Tag: magic

  • Summon All the Demons: The Exciting World of Larp Demonology

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    Summon All the Demons: The Exciting World of Larp Demonology

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    Demons and Devils

    The smell of candles and chalk mingles with the scent of brimstone and incense as shadows dance around the geometric patterns of the sigil inscribed on the floor. In the center of which stands the looming figure of the infernal patron you wish to appease, its ancient name transcribed onto a scroll from the book of diabolical knowledge you keep by your side. You smile. The Demon smiles. You both know that this is exactly the point at which things get interesting.

    Summoning demons is often given a bad reputation by people who do not appreciate the rare and special gifts given to us by the agents of the infernal. Rarely are we given an opportunity to cause chaos and calamity on a scale that will satisfy our need for destruction, and demons never fail to satisfy. They are fun, dangerous, and extremely good value for money. You can achieve a lot on your own; you can achieve a lot more with the aid of a diabolic patron.

    For many of us the days of summoning looming monsters to fight off knights with swords are behind us. We live slightly more refined lives of hotel lobbies and hidden manor houses. Armies of the damned have been largely replaced with cults dedicated to sex and death, and our demon summoning practices have moved along with it. Where once we may have led rituals to summon vast diabolical monsters to fight armies, we now look for something more subtle, more pervasive.

    That is not to say there is not a time and a place for an actual physical manifestation of supernatural malign intent; it certainly adds spice to any basement supplication orgy, we can assure you. These days we are more inclined to want to summon manifestation of demonic interference into our own chosen vessels. Today we explore the alternatives to creating physical gateways into hell dimensions and focus instead on the subtle arts of accepting evil into our soul.

    Masks and Personas

    Playing a character can be hard enough on its own without all of the extra baggage of supernatural possession. Even those who play thinly veiled versions of themselves wearing funny hats have to put some work into attempting to portray a personality that is different to themselves, even if they always seem to be roughly the same. Once we allow ourselves to become possessed, the demonic entity —cool as they may be— is an extra layer of complication we need to prepare for.

    We suggest that having a clear understanding of the difference between the character you are portraying and the possession can help you be clear in how you are going to portray your new, even more exciting alibi for bad behaviour. Take the time to meditate on the persona of the character you are playing and the persona of the demon that you are handing over control to. The differences between the two are the things that are going to stand out the most so make a note of those differences and play the hell out of them! If you’ll pardon the expression.

    Once you have a clear idea of those personality differences you can allow the demon to take up some residency in your own soul. Try to embody the physicality of the demon and how they will move your meat vessel through this world of exciting opportunities for evil. Don’t be embarrassed! Your demon is perfectly equipped to take the blame for all manner of absurd postures and walking gaits you decide to adopt. What will help is having a clear idea of the internal rhythm and tempo of the demon.

    We will often repeat the name of the demon in our heads at a speed that suits the creature. Once we feel our thought processes match the tempo of the demon we can let ourselves go and allow the demon to run riot, which they will, every time. The important question is “How quickly?” For the more somnolent demons you can slow your pace down and adjust your breathing to match, lazily opening your eyes when your inner languid evil is ready to face the world. For a more galvanic transition into easily excited or hyperactive demons you can repeat the name in your head, speeding up with each repetition until you have no choice but to open your eyes with a scream.

    A substantially different tempo and rhythm will often work on its own to emphasise the difference between demon and host, but we still need to be able to interact with other people. Being very clear about what the demon wants and how they want to get it helps us emphasise the differences between the host and the demon. The demon will rarely be that bothered by the impact of its desires on its host and will exploit the possession ruthlessly. This is your opportunity to create a catastrophic mess that will take hours for you to fix once the demon is done with you. Enjoy it while it lasts and feast on the mayhem. Don’t forget to cry when your character realises what the demon made them do; or at least pretend to be sad.

    Circles and Words

    The ritual is an important part of the process of allowing demons into your heart. Taking the time to prepare properly gives you the time to make sure that you are ready to channel multiple character personas at once. It also helps with the immersion into the roles if you have some sort of ceremony that can help focus your mind. These ceremonies do not need to be elaborate but having some sort of process can make the whole thing a little easier by giving you time to really think about what it is you will be doing once the ritual is complete.

    Small cards, scrolls and books can be useful reminders of key information about the demons you are inhabiting if that is required. Usually the only thing that matters is how the demon changes the persona of your character, so you will only need some things to do while you are getting ready to perform the transformation. Establishing a space in which you can sit in order to do the summoning is a good start, with or without a circle of some sort. You can then close  your eyes and effectively perform a diegetic workshop in which you welcome the new spiritual intruder into your heart and soul.

    Turning our own body into a physical vessel for the transubstantiated soul of a malevolent spirit is thirsty work and not something to be undertaken lightly. Make sure you hydrate and take breaks if you need to. Once you have mastered the art of the single possession there are other exciting opportunities that await those looking to surrender their bodies to the dark powers. A straightforward possession is draining and difficult, but with enough preparation you can expand your demonic entourage to multiple demonic interventions.

    Possession, Legion and Pandemonium

    Legion is the practice of being inhabited by many demons. You may not know the names of all of the demons you have allowed to inhabit your soul, but this should not stop you from enjoying the experience. We have found it helpful to always remain aware of the tempo of the various demons to keep track of how they interact with people. Your somnolent demons will keep a slow, regular pace with their interactions, interrupted by lively galvanic demons who can burst into your interactions with screams and outbursts.

    Play on the differences between them, occasionally letting out bursts of grief, outrage and upset from the shattered remains of your original character. There does not need to be many of them, two or three is typical, but don’t let that stop you from implying that there are many more in there. Make sure that amidst the chaos you are staying calm and in control yourself. When you need to take a break do so. I have never been in a situation where I am channeling demons where I cannot just collapse in order to collect my thoughts before returning to the drama, usually with a slow paced adagio demon dragging my body back into the fray. This also provides an opportunity for your friends to try to help you, which is always funny.

    Should you wish to escalate this to a state of Pandemonium you will have demons seemingly coming in and out of you at random. Your body is no longer a tool or even a temple, it is now a playground that is inhabited as and when these creatures need it. Throw yourself violently between the different tools with ridiculous abandon, shifting vocal tone, tempo and physical at every opportunity. Try to maintain the impression of a body that is being controlled, while also staying aware of the broad agenda behind the possession. This is difficult for others to interact with meaningfully, so should be kept extremely short;  it can create tense scenes where the host has lost control of their channeling.

    Whatever happens, remember to be kind to yourself when it is over. Have that drink, take that rest, and recharge your batteries. In larps the only reason to summon all the demons is to enhance the drama for everyone else around you. If you do it well you can create a complex situation that you can then enjoy trying to get out of. The satisfaction of allowing the dark forces to take control for a short while is its own reward. Something you can consider as the smell of wax and incense fades, and you are left with nothing but fear, ruin, and the fading afterglow of an intoxicating rush of endorphins.


    Cover photo: Image by PublicDomainPictures on Pixabay. Photo has been cropped.

    This article is published in the companion book Book of Magic: Vibrant Fragments of Larp Practices and is published here with permission. Please cite this text as:

    Ford, Kol. “Summon All the Demons: The Exciting World of Larp Demonology.” In Book of Magic: Vibrant Fragments of Larp Practices, edited by Kari Kvittingen Djukastein, Marcus Irgens, Nadja Lipsyc, and Lars Kristian Løveng Sunde. Oslo, Norway: Knutepunkt, 2021.


    [1] Yes, all the demons.

  • Finding the Magic in the Mundane

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    Finding the Magic in the Mundane

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    You can have exceptional games without having to be or do anything exceptional. Does this sound strange to you? We are convinced that it shouldn’t. Basing ourselves on a shared larp experience, which we managed to make exceptional for ourselves, we want to show that you can create larp magic without making yourself or your story big or unique, and that everyone can find the magic in the mundane.

    Enjoy the small moments

    We think that one of the first big steps you, as a player, should take, is moving away from the idea of playing a larp as a series of scenes. Every moment is a scene, and the sum makes up the whole of the story. So instead of rushing to preplanned scenes, savour the spontaneous moments that occur. Enjoy the state of being your character, instead of simply attending a scene. As players we both strive to make our characters and their stories richer by enjoying the small, unplanned moments. In turn these moments become powerful and memorable scenes, even if they hadn’t been planned beforehand. As an example we will make a point of sharing stolen moments of quiet with our characters’ love interests that become all the more meaningful because they are small and intimate, and the emotions and impact these moments leave on our characters mean more to them than big speeches or grand gestures ever would. If you are ready to flow with your character and with the small moments that are offered to them, then the small moment of being escorted to a big event by someone dear to your character can become more impactful than the big event itself.

    Additionally, it adds a lot of anxiety to your experience if you’re too focused on the big scenes. You will find yourself checking the time and stressing about not missing anything, while also probably worrying about whether you will be able to deliver the scene. In this mindset you will forget to enjoy the small moments, and you may even forget to just be your character. When you plan stories you can obviously also have scenes in them, and you can even plan for these scenes. But always remember that these scenes are not the aim – the aim is what the scenes could make you feel. If they stress you too much to embody your character, drop them, they do not have to happen.

    Sometimes a larp’s arc requires planned scenes, but the time in between important plot points is not time wasted. We believe this time “in between” is in fact fundamental to building a meaningful story and character arc. Life is lived in the gaps as much as it is lived in the big moments, and we want to devote as much care and consideration to these gaps as we do to the big scenes. It might not be as flashy, but it can be just as important. People, and indeed characters, exist when things are quiet as well, so giving yourself the time to feel them out in the calm between the storms can make the entire experience seem that much more meaningful.

    Give up on being big or unique

    Sometimes the most interesting characters are the entirely mundane ones. Your characters don’t have to be larger than life at every turn to have an interesting and unique story, rather the contrary, in fact. If every character in the larp happens to be “the chosen one”, there can be much more play in being the most mundane character around.

    We have often seen people concerned about creating a character concept that hasn’t been seen before, and we have certainly fallen into that pattern ourselves, but with such an approach you risk forgetting the most important aspect of character creation; playability. If your character is meaningful to you, does it really matter if it has been seen a thousand times before? There’s a reason the same stories and archetypes keep returning – maybe their stories are actually interesting enough to be retold. You, the player, are the one who makes the story unique, worthwhile, and entirely your own, by adding your flavour and interpretation to it. So instead of going out of your way trying to come up with a brand new concept, own your story and play it in your own unique way. In a way it can be liberating to let go of the pressure to create something never before seen, it can allow you to shift your focus to what you really want to play and actively draw on inspiration from others. When developing your character, look towards similar concepts you have seen others play and spend some time reflecting on what it was that drew you towards them, which aspects of them you liked. And then take them for yourself! Why not make use of all the cool things you have seen friends and co-players do in the past, taking all the best bits to create the coolest possible character for yourself? The old adage that great artists steal should apply to larpers as well. When looking towards others we are sure that, apart from inspiration, you will find parts you weren’t as keen on or wish would have been done differently. You have a chance to do it better, or at least how you would prefer it, and that in itself automatically makes for a unique character.

    Next to letting go of the idea of creating unique and big characters, we equally want to argue for the importance of small moments and impactful gestures. When we played together at College of Wizardry 23 (2020) we created a lot of meaning in the relationships between our characters with very little. There were a lot of jabs and meaningful glances between our characters, and our entire conflict of betrayal and resentment was something our characters never explicitly talked about during the first half of the larp, but their small, bitter remarks towards and about each other, the looks of hate and anger between the two of them, and the unspoken defiance and blame were something we played on a lot. In turn, when our characters later reconciled the subtle changes in how they looked at each other and addressed each other made a big impact. In many ways they were acting the same, arguing about the same things they always had, but now they smiled instead of glaring, they helped each other instead of gloating. We don’t believe it was a difference that a lot of our co-players noticed, but that was never the goal; it was important for us. We believe these smaller gestures are too easily forgotten or downplayed, but they deserve our attention. A small gesture can make a big difference if it ties into your story and adds to the whole.

    Lastly, taking small gestures and intimate play one step further, we want to highlight the powerful impact of conflicts and emotions left unsaid and paths not taken. As is also clear from our previous example, play can come not only from small gestures and subtle changes in behaviour, but also from the things that are not explicitly spelled out. You can shape a large part of your experience by internalising your character’s emotions and playing on not talking about them while still showing them – clearly or subtly. There is a lot of play on unspoken emotions, on not saying things that are clearly there, as this creates a tension other players can choose to interact with in the way their character would read (or misread) them.

    An example of this type of play on unresolved tension and unspoken emotions is the experience we had together at Dawnstone (2019). We had agreed beforehand on a potential for romance between our characters, and while during the larp this romance never came to fruition, its potential and the resulting interactions had a big impact on the stories of both our characters. During the events of the larp, it became clear that our characters cared for each other – they had brief but meaningful conversations; when one screamed out in agony, the other was immediately by her side to help her; they would find each other for small shared moments. They never confessed their feelings for each other but kept floating towards each other for various reasons. In the end, it only took one sentence while looking into each other’s eyes to establish again what they could’ve meant for each other, and while that very small and short moment was only shared between two players, it was nevertheless incredibly meaningful to both of our characters.

    Making your story matter — to you, not to an audience

    At the end of the day, the most important person in your story is yourself. It shouldn’t matter if everyone sees a crucial moment or if no one does – if the moment held meaning to you, it was significant.

    It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking that bigger is always better. The more people see what is happening, the more play it creates, right? In our experience that is not always true, and some scenes may indeed give you more if no one is around. We suggest trying to consider what intimacy could add to a scene that you would lose out on if there was an audience. Perhaps you would like to really focus on one or just a few other players, and with more players around you would be too concerned with engaging them instead of playing off those important to the scene. Or maybe you want to go big and dramatic without worrying about stealing the spotlight. It is our experience that a smaller scene often has more room for all players to go big, as when fewer people have to share the spotlight there can be so much more of it to go around. Intimacy is something special and valuable. It can add a sense of importance to a scene that you made time for each other, and only each other, and that alone often makes a connection feel deeper and closer. Having a big impact on few people can do just as much for a larp as having a smaller impact on many people.

    One example, and a memory we both cherish, of how moments in a larp can be impactful without being big or having an audience, is a scene we shared at College of Wizardry 23. We had created a story arc together around family, betrayal, and resentment that involved chronomancy, which led to us playing out one pivotal moment in our characters’ past/present between just the two of us. We were our own audience, and played for our own character development, and as such we ended up creating a very intense moment and story together. As we were the only ones who actually lived through all of it, this added aspect of intimacy or privacy made it even more powerful.

    Conclusion

    In this article we wanted to argue that you can create some of your most memorable, or magical, moments in larp without having big scenes, doing unique things, or being that one special character.

