To work, we need to be safe—and to feel safe. If you’re doing something in an environment that’s less than friendly to humans, it’s even more important. Enthusiasts will often take risks to make things work. Do your best to make sure that they don’t have to!

    Mana Points

    Mana Points represent the mental state of your helpers. This is slightly harder to quantify, but nonetheless very important. It’s the things that make your well-fed, well-rested work crew put in that extra effort that is necessary to make an event run smoothly.

    • Vision. “The how begins with the why” is a popular phrase. It’s also at least somewhat true. Helpers who know what’s going on and why it’s important are more likely to actually make that vision come true.
    • Motivation. There are many different ways to motivate people, and I’ll not go into details here, but if you don’t manage to motivate your helpers, they’ll slowly degenerate into slow, unhappy shades of themselves. Okay, not that bad, but still bad.
    • Morale. Akin to motivation, but different from it, morale matters when things get tough. When something goes wrong, and you need to ask people to stay an hour extra to dig a ditch or clean toilets, morale is critical. It’s the difference between “Okay, if I absolutely must” and “Yes, let’s do it!”
    • Free time. This is something that I find is often undervalued in projects: the clear communication of when there’s free time, and how it can be used. Are there spaces for resting? Opportunity to hang out with others during free time? Knowing how things work when you’re not working is important.
    • Solidarity. Most of us know that some tasks require heavy lifting while others require less obvious forms of labour. Even so, it can feel very demotivating to see someone watching cat videos on YouTube, while you’re putting the finishing touches on a prop, regardless of whether or not the other person has worked hard earlier. Providing a good feeling of solidarity in the workforce is a key component to creating team spirit.
    • Emotional safety. If we’re stressed and overloaded—or even feeling unsafe and unwelcome, we’re not concentrating on the task at hand. Everyone in your team should feel included and accepted, and creating a culture that supports this is very important—especially when working with diverse teams of strangers.

    Equipment

    Last, but definitely not least, comes the hardware; the things you need to make your highly motivated and cared for helpers actually do the work they’re here for. Inadequate hardware is the most common mistake I’ve come across, and is not just about tools, but also related things.

    • Workspace. Once you’ve gotten someone who can build a dragon, they need a place to build it in, or it’s not going to happen. Having appropriate amounts of space for the work that needs to be done is a necessary component to making things happen.
    • Tools. It may be possible to build a wooden house without hammers and nails, but it’s certainly easier if you have the proper equipment at hand. This can be small things like scissors and pens, or it can be expensive power tools or technical equipment. Often, it’s possible to come up with ad hoc solutions but having the right tools is preferable.
    • Working gear. If you’re working on a construction site, hard hats are often mandatory. If it’s pitch black, lights are pretty much a must. This seems self-evident, but is a place where I’ve seen too many failures.
    • Transportation. Perhaps one of the most overlooked factors when doing projects in locations that are off the beaten path (and yes, castles in Poland fit this category). Just telling people to show up on location doesn’t work that well if your location isn’t easily reachable. Transport solutions take time, and often need to be customised.
    • Physical safety. This is not only about the more obvious aspects of safety, but also about the more tricky ones. Asking if there’s a first aid kit is simple. Remembering that women need lights in toilet spaces because periods are a thing should be simple, but has proven not to be.
    • Emotional safety. Is there a sanctuary to retreat to if you need one? Are there people you can trust who can help you deal with trouble? Larps are often as high-intensity behind the scenes as on stage, and it’s valuable to know if someone is there to make sure that your mental health is taken into consideration.

    Final Words

    This article could easily have been longer, more detailed or more focused on explaining the whys and the hows. Having been a helper at many larps, and being a helper coordinator for larps as part of my professional life, I will be grateful if you can provide everything on this checklist. Time, money and reality often get in the way for that, but it’s a worthy goal, I think. The reason I have chosen to go the video game route is that I’ve discovered two things while working with helpers (and as a helper myself):

    • People are not resources. People have resources, but forgetting to treat them like individual people is not only morally problematic, but also bad for your project.
    • People still have similar needs, and once you learn how to think systemically about some of those needs (as you do with The Sims characters) you get better at managing your helper teams.

    In the end, larps come alive because of the players, but the work done before, during and after larps by organisers and their helpers make the play experience possible in the first place. If handled right, being a helper for a larp can be a very fulfilling experience.

    So let’s do our best to get the basics right!


    Ludography

    • Nielsen, Charles Bo, Dracan Dembinski and Claus Raasted et al. College of Wizardry. Poland: Liveform (PL) and Rollespillsfabrikken (DK), 2014-.
    • Raasted, Claus et al., Convention of Thorns. Poland: White Wolf Publishing and Dziobak Larp Studios, 2016.

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


    Cover photo: Volunteers at College of Wizardry 8.

  • The Final Nordic Larp Manifesto: The 95 Theses of Larp

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    The Final Nordic Larp Manifesto: The 95 Theses of Larp

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    In celebration of the 500th year since Martin Luther nailed 95 theses to a church door and started the Reformation, we wanted to collect 95 theses from people in the Nordic Larp and nail it to a totem.

    We (Edin Šumar and Simon Svensson) did so. These were collected over a single day and represent 95 different opinions, rants or views of the participants of the Knutepunkt 2017 conference.