    We shared our own experiences with creating compelling stories without having to impose anything on others and while staying small. When you shift your focus to being your character instead of doing things as your character, to living the story as well as the emotions and creating small moments and gestures, you can build a deep and impactful experience. It’s liberating and enhances your play to stop worrying about moving from big scene to big scene, or about the uniqueness of it. There’s no need to bring something new to a game each time, and it can create better play and a better experience to play on something that has been done before. Just remember to do so in a way that works for you, as you are in the end the most important person to your experience.

    Often it isn’t necessarily the big scenes that we carry closest to our hearts after having played a larp, it’s rather the unexpected small moments, the unplanned occurrences, the intimacy. It’s in these mundane moments that the magic happens in a larp, and we hope we have inspired you to go out and look for it.


    Cover photo: Image by RODNAE Productions on Pexels. Photo has been cropped.

    This article is published in the companion book Book of Magic: Vibrant Fragments of Larp Practices and is published here with permission. Please cite this text as:

    Bailly, Sandy, and Mia Kyhn. “Finding the Magic in the Mundane.” In Book of Magic: Vibrant Fragments of Larp Practices, edited by Kari Kvittingen Djukastein, Marcus Irgens, Nadja Lipsyc, and Lars Kristian Løveng Sunde. Oslo, Norway: Knutepunkt, 2021.

  • More Than A Few Funny Words: Designing Magic Systems That Convey Challenge & Rigour

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    More Than A Few Funny Words: Designing Magic Systems That Convey Challenge & Rigour

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    Introduction: A Difficult & Demanding Magic

    In a sense, representing “magic” in larp is an exercise in futility. How does one imbue the principle of “live action” to a phenomenon that, by its very definition, breaks the laws of nature? Barring expensive special effects technology, such reality-bending is difficult to reify.

    As such, most larps treat magic not as something to simulate with photorealistic accuracy, but as an aesthetic; the concern becomes one of transmitting the feel of performing and witnessing magic. As Salen and Zimmerman write in Rules of Play, “It is possible to say that the players of a game are “immersed”—immersed in meaning…this kind of immersion is quite different from…sensory transport…”((Zimmerman, Erik and K. Sale, Katie, “Chapter 27: Games as the Play of Simulation,” in Rules of Play: Game Design Fundamentals, MIT Press, 2003.))

    Complicating matters is that there is no unified definition or even sense of the word “magic”, no agreement of what this “feel” is. Is it mysterious and miraculous, such as the great spells of Merlin and Morgan Le Fay? Is magic methodical, empirical, and academic, such as the scholarly magic of Susanna Clarke’s novel Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell? Is it something even more bizarre, such as the highly specific abilities granted by swallowing minute quantities of metal alloys, such as in Brian Sanderson’s Mistborn books?

    As a result, when “magic” is included in a larp, it is necessarily coloured by the designer’s vision of what is “magical”. For instance, Susanne Vejdemo introduces a method of creating “cool magicky-feeling rituals”,((Vejdemo, Susanne, “Group Improvisation of Larp Rituals,” Nordiclarp.org, 27 February 2018.)) but this magic has a distinct aesthetic: group based, energetic, and involving mysterious, otherworldly forces. By contrast, New World Magischola (2016-2020) features a freeform system of magic that players can take in many different directions, from labour-intensive to potions, to quick, comedic hexes, to dark and deadly rituals.((Bowman, Sarah Lynne, “When Trends Converge – The New World Magischola Revolution,” NordicLarp.org, 4 July 2016.))

    Larps such as New World Magischola and College of Wizardry (2014-) embody a particular sub-genre of fantasy: that of the “school of magic.” Genre tropes include elements typical to an academic environment applied to the study of magic: rigorous homework, difficult tests, complex projects requiring long hours in the library, and the like. Designers of these types of games typically envision magic as challenging, necessitating years of study and practice. Unlike the wonders of myths and legends, this magic is learnable, masterable, theorizable, and debatable.

    While the aim of such larps is to convey a scholarly atmosphere, this is rarely achieved via the systems of magic employed in the games. Rather, the larps rely on character interactions, lore, set dressing, and other elements to communicate that, yes, magic is difficult and demanding. Players perform challenges, and reinforce each other’s performance through the process of what Mike Pohjola calls “inter-immersion”((Pohjola, Mike, “Autonomous Identities,” in The Foundation Stone of Nordic Larp, Knutpunkt, 2014, pp. 113-126.)): players communicate to each other through their actions and words that magic is arduous business, and thus it is so. The game system contributes little in this regard.

    Indeed, the works that provide inspiration for these larps themselves rarely spend little narrative real-estate contending with the academic nature of magic at a system level. Even in a sprawling set of books such as J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series, we witness students of magic spending endless hours on homework and study, only to cast magical spells by muttering a few words and waving a wand. We’re rarely given a glimpse into what the study is and why it’s required.

    There is power in attempting to communicate the desired aesthetic via procedure and mechanics. As Hunicke, Leblanc, and Zubek theorize, “aesthetics set the tone, which is born out in observable dynamics and eventually, operable mechanics.”((Hunicke, Robin, LeBlanc, Marc, & Zubek, Robert “MDA : A Formal Approach to Game Design and Game Research,” in Proceedings of the Challenges in Games AI Workshop, Nineteenth National Conference of Artificial Intelligence, 2004.)) A larpwright can use the very system of magic itself to evoke many of the aesthetics noted above.

    In this essay, I outline a method of creating a system of magic that can achieve many of the desired aesthetics of complexity, challenge, and scholarship. Since our concern is one of process, I attempt to make my argument by building a hypothetical system of magic. I then use a real-world case study to demonstrate how such a system can function within an actual game.

    Assumptions

    To begin with, we must assume that the larp we’re working with desires to achieve the feeling of “difficult magic”, and that magic plays a big role in the larp. For simplicity’s sake, since the genre is familiar to many, let’s assume we’re designing a “magic school” larp, where the majority of players are students attempting to master the supernatural. Our aim is for magic to feel academic and complicated, and to make students work to cast spells.

    As an initial, base system, let’s say that players can cast whatever spell comes to mind: they simply have to verbally indicate what they’re attempting to do, wave their hands in a vaguely mystical gesture, and voilà, the game assumes that magic occurs.

    It is immediately apparent that this very freeform system, while appropriate for some games, does not fit our task of reinforcing the academic aesthetic of magic at a systems level. Let’s start by making magic a little bit harder.

    Player Effort

    “Any slight error in the movement or in the incantation would weaken, negate, or pervert the spell.”

    — Lev Grossman, The Magicians

    The first step might be to ensure that players have to voice a specific “magic word” or incantation to produce a magical effect:

    >>Yelling the word “Fire” produces in-game flames

    This is a start. However, in order to evoke a feeling of real challenge, we can modify our magic system to make players apply non-trivial, analytical effort in order to cast a spell. Effort is non-trivial if the player can simply perform magic without any thought. Yelling a desired effect out in English is a fairly trivial bit of effort.

    On the other hand, if one needed to memorize the word for “fire” in Sanskrit, this would constitute non-trivial effort:

    >>Yelling the word “Agni” produces in-game flames.

    Effort might be analytical if it is not wholly creative, and requires some degree of analysis. If a spell asks a player to recite a lyrical description of its effect, this effort is non-trivial (but in this case, not very analytical):

    >>Reciting “Flames of the earth, rise to my call, obey the heat of my command!” produces flames.

    If on the other hand, the player must yell out the first and last letter of the force they are conjuring, this effort is analytical, but probably fairly trivial:

    >>Crying out the letters “F E” produced a flame.

    The combination of the two properties, non-triviality and analysis, results in magic that feels challenging and logical (and thus, worthy of traditional academic study). A designer can produce a system that is both non-trivial and analytical in a variety of ways. For example, this effect could be achieved by using a set invented set of words to represent verbs and nouns, out of which players must select a combination. Let us say that the designer has put forth the words “Creatarus” , “Desctrucio”, “Fireflammus”, and “Glaciola” to stand in for spells that “create” or “destroy” “fire” or “ice” respectively. Now, a player will have to take a moment to remember and then select the right two-word combination for the situation at hand:

    >>Thinking about the desired outcome to “create” an affect which is related to “fire”, the player intones “Creatarus Fireflammus” to produce in-game flames

    This process of recalling the right words is non-trivial, while that of selecting the correct words for their current task is analytical.

    While workable, this “list of magic words” system lacks depth. If all magic were about studying and combining two words, then in order to become a skilled practitioner a single hour’s worth of lecture, followed by solo memorization for however long it takes would probably suffice. There would be no need for a complete course of study; a well-stocked “name library” would be enough. What this system needs is a more complex set of operations.

    Rulesets & Operations

    “Words are powerful. And they become more powerful the more that they’re said and read and written, in specific, consistent combinations.”

    — Rainbow Rowell, Carry On

    An entire magic system consisting of memorizing word lists would likely be rather dull in an academic setting (and probably a game setting). The challenge of “which word should I use?” would quickly lose its shine. To spice up this system, a designer can add more complex operations to their existing rules.

    For instance, we can add complexity by bringing in other parts of a player’s physicality. In our current system, let’s add gestural components to our spells:

    >> To create flames using “Creatarus Fireflammus”, the player must make a pointing gesture with their hands,

    >> To extinguish flames using “Destrucio Fireflammus”, players must form a fist.

    The addition of the gestural components to spells adds complexity; yet, this isn’t significantly better than the magic words. While the physical element adds interest, the player is now simply memorizing gestures in addition to words. If instead, the gestural act is added to the spell based on a formal, internally consistent rule, we have an “operation”.

    Let’s modify our ruleset. Let’s say, when casting any spell on an inanimate object, the player must make a pointing gesture, while when casting any spell of creation on a living target, the player must make a fist. So:

    >> “Creatarus Glaciola” while pointing can be used to freeze a glass of water.

    >> “Creatarus Glaciola” while making a fist might be used to deep-freeze an animal specimen for later study.

    Here each time the player casts a spell, they must analyse the intended effect, and modify their spell in order to satisfy the rules of magic. While this system still relies on memory, it now also includes a pattern. By linking the kind of gesture to the target of the spell, we’ve succeeded in adding a more complex, internally consistent practice based on a rule, giving us an “operation”.

    This serves to flesh out our magic system. Additionally, and crucially, this system still allows for player creativity. If, as designers, we’ve created a sufficiently robust ruleset with a broad vocabulary of possible actions, then we’ve likely left room for players to create their own permutations, to try novel forms that designers haven’t accounted for. Of course, this might be a big “if”, one we’ll tackle later in this essay.

    We now have processes and rules of magic which must be learned, practised, and internalised. Players should feel that magic can be studied, or even mastered. As a next step, we can attempt to provide this system of magic with a more theoretical feel, offering room for (in-fiction) scholarly articles and careful experimentation, for debate and discourse.

    Lore, Terminology & Style

    “There are threads to the One Power, and each person who can channel the One Power can usually grasp some threads better than others. These threads are named according to the sort of things that can be done using them—Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Spirit—and are called the Five Powers… While Spirit was found equally in men and in women, great ability with Earth and/or Fire was found much more often among men, with Water and/or Air among women.”

    — Robert Jordan, The Eye of the World

    It is an undisputed fact that larps make use of lore, backstory and scenic design in order to reinforce desirable themes and aesthetics. Such a principle can be applied on a micro level to our system of magic. A larpwright can make their magic more memorable by creating their own terminology or by inventing fictional reasoning behind their operations and rulesets.

    For instance, in the system we’ve been working with, one might ask, “Why are different gestures needed for different classes of targets?” Is it because a different geometry of energy flow is required to engage with a living system? Is it because magic was invented by the gods, whose very gestures changed the world? Or is it merely a mental construct that allows the mind to focus its energies differently? Indeed, posing such questions but keeping the answers somewhat open-ended might stimulate interesting in-game discussions and exciting play.

    The way in which we teach players how to use our magical system is an area ripe for such fictional adornment. Many larps find it simple and practical to teach game system to players would be to instruct them during a pre-game, out-of-character workshop. Providing them with the incantations, rules, and time to practice casting spells, allow most players to begin grasping the basics of the system. By contrast, one can imagine a more “immersive” way of teaching the system: instruction in-character.

    Instead of a pre-game workshop on magic, perhaps a professor, or mentor figure can tell player-characters about the principle of using incantations, about the rules of gestures, and how to use them, and have them practice their spells with each other. Allowing players to take notes and ask questions might further involve them in the learning processing, enhancing not only the atmosphere of academia, but improving their ability to recall the rules of magic.

    Taking this a step further, we can integrate the setting and lore of the world at the systems-level. Perhaps, in addition to learning from a teacher figure, players must search through and cross-reference various scrolls to learn what the incantation for “fire” is, mimicking the real process of research. Perhaps, there are disputed theories about which hand is best for performing magical gestures, and both theories are presented to players in their “reading”; players can then perform an empirical “test” to creatively “discover” which method works best for their characters. They may even have to interact with other characters to gain access to these scrolls, and to practice rooms to try their experiments. While neither of these examples are particularly novel, they represent ways in which players’ actions directly affect their ability to engage with the game’s magic system. An inventive game designer could dream up even more interesting ways players can learn about magic, perhaps leaving some room for player creativity, as we shall discuss below.

    Thus, the process of learning and performing magic becomes intrinsically tied to the players’ stories, not just because the players decide that it’s the direction they want the characters to go, but because the system itself prohibits them from performing magic until they complete these tasks.

    The manner in which the information is presented can also do much to enforce the setting and tone. Burying incantation across multiple academic papers with titles such as “Ignis & Agni: Towards a Unified Theory of Thermal Manipulation”, papers which must then be accessed from an in-game library, would contribute to a stuffy, academic tone. By contrast, hiding the incantation within the illuminated marginalia of a lavish scroll recounting the story of “Ye Deʃtructionne of Ye Greate Dragonne” might be suitable for an epic fantasy quest. In both cases, the presentation of the information about the system of magic and the manner in which it is accessed have been leveraged for play.

    Leaving Room for Gaps

    “Great mages have wasted their lives trying to get at the root of magic. It is a futile pursuit, not much fun and occasionally quite hazardous.”

    Lev Grossman, The Magicians

    It is possible to over-define the rules for magic, to create a complete, ironclad system that leaves no room for interpretation. This is useful if we are preoccupied with the puzzle-like nature of magic, with questions of correct and incorrect.

    Most larps, however, are more concerned with creating interesting play than in verifying correctness of magic. While rules and systems can help immerse players in specific moods and aesthetics, we might want to leave gaps in our system. Perhaps not every possibility is explored, or maybe there are ambiguities within the system itself.

    If there exists an ongoing debate about which hand to use when forming magical gestures, for instance, enterprising players can explore this debate as part of play, and colour their own spellcasting with the questions posed. As another example, reference books might describe the incantation “Fireflammus” as “pertaining to the movement of excessive heat”. A creative player could use this ambiguity to invent an analogue to our ice spell “Glaciola”, using “Fireflammus” to siphon away from an object and freeze it solid. In a collegiate game, such an activity might even become the topic of one’s homework assignment, or dissertation.

    Creating space for players to propose their own theories of magic and have them validated by fellow players or facilitators might make for a powerful motivator for immersive play. A thesis defence, a grand tournament of magic, or a midnight “show-&-tell gathering” witches might be ideal scenarios for such experiments.

    A gap in our magic system allows player ingenuity to emerge, and permits a deeper exploration of the system and the narrative. As Frank Lantz declared in his talk on the Immersive Fallacy, no doubt foreshadowing our present context, “This gap is where the magic happens.” [6]

    A Question of Player Skill

    “A rock is a good thing, too, you know. If the Isles of Earthsea were all made of diamond, we’d lead a hard life here. Enjoy the illusions, lad, and let the rocks be rocks.”

    — Ursula K. Le Guin, A Wizard of Earthsea

    In our quest to create a magic that feels rigorous and academic, we have devised the rudiments of a system where players’ fictional actions (researching, studying, and casting spells) and their real world activities (researching, studying, and performing gestures and sounds) are closely mapped. Where mundane effort is used to simulate its magical analogue is where we begin to see an issue of inclusivity.

    This system clearly favours players with certain skills over others. Those practiced with logical thinking, data analysis, and puzzle-solving will likely find the system of magic easier to grasp. If the aim of the larp is to provide a fantasy of academic magical rigour to those who are inexperienced with such academic tasks, skills other than these must also be valued in the larp.

    The role of creativity, of filling out the “gaps” in the system of magic might be emphasized, giving players more options to invent their own magical acts within the existing framework. There could be many ways of doing this, from those that are more “cosmetic”—asking players to name certain acts, or invent parts of the lore—to those that are more “systemic”—inviting players to invent their symbols or rules that pertain to casting spells.

    Alternatively, the game designers could encourage the cooperative discovery and performance of magic at the systems level. Perhaps many people are needed to actually carry out the research for a spell, since parts of it are scattered throughout many sources. This would work even better if these sources required different sources of interaction; maybe the research of a spell requires someone to look through a text, another player to recognize patterns in an image, and a third to ask a mentor a question. Moreover, the casting of a spell could itself be a cooperative act, requiring multiple individuals to carry out different, simultaneous tasks. Such design decisions might go a long way in making the larp, and it’s magic, accessible to a wider audience.

    Using Real World Symbolic Systems: A Case Study

    Earlier on, we considered the prospect of designing a magic system that is “sufficiently robust”. Obviously, designing a complete, complex, analytical, rule-based, and story-rich system is challenging. One method is to rely on real-world analytical or symbolic systems. A designer can select an ordered system such as the Periodic Table of Elements, the geometric properties of regular polygons, or a computer programming language, upon which to base a magic system.

    The advantages of using such a system are potent: such systems contain built-in complexity suitable for analysis, consistent rules and operations will not have to be devised from scratch, and terminology (and perhaps even areas of ambiguity) that can be borrowed from the real-world discipline of study. Additionally, the players might come away from the larp with real-world knowledge. While the effort spent engaging with a game system might in of itself constitute a pleasurable act needing no justification or “end goal” outside the game (an anti-capitalist concept vehemently put forth by designers such as Paolo Pedercini),((Pedercini, Paolo, “Videogames and the Spirit of Capitalism,” Molleindustira, 2014. [Online]. Available: https://www.molleindustria.org/blog/videogames-and-the-spirit-of-capitalism/.)) it might be comforting to some players that their outside the “magic circle” of the larp

    I will illustrate an example using as a case-study Basic Principles of Incantation by Sharang Biswas (myself, the author of this essay) and Max Seidman, an hour-long, playful, live-action experience first exhibited at the “Game Night #5” showcase at the Denny Gallery in Manhattan.((Biswas, Sharang, “Basic Principles of Incantation,” [Online]. Available: https://sharangbiswas.myportfolio.com/basic-principle-of-incantation.)) Since then, the piece has undergone numerous changes, and has been performed at Living Games 2018, as a fully produced interactive theatre piece for Sinking Ship Creations in 2019, as an online show for Mirrorworld Creations in 2020, and in other smaller venues.

    Note that while we, the designers, do not consider the piece to be a fully realized larp, the live action elements lend it a larp-like nature, and the conclusions from this analysis can be applied to many forms of games and interactive performance.

    In Basic Principles of Incantation, players take on the role of Victorian students in a tutoring session where they are to learn the basics of magic. In this game, magic is performed using very specific, calculated incantations, and the system of magic is based on real-world Linguistics, in particular, phonetics, phonology, and morphology.

    While detailing the complete system is impractical, a few points can be noted:

    1) Non-Trivial Effort: Part of the challenge of each incantation is the pronunciation. Consonants and vowel sounds from a variety of languages were included in spells, meaning that participants who primarily spoke English had to practice the words multiple times in order to sound them out correctly.

    text describing a magic spell

    2) Analytical Effort: Each incantation had a tripartite morphological structure. Key words needed to be appended with a prefix, suffix, or in-fix, depending on whether the spell to be cast was one of creation, destruction, or modification. These affixes had to additionally be chosen from printed tables, depending on external factors (such as the time of day, or month of the year etc.)

     

    text describing a magic spell

    3) Complex operation: Once affixes were chosen for a magic word, vowel or consonant shifts were made based both on external features and phonological rules. A table of vowel shifts (listing real-world tongue positions for various vowels) was provided, telling players exactly how to modify the vowels in their spell.

    text describing a magic spell

    4) Lore & Style: Magic was never referred to as “magic” but as the “Esoteric Arts”. Rules, tables, and words were all found in a specially written textbook, written in the style of a 19th century pamphlet, complete with theoretical chapters and footnotes with references. Players had to hunt through this book, cross-referencing tables, charts, and explanatory paragraphs with each other in order to arrive at their spells. This textbook was essential to maintaining the tone of the game. As Edward Mylechreest wrote in his review on No Proscenium:

    “Perusing the pages, I quickly feel completely out of my comfort zone. It is classic academia, with hard to understand wording and the feel of being lectured at by a 19th-century professor. It reads exactly like a historical tome, plucked out of a sorcerer’s library, and now sitting on my lap. I am immediately transformed into the role of student wizard, although perhaps I feel more like a Neville than Hermione.”((E. Mylechreest, “Getting All Magicked up in ‘Basic Principles of Incantation’ (Review),” No Proscenium, 23 October 2019. [Online]. Available: https://noproscenium.com/getting-all-magicked-up-in-basic-principles-of-incantation-review-f2e4e9e6755d.))

    5) Gaps Were Permitted: The role of infixes (as opposed to prefixes or suffixes) was only hinted at. Players were repeatedly told that the rules they were learning were “oversimplifications”, and that the true, complex rules were for advanced study. Questions were often met with the answer of “it depends”, and the instructor was able to fictionalize debates and theories of magic.

    Basic Principles of Incantation revealed a few more advantages of using the protocol outlined in this essay:

    a) Players were deeply engaged in group-play. Because magic took on a puzzle-like nature, players cooperated and built on each other’s answers and theories, often in-character. Even players who believed themselves to be less skilled in the puzzle-solving aspect of the game were drawn into the challenge and contributed to the team in different ways, such as searching the classroom for the relevant texts, listening to and transcribing the spells intoned, and writing out theories and possibilities on the blackboard.

    b) The volume of information in the text book created the illusion of a deep, fully realized world.

    c) Since the basis of the system was actual Linguistics, real-world skills and knowledge was taught: pronunciation and the classification of vowels and consonants, some basics of the International Phonetic Alphabet, a little morphology, and more.

    In summation, all these features created an atmosphere of studious focus, and a world where magic was challenging, slow, and, frankly, impractical as a solution to most problems. This was precisely the tone we, the designers, were aiming for.

    Next Steps

    This essay modelled a way in which a larp designer can infuse the practice of magic with an element of rigour and challenge. By calibrating the effort required for magic on behalf of the player, by constructing a system of internally consistent and appropriately complex rules, and by introducing suitable lore elements and story trappings, all while maintaining some degree of ambiguity for players to build upon, the larp wright can be confident that their game enforces their desired tone through the game mechanics themselves.

    Of course, much of this essay relies on a conjectured system: “If one were to…”, “Perhaps if we…” While a case study is presented, it is for a short, puzzle-like experience with only a light narrative, that relies on skilled facilitators to arbitrate the correctness of spells.

    For a full larp with narrative richness, much more thought and playtesting needs to go into a system of magic such as the example created using the ideas in this essay. Can such a system work without the eagle eye of an assiduous game master, allowing players to check themselves and each other on the correctness of their magic? Can we balance the time it takes to learn and cast a spell with the pacing of the game? Does our system remain engaging after a few hours of play? Do players become far more pre-occupied with puzzle solving with to the detriment of character interactions and narrative creation? When using the framework presented in this essay, these are questions a larpwright will need to address.

    Ultimately, my aim was not to present a “best” way to create a system of magic, but to provide aspiring designers with tools that can help them achieve a certain aesthetic, and inspire them to experiment with how magic is portrayed in their game.

    Bibliography

    Biswas, Sharang, “Basic Principles of Incantation,” [Online]. Available: https://sharangbiswas.myportfolio.com/basic-principle-of-incantation.

    Bowman, Sarah Lynne, “When Trends Converge – The New World Magischola Revolution,” Nordiclarp.org, 4 July 2016.

    Hunicke, Robin, LeBlanc, Marc, & Zubek, Robert “MDA : A Formal Approach to Game Design and Game Research,” in Proceedings of the Challenges in Games AI Workshop, Nineteenth National Conference of Artificial Intelligence, 2004.

    Lantz, Frank, Writer, The Immersive Fallacy. [Performance]. Game Developer’s Conference, 2005.

    Mylechreest, Edward, “Getting All Magicked up in ‘Basic Principles of Incantation’ (Review),” No Proscenium, 23 October 2019. [Online]. Available: https://noproscenium.com/getting-all-magicked-up-in-basic-principles-of-incantation-review-f2e4e9e6755d.

    Pedercini, Paolo, “Videogames and the Spirit of Capitalism,” Molleindustira, 2014. [Online]. Available: https://www.molleindustria.org/blog/videogames-and-the-spirit-of-capitalism/.

    Pohjola, Mike, “Autonomous Identities,” in The Foundation Stone of Nordic Larp, Knutpunkt, 2014, pp. 113-126.

    Vejdemo, Susanne, “Group Improvisation of Larp Rituals,” Nordiclarp.org, 27 February 2018.

    Zimmerman, Erik and K. Sale, Katie, “Chapter 27: Games as the Play of Simulation,” in Rules of Play: Game Design Fundamentals, MIT Press, 2003.


    Cover photo: Image by RODNAE Productions on Pexels. Photo has been cropped.

    This article is published in the companion book Book of Magic: Vibrant Fragments of Larp Practices and is published here with permission. Please cite this text as:

    Biswas, Sharang. “More Than A Few Funny Words: Designing Magic Systems That Convey Challenge & Rigour.” In Book of Magic: Vibrant Fragments of Larp Practices, edited by Kari Kvittingen Djukastein, Marcus Irgens, Nadja Lipsyc, and Lars Kristian Løveng Sunde. Oslo, Norway: Knutepunkt, 2021.

  • Tarot for Larpers

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    Tarot for Larpers

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    The best prop I can have at a larp is a deck of tarot cards. They’re pretty; they’re powerful; they’re mystical. I love going to occult themed larps where they can be brought in for pretty much any reason, but if it makes sense for your character they can make sense in almost any larp. Tarot readings are great because they are fundamentally narrative in nature and shape themselves to any kind of situation. And the kind of skills a con artist uses in real life can be used to deepen and intensify the experiences of your co-players. So I’d like to give a little guide to getting started with tarot and how to make the most of it at a larp. The concepts can be used for pretty much any kind of divination, but tarot is just so dang evocative and iconic, it’s hard to beat if it’s an option. But if rune stones, animal entrails, or the I-Ching are a better fit for a given larp, the same basics go for them.

    On Magic

    There’s no actual magic in tarot cards beyond what we invest in them. They’re just an older form of regular playing cards that later got used by occultists, latter day witches and spiritualists as a tool or trick. But that doesn’t mean they can’t be used for powerful stuff. The names and images on them have been refined to touch on very strong universal themes in the human experience that we can tap into and they’re surrounded by a mystical story that we can use to make them more serious than they really are. Especially in a context like a larp, where we allow ourselves to believe in magic and the power in things just a little more. Tarot cards tap into the power of ritual in all the best ways on a scale that’s quick and easy to use in a larp setting. They’re fundamentally a narrative device, which is why they’re a perfect complement for role-playing. They tap into our subconscious and our brain provides patterns and explanations to make them speak meaningfully. There really is no magic, but when we allow ourselves to believe, there is.

    But let’s get started with the practical side of things.

    photos of anime tarot cards
    Photo by YAGO_MEDIA on Pixabay.

    Choosing your deck

    There are a ton of different tarot decks. You can get pretty much any kind, theme, and quality. It’s really all about finding one that speaks to you. And in the case of larp: one that fits into the fiction you’ll be playing in. I have two recommendations: The first is to go for the classic Rider-Waite-Smith or Universal Waite-Smith decks gorgeously illustrated by Pamela Colman Smith. It’s the one you’ve seen used a hundred times with the iconic pictures. It fits nicely into a wide range of time periods and people know exactly what it is. The iconography is quite evocative and pretty easy to work with. You hardly ever go wrong with a classic Rider-Waite-Smith. The second, and my personal favourite, is the Thoth Tarot designed by Aleister Crowley. It has a few twists on the classic deck and is more modern looking, but the cards are more abstractly expressive in the art and each comes with a label that drips drama. But if you go to the shop and find that the panda tarot deck really speaks to your next character, go for it. Just make sure the cards can inspire you when you use them. A good beginner trick is to ditch the Minor Arcana of Swords, Wands, Cups, and Pentacles and just focus on the Major Arcana with the big hitters like The Devil, The Tower, or The Lovers, until you are more comfortable with the cards.

    Setting the Mood

    Tarot really benefits from doing just a little bit of work on setting the mood before using them. Use a tablecloth; the cards are easier to pick up and it looks nicer. Light up a few candles; the flickering light will make the artwork come alive. And maybe place the deck on a nice plate rather than pulling it straight out of the pack. Be super obvious and ritualistic about how you shuffle them. Craft a little space where you, the cards, and the person you are reading them for are in tight focus. Tarot requires focus and a little drama to work their best. And get the recipient to contribute too: have them formulate a definite question they want inspiration for. Never offer clear answers, though. Just that you’ll help show them what lies ahead. Have them pick out a card to represent themselves if you have the time. If you’re the dramatic sort, a few invocations or ritual phrases might also be a good addition, but always play them as seriously as you can.