    1. Our band was great before we signed up with a major label.
    2. Larp should stop attempting to be art; it will only result in its destruction
    3. KNOW YOUR STORY
    4. Players come first, not the larp. Players must take care of themselves over your immersion.
    5. IF IT HAS BEEN DONE BEFORE IT IS NO LONGER INTERESTING.
    6. Experience through your body.
    7. A bad experience can still be good. Wait!
    8. We should not reproduce the constructs of oppressive capitalist culture.
    9. Beauty always should be present.
    10. Dare to be personal and genuine.
    11. If you can not measure your larp, it does not exist.
    12. Do it yourself you lazy bugger!
    13. Make more lists!
    14. Pre-written stories shall be burned!
    15. I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU DO – JUST DO IT!
    16. You can’t take a picture of it. When you play it, it is already gone.
    17. If your story is “five dudes and a –” it is probably shit.
    18. Confusion begets learning.
    19. If there is no message you might as well watch a movie.
    20. Just shut up and trust your GM.
    21. To cry or not to cry – it really doesn’t matter.
    22. Believing that you are the best at “this” makes it true only if you listen to your peer’s review about the situation.
    23. NO SECRETS!
    24. There is no shame in feeling deeply before, during and after a larp.
    25. There is no such thing as reality, maybe?
    26. We believe in co-creation instead of no-creation
    27. Dare to follow your intuition both in playing and designing
    28. Play up the positive
    29. Do less.
    30. Thou shalt not internalize failure, but fail better in togetherness.
    31. NORDIC LARP MUST EVOLVE OR DIE!
    32. DO REAL WORK IN GAME
    33. Without a VISION, your larp will suck!
    34. IT IS PERFECTLY FINE IF YOUR EXPERIENCE IS “JUST A GOOD TIME”
    35. Love thy organiser and thy coplayer as yourself
    36. Never only communicate on your webpage
    37. Debrief should be restricted and organized. Don’t let every player speak about their cool scenes for half an hour each.
    38. The essence of Nordic Larp is that there is NO essence.
    39. Do something, don’t just rant about what others do!
    40. Mechanics can’t only be functional, they must provide pleasure.
    41. FUCK PASSIVE ART
    42. LOVE what you are doing (unless you love to be miserable, in that case it’s okay to hate what you are doing)
    43. Designing play is designing temporary communities
    44. Immersion is media specific and we need to establish our own definitions! We are not theatre, we are not computer games BUT OF COURSE we are ART
    45. Kill your darlings before they kill you
    46. Fuck the process, trust your players!!
    47. No more weltschmerz. We take over USA!
    48. Nordic larp should be whatever we want it to be
    49. If all of your gay plots are about coming out, you need to get out more.
    50. Larp should continue to challenge and evolve, so that we can continue to evolve.
    51. Nordic larp is expanding but it can not be broken!
    52. Nordic larp has the potential to save the world. Make it happen!
    53. Don’tbe too scared to change the world.
    54. Larp does not have to change the world, but ideally it should impact on the players/participants.
    55. I believe larp can allow you to be any gender and any gender expression.
    56. Larp doesn’t ALWAYS have to be angsty and tragic you nordic fuckers!
    57. You can enjoy larp, you can drink, you can laugh, you can fuck, you can do anything you collectively want, but if you don’t try to change the way you see the world, your larp is shit.
    58. LARP is love. Make games around the bad stuff, but don’t subject the players to it outside the game. In game, fuck them up.
    59. Be real. Laugh or cry or go into “I’m just not feeling this and I’m off”, but do what you feel. Don’t change yourself to fit the game.
    60. It’s alright to choose your players however you want. Run a game for your best friends if you want. Have a double blind casting system if you want. You don’t need to justify it to anyone. It might be nice to be upfront about it though.
    61. More fluff and feelings! Softcore larping is the new immersion closet.
    62. Clearer vision statements on the LARP homepage.
    63. Give credit.
    64. Mud! Ice! Walking in the snow! Fuck transparency.
    65. From community, to community.
    66. Never stop questioning the way you do and think about things.
    67. For all mankind
    68. Feed your bleed!
    69. Make sure your crew is happy!
    70. Larp is life.
    71. LARP IS FOR EVERYONE
    72. Don’t larp with assholes. Not worth it.
    73. HAVE FUN!
    74. Larp is not unlike a conversation; it’s more fun when everyone gets to talk and less fun when someone is just shouting their point across the room for an hour.
    75. Larp should attempt to create bridges where there are walls and should do so by tears.
    76. The border between LARP (which is a really bad word) and tabletop RPGs should be erased.
    77. Larp should be playful.
    78. Stop talking and do shit!
    79. Stop ranting on Facebook
    80. LARP is art, LARP is philosophy, LARP is life.
    81. LARP should make you feel something.
    82. Shame is all you need.
    83. Larp will change the world, bring empathy and emotion.
    84. Larp can lead to personal growth and increase empathy, widen your emotional range, build identity and create a social platform.
    85. Larp should be a way of accessing worlds, phenomena & emotions we might not otherwise be able to access in order to understand them, and therefor the world and people around us, better.
    86. There’s nothing wrong with secrets & competitive play! End your fucking campaign occasionally.
    87. All secrets shall be out and all your feelings will be in the tears on your face.
    88. Create experiences that will last forever.
    89. Larp is not a closed circle, one must share knowledge and expand the circle until it includes all nations. In that way, larp as a method can be achieved.
    90. Larp is the closest we can get to experiencing many reincarnations with our memories still intact.
    91. Do -one- larp. Do it with -congruence-, follow the vision and never compromise.
    92. Keep the secrets
    93. Larp changes our actions, actions changes behaviours, behaviours changes communities, communities changes societies, societies change the world!
    94. The hard limit of larp design is the brain of the player. We must transcend the foolish limitations of human biology so our Art may be fully realized.
    95. We live in the Golden Age of Nordic Larp. Nordic larp is dead!

    Mike Pohjola
    Jamie MacDonald
    Anna-Karin Linder
    Shoshana Kessock
    Bjarke Pedersen
    Nina Runa Essendrop
    Adrian Voje
    Jeppe Bergmann Hamming
    Maria Bergmann Hamming
    Karete Jacobsen Meland
    Gustav Nilsson
    Troels Barkholt
    Sofie Liv Støvelbæk
    Markus Montola
    Morten Kjærsgaard Tellefsen
    Kristoffer Thurøe
    Tor-Kjetil Edland
    Lizzie Stark
    Sanna Koulu
    Siri Sandquist
    Frida Karlsson-Lindgren
    Rosalind Göthberg
    Massi Hannula
    David Thorhauge
    Sarah Lynne Bowman
    Peter Munthe-Kaas
    Ronja Lofstad
    Claus Raasted
    Grethe Bulterud Strand
    Anna Westerling
    Gabriel Widing
    Annika Waern
    Kjell Hedgard Hugaas
    Martin Ericsson
    Elina Andersson
    Karijn van der Heij
    Anne Marie Stamnestrø
    Mimmi Lundquist
    Stine Mari Haugen
    Signe Hertel
    Martin Nielsen
    Juhana Pettersson
    Maria Pettersson
    Janetta Nyberg
    Johanna Koljonen
    Hilda Levin
    Kaia Aardal
    Tobias Bindslet
    Hanne Grassmo
    Jaakko Stenros
    Ingrid Størrø
    Charlie Ashby
    Monika Weissenfels
    Martine Svanevik
    Marie Hernes
    Karin Edman
    Drew Harpunea
    Eleanor Saitta
    Cat Tobin
    Dominika Kovacova
    Lovisa Tärnholm
    Janusz Maxe
    Juliane Mikkelsen
    Iva Vavrova
    Joonas Iivonen
    Zacharias Holmberg
    Dmitry Ivanov
    Carl Nordblom
    Stefan Lunneborg
    Leila Teteau-Surel
    Halfdan Justesen
    Maiju Ruusunen
    Lars Løveng Sunde
    Mia Häggström
    Muckas Gustavsson
    Jøst L Hansen
    Miriam Lundqvist
    Nastassia Sinitsyna
    Dajo vande Pute
    Toril Mjelva Saatvedt
    Håken Lid
    Raphael Dunant
    Lisa Nordemo
    Hissu Hivärinen
    Laura Boylan
    Gunilla Hellén
    Hannu Niemi
    Jonaya Kemper
    Clio Davis
    Rasmus Lundholm
    Michael Hemmingson
    Karin Ryding
    Eirik Fatland
    Simon Svensson
    Jørn Slemdal

  • Knutepunkt 2017: Summary

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    Knutepunkt 2017: Summary

    Written by

    The Norwegian edition of the Nordic larp conference Knutepunkt, Knutepunkt 2017, is now over. This post will be continuously updated with links to articles, reports, photo albums, videos, slides, books and other relevant documentation.

    If you have any content you want published but lack a place to host it we will gladly host it here at Nordiclarp.org, please contact us on: contribute@nordiclarp.org


    Last update: 2017-03-13, 23:15 CET


    While not specifically written for Knutepunkt 2017, Elin Nilsen’s guide to handling the post Knutepunkt blues is quite relevant for participants:


    The Knutepunkt 2017 Book

    The official journal for Knutepunkt 2017 is called Once Upon a Nordic Larp… Twenty Years of Playing Stories and was edited by Martine Svanevik, Linn Carin Andreassen, Simon Brind, Elin Nilsen, and Grethe Sofie Bulterud Strand.


    Nordiclarp.org Video Reports

    We made a series of interviews on site during the conference. All 14 of them can be found in this playlist.


    Social Media

    Twitter

    Instagram

    Facebook


    Manifestos


     Talks

    Jaakko Stenros – Keynote: Nordic Larp, NPCs, and the Future

    Suus Mutsaers – Net(e)scape: Playing Hackers in an Escape Room

    Slides are available on the linked page.

    Lizzie Stark & Tor Kjetil Edland – The Player Organizer Contract

    Markus Montola – A Cookbook Approach to Quantitative Larp Evaluation

    Here you can download my cookbook slides, and an example excel sheet showing how to crunch those numbers. On the first page of the excel sheet there’s also a link to my living storage of survey items used so far.

    Markus Montola

    Sarah Lynne Bowman, Maury Brown & Johanna Koljonen – Safety & Calibration Tools in Larps

    Nina Runa Essendrop – Retrospect

    Nina Runa Essendrop – Physical, intuitive workshop design

    Magnar Grønvik Müller – Larp as Part of a Learning Process

    Magnar Grønvik Müller – Why edu-larp?


    Photos

    Casper Skyum Høgh

    Anna Volodina

    Dmitry Samus


    Blog Posts

    Kelsey Desrosiers – An American at Knutepunkt

    Mo Holkar – Knutepunkt 2017

    Jonaya Kemper – An American Buccaneer in Scandinavia: Knutepunkt 2017


    KPTV

  • Ludo-narrative Dissonance and Harmony in Larps

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    Ludo-narrative Dissonance and Harmony in Larps

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    Out of Tune

    Ludo-narrative dissonance seems like a pompous term but actually defines a simple concept that appears when gameplay (“ludo” from ludis, “game”) and narration (“narrative”) diverge or oppose: the story created by players’ actions contradicts the story tailored by the narration.