    Dialogue

    You can do a tarot reading like a show, talking all the way through the process while the recipient is just an audience member, but you’re much better off thinking of it as a dialogue. Both for their immersion and for making it easier on yourself. I like to get myself very calm, speaking slowly and as if I am teaching the person across from me to read the cards themselves, rather than as divine inspiration through me. I like to leave a bit of uncertainty and magic in just exactly how I know the things I say and how the cards reveal them. And I give the other person plenty of time and silence to think and react if they need it. Shape it to your own personal style, your character and the person you are reading for. It’s a one-on-one kind of show, so play into the strengths that it gives.

    photos of tarot cards on a burgundy background Photo by GerDuke on Pixabay.

    Cold Reading

    Con artists have two main techniques when doing these kinds of things out in the real world that you’ll find useful in larps as well: cold reading and hot reading. Cold reading is basically using the person you are talking to, to reveal things about themselves. It’s the same skill you’d use to guess which cards people have at the poker table, or when your friend is grinning ear to ear, but won’t tell who they kissed last night. With a little practice you’ll quickly notice which of your words impact them and which you need to skip past. Throw a lot of stuff out and see what sticks; they won’t likely remember the misses. See when their ears prick up, when their eyes become unfocused, or their attention zooms in. Try to shape moments where they’re the ones talking and you’re just confirming. The human brain is trash at remembering who said what, so odds are they’ll remember you telling them something they revealed themselves. It can be a little tricky to do while juggling the cards at first, but really fun when you get it working. There’s no reason to rush, so take your time to observe your audience.

    Hot Reading

    Hot reading is when you know things about the person they don’t know that you know about them. Con men will do a background check on their targets and then pretend angels told them, but in larp we can just read their character sheet beforehand or notice what kind of drama they’ve been in recently, or even have an offgame chat before the reading to lay out the themes. It’s where you can really help someone’s play by pushing them at choices their character has to make or realizations they’re just about to make. Bringing in characters they’re in conflict with or want to seduce. It’s a great steering tool or just a super fun way to mess with their heads. I like to leave most of it unspoken between us. I’ll hint at the thing, but never name it, to preserve the magical feeling. If I saw them have a big row with their brother earlier, I’ll start talking about how the cards mean family and the great price of loving someone, and see if they pick up on that. If they’re the ones making the realizations themselves, it’s often much more dramatic.

    Card Manipulation

    If you have the dexterity to pack the deck beforehand, you can choose which cards come up during the reading. It’s rarely subtle, but it can definitely be impactful. I personally have too many thumbs for it, so I can’t really give any practical tips; my skills are more in the area of making the most of the cards as they fall. That also keeps the magic alive a bit even after the larp is over, but that’s a matter of taste.

    Layouts

    You can do a tarot reading by just drawing a single card, but you get a lot of synergy out of having several in a layout on the table. Don’t go overboard; more cards aren’t better. The sweet spot is usually between three and five cards total. How you place them on the table is up to you. It’s a fun way to shape the dialogue beforehand. The classic is the Celtic Cross where you make a cross with the recipient’s chosen signifier in the middle and there’s a card for the past, the future, what’s working against them, and what’s helping, but you really can do any pattern. I like a Y-shape if someone is facing a choice or laying a wall if someone is up against a challenge. Or a circle if they want to know where they stand. It’s up to you. Just give each card position a clear metaphorical meaning when you lay down the card. I like to lay all the cards except the first out facedown in their place and then turn them over during the reading as needed.

    Tarot cards decorates witth stained glass spread over a colorful embroidered cloth
    Photo by MiraCosic on Pixabay.

    Layers of Meaning

    The last skill is the “actual” interpretation of the cards. This is where most beginners feel intimidated, but just remember that there is no right answer for any card. It’s all about how well it connects to the target. Just keep bringing forth meanings until you strike gold.

    Depending on the deck you have, there will be various amounts of things to work with on each, but every card will always have a couple of these:

    • What is the immediate feeling the card inspires?
    • What does the picture show? Who are the people in the picture to the recipient?
    • What is the colour of the card? What emotion does that bring out?
    • What is the value of the card?
    • What suit is the card?
    • What name does the card have?

    You don’t need to use all of them, just whatever seems to fit best in the situation. These are usually obvious enough to get started talking and seeing what the other person reacts to, if not try another aspect of the card and so on. If you have a hard time, leave it and go on to the next card; maybe the pattern will make more sense later. As more cards are revealed so does your recipient reveal things about themselves that might be brought back to previous cards.

    You can also invoke some of the structures behind most decks with a bit of practice. For example, the four suits usually align with the four elements:

    • Cups are Water, Pentacles are Earth, Swords are Air, and Wands are Fire.
    • Cups and Pentacles are usually feminine, while Swords and Wands are masculine.
    • Placement on the table matters; you can have axes of time, positives and negatives, good and evil.
    • All cards of course also always hold their own opposites within them.
    • Sometimes The Devil is in the details. It might really be the figure in the background the card is about.
    • There’s also often a structure to the values of the cards that you can play with. I won’t get into it here, but check out the Sefiroth of Kabbalistic tradition if you’re into mathematical magic.
    • Thematic decks can also have even more layers.

    But all of that isn’t necessary to get started. Just go with an intuitive reading with a strong dose of confidence and you’re good. In addition, tarot decks often also come with a booklet that details each card, but there’s really no need to memorize or buy books on tarot. In the end, it’s all a subjective artform and not an accurate science. If you’re feeling uncertain, try imagining a situation in play and draw a couple of cards and think of how you’d make them relevant to that situation as practice before play.

    Taror cards on a colorful cloth
    Photo by MiraCosic on Pixabay.

    Role-playing Opportunities

    Once you get comfortable with the basics, you can start to add layers on top. Maybe your character has an agenda and wants to twist the reading in a certain direction? Or they’re inspired by a demonic entity that loves sex, so the cards always points towards carnality? Or a theme of the larp is lost hope, so the readings tend to be cold on comfort. You can do a lot with the framing and what you emphasize in the cards to drive play in a fun direction. But all that’s for later. For now, just go get started.

    I hope this makes it less intimidating to pick up a deck and bring it to your next larp. It’s a super fun tool to have. Or if someone else has brought their deck, don’t be afraid to ask for a reading or for them to show you how it’s done; I’ve had a ton of great play moments teaching acolytes the art of the tarot. It really is what you make of it and tarot tends to pay back big dividends for the effort put into it.


    Cover photo: Photo by Jean-Didier on Pixabay.

  • Larp as Magical Practice: Finding the Power-From-Within

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    Larp as Magical Practice: Finding the Power-From-Within

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    And so the personal is political: the forces that shape our individual lives are the same forces that shape our collective life as a culture. — Starhawk((Starhawk. Dreaming the Dark: Magic, Sex, and Politics (1997, p. 28).))

    We larpers are a weird bunch: we make up stories, create costumes, research tiny historical details or read boring philosophical essays just to be able to play a character that feels right, for a few hours. We try our best to step into another person’s shoes, sometimes coming home with a similar pair to wear in our everyday life. How odd; but how precious.

    Indeed, I will argue that larp has the potential to make meaningful change, by helping us expand our imagination and empowerment.

    When writing this paper, I first wanted to – as goes the saying – tell you about my character. It was a story of overcoming personal limitations, expanding the alibi, and finding support and acceptance from my co-players. But I’m sure you’ve heard the story: or, better yet, lived it.

    Instead, I want to tell you about the mental structures that lie beneath this. The way our brain got wired to meet the requirements of a society based on status inequality, isolation, and a belief in individual responsibility – radical free will, as opposed to the existence of social and material determinism and disparity of chances. I want to tell you about how larp can help us change these structures, dig out the roots of alienation, and find our second breath to create different mental and cultural structures. I want to tell you about magic.

    According to witch philosopher Starhawk, magic is about achieving a shift of consciousness: take a step outside of our previous (ordinary) way of looking at things, and manage a truly different vision of the world and ourselves. Rings a bell?

    In this essay, I will explain how Starhawk’s vision of magic allows us to gain a different perspective on what happens through larp and what can be achieved. Jonaya Kemper’s work on emancipation((Jonaya Kemper, “The Battle of Primrose Park: Playing for Emancipatory Bleed in Fortune & Felicity,” Nordiclarp.org, June 21, 2017)) will be instrumental to show how magic plays out, and to gain a deeper understanding of the world-changing potential of larping.

    Magic at Play

    Starhawk is an ecofeminism activist, philosopher and Neopagan witch. She uses magic to change the world, in a practical sense. Let’s see how it works.

    According to her, magic is “the art of changing consciousness at will.”((Starhawk. Dreaming the Dark: Magic, Sex, and Politics (1997, p. 13).)) Magic takes its roots in a paradox: “Consciousness shapes reality. Reality shapes consciousness.”((Ibid.)) Our mental structures, beliefs, intellectual and spiritual patterns, states of mind… and the things outside ourselves – the culture, places, people, myths… – are interdependent. We are both a product of the world that surrounds us and producing it in turn. Because we exist within reality, our actions influence it; but we also derive most of our “consciousness”, our awareness of the things within and without our mind, from the preexisting reality.

    Magic is finding the path to change our own consciousness. It can be done through very practical things, such as activism, or more esoteric ones, such as mindfulness. Whichever path you take, one single truth remains: magic is about finding what Starhawk calls the power-from-within: the power that derives from what we ourselves can do and achieve, as opposed to power-over.

    Power-over is power derived from hierarchy, constraint, or imposing on people by force, manipulation, or persuasion. Laws (secular or religious) rely on power-over: the threat of enforcement causes people to abide, not ultimately because they think it’s the right thing to do (though they may come to believe it), but because they are (symbolically or physically) coerced to do so. On the contrary, power-from-within is not about making people do stuff, nor is it about acting the way people want us to: it is about our own agency and capability.

    Once you find your power-from-within and manage the shift, Starhawk is positive that you will act on it. Shift your consciousness and the world around you will change, because you’ll make choices to induce change – helping reality itself evolve to a different balance.

    Now back to larp: I’ll argue that a successful larp is one in which we achieve that shift of consciousness. And that it is, in fact, the greatest thing larp can hope to achieve.

    person in black clothes in room with art on the walls
    Caprice, a character I’d wanted to tell you about. She’s dressed in black shorts, suspenders and unbuttoned hoodie, her breasts flattened with black tape. She wears red lipstick and strange, scar-like make-up. Red words figuring scarifications can be seen on her thighs. She’s talking passionately to an unseen crowd in a room with white walls on which hang black-and-white pictures of well-dressed artists. Larp: OSIRIS, 2019. Photo by Lille Clairence.

     

    Othering Oneself

    The alibi is often at the core of the social contract in larp. It can be defined as “The things that enable a person to (role-)play and to do things they would never do in everyday life while in character.”((“Glossary,” in Larp Design: Creating Role-play Experiences (2019).)) It says: “By entering the game, we pledge to separate the character’s speeches and actions from the player’s.”

    Without that insurance, we can’t play roles, because we can’t step out of our ordinary selves.

    Oh, the alibi is a flimsy thing: mundane elements such as performance anxiety, an unsafe environment, the difficulty to differentiate the player’s and the character’s emotions from an external viewpoint, or internalised bias (ours or our co-players’),((Kemper, Jonaya, Eleanor Saitta, and Johanna Koljonen. “Steering for Survival.” In What Do We Do When We Play? Solmukohta (2020).)) put it in jeopardy. It doesn’t always live up to the task: more often than not, perhaps, we leave a larp having not dared enough, under-played our character, or even held a grudge (or had a crush) on a player after in-character interactions. Still: the alibi, albeit imperfect, is the key ingredient that clearly distinguishes larp from other types of play (we need alibi in table-top RPG too, but the embodiment required by larp takes it one definite step further).

    Whether it works or not, the alibi as a social contract sustains an effort to perceive friends as elves, strangers as companions, or oneself as an artist. It is an attempt at a shift of consciousness.

    Of course, famously called willful suspension of disbelief, the attitude a reader adopts to engage with a piece of fiction (withdrawing judgement on the veracity or realness of events taking place within the fiction) covers some of the same ground, and has been used and expanded in relation to larp:((Schrier, Karen, Evan Torner, and Jessica Hammer. “Worldbuilding in Role-Playing Games.” In Role-Playing Game Studies: A Transmedia Approach (2018, p. 349-363).)) but then again, embodiment and player agency in larps take that dimension further, to a place more intimate and more active. In addition, the strong collective component of larp goes far beyond the individual attitude towards fiction: we can only sustain our mindset, our attitude towards the game, if the others play along. In larp, we need others to achieve what we mean to achieve: there can be no individual success or failure. It’s all co-creation and collaboration towards the same goal: to create a meaningful, engaging story, in which we can let ourselves be caught.

    So, larp is a kind of magic. Using our will to participate in larp, we engage emotionally and meaningfully in a character and relationships. When we interact with people, or with the larp design, we create a space for this to happen. In that space, things and behaviours are redefined, reinterpreted. The most mundane of elements can convey vastly different things: in this, we make art. We create meaning. This wooden door is a gate to the underworld. This young woman is the old queen of an older kingdom. This person whom I never met is my long-lost love.

    We say these things and we believe them. We make that shift of consciousness. Magic happens.

    So what? Permeating the Real World

    The most common association with magic in regard to play is that of pioneer game scholar Johan Huizinga: the magic circle. According to the Larp Design Glossary, the magic circle is a “[m]etaphor for the separate space of playing.”((“Glossary,” 2019.)) It marks the game space, both physical and virtual (mindspace, belief system, gameworld, etc.), as separate, as distinct from the paramount reality.((A term used by sociologists Peter L. Berger and Thomas Luckmann, it designates what we call “reality,” our ordinary life and most commonly shared world, as opposed to “provinces of meaning,” which are like “pockets” of alternate reality (such as fiction, play or religion). Peter L. Berger and Thomas Luckmann, The Social Construction of Reality: A Treatise in the Sociology of Knowledge (1968).))

    Huizinga’s theory has been widely criticised, as the separation between play and reality is often impossible to trace (and their definitions elusive). According to Stenros,((Jaakko Stenros, “In Defence of a Magic Circle: The Social, Mental and Cultural Boundaries of Play,” in Transactions of the Digital Games Research Association, (2014)) the notion of a magic circle would actually be plural, expressing different “boundaries of play” – the player’s state of mind, the social contract, and the game space. Those boundaries remain porous: the magic circle can be endangered by external events, and the players are able to navigate between different “layers,” zooming in and out of character during larps.((Hilda Levin. “Metareflection,” in What Do We Do When We Play? (2020).))