    For this article, the definition of “gameplay” in larps includes the system of rules, techniques and meta technical setup which allows players to express themselves in the larp-specific fictional universe, thus to build and expand their story through common tools. The term “narrative” refers to the context in which the game takes place (historical period, genre), displayed themes, game masters’ intentions (what experience they want the player to have), tone, etc. In larps, the narrative is set up primarily through character sheets, player tips and guidelines (describing the universe, social conventions, background), scripted events, etc. The marriage of gameplay and narrative creates the story.

    Prelude in Video Games

    Clint Hocking,1 the creative director at LucasArts and Ubisoft, first used the term “ludo-narrative dissonance” in 2007 when discussing an issue related to the video game Bioshock (2K Games, 2007). The term became an instant success and a practical tool of analysis for video games.

    To summarize Hocking’s original argument, there is a conflict between the ludic contract and the narrative contract in Bioshock. The game enhances the theme of personal interest vs. generosity through the gameplay, but denies the player that freedom of choice through its narration, creating a breach in the player’s adhesion to the overall game history.

    Other examples of such dissonance are abundant in video games. For instance, in the 2013 Tomb Raider reboot, a “hero next door” young man or woman is presented in the intro cinematics as immature and fragile and then transformed in the early stages of the game into a killing machine, almost without transition. Another typical example appears in Batman Arkham City, when Batman is poisoned and encouraged to rush to find the antidote; actually, the player has all the time in the world to fulfill as many side quests as he wants. As soon as he explores the city, the game mechanics actually encourage him to do so in order to increase his skills, negating the feeling of emergency put in place by the narration.

    The ludo-narrative dissonance goes beyond a simple bug, continuity error or occasional incoherence. When it emerges, it’s the whole system that is at fault, where the story promised to the player is contradicted by the story that he lives, which is precisely what we wish to avoid in larp.

    Counterpoint in Larp

    "Anne d'Autriche with a Jambon-Beurre", or when anachronism is a kind of dissonance. Photo taken before the Fouquet's larp by Jérôme Verdier - Photographe. “Anne d’Autriche with a Jambon-Beurre”, or when anachronism is a kind of dissonance. Photo taken before the Fouquet’s larp by Jérôme Verdier – Photographe.

    Like for video games, I believe ludo-narrative dissonance is not only a useful analytical tool, but also a key challenge for larp storytelling. Whether a larp is gamist, simulationist or narrativist (or any other category if one does not adhere to these) does not say anything about its quality. However, if the rules are not consistent with the announced intention, then the organiser is exposed to the likely disappointment of the players. Imagine a larp centred around introspection or character relationships, but whose preparation material instead focuses on encyclopedic rules that detail every aspect of the external world; or a larp promising to explore the daily life of 16th century Venetian merchants, without designing an in-game economy or rules of exchange.

    Although other classifications are possible, I’d like to distinguish the most frequently encountered dissonances into two categories: passive and active.

    Passive dissonances are related to unnecessary rules. Sometimes these are rooted in the desire to present a comprehensive overview of the world or the designer’s work, which leads to an encyclopedic system. Other times, they are a result of the designers’ anxiety to cover all possible avenues of play and not limit players’ freedom or immersion. It is even specified sometimes that some rules are detailed “just in case,” even if it is not advisable to use them.

    Players’ observations tend to show2 that the more our memory is cluttered by the need to take charge or remember the rules of a game, the less space it can devote to emotional impact and empathy. Consequently, a game that would favour an abundant, complex or counterintuitive system of rules diminishes the quality of players’ immersion. This argument alone should lead designers to promptly and ruthlessly suppress any rule not actively reinforcing the game themes (safety rules not included, obviously).

    Not forgetting a more insidious effect: some players, intuitively familiar with the famous trope of Chekhov’s gun,3 may be tempted to think that if the rule exists, it is to serve a purpose. It would be a shame to unintentionally encourage players to use a rule that doesn’t serve the intention of your game, or worse, which lessens the impact of the game’s story. Even though combat, sex or healing rules cover basic subjects (from a simulationist point of view), this is not a reason why they should appear by default in a game system. Every rule should meet a need. One way to avoid passive dissonance and strictly focus on relevant rules may be to suggest to players other means of resolving situations that might occur, more in line with the game themes. Organisers should also clearly communicate what will not take place during the game because it is not part of the scope. For instance, in Prima la Musica or L’Agonie du Poète (The Poet’s Agony, 2016), there are no rules to simulate sex. In operas or 17th theatre plays, protagonists do not sleep with each other, so the same rule applies to these larps set up in the same context, period. However, the theme of being in love is central, thus other means consistent with the setting are suggested to express it like sighs, looks, and gentle touching of hands.