    Despite this criticism, and following its redefinitions, the term “magic circle” remains widely used to designate the elements sheltering a game from reality, and vice versa. “Play” and “reality” must remain separate, and by entering the game, we cast a spell to make it so.

    But if we are to believe Starhawk, Huizinga was wrong all along: magic is not what makes the game impermeable. It’s what makes it porous. Magic is that shift of consciousness, temporary perhaps but with long-lasting repercussions, that allows larp to influence the bigger, outer world.

    Magic is the reason why so many larpers report they became more comfortable talking in public, or wearing “eccentric” clothes, or exploring gender fluidity. It’s the reason we created bonds so strong with people we spent barely a handful of days with, why we were sometimes able to create a community of trust out of diverse people. Magic is seen through all the things in larps that allowed us to grow.

    But careful: magic is not guaranteed to happen. Sometimes, we become more comfortable with things through larp just because we’ve had the opportunity to practice, when we couldn’t otherwise try them out. We might not need a deep change in mindset to become more at-ease talking in public when it’s the fifth larp this year in which we’ve had to deliver an inspirational speech. It may just be a matter of habit, of practice. Similarly, learning to impersonate a character doesn’t mean they’ve shaken us to our core, mingling with our sense of identity, throwing us out in the world with new perspectives.

    A shift of consciousness is something more profound than that. It’s not pretense, or shallow belief.

    Magic is demanding that we dive deep and redefine our core beliefs. And that’s gonna take us some work.

    Building Our Power

    Larp is a dense, demanding hobby, which tends to generate a tightly-knit social fabric. As such, it can be a truly powerful tool for community building. But the “community” thus made is no stranger to power dynamics,((Axiel Cazeneuve, “The Paradox of Inclusivity,” In What Do We Do When We Play? (2020).)) status inequalities,((Muriel Algayres, “The Impact of Social Capital on Larp Safety,” Nordiclarp.org. Accessed March 28, 2020)) and discriminations in access to games, hype, speech, etc.((Kemper, Eleanor, and Koljonen, 2020).)) These are all manifestations of internalized power-over – we have a hard time rejecting the script society hammered us with.

    In her paper “Wyrding the Self,”((Jonaya Kemper, “Wyrding the Self,” In What Do We Do When We Play?, edited by Eleanor Saitta, Jukka Särkijärvi, and Johanna Koljonen. Helsinki, Finland: Solmukohta, 2020.)) larp scholar and activist Jonaya Kemper brings into focus something many may find disturbing: that we’re all the oppressor and the oppressed. Even the most marginalized person in regard to society standards can still inflict power-over. Even the most privileged can be subjected to power.

    Collective Liberation

    “Wyrding,” Kemper explains, means to embrace being weird as opposed to being determined by society. “To be weird is to be outside of the normal aspects of society, yes, but to also collectively decide who you would like to be, not based on societal pressure.”((Ibid.)) The way I see it, wyrding is a way to increase our power-from-within: let go of social expectations and focus on what we can do and be.

    If embracing weirdness is how we can achieve liberation, then larp sure is the place to do it. In fact, even if all larps do not make great magic, the habit of taking on different roles and perceiving others doing so is still an exercise at shifting consciousness at will.

    Kemper’s now-famous concept of emancipatory bleed((Jonaya Kemper, “The Battle of Primrose Park: Playing for Emancipatory Bleed in Fortune & Felicity,” Nordiclarp.org, June 21, 2017.)) has thrown light on how we can use larp to overcome our own internalized limitations. According to Kemper, “bleed” (the transfer of emotions between character and player)can be steered and used for emancipatory purposes by players who live with complex marginalizations.” Through careful calibration, players can navigate towards experiences they want to deal with or overcome in the safe environment larp provides (on the need to feel safe to larp.((Cf. Anneli Friedner, “The Brave Space: Some Thoughts on Safety in Larps,” Nordiclarp.org, October 7).))

    Kemper’s proposition may seem individualistic, as it emphasizes on the player’s own empowerment. Likewise, magic as essentially a state of mind could feel self-centered at first. But as Starhawk points out in the quote I chose as an introduction to this essay, “the forces that shape our individual lives are the same forces that shape our collective life as a culture.”((Starhawk, 1997, p. 28.)) In acting on the things that determine us, that make us that way, we also induce change on a broader level – albeit in an often imperceptible manner. The converse is also true: we can only change ourselves to the extent that we make the world to allow that change.

    Indeed, Kemper writes, “If we want liberation, then we must also liberate those who oppress us because they’re oppressed just like us.”((Kemper, 2020, p. 212).)) There is nothing like individual liberation – the social and the personal are deeply intertwined. And both Kemper and Starhawk agree that communities are where shit is gonna happen.

    All limitations considered, let us nonetheless posit that larp is magical practice. A collective endeavour to achieve a shift of consciousness, an art of changing the way we see the world and the critters in it. Such practice would have to liberate us, to make us freer from social norms, more eager to act against them. If, and only if we could shake off the same old power structure we’ve been bathing in from an early age.

    To hell with power-over; it’s time to find our Power-From-Within.

    Two people bathed in blue light, one behind the other with mouth close to their neck, while the other is blindfolded
    Caprice (the author) and Claude Giger (Lille Clairence) singing “Les Tuileries” together. They learned and practiced the song two hours prior and are now performing at dinner in front of all the players. Giger holds blind-folded Caprice closely against his chest, a technique used by the players to keep Caprice’s player from shaking with stress and coordinate their breathing. The light is blue, dim. OSIRIS, 2019. Photo by the organizers.

    Ethics of Larping

    The way we ordinarily imagine magic has everything to do with speech acts, or what we call language performativity.((After linguist John Austin’s theory of speech acts, though he didn’t use that exact phrase himself. John Austin, How to Do Things with Words (1962).)) It designates occurrences when saying actually does something. The most common example of this is when a priest or a mayor pronounces two people wed: they don’t only say it, as you and I might, they effectively make it happen, through the power granted to them by whichever institution backs them up. In our imagination, we figure magic works like that: a great wizard called fire upon them, and fire came.

    This is power-over. It’s why we laugh at magic, cause we don’t understand how it could really work. It’s not like we could really summon demons or receive healing magic from gods, right?

    But true magic is about the power you have, not that which is granted or appropriated. It’s no gift, nor curse. It’s inner strength, capacity, determination to act. And so we must act in accordance to our words, not merely expect our words to have effect on their own.

    I propose we apply what Starhawk calls the ethics of integrity to larp. In her words, “[i]ntegrity means consistency: we act in accordance with our thoughts, our images, our speeches.”((Starhawk, Dreaming the Dark: Magic, Sex, and Politics, 1997).)) It’s a basic principle that if we really do make the shift, if we manage to change consciousness at will, then our actions will follow.

    Conversely, if we aim to take action – or inspire people to take action – through larp, we must wonder how we can try to reach the necessary shift of consciousness. In my master’s thesis,((Axiel Cazeneuve, Éthique et politique du jeu. Jeu de rôle grandeur nature et engagement politique en Finlande. Université Toulouse Jean Jaurès, 2019).)) I argued that what makes larpers more inclined to supporting progressive politics is that larp is largely non-hierarchical, non-competitive, non-productive, and non-profit.((The ethnographic study was conducted in Finland, with back-up from “experimental” (inspired by Nordic larp, often using its toolbox) larp scenes in France, and cannot account for all larping cultures. However, I believe that where analogous conditions are met, the same conclusion can reasonably be drawn.)) These are not individual traits, but structural features. In my opinion, they’re essential to a socially powerful and ethical larp culture.

    Larp is discordant. Disturbing. It disproves many of society’s strongly established beliefs: that adults can’t play. That play can’t be serious. That people only work for money. That people don’t typically cooperate, or collaborate without some kind of management or coercion.

    The shape of larp, albeit imperfect, supports a whole different structure and a distinct mindset compared to the general society. And it is this structure that we must cherish and sustain, for it is that which can reach us and move us and lead us to achieve a shift of consciousness.

    Through larping, we make social magic. It allows each of us to grow and change, and our discordant consciousnesses help change the world in turn.

    Conclusion

    Using Starhawk, this paper aimed at bridging magical practice and activism with larp, to show how art, politics, and personal liberation articulate. It follows Jonaya Kemper’s work, which focuses on what each of us can do to use larp for emancipation purposes, by offering a different reading grid – magic – on those phenomena and emphasizing on the importance of the collective in achieving liberation.

    There is a lot larp can do: but saying this is not enough. We must be wary of this assumption. We can be tempted to assume a larp tackling difficult social issues, for example, will succeed in raising awareness or leading people to have different opinions: but how we do things is at least as important as what we do. As Eirik Fatland demonstrated in a keynote held at the State of the Larp conference,((Eirik Fatland, “Larp for Manipulation or Liberation,” Oslo, 2018)) larps about specific, real-life issues have mostly no impact on the beliefs of the players, but can on the contrary reinforce stereotypes and preconceptions.

    This focus on discourse, as opposed to structure, is a common flaw of progressive politics, especially among large political organisations such as parties or NGOs. They often make the mistake of believing in their own efficiency and effectiveness, regardless of the social and material reality they – and we, in spite of ourselves – exist in. So does larp, when it doesn’t examine its own structure with a critical enough eye.

    Starhawk’s vision of magic provides us with an alternative framework, less concerned with discourse and more in touch with the material reality we live in – that which shapes us, and gets shaped in turn. As larpers, we learn to be flexible and to think differently about the world, both social and material: it’s a gift we can use and enhance to make true magic – change consciousness to take meaningful actions.

    It’s only possible if we stay vigilant: the structure of the society we mean to change is pervasive. Resisting it is a constant struggle: but larp, like magic, might be just what we need to do so.

    References

    Algayres, Muriel. “The Impact of Social Capital on Larp Safety.” Nordic Larp, March 28, 2020.

    Berger, Peter, and Thomas L Luckmann. The Social Construction of Reality: A Treatise in the Sociology of Knowledge. New York: Anchor, 1967.

    Cazeneuve, Axiel. “The Paradox of Inclusivity.” In What Do We Do When We Play? Solmukohta 2020, edited by Eleanor Saitta, Makkonen Mia, Männistö Pauliina, Serup Grove Anne, and Johanna Koljonen, 244–53. Helsinki: Solmukohta 2020, 2020.

    Cazeneuve, Axiel. “Éthique et politique du jeu. Jeu de rôle grandeur nature et engagement politique en Finlande.” Directed by Laurent Gabail. Université Toulouse Jean Jaurès, 2019.

    Fatland, Eirik. “Larp for Manipulation or Liberation.” Oslo, 2018.

    Friedner, Anneli. “The Brave Space: Some Thoughts on Safety in Larps.” Nordic Larp, October 7, 2019.

    Kemper, Jonaya. “The Battle of Primrose Park: Playing for Emancipatory Bleed in Fortune & Felicity.” Nordic Larp, June 2021, 2017.

    Kemper, Jonaya, Saitta, Eleanor & Koljonen, Johanna. “Steering for Survival”. In What Do We Do When We Play? Solmukohta 2020., edited by Eleanor Saitta, Makkonen Mia, Männistö Pauliina, Serup Grove Anne, and Johanna Koljonen, 49-52. Helsinki: Solmukohta 2020, 2020.

    Levin, Hilda. “Metareflection”. In What Do We Do When We Play? Solmukohta 2020., edited by Eleanor Saitta, Makkonen Mia, Männistö Pauliina, Serup Grove Anne, and Johanna Koljonen, 62-74. Helsinki: Solmukohta 2020, 2020.

    Schrier, Karen, Torner, Evan & Hammer, Jessica. “Worldbuiling in Role-Playing Games.” In Role-Playing Game Studies: A Transmedia Approach, edited by Zagal, José P. and Deterding, Sebastian, 349-363. New York: Routledge, 2018.

    Starhawk. Dreaming the Dark: Magic, Sex, and Politics. Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 1997 (1982).

    Stenros, Jaakko. “In Defence of a Magic Circle: The Social, Mental and Cultural Boundaries of Play.” Transactions of the Digital Games Research Association, 2014.

    Seregina, Usva. “On the Commodification of Larp.” Nordic Larp, December 17, 2019.


    Cover photo: Caprice, a character that made me understand magic, at the larp OSIRIS in 2019. She’s standing blindfolded with loud music in her ears on a narrow wall in the cold February wind as part as an impromptu performance. She wears a long red cocktail dress laced at the back that reveals her bare tattooed back. She stands with her arms half-risen in a powerful pose. The background is a thickly clouded sky over a dry heath. Photo by Lille Clairence as Caprice’s partner, Claude Giger.

    This article will be published in the upcoming companion book Book of Magic and is published here with permission. Please cite this text as:

    Cazeneuve, Axiel. “Larp as Magical Practice: Finding the Power-From-Within.” In Book of Magic, edited by Kari Kvittingen Djukastein, Marcus Irgens, Nadja Lipsyc, and Lars Kristian Løveng Sunde. Oslo, Norway: Knutepunkt, 2021. (In press).

     

  • Gendered Magic

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    Gendered Magic

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    In the summer of 2018, I signed up for a feminist spinoff of College of Wizardry (CoW, 2014) called Hecatic Academy of Witchcraft (HAW). Since CoW usually aspires towards a gender-neutral setting, I was interested in seeing what a specifically feminist and female-focussed version of the larp and the magic college might look like. How would the concept of magic academia be changed if we were to imagine it as developed mostly by and for women? Would magic itself become something different? What would gendered magic look like? And importantly, would there be room for magic expressions outside of the gender binary?

    Hecatic Academy of Witchcraft was the brainchild of Agata Świstak and Marta Szyndler, and it was described as a “world where feminine means strong, powerful and unyielding’ and a “safe haven where witches can study magic without the risk of being burned at the stake.” The spinoff larp was marketed for “women, for non-binary pals, for anyone with a feminine experience, and for men who want to try something new.” ((College of Wizardry. “Hecatic Academy of Witchcraft”. Facebook video. 22 June 2018. Accessed 31 August 2020.))

    Having played as a professor at CoW before, I immediately knew that I wanted to teach again at HAW. Especially the new subjects of Moon Magic and Blood Magic sparked creative visions in my head of witches gathering in a circle under the full Moon to celebrate their womanhood. (Since I identify as a queer feminist, a witch and a cis woman, ideas for magic rituals centred on and celebrating female empowerment come easily to me). However, I was aware that I needed to make anything I did accessible to characters and players of all gender expressions and identities – and this honestly seemed quite the challenge. For instance, if Blood Magic or Moon Magic connotes a focus on “the female cycle” and menstruation, how would I include female bodies that don’t menstruate, non-female bodies that do, cis-gendered male bodies and people who might feel dysphoric about the subject? Is it possible to separate menstruation from the notion of a female biology? In general, how do we celebrate female power and magic in any larp setting without simultaneously reproducing binary gender thinking? How do we avoid cis-hexism?