    Active dissonances are caused by rules conflicting with the intentions of the game. The experience they offer to the player is different from what the larp promises. As a consequence, the story experienced by the player is different or even in contradiction with the narration of the game. This situation can take many forms, among which:

    • A discrepancy between the intention of the game, and the type of rules set up by the game design: games anticipated as fun and light but burdened with heavy or complex rulebooks, or games without rules or with minimal rules, where players’ objectives require simulationist mechanisms. This last case can make players and designers think that rules are necessary in a larp, when the actual problem is that it’s not possible to achieve the game objectives with the tools provided.
    • Poorly chosen rules, inconsistent with the narration, and ultimately harmful to the game. Ars Amandi for instance, is a sex simulation rule requiring touching one’s partner’s arm that allows a wide variation of interpretations. Nevertheless, it should not be systematically used as a default sex simulation rule: in games where sexual intercourse is not an important stake, other rules that don’t involve physical contact may be as relevant, and less intrusive for the player.

    Rules are marvellous tools to support, structure, and build a story. Just as it would be unthinkable to reuse character sheets from one game to another (except in the case of a very innovative concept), it would seem at best neglectful, at worst counterproductive, not to design specifically tailored rules for each larp in order to define the game’s own identity. The assumed ambition by most larps—to propose original, varied, strong, and inspiring experiences—requires designers to pay attention to the consistency of all tools used to reach the Holy Grail of ludo-narrative harmony.

    From Dissonance to Harmony

    Following the above thoughts, a term has naturally emerged to greet the effort of preventing—and indeed actively counteracting—the dissonance: ludo-narrative harmony.

    Passive and Active Harmony

    In the same way that passive and active dissonances can be categorised, it seems relevant to distinguish passive and active harmony:

    The Santeuil Boating Party design illustrates seamlessly their "slow gaming" approach: "Take your time, enjoy, live at the pace of the ripples on the lake..." The Santeuil Boating Party design illustrates seamlessly their “slow gaming” approach: “Take your time, enjoy, live at the pace of the ripples on the lake…”
    • Passive harmony: when the rules are consistent with the premise of the game, without necessarily supporting the theme. Consider for instance a post-apocalyptic game where everyone is accustomed to the rigours of survival since childhood, but that promises players the opportunity to explore interpersonal relationships, the importance of family ties, and the experience of group life. To fully focus rules on combat or survival would be consistent with the setting, but would be inadequate to convey the theme. Dissonance is then avoided but harmony is not fully achieved.
    • Active harmony: when the rules, whether chosen among existing ones or created, are always selected specifically to support the whole story by incorporating themes into players’ actions. By this means, the focus of the rules and their tone and treatment are in line with the fictional framework. Again using the post-apocalyptic game example, it may translate to rules setting up group rituals for instance.

    In an effort towards active harmony, many games have brilliantly set up such rules, through the choice of their subject matter (which rules to focus upon, such as sex-play or inter-generational dynamics) or the choice of their treatment (the mechanics by which this focus is handled). Let’s take a look at some examples:

    The first path to ludo-narrative harmony is to choose rules that address a specific topic, to frame the specific larp narration setting and themes. It ranges from designing rules about quodpot for a Harry Potter university larp (Salem-Never forget, 2012), where the championship is not only competitive but part of the narrative; or duelling rules in a western larp to create smooth scenes (Hell on Wheels, Appl and Dulka et al.,. 2015); to more unexpected ones, like rules that allow players to forget or blur serious events as a means of reinforcing the desired dreamlike atmosphere in an oneiric larp (La Sirena Varada, 2015); or a rule that channels madness through a necklace that enhances charisma and lowers a character’s inhibitions, imbuing the game with psychological horror (Pan, 2014).

    Once the designers have chosen the subjects of the rules, it’s time to design them in a relevant way that reflects the narration specific to the larp. Sex simulation rules are a good illustration for that kind of choice. The needs unique to each of the following games has led designers to address this topic, but each set of rules has been executed differently, echoing the identity of the larp:

    • In Les Liaisons Dangereuses [Dangerous Liaisons] (2014), where love is seen as a tool of power and competition, a tarot deck is provided in each room to calculate the sexual performance of each character and determine the winner, with consequences ranging from change in reputation to pillow talk; and even the ultimate disgrace for both characters, the birth of true love.
    • In Les Canotiers de Santeuil [The Santeuil Boating Party] (2014), where love is a floating dream in a light and leisurely atmosphere, there is no crude simulation, no undressing, and (almost) no contact, but a system of ribbons to lovingly tie each other’s wrists before counting clouds together to climb to seventh heaven.
    • In Les Fleurs de Mai [Flowers of May] (Algayres, 2014), where love is designed as a tool of power and enslavement in a brothel, each player is required to use a range of various and subtle interpretations of Ars Amandi.
    • In Just a Little Lovin’ (Edland and Grasmo, 2013) where homosexual advances are at the heart of unbridled evenings, bowls of feathers are available in some scenes: to give a pink feather to someone is a smooth way to suggest directing the scene towards sex. If the player ignores the feather, the scene then moves elsewhere. If black feathers had not also been used to invite to black box scenes, this meta technique could even have been integrated as an intradiegetic mechanic to further strengthen harmony—the feather would then have been considered a usual code of these kind of evenings and well-known by the characters.

    The same attention to consistency can also be advantageously applied to explain the game intentions or overall design. In Vivre Vite [Live Fast] (Allermoz, 2014), a game about young punks in the 80’s, rules are offered to simulate headbutts or ass grabs, in order to enhance a violent, vulgar and sexist atmosphere. Aside from these rules, though, the playing intentions are all consistent with the subject, either in the writing (some paragraph titles for instance: “I’ll punch you,” “I’ll stab you,” “I’m on drugs” “I’ll f… you”) or the numerous incentives to break generic larping codes, including those regarding conflicts (“let’s prioritise shouting over discrete quarrels”) or physical fighting (“in that culture, opponents may finish off a fight either with a few insults or by grabbing a beer together, depending on the case”).

    In the same vein, the rules for Dirty Little Secrets (Algayres, 2013) provide several dramatic elements based on tropes from the soap opera genre—dramatic monologues, slamming doors, looks toward the camera— creating an innovative experience where ludo and narrative merge seamlessly.

    Arabesques

    Pre-game workshops could also be regarded as tools of ludo-narrative dissonance or harmony, as well as other kinds of rules; for example, the many and varied workshops for Mad about the Boy (Raaum, Edland and Lindahl, 2010) – especially the one collectively building the world through examining how the disappearance of all men would impact each character’s daily life. Similarly, the meta technique of using safewords may enable greater harmony, even if it does not create it. In our violent post-apocalyptic world example, safewords would allow to safely and fully experience the rigour or cruelty, designed as pillars of a society fighting to survive.

    Another interesting reflection: once aware of the ludo-narrative harmony mechanism, one could imagine playing with it, in order to create what I’d call constructive dissonances: dissonances that at first don’t appear to be part of the story, but in the end benefit the game, as described in the first musical definition of dissonance:

    Despite the fact that words like ‘unpleasant’ and ‘grating’ are often used to explain the sound of dissonance, all music with a harmonic or tonal basis—even music perceived as generally harmonious—incorporates some degree of dissonance. The buildup and release of tension (dissonance and resolution), which can occur on every level from the subtle to the crass, is partially responsible for what listeners perceive as beauty, emotion, and expressiveness in music.

    Consonance and dissonance

    Game designers can use players’ unconscious desire for resolution as a (comprehensive and benevolent) manipulation tool, to push them towards playing in a certain way, creating a home for some unexpressed expectations that will be resolved in-game, or to induce the tone of game without announcing it.

    Such use may be dangerous, exposing the organiser to the risk of poor communication and the player to disappointment, but tempting to lovers of non-transparent games.

    Why not imagine, for instance, apparently ill-designed rules (rules too simulationist or insu cient, detailed topics unfit with the announced themes) ultimately justified by the unexpected change of direction along the way, with the introduction of new issues that finally justify the original rules (it was all a dream, your character wakes up in another world/lives in a different one than they thought they were living in, etc). Or also, the use of certain preparatory workshops in order to create an artificial intimacy on a meta-level, which can resurface during some unexpected internal changes to the game and impact characters’ actions; for instance, characters supposed to hate each other who are teamed up during the Ars Amandi workshop, seemingly as a joke, but discover ingame that they are attracted to each other. In this case, the dissonance allows designers to avoid foreshadowing in character sheets, suppressing the consequent risks of players understanding, and enhancing the emotional impact of unexpected events and psychological turnarounds.

    The Breakthrough, a Perfect Tune?

    So much Space is played in a real bar, allowing life to imbue the game experience. So much Space is played in a real bar, allowing life to imbue the game experience.

    To go further, I would like to introduce a notion sometimes called “breakthrough” in the field of video games. I do not, however, use it in the overall sense of “breakthrough that marks the era or the history of the game,” but in a more restricted sense, a technical or design innovation at the heart of the game, defining its specific identity and allowing for—in the most successful cases—a new way to play. This concept provides an interesting construction and analysis framework to apply to larps.

    Crystallisation of Storytelling

    It is possible to create a breakthrough that does not lead to ludo-narrative harmony— for example, in the case of a gameplay innovation that isn’t related to the game’s theme. But when given its full potential, the breakthrough is the innovation that amplifies and gives an unexpected echo to the narration. It is the one rule that will often be the most memorable and regularly cited when trying to describe t he game—and therefore a good way to help define and differentiate one larp from another.

    For example, the massive medieval fantasy larp Légendes d’Hyborée [Legends of Hyboria—Opus 1] (2015) offers an innovative system of instances, derived from video games. Instances scattered throughout the site were accessible to players during some quests, with the objective of recreating the kind of epic pulp scenes that groups of adventurers had been told about in their character sheets. For instance, the dungeon of thieves, a succession of rooms filled with physical and mental puzzles to decipher in order to access the following room was an exciting adventure in which each player could refine and a rm their role within the group.

    The breakthrough is a particularly valuable way to direct the player’s attention to the theme at the heart of the game. In all larps—even the most detailed and carefully designed—immersion is an illusion. Only the agreement of the players, who willingly suspend disbelief during the duration of the game, allows what is commonly—albeit imperfectly—called “immersion.” To do so, the players tweak their sensory perception. They mentally erase what doesn’t align with the proposed narration (other players’ appearances, boffer weapons or other anachronisms), and instead focus on elements in tune with the story that they want to experience, which ideally matches the narration offered to them. More than aesthetics or the story of a game, what best enhances this objective are the rules which provide the framework for action and drive the story forward. The breakthrough is a meaningful way to help them focus their attention towards what enriches their game experience, and away from what contradicts it.

    Tant d’Espace [So much space] (Duvned, 2014) is a game for two players based on the themes of melancholy, nostalgia, and a known non-dramatic ending. Participants can play in a real bar, which reinforces on multiple levels the intention of the game. First of all, thanks to the familiarity of the setting, it utilises known references such as the selection of drinks and the presence of other customers as a way of strengthening the bleed-in inspired by the game design. Playing in a real, open world also encourages the interruption of reality through its unpredictability (rose vendors interrupting, the dynamics of background music, server downtime, closing time that forces the game to end). These hazards do not break immersion, but rather reinforce it, immediately merging with the story and offering a different experience for each session. In this sense, one could even qualify it as a systemic feature.