    The special feminist run of CoW was eventually cancelled, but it left me with a lot of unresolved speculation about uplifting the stories of women through elements of female power and magic while striving to make room for all players, including trans*((In this text, I will use trans* as a signifier for all non-cis people (such as transgender, non-binary or genderfluid people, etc.). In other words, I will use trans* for brevity as a signifier for anyone who identifies (always or sometimes) outside of the gender they were assigned at birth. This is a common practice in writing about trans* experiences that I first came across in Ruska Kevätkoski’s work in the 2016 Solmukohta Book (Kevätkoski, 2016).)) players and characters. My goal here is not to provide the perfect answers (I don’t have them), but to share my thoughts and hopefully inspire others to gender their magic systems with awareness and intention.

    The Social Construction of Binary Gender

    Let’s have a quick talk about the gender binary and how our implicit biases about gender might influence larp design. The gender binary is the historical and current notion (particularly in Western culture) that there are two – and only two – distinct and separate genders. Biological sex is often invoked as a reason for upholding the gender binary, with proponents arguing that individual gender expressions spring ‘naturally’ from inherent biology – a view that is sometimes called essentialist. An alternative view (and the one I hold) is that the binary division of gender is a social construct, i.e. a socially constructed and culturally fluent set of expressions and behaviours that are implicitly taught, learned and sustained.((See e.g. Beauvoir, Simone de. The Second Sex. Vintage Books, 2011. Originally Le Deuxième Sexe. First ed. 1949; Butler, Judith. Gender Trouble. Routledge, 1990, Tandon Neeru. Feminism: A Paradigm Shift. Atlantic, 2008. Accessed 23 September 2020.)) In the following, I will presuppose that gender categories are fluent, malleable and socially constructed – and that it is therefore possible to bend, break and rebuild them in larps and other fictional settings.

    It is crucial to understand that just because something is a construct, this does not mean that it doesn’t exist. National borders are a social construct, but they are enforced by laws and sometimes maintained with violent force. Currency is a construct, but the numbers typed on a piece of paper or inside a computer still represent influence and agency in society. The male/female division of colours such as blue and pink or the idea that only women may wear skirts is obviously culturally constructed, but the negative consequences for transgressing outside the expectations of your assigned gender category can be substantial. Even when we resign ourselves to the restrictions of whatever gender category we were assigned at birth, there is still implicitly trained internalised and externalised social policing in place to ensure that we perform((“Perform” here not in the sense of “playacting” but meaning to present yourself through a set of implicitly trained and socially acceptable gendered behaviours.)) whatever behaviours have been designated as sufficiently “feminine” or “masculine” by our culture. This is true for both of the binary gender categories, because although white, straight cis-men are often viewed as a dominant group and as the “norm” (compared to whoever is being “othered” through normative discourse), their potential for self-expression is equally restricted by the rules of the gender binary. As Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie explains:

    We define masculinity in a very narrow way, masculinity becomes this hard, small cage and we put boys inside the cage. We teach boys to be afraid of fear. We teach boys to be afraid of weakness, of vulnerability. We teach them to mask their true selves…

    Although the binary categories of “male” and “female” are constructs, they have tangible and material effects on our lives. We live within and around these identities and categories every day. Many people perform their expected gendered behaviours without even thinking twice about it. Our assigned gender roles are implicit and systemic, and therefore they become the norm. Anyone who exists outside of this norm, either because they resist binary thinking, or simply because they don’t fit easily within the two established categories, often risk being shunned, oppressed or overlooked. The consequences of not “fulfilling” your assigned gender role can be harmful. Exclusion from communities or being marked as “other” have very long histories as forms of social punishment intended (consciously or subconsciously) to correct behaviour back towards the culturally normative expectation.((See e.g. Munt, Sally R. Queer Attachments: The Cultural Politics of Shame (p. 32). Ashgate Publishing, 2007.))

    When we understand the mechanisms behind gendering and othering, and when we recognise the binary gender categories and their associated expressions as constructs, we are better able to anticipate and play with these concepts in larps during world building and in the development of gendered or ungendered((Since the gendering of people, expressions and behaviours is the accepted norm, the decision to omit gender altogether also become a gender-conscious choice.)) magic systems.

    Drawing of a witchard raising a wand with arcane symbols surrounding them evoking multiple genders
    Illustration by Marie Møller

    Gendering Magic

    When we create worlds and settings for larps, we are deconstructing and reconstructing reality. Most larps, however abstract (with a few exceptions), still tell the stories of connected or disconnected human beings and their communities. Nothing comes from nothing, and the stories we tell are reflections of the human experience.

    When it comes to gender, this means that we might unwittingly be reproducing binary stereotypes. That is why gender awareness matters, and why it is important to make conscious decisions about gender and to include trans* characters and narratives. Because of the historical erasure of trans* narratives, examples of trans* historical figures are not easy to find,((Sharma, Ayesha. “Transgender People Are Not Included In Mainstream History.” Everyday Feminism, 2018. Accessed 24 September 2020.)) and it takes deliberate effort to search them out and include them((Preferably without ascribing trans* identities onto historical figures whose personal gender identities can’t be ascertained.)) or to create fictional historical trans* characters for players to portray.

    Likewise, when we create magic systems that celebrate female power (or any gendered magic), we must take care not to conflate magic and biology, thereby insinuating that e.g. femininity and female magic spring from a “female biology”((I.e. a female gender assigned at birth based on physical characteristics.)) rather than from the female cultural experience. If we create a system which states that female magic comes from such a “female biology” (i.e. from having a womb or from something more abstractly female but concretely connected to the physical), we are reproducing the essentialist idea that gender is biological. If gender is a construct, then gendered magic is also a construct. This is true for the actual construction of gendered magic systems when we create them out of game, and that must be true inside the diegetic reality of the larp as well.

    The great thing about this is that if gendered magic (such as a female witch’s potential connection to the Moon) is a social construct, then this gendered border within magic can be explored and transgressed just as the boundaries of gender can be explored and transgressed in real life. We can (and should) embrace and empower the female minority exactly because it is a minority((“Minority” here not signifying a numerical minority but rather any social group that is subordinate to a dominant group with more power and/or privilege regardless of group size, see e.g. https://www.britannica.com/topic/minority.)) – but we can do that and also make space for other minorities. We can do it without doing unto others what has been done to women for so long.

    Gentlemen Magicians and Wild Witches

    There is so much potential for stories about gendered magic, so let me offer an improvised example: Imagine a world historically reminiscent of our own where men go to school and learn magic while women are denied access to both magic and learning. In this world, girls are taught magic in secret by their grandmothers in the woods. Their magic grows wild and intuitive while the boys are taught structured and formulaic spells – both branches of magic equally effective, but each with their restraints and specialities. In this world, the cultural division between boys and girls has created a gender binary. It has also created two separate forms of magic according to gender – not because only two genders exist but because only two genders have been allowed to exist.

    Now in this world, there are male magicians who will never learn (or even want to learn) what the wild witches know. But there are some among them who yearn for the magic of the Moon and the forests and who turn out to excel in intuitive magic. There are those who were told they were girls, but who now live as boys to attend classes and surpass their peers in every way. And there are those who can master both branches of the craft and combine them into new kinds of magic.

    Of course, several things could happen next within this world when people break the social expectations. I would love to see a story where combined or gender-transverse magic is celebrated to empower trans* characters and where it begins to dissolve the gender binary. Alternatively, backlash, banishments or cover-ups of all non-binary magic could mirror the transphobia, ostracism and the erasure of trans* narratives in the real world. This is where it is especially important to consider the purpose of the gendered player experience you are shaping and to remember your trans* players. While I firmly believe there must be room in larp for people to explore lives and identities outside of their own, and while some trans* people will appreciate seeing cis players struggle with the same institutionalised challenges they face every day, others might find it hard to watch someone else live out their most difficult real life moments.

    With no direct experience in larp development, I don’t claim to be an expert, but I have made note of some good advice and best practices: Make it very clear in your scenario description if your gendered magic system will lead to play involving gender discrimination and/or trans* discrimination. Create trans* or ungendered characters to make space for all players interested in playing trans* narratives. Acknowledge the existence of your trans* players in advance. Don’t wait for them to initiate the conversation, but make it clear from the start that you anticipate what you can and are ready to listen.

    When it comes to magic in a historical setting, it is interesting to imagine how the two (culturally constructed and segregated, but very real) genders might perform magic differently. But it is not enough simply to declare that there is male and female magic. We need to know why that is and what it entails. Stories of gender segregation have value when they investigate the gender binary in order either to teach us something about the lived experience of all genders at that time and place or to explore and transgress the gender boundaries they establish.

    Gender-Neutral Witchards and Agender Fae

    At College of Wizardry, it has become custom to call witches and wizards by the universal gender-neutral portmanteau “witchards.” No one seems to recall the exact origin of the word (a reflection of the largely community-sourced gameplay), but the term functions well to support the gender-inclusive tone that the larp aims for. In the player handbook for CoW, there is a passage on equality and inclusivity which reads:

    Witchard Society is different though: magical ability can surface in anyone, and that makes everyone equal regardless of their looks, body, sexuality, gender, beliefs or ethnicity […] and genderqueer and transgender individuals are common and wholly accepted.((College of Wizardry. Player Handbook. Company P, 2019. Version 3.0, ed. Laura Sirola and Christopher Sandberg. Accessed 23 September 2020.))

    I imagine this rule stated clearly and directly (and repeated in pre-larp workshops) makes a difference for many players, although I can’t speak for them. I can say that it means a lot to me when portraying a female professor of age and authority, and it matters in the gameplay I have sought to create for other players. At CoW, there are also pronoun badges for players to show clearly whether their characters identify as they/them, she/her or he/him. This enables me to use the right pronouns for the characters I meet (something I very much appreciate), and then promptly ignore their gender because at CoW, gender doesn’t matter – but it matters a great deal that gender explicitly doesn’t matter, because this stands in such clear contrast to the importance implicitly placed on gender in the real world.

    In-game photo of the author in a wizard's hat in a castle surrounded by students
    In-game: The author teaching magic through music at College of Wizardry 22. Photo by Przemysław Jendroska, Horseradish Studio.

    The upcoming larp A Harvest Dance((A Harvest Dance, set for October 2021.)) by Lotta Bjick and the team at Poltergeist LARP features another kind of magical creature that has transcended (or rather never had) the need for gender. The site describes: “Fae society is not human and the concept of gender is bewildering and strange to them, therefore all characters will be written and played without gender.” The vision is that all players will portray genderless fae characters and use they/them pronouns about each other at all times. As fae, the participants will be able to play with – or rather completely disregard – gender in fashion and demeanour because the fae are bewildered by the silly human mortals’ constructed gender binary.

    Of course, although characters might be written as unbiased or genderless, it doesn’t mean that players are able to enter into the fiction and immediately abandon their subconscious biases. It takes effort, and that effort takes awareness and intention – and even then, we might still slip up. (For instance, in spite of best efforts, I have personally experienced both sexism and sexual harassment at CoW.) But it matters that we get to try, and that we get to enter into a world where concepts such as gender-equality or the total lack of gender is explicitly stated as the norm and the expectation.

    The organisers of A Harvest Dance are aware that players bring their trained normative behaviours with them into the event whether they want to or not. The act of using they/them pronouns for everyone around you is a new experience and a social exercise. It is stated clearly on the website that players should avoid gendered pronouns and not use words such as “man” or “woman.” But, the organisers say, “We are aware that this is not what most of us are used to in off-game real life and we might mess up. That is ok!” (A Harvest Dance).

    Although our ingrown biases are hard to shed, larps give us the option to try. The trying is important in itself because it shows us that the established social norms of the real world are transmutable and replaceable constructs and are not the only ways to exist and interact. Even when we try and fail, we learn something about ourselves and the pervasive condition of our subconscious preconceptions. Through the narrative device of magic (and the actual magic of larping), we are able to construct, inhabit and investigate alternate realities that can show us a glimpse of what a truly unbiased community might look like, or experience what a genderless society feels like. The creators of A Harvest Dance say that they “are excited to see what characters we all can create together without the boundaries of gender!” And so am I.

    Menstruation Magic

    I would be remiss if I didn’t at least attempt to include a discussion on magic and menstruation. After all, it was the notion of Moon Magic and Blood Magic as magic school subjects that set my thoughts in motion exactly because they made me think of menstruation rituals and the potential for accidental gender-based exclusion. Menstruation is historically and implicitly connected to womanhood, but it is not something all women experience, and it is not something only women experience.

    Menstruation is connected to womanhood because it has historically been associated with the physical characteristics ascribed to ‘female biology’. Not only that, but menstruation has been marked as something unclean or impure by the patriarchy and is still abused as a reason to subjugate and disfranchise the female minority and keep women subdued.((UNFPA. “Menstruation and Human Rights.” UNFPA, 2020. Accessed September 27, 2020)). Women have been called hysterical (from the Greek “hystera,” meaning womb or uterus), and the menstrual cycle is continually cited as a reason why women should not hold positions of power.((See e.g. Robbins, Mel. “Hillary Clinton and the clueless hormone argument.” CNN, 2015. Accessed 24 September 2020.)) In some cultures and traditions, women are kept separate from their communities during menstruation, and they must undergo cleansing rituals before re-entering society. The loss of dignity and agency that women face through the stigma of menstruation is exactly why it is an important act of resistance for women to celebrate it. Menstruation celebrations and rituals can and should be used as a tool to empower the female minority and break this age-old taboo.

    However, as I said above, not all women menstruate, and not only women menstruate. Some women are post-menopausal, some have medical conditions that disrupt or prevent menstruation, some have reasons and medical means to opt out, and some women don’t have a uterus. Some trans* people menstruate but do not identify as women, including a number of men. And some people are dysphoric about their menstruation (or lack thereof) because it doesn’t correspond with the (socially constructed) physical expectations of their gender identity. So how do we celebrate menstruation through magic without risking the exclusion of bodies that don’t fit neatly into binary gender categories?

    I’m sad to say I don’t have the answer. To be honest, I thought about not including this segment at all because I have more questions than answers. But in the end, I believe the question merits being asked. My ultimate intention is not to provide a ready-made solution but to inspire further contemplation in others. Two brains are smarter than one, and larps are the perfect playgrounds to ask the “what ifs” together and experiment with subversions of social norms. But I do have one final thought to share on the matter.

    While womanhood and menstruation are historically related issues, they are not actually the same thing. When we look beyond the conflation that patriarchal history has made of women and menstruation, we see that the connection is yet another social construct. Some bodies menstruate. Some of these bodies belong to people who identify as women. Some of them do not. Menstruation is a thing that some bodies do – not a thing that just women do. So maybe it’s possible to separate the two.