    The larp Comme le Houx [Like the holly-tree] (Henry,2015) explores quite another path, as the game consists entirely of a phone call between two friends. This idea is born out of the desire to remove the bodily dimension from a larping experience, in order to facilitate “immersion” and identification with the character rather than the player, as well as to encourage listening, confession and dialogue, which are the essence of the intended experience.

    Creating Languages Beyond Words

    Many larps already include breakthroughs, although they have not necessarily been identified as such. The following examples provide players new ways to express their characters, through songs, dance and music:

    Tango is a powerful way to convey emotions in The Wedding of Ashes, set in 1945 Argentina. Photo by Ze Moz. Tango is a powerful way to convey emotions in The Wedding of Ashes, set in 1945 Argentina. Photo by Ze Moz.
    • L’Eté 36 [Summer 36] (Artaud and Frénot, 2012): In order to recreate the “bucolic, romantic and festive” atmosphere, designers invite players to sing as a way of expressing their state of mind at key moments of their choice. To achieve this, a song book with customised songs of the relevant period is provided in addition to each character sheet. They become a powerful means to channel emotions, relevant both as a way of expressing the concerns and hopes of the era, and for reinforcing, through communal choirs, the characters’ sense of belonging to a group. The songs can also reveal dilemmas and intimate revelations, either through force or subtlety. This tool could be transposed and fully exploited in a musical larp, for example, where ludo and narrative would then be perfectly tuned. In any case, singing is a specific gameplay technique to personify characters.
    • Les Noces de Cendre [The Wedding of Ashes] (Gresset and Abbey, 2012): In this game, players are invited to express their characters’ moods through tango. The rules emphasise the diverse palette of emotions that can be communicated, as well as the universality of the language (everyone can dance and convey an intention while dancing: love, friendship, passion, hate, …) thus providing an additional tool shared by all players.
    • Prima la Musica (2016): This game, typical of the French romanesque genre, revolves around the world of opera and offers the players a game mechanism called the Theatre of Emotions: a clearly defined theatrical space in which the player can play a scene, sing, mime, or dance with the accompaniment of famous arias in the background, selected from a catalog available before the game so the players can familiarise themselves with the music. It punctuates players’ stories by enhancing key scenes that they choose, at their discretion, to disclose to the other players (open curtain) or play in private (closed curtain). It is a clever mechanism to enhance the atmosphere and intimately connect the opera to the game, allowing the players to interpret scenes worthy of a real opera.

    Make no mistake: I am not claiming that every game should have a breakthrough or should create an innovative rule. Innovation only makes sense if it adds to the game narration. That’s why it can be an interesting question to ask when creating a game, and the answer will depend on the nature of the larp.

    The Sound of Music

    What best than a phone to relive the friendship's years from the pre-social networks area? Photo taken by Rémi Lapcinelle during a session of Like the Holly Tree. What best than a phone to relive the friendship’s years from the pre-social networks area? Photo taken by Rémi Lapcinelle during a session of Like the Holly Tree.

    It seems obvious that when creating rules, one should keep in mind their relevance to the game. Yet the persistence of ludo-narrative dissonance in larp suggests that it may be not that simple, as it requires from larp designers both a clear vision of what they want the players to experience, and what the rules and mechanics will engender.

    Still, larps have by nature many advantages, especially compared to video games, and these advantages should be utilised as much as possible:

    First, the team composition and the workflow pipeline: in a larp team, designers often conceive all aspects of the game, including the rules and story. Even when that is not the case, the team is small enough for everyone to work tightly together. In video games, this kind of collaboration is an exception. Worse over, video game designers are not necessarily trained to take the story into consideration while developing the game design. Fortunately, narrative designers and producers, who translate the story into gameplay, are more and more frequently part of the development teams. But the fact that writers are not always included in the video game development team from the start of the project increases the chances that narration and gameplay are treated as parallel strands rather than as two sides of the same coin. On the contrary, larp designers usually keep a clear overview of the experience they want the players to live, and can more easily harmonise their design and story, since they control everything.

    Also, contrary to video games, last-minute gameplay changes in larp do not usually have cost implications, which makes it easier to align ludic and narrative elements and to address any divergences, right up to the very end.

    Finally, and most importantly, larps are ahead of video games when it comes to avoiding ludo-narrative dissonance, because larps are by essence a collaborative form of storytelling. One of the most exciting and di cult challenges that video games are trying to overcome today is at the heart of most larps: providing players with tools that allow them to take an active role in the creation of the story and to build and tell powerful, non generic-stories within the framework of the game.

    In conclusion, here are some questions that can help game designers interrogate the ludo-narrative harmonics of their game design:

    • What experience do I want the player to have? Which eras, themes or questions will they explore? Therefore, what kind of actions would logically happen during the game?
    • As a consequence, which topics require rules in order to frame, guide and strengthen this exploration? For instance, if the game is categorised as gamist, it should include rules for defining the winner of various kinds of conflicts; if simulationist, it should introduce rules reflecting the atmosphere and detailing societal injunctions and codes; if it’s a campaign, it needs to provide rules for the play happening between events.
    • Conversely, what kinds of rules do not fit into this framework? Does each rule support the narration? If not, is it useless and therefore dispensable?
    • Once the rules have been defined: what kind of execution best reflects the themes of the game? Do relevant rules already exist to support the intended theme? If the answer is no, they need to be created.
    • What is the focus of the game, the essence of the experience? Which specific game mechanics should I create to enhance it? What about preparatory workshops or rules dealing with unexpected topics or treatment? A specific structure (linear, ellipse, cutting into action with gradation of intensity)? A specific medium? etc.
    • Would constructive dissonance be a meaningful way to create a specific feeling or tool for my larp?

    These are only some leads to help explore new paths towards a meaningful and consistent larping experience, without any claim to absolute truth or completeness. Employing these concepts of ludo-narrative harmony and breakthrough may help drive the expressive power of the game, and ultimately, improve the players’ experience.


    Ludography

    • 2K Games. Bioshock, Novato, USA: Take-Two Interactive. 2007
    • Algayres, Muriel. Les Fleurs de Mai [Flowers of May] France: Association Rôle. 2014
    • Algayres, Muriel. Dirty Little Secrets. France: Association Rôle. 2013
    • Allermoz, Isabelle and Olivier Allermoz. Vivre Vite [Live Fast]. France: Association Clepsydre. 2014
    • Appl, Filip, Tomáš Dulka and Jan Zeman et al.,. Hell on Wheels. Humpolec, Czech Republic: Potkani and LARPard. 2013, 2014 & 2016 http://howlarp.cz/about
    • Artaud, Olivier, Marie-Claire and Olivier Frénot. L’Eté 36 [Summer 36]. Castle Cernay, France: Association Rôle. 2012
    • Barnabé, Frédéric. L’Agonie du Poète [The Poet’s Agony] France: Association Rôle. 2011 http://agoniedupoete.fr/
    • Crystal Dynamics. Tomb Raider, Redwood City, USA: Square Enix. 2013
    • Canotiers de Santeuil, Les [The Santeuil Boating Party] France: Les Francs Papillons, Beaulieu and Association Les Amis de Miss Rachel. 2014.
    • Duvned, Sébastien. Tant d’Espace [So much space]. France: Association eXperience. 2014 http://www.murder-party.org/tant-despace/
    • Edland, Tor Kjetil and Hanne Grasmo. Just a Little Lovin’. Denmark: Rollespilsfabrikken. 2013 http://just-a-little-lovin.blogspot.fr/
    • Gresset, Veronique, Raphaelle Gresset and Vauluisant Abbey. Les Noces de Cendre [The Wedding of Ashes]. France: Association Rôle. 2012 http://agoniedupoete.fr/NocesDeCendre/
    • Henry, Hélène. Comme le Houx [Like the holly-tree] France: Association eXperience. 2015 http://www.murder-party.org/comme-le-houx/
    • Légendes d’Hyborée [Legends of Hyboria]. Château de Guise, France: Association Eve Oniris. 2015 http://www.eveoniris.com/
    • Liaisons Dangereuses, Les [Dangerous Liaisons]. Castle Carsix, France: Association Les Masques de Dana’t for organization, Don Quixote for creation. 2014
    • Prima la Musica ou L’Opéra Terrible [Prima la Musica or the Opera Terrible]. Castle Montbraye, France: Primoot Team and Association Urbicande Libérée. 2016
    • Raaum, Margrethe, Tor Kjetil Edland and Trine Lise Lindahl. Mad About the Boy, Norway: 2010
    • Rocksteady Studios Batman: Arkham City, London, United Kingdom: Warner Bros. 2011
    • Salem—Never Forget. France: the Very Disturbed Team and Association Le Chaudron penché: 2012
    • Sirena Varada, La. Granada, Spain: Somnia. 2015 http://somnia-larp.wix.com/lasirenavarada
    • Udby, Linda and Bjarke Pedersen. Pan. Organised by Nina Teerilahti et al. Finland: 2014

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


    Cover photo: Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe by Édouard Manet.

  • Nordiclarp.org at Knutepunkt 2017

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    Nordiclarp.org at Knutepunkt 2017

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    Knutepunkt 2017 starts tomorrow with the opening ceremony at 17:00 CET. We will be on location to report. We’ll also try gather all material and links to other reports from the event we can find.

    Knutepunkt 2017

    Knutepunkt is a conference about larp that rotates between the Nordic countries. It gathers people from around the world who want to share knowledge and experiences about larp. The program consists of a wide variety of content. There are talks, panels, workshops, larps, parties, performances and other types of activities.

    This years conference is held in Norway, where the first Knutepunkt was held in 1997.

    Absence

    Because most of our crew is at Knutepunkt we won’t be able to publish or edit content for the next couple of days. We will answer questions as fast as we can, as usual. We’ll especially try to keep an eye on our Facebook page and we might publish some exclusive content there.

    Reporting

    We’re bringing our video equipment to Knutepunkt and we hope to do some video reporting for our YouTube channel. We have some ideas about what to report on, but we’d love your input. Please tell us who you want us to interview and what to ask them!

    Material and Links

    If you have material relating to your program items at Knutepunkt we’d love to publish it here on the website. If you write something about the event we’d also love to link to it.

    After Knutepunkt 2017 is over we will gather all reports, material and links in a round-up post.

    We of course also welcome reports and articles inspired by things happening at Knutepunkt. We have a handy guide here if you want to write for us.

    See You at Knutepunkt 2017!

    We’ll be there, and we hope you’ll come up to say hi if you are too.


    PS. If you want to know more about Knutepunkt 2017, check out their website:
    https://knutepunkt.org/