    Perhaps in the right story and the right setting, rituals celebrating menstruation could be something different and apart from rituals celebrating womanhood. The great thing about magical world-building is that we are not limited by mundane maxims. We are free to imagine and inhabit alternate realities that are partially or wholly different from our own. We can create worlds where menstruation is celebrated in all bodies regardless of gender, or where menstruation talk is commonplace and not taboo, or where menstruation represents something else altogether.

    As I said, there is good reason to celebrate menstruation specifically in order to re-empower a female minority that has been disfranchised directly through menstruation stigma. That can and should be done in larps that focus on the gender binary and the concomitant limits it places on everyone – larps that hopefully also consider the injustices done towards trans* people through the same social system.

    The Power of Gendered Magic

    Whether you believe in magic or not, gendered magic will always be a social construct because gender is a social construct. When we create worlds and social settings for larps, we are either reconstructing or deconstructing the gender binary. Once we realise that genders are social categories that have been culturally constructed over time, it becomes easier to reframe and reimagine them, which we can then do with intention and awareness of the ramifications it will have for players and characters of all genders, including trans* players and characters. We should not accept an implicitly essentialist approach to gender simply because it is the norm of the real world.

    Larping – and especially larping in fantastical settings – gives us the power to decide to try something new, or to question the status quo by reproducing it for the purpose of closer scrutiny. We get to imagine worlds not only where “feminine means strong,”((College of Wizardry. “Hecatic Academy of Witchcraft.” Facebook video. 22 June 2018. Accessed 31 August 2020. )) but where masculine means being sensitive to the needs of others and expressive about your emotions. We get to break the cages and the restrictions placed on all of us through the binary construct of gender. Whatever choice we make about gender categories in our world-building and magic systems, it should be done with intention and for good reason because it has the power to change someone’s frame of mind.

    Gendered magic has the power not just to include but to uplift gender minorities. With Hecatic Academy of Witchcraft, the idea was to reframe and celebrate women and female magic in exact opposition to the historical persecution of female witches.((Even though men were also persecuted for witchcraft, and although there are examples of countries where more men than women were executed, women were the main target of witch-hunts and executions in Europe and Scandinavia. (Guillou, Jan. Heksenes forsvarere: en historisk reportage. Modtryk, 2012. Orinally Häxornas försvarere – ett historiskt reportage. First ed. 2002).)) At A Harvest Dance, there will be an absence of gender, which is in itself a gender-aware choice and a social construction, and it will probably teach the participants something about their own perspective on and relation to gender. In my own example above about boys schooled in magic and girls learning magic in secret (where gender segregation has resulted in two different types of magic), we can imagine how characters that are able to combine the two gendered forms of magic might become revered for the very fact that they see through and transgress the implicitly binary system.

    In larps, we get to do the telling – but narrative power also means responsibility. When it comes to creating space for trans* narratives in larp, cis people still hold the most power. By stepping up and making sure to include trans* characters in our stories, and by asking the right questions when we create gendered worlds and gendered magic systems, we begin to counteract historic and current trans* erasure. When we create realistic or historically inspired settings, we need to work towards including those stories that are too often erased, overlooked and forgotten. When we write alternate, fantastical and imaginary worlds and settings, we are free to reimagine gender, or its absence, for everyone.

    Although I don’t have all the answers, I hope that sharing my thoughts and speculations on this issue might have inspired some further play with gender, magic and gendered magic in larps. There are already a number of larps with rich explorative ideas about gender (e.g. Brudpris, Sigridsdotter and Mellan himmel och hav), and I hope to see even more larps in the future with a deliberate focus on gender in their world-building in order either to investigate or remedy the gendered injustices of the real world. I especially dream of more larps where gendered magic – or the explicit absence of gender in magic – is applied as an allegorical device to illustrate and illuminate the fundamentally constructed condition of the binary gender categories of the real world in order to uplift and celebrate gender minorities. To me, this would be true magic.

    Bibliography

    Adichie, Chimamanda Ngozi. “We Should All Be Feminists.” TEDxEuston, 2012. Accessed 16 October 2020.

    Beauvoir, Simone de. The Second Sex. Vintage Books, 2011. (Org. “Le Deuxième Sexe”. First ed. 1949.)

    Butler, Judith. Gender Trouble. Routledge, 1990.

    College of Wizardry. “Hecatic Academy of Witchcraft.” Facebook video. 22 June 2018. Accessed 31 August 2020.

    College of Wizardry. Player Handbook. Company P, 2019 (version 3.0, ed. Laura Sirola and Christopher Sandberg). Accessed 23 September 2020.

    Guillou, Jan. Heksenes forsvarere: en historisk reportage. Modtryk, 2012. (Org. Häxornas försvarere – ett historiskt reportage. First ed. 2002).

    Kevätkoski, Ruska (formerly N. Koski). “Not a Real Man?” Ropecon ry, 2016. Accessed 30 August 2020.

    Munt, Sally R. Queer Attachments: The Cultural Politics of Shame (p. 32). Ashgate Publishing, 2007.

    Robbins, Mel. “Hillary Clinton and the Clueless Hormone Argument.” CNN, 2015. Accessed 24 September 2020.

    Sharma, Ayesha. “Transgender People Are Not Included In Mainstream History.” Everyday Feminism, 2018. Accessed 24 September 2020.

    Tandon Neeru. Feminism: A Paradigm Shift. Atlantic, 2008. Accessed 23 September 2020.

    UNFPA. “Menstruation and Human Rights.” UNFPA, 2020. Accessed September 27, 2020.


    Cover photo: Image by Alexas_Fotos on Pixabay.

    This article will be published in the upcoming companion book Book of Magic and is published here with permission. Please cite this text as:

    Møller, Marie. “Gendered Magic.” In Book of Magic, edited by Kari Kvittingen Djukastein, Marcus Irgens, Nadja Lipsyc, and Lars Kristian Løveng Sunde. Oslo, Norway: Knutepunkt, 2021. (In press).

  • Six Magickal Techniques

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    Six Magickal Techniques

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    Six magickal larp techniques were designed for “Walpurgis” (2018) and refined for its second run (2019). They were created to reinforce psychedelia, confusion and messing with dark undercurrents in a Psychedelic 70’s, Eurotrash surreal setting. Magickal techniques are specific and alternate ways to engage with oneself, with each other character, and with the environment in larp.

    The techniques were created by Juan Ignacio Ros and José Castillo Meseguer, working together as Somnia. They were intended to be a complete set: inclusive (for all magick went through them) and prescriptive (for they had to be followed if the character was performing magick and no magick was performed outside them). They were intended as approaches to follow and not definite “spells”, and similar outcomes could be achieved by many of them. They were all about how to do magick, how to be immersed while performing, and results were secondary.

    The techniques were also designed to enhance Somnia’s preferred style of seamless immersion and to avoid any blatant stepping out of the illusion to negotiate outcomes – play to flow. For that same reason, the techniques are autonomous and don’t require supervision, decisions or judgement from the larp organization. It was not an aim of the design to enable power fantasies, and we focused on psychological horror.

    The esoteric and occult make-up of the magic enacted by the characters through the techniques was seen a secondary concern, or a non-issue, but they enhanced the mood. These techniques benefit vastly if three principles are also followed:

    There are no masters” – Even if characters think they are masters of the Occult, they are not, according to these techniques. There is no certain outcome for their performance and rituals.

    You cannot be wrong” – While the actual performance could be compromised, characters are confident in their works – the same as in any movie with obvious silly rituals that are taken seriously nonetheless. As long as the participant put an effort delivering their “magick”, it was accepted and slight deviations are welcomed.

    Outcomes flow along with the larp running course” – If a character wants to set up a specific situation or opportunity in advance, that is fine, but if the “magick” involve other participants’ characters, they are the ones who decide the intensity and persistence of the effects as they find them interesting. Attempts to perform them in a casual manner, to automatize or to exploit them can be seen as bad form and ignored, for these techniques are played to flow, to see what happens next, and not to abuse other participants’ goodwill.

    Lastly, a desired outcome could be irrelevant or going against the larp desired experience or the larp specific phase, flow or limits, so it is expected that participants restrain themselves if such is the case.

    Second Sight

    The Second Sight is seen as the foundation technique, for it is a requirement before performing the rest of them. It is an active technique to enhance the larp experience by engaging through the inner turmoil and phantoms of the portrayed character.

    The key issue is the conscious distortion of perception, and should always be done through the character’s mindset.

    A recipe for workshops follows:

    Stop for a moment, look inside and try to see what is unseen, the hidden meaning behind what is happening, a subtle level beyond the evident reality of what you see. Let any image, impression or idea manifest in your imagination and hold unto it. Take your insight as the truth or vision your character is perceiving, within the worldview of the larp, however irrational or outrageous it could be, and go with it, act upon it.

    The Second Sight is intended to be used as often as possible for inspiration, or to decide if what another character is saying or doing is true, or to look for hints or motivations for anything, but also as a preamble to any act of magick, to “measure“ and ”perceive” hidden forces.

    It is a way to generate content for the larp experience in an unilateral way.

    Comment: We designed the Second Sight as a “symbolic mode” to engage the larp in a different approach than regular perception allows. We often felt that the standard portrayal of magic in larp relies too often on props, special effects and external actions. The inner action and symbolic significance of performing magick is too often overlooked or not considered, so we used this technique as a prerequisite and threshold for all participants to help them find subjective meaning in sometimes absurd and illogical actions that have sense within themselves.

    We stressed the importance of the Second Sight for the second run of Walpurgis, as we found it under-used during the first run.

    This technique encouraged participants to tap into their visions and ideas for the larp, situations and characters “in media res” and forge new paths of action.

    Divination

    This technique is performed to deliver indirect suggestions for a character ‘s next actions or path, by looking into the blurry past and the hidden present. It could be performed by a character on another, or by the character alone over themselves, as a form for diegetic steering. It requires a divination tool, but anything could be used if it makes sense for the larp itself.

    When a seer performs the reading on another, they require a framework for the interpretation of the signs, and it can be as vague or specific as the consultant wants.

    The answers from the divination should include situations the character who asks for the divination will most surely come across (or have the delusion of encountering), as proofs or triggers behind the divination messages.

    Comment: Divination is best for “soft” influences and suggestions. Anything goes with it, and any vague statements and inaccuracies make it very fitting for the “consultant”character to fill up the blanks. It is taken for granted that the “seer” character will start any reading after they enter the Second Sight.

    Sorcery

    There is no subtlety in sorcery, a blunt and direct technique to exert power and obtain results and alterations in the outer world and in others. It is defined as engaging through forceful commands and overt manipulation.

    The effects on other characters depend a lot on the dramatic abilities of the performer, for they are delivered mostly through personal influence.

    Examples of sorcery execution could be the ritual delivery of a charm, talisman or potion with the intent of a direct change on another; the use of gestures, looks and words to convey psychic manipulations or cursing; the composition of some sort of semblance or doll, etc. All of them are tied to let the target character know about the intent.

    There are many ways of performing sorcery, but with each one the sorcerer is sending a clear message: the character wants a specific result or course of action, is not afraid to force it, and the consequences be damned.

    Comment: Successful use of sorcery goes through the principle of “play to flow” for all involved participants: go along if it is well delivered and makes sense, display resistance even if the character is going to lose, let the circumstances and the specifics of your character decide.

    By design, subtle and indirect influences, charms and enchantment were not considered for “Walpurgis”, as we aimed for overt and dramatic interventions.

    Journey

    The technique for Journey was designed to enable travelling through other worlds, alone or in company. It is also seen as engaging through delusions and mindscapes.

    It comes in two modes: a mind trip and a physical walk, and both can be performed alone or with company, and take for granted the Second Sight is being used. As a mind trip, the character sits and navigates through a predefined inner landscape of the larp, using the guidance of another character who takes the lead and suggests (but not describes) what is happening or following their own path.

    As a physical walk, the character moves through a path after night falls, but projects the inner landscape they should be navigating in the outer world. It can also be performed with another character leading the path and suggesting the zones they are travelling through.

    This technique has worked better when performed with some aim or purpose of what the character wanted to find, and dressed up with rituals, music, candles or special lights.

    Comment: “Walpurgis” had a predefined inner landscape – the Underworld – for the characters to travel. It was broad and based on Mediterranean otherworlds (specially the Greek Hades) and the larp location, a group of cave houses in Southern Spain, was well suited to it.

    Implementing this technique in a larp would require to define an inner landscape or otherworld with the principles that operate inside and the kind of experiences that the Journey might provide. Otherwise, it could end in aimless wandering and complete disconnection.

    Evocation

    Evocation is intended as the conjuring of otherworldly beings to interact with them for information, exchanges, dealings and pacts. The technique was conceived as engaging through the perspective of a third person with an inhuman mindset: The Other, a character that is played through another character. Different kinds of Others could be conceived: long dead people, personifications of a specific emotion or complex entities who could be conscious but utterly alien.

    Evocation requires two characters, the one who calls forth, and a companion who helps and will serve as the basis for the Other.

    The evocation ritual is performed in a dramatic way by the one who calls, and conveys to the companion all the information they require: titles, powers, attitude, quirks and demeanor. At the climax of the ritual, the companion embodies the Other. Outwardly, there are no changes, but the magician can see them through the Second Sight.

    Then follows a power play between the Other and the magician, who are constantly testing each other’s power and will through their interaction and exchange, trying to gain the upper hand. The entity could ask for prices, obedience, tasks or information. At the end of the interaction, the entity departs by its own volition or when it is banished, and the companion has some distant memories of the interaction.

    A particularly dangerous – yet intense – variation is the summoning of a being of desire for the magician, a “demon lover”. The demon lover embodies the qualities and possess the gender the character finds most attractive. The companion embodies the demon lover and interacts – there could be words, touch, a playful exchange, violence, slight gratification or any kind of interaction, but there should be no fulfillment. Whatever interaction develops, it should be unsatisfying and frustrating at the end, but it might be insightful.

    Comment: Consent and safety are paramount when playing with Evocation, and particularly if any kind of intimacy is going to be enacted. It is understood the participants would have negotiated before the larp their interaction limits and are able revoke them at any point. To implement this technique, it should be also stressed that whoever plays the companion character could return to their normal character even if they don’t feel threatened, but don’t like how the interaction is developing, stating that the entity has gone.

    That all interactions were unsatisfying was a design feature for “Walpurgis”, but it could be different for another larp. However, we thought it was better to avoid power fantasies and any kind of wish fulfillment.

    Metamorphosis

    The technique for Metamorphosis is the process of becoming the alien Other, engaging inwards through a self-inflicted change of the character.

    It allows to change the character by direct ritual action during the larp, to discover new or vestigial aspects unknown before or to fumble and mess with oneself in a horrible and permanent way, whatever seems more interesting. Altering character traits, mindset or basic social functions, like substituting words for humming or rhythmic clapping, or losing the capacity to express some thought or emotion could be some examples.

    Tools for Metamorphosis are meditation, concentration, devotion, the invocation and absorption of god forms and specific actions undertaken as a means of transformation.

    Comment: As “Walpurgis” themes were horror, confusion and lack of identity, Metamorphosis was the way to go for radical transformations and experimentation, never to “improve” the character or give them an advantage over others, but to make them different from normal human beings by becoming the Other. Metamorphosis was intended as a permanent change, for a passing influence was the purview of other techniques such as Sorcery.

    An important point of note was that Metamorphosis was sought after by the character, and it was always personal. This could change for another larp in which a character could alter others’ core identities by sorcerous means.

    Additional comments

    The techniques were intended as a whole, but they allow for ample experimentation using only a couple of them. For instance, a short chamber larp – “δαίμων” (Daimon, 2019 and 2020), written by Juan Ignacio Ros for Somnia – has used only a streamlined version of Evocation. Other magickal techniques could be designed for specific larps, considering the needs, the design and how they would enhance the way the characters could interact.

    We made slight adjustments on the techniques for the second run to explain them better, but they stayed mostly the same.

    The biggest changes were connected to Evocation, to offer a more practical approach about it and establish better that the technique should be used with a companion who would perform the entity evoked.

    We altered Sorcery so it was understood only as “brute psychic force” and not as a general guidance and manipulation, for we felt it was needed to avoid vagueness and convey the coercive nature of such magicks.

    The definition of Metamorphosis was confusing for the first run, according to several participants, so we stressed that the Otherness that took over the character was inhuman, alien, unknown: connected to the chthonic and titanic nature of the Dark Gods that the characters followed.

    For the second run of “Walpurgis,” an online session was set up before the larp to give examples, describe and comment on how a participant could produce their larp content through these tools. Extended workshops would be also highly advisable to practice the techniques if participants are not familiar with them.

    These tools required engagement and a bit of preparation, but were designed to flesh out and guide interactions in a “magical” mindset, and to enrich the larp experience when Occult and ritual magic are considered.


    Cover photo: From the second international run of Walpurgis. Photo by Stefano Kewan Lee.

    This article will be published in the upcoming companion book Book of Magic and is published here with permission. Please cite this text as:

    Ros, Juan Ignacio. “Six Magickal Techniques.” In Book of Magic, edited by Kari Kvittingen Djukastein, Marcus Irgens, Nadja Lipsyc, and Lars Kristian Løveng Sunde. Oslo, Norway: Knutepunkt, 2021. (In press).

  • Magic is Real: How Role-playing Can Transform Our Identities, Our Communities, and Our Lives

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    Magic is Real: How Role-playing Can Transform Our Identities, Our Communities, and Our Lives

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    What is magic? From our perspective, at its core, magic is a form of manifestation: the ability to alter the self and the world around us through the power of intentional thought, force of will, and creative action.((Mat Auryn, Psychic Witch: A Metaphysical Guide to Meditation, Magick & Manifestation (Woodbury, MN: Llewellyn Publications, 2020).)) At the root of this magic is the power of transformation — and the collective agreement within the community to support it.((Bowman, Sarah Lynne, and Kjell Hedgard Hugaas. “Transformative Role-play: Design, Implementation, and Integration.” Nordiclarp.org, December 10, 2019.)) Magic also involves deeply immersive ritual states in which people take on aspects of other identities in order to draw status, strength, power, or insight through embodiment.((Victor Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure (Piscataway, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 1969); Émile Durkheim, The Elementary Forms of Religious Life, trans. J. W. Swain (George Allen & Unwin LTD, 1964).))

    These rituals often require the collective efforts of the community to uphold the potency of a magic circle that contains the experience, with each person adhering to this temporary liminal state and supporting one another in co-created immersion.((Mike Pohjola, “Autonomous Identities: Immersion as a Tool for Exploring, Empowering, and Emancipating Identities,” in Beyond Role and Play, ed. Markus Montola and Jaakko Stenros (Ropecon ry, 2004), 81-96; J. Tuomas Harviainen, “Information, Immersion, Identity: The Interplay of Multiple Selves During Live-Action Role-Play,” Journal of Interactive Drama: A Multi-Discipline Peer-Reviewed Journal of Scenario-Based Theatre-Style Interactive Drama 1, no. 2 (October 2006): 9-52.)) Rituals are playful spaces in which participants cross a threshold from the social reality of daily life. They enter into an agreed-upon reality with different rules for a bounded amount of time, thereby creating a new social contract. While role-players may not perceive their actions within play as a form of ritual magic, experiences within this magic circle often do impact them in powerful ways that can have lasting effects.

    Simply put: when we imagine ourselves becoming someone else, we tap into our latent potential as human beings and as a community. When the group agrees to “pretend to believe” in these transformations, we create space in our consciousness for an expanded sense of our own identities.((Pohjola, “Autonomous Identities.”)) Through the power of imagination, we are able to conceptualize ourselves as capable in areas in which previously we may have felt limited. Some examples include expansion in one’s abilities, such as leadership and physical prowess; one’s personality qualities, such as extraversion and openness to experiences; one’s interpersonal capacities, such as empathy, intimacy, and connection; and one’s experiences of emotional release, such as catharsis, anger, desire, and grief. We can also explore our shadow sides — those unconscious and scary parts of ourselves and of our collective humanity that arise when we play characters that reveal undesirable character traits and behaviors.((Whitney “Strix” Beltrán, “Shadow Work: A Jungian Perspective on the Underside of Live Action Role-Play in the United States,” in Wyrd Con Companion Book 2013, ed. Sarah Lynne Bowman and Aaron Vanek (Los Angeles, CA: Wyrd Con, 2013), 94-101.)) As a result, many of us have experienced powerful impacts from role-playing and may even continue to hunt for these peak experiences, returning to larp after larp in the hope of immersing in moments of exquisite intensity once more.((Elin Nilsen, “High on Hell,” in States of Play: Nordic Larp Around the World, ed. by Juhana Pettersson (Helsinki, Finland: Pohjoismaisen roolipelaamisen seura, 2012), 10-11.))

    But what happens when the magic circle fades, we return to daily life, and are faced with the sometimes brutal facts of the social and physical reality within which we usually exist? What role can bleed play in our ability to create “magic” outside of larp contexts: that uncanny phenomenon in which emotions, behaviors, physical states, and relationship dynamics sometimes spillover from character to player?((Beltrán, “Shadow Work”; Bowman, 2015; Diana J. Leonard and Tessa Thurman, “Bleed-out on the Brain: The Neuroscience of Character-to-Player,” International Journal of Role-Playing 9 (2018): 9-15; Kjell Hedgard Hugaas, “Investigating Types of Bleed in Larp: Emotional, Procedural, and Memetic,” Nordiclarp.org, January 25, 2019; Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Solmukohta 2020 Keynote: Sarah Lynne Bowman – Integrating Larp Experiences,” Nordiclarp.org, April 4, 2020.)) Our belief is that the “magic” discovered through role-playing can persist long after an event concludes when supported by integration practices — not as a form of delusion, but as a valid facet of the role-player’s social and psychological life.((Carl Gustav Jung, The Portable Jung, ed. Joseph Campbell, trans. by R.C.F. Hull. (New York: Penguin Random House, 1976); Stéphane Daniau, “The Transformative Potential of Role-playing Games: From Play Skills to Human Skills,” Simulation & Gaming 47, no. 4 (2016): 423–444; Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Active Imagination, Individuation, and Role-playing Narratives,” Tríade: Revista de Comunicação, Cultura e Midia 5, no. 9 (2017): 158-173; Sarah Lynne Bowman and Kjell Hedgard Hugaas, “Transformative Role-play: Design, Implementation, and Integration,” Nordiclarp.org, December 10, 2019; Jonaya Kemper, “The Battle of Primrose Park: Playing for Emancipatory Bleed in Fortune & Felicity,” Nordiclarp.org, June 21, 2017; 2020).))

    With this position in mind, this article will include an in-depth discussion of the “magical” potential of role-playing. We will describe some of the barriers to transformation that can arise from alibi, cognitive dissonance, role-distancing, and the pressures of conformity. We will then examine role-playing from two quite different lenses:

    a) Conceptualizations of ritual, aspecting, and manifestation in occult and metaphysical traditions; and

    b Research in the social sciences about the power of thought and narrative upon self-concept, behavior, performance, and well-being.

    This preliminary exploration of concepts that might help explain the potential of role-playing as a form of postmodern “magic” is by no means exhaustive or detailed. Rather, we present vignettes of thought from various areas of spiritual practice and social science. We explore how role-playing, perspective taking, narrative, ritual, and the conscious use of specific imaginative practices can directly impact people’s performance at tasks, their self-concepts, and their perceived agency. Then, we examine different models of bleed theory, investigating ways that we can raise awareness around bleed effects and consciously steer toward or away from them as needed.((Markus Montola, Jaakko Stenros, and Eleanor Saitta, “The Art of Steering: Bringing the Player and the Character Back Together,” Nordiclarp.org, March 29, 2015.))

    If we intentionally emphasize responsibility, safety, and growth in our communities, we can imagine the role-playing space as a transformational container within which we can explore our edges and mold our self-concepts through play. We can use alibi as a tool to permit greater experimentation, while decreasing its strength when we wish to transfer skills, insights, and personality traits outside of the magic circle. Finally, through conscious and deliberate integration practices, we can distill these insights and more permanently infuse our lives with this magic, manifesting new conceptions of self, of community, of relationships, and of our life potential.

    Blonde person in a chair outside in the snow with fire erupting from their hand
    Photo by Enrique Meseguer, darksouls1 on Pixabay.

    The Limitations of the Magic Circle

    Many role-players claim to have experienced powerful impacts from play within the magic circle, whether they describe these moments in mystical terms or not. Yet, some scholars remain skeptical about the generalizability of such claims and may even demean such stories, relegating them to the rather dismissive and even derisive category of “anecdotal evidence.” In other words, if such accounts cannot be measured and quantified in ways that are predictable and generalizable to meet social, psychological, and neurological scientific standards, then they lose tangible credibility in the world of the “real.” Similarly, some role-playing communities still maintain strong boundaries between in- and off-game, distrusting or even scorning players who experience bleed or who express the need to process their experiences after an event.This dismissiveness can lead players to question whether or not their experiences had lasting meaning and may lead to shame and alienation.

    In spite of such critiques, we suspect that the majority of participants who continue to role-play and scholars who devote their lives to understanding the mechanics and dynamics of playful spaces do so because, at some point in their lives, role-playing was transformative for them. Yet, when players attempt to make sense of their experiences outside the frame of game even within playful communities, they may have difficulty perceiving or admitting that these powerful play moments were “transformational.”((Matthew M. LeClaire, “Live Action Role-Playing: Transcending the Magic Circle through Play in Dagorhir.” International Journal of Role-Playing 10 (2020): 56-69. )) Why do some players reject the notion of play as a vehicle for transformation?

    In the following section, we posit that this tendency to interrogate and ultimately diminish the importance of role-playing as a vehicle of personal transformation is a defense mechanism intended to protect the self from identity confusion and social shame. In order to make sense of the liminal ritual space of play — which is often erratic, contradictory, and ephemeral — role-players undergo the following processes, whether consciously or unconsciously. Players:

    1. Establish alibi to engage in playful activities that remain bounded by the magic circle,
    2. Resolve cognitive dissonance through off-game role-distancing, and
    3. Conform to mainstream social norms after role-play events conclude.

    While such processes may enhance a player’s sense of safety, they can also disrupt a participant’s ability to integrate key experiences and revelations emerging from play into daily life.((Simo Järvelä, “How Real Is Larp?,” in Larp Design: Creating Role-play Experiences, ed. Johanna Koljonen, Jaakko Stenros, Anne Serup Grove, Aina D. Skjønsfjell and Elin Nilsen (Copenhagen, Denmark: Landsforeningen Bifrost, 2019).))

    Alibi

    According to Erving Goffman, all social interactions take place on a specific social stage — or frame — that requires the enactment of predictable roles.((Erving Goffman, The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life (Anchor Books, 1959); Erving Goffman, Frame Analysis: An Essay on the Organization of Experience. Boston, MA: Northeastern University Press, 1986.)) From this perspective, identity becomes a much more fluid concept than many of us might recognize. Since we must perform appropriately on different social stages, our self-presentation must remain adaptable to the constraints and expectations required by each frame. In Western productivity-focused societies, we have certain predefined roles that we are expected to perform, such as teacher, sibling, parent, colleague, etc. Playing roles and creating fictional realities without a socially acceptable purpose is often frowned upon and even demonized by mainstream groups attempting to uphold these norms.((Lizzie Stark, Leaving Mundania (Chicago Review Press, 2012); Joseph P. Laycock, Dangerous Games: What the Moral Panic over Role-Playing Games Says about Play, Religion, and Imagined Worlds. (University of California Press, 2015).))

    As Sebastian Deterding has described at length,((Sebastian Deterding, “Alibis for Adult Play: A Goffmanian Account of Escaping Embarrassment in Adult Play,” Games and Culture 13, no. 3 (2017): 260–279.)) in order to play, we need to feel safe from the embarrassment of performing social roles inadequately or transgressing norms of acceptable behavior.((Cf. Cindy Poremba, “Critical Potential on the Brink of the Magic Circle,” in DiGRA ’07 – Proceedings of the 2007 DiGRA International Conference: Situated Play Volume 4 (Tokyo: The University of Tokyo, 2007); Jaakko Stenros and Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Transgressive Role-play,” in Role-Playing Game Studies: Transmedia Foundations, ed. Sebastian Deterding and José P. Zagal (New York: Routledge, 2018), 411-424.)) Such moments of embarrassment threaten the stability of our sense of belonging and safety; our behaviors become unpredictable and others may feel uncertain how to react. When we role-play, our communities create in-game spaces that act as temporary social frames within which such behavior is no longer transgressive. In other words, we create an alibi for adult play, which allows us to present identities and behaviors that would otherwise be inconsistent with the expectations of our normative social roles.((Deterding, “Alibis”; Pohola, “Autonomous.”))

    Game systems, lore, mechanics, design documents, character sheets, social contracts of play, social media groups, event sites, workshops, and debriefs all serve the purpose of creating alibi. They facilitate the construction of what many game scholars call the magic circle: a frame within which playfulness can transpire.((Johan Huizinga, Homo Ludens: A Study of the Play-Element in Culture (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 1958); Katie Salen and Eric Zimmerman, Rules of Play: Game Design Fundamentals (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2004); Markus Montola, On the Edge of the Magic Circle: Understanding Role-Playing and Pervasive Games (PhD diss, University of Tampere, 2012); Jaakko Stenros, “In Defence of a Magic Circle: The Social, Mental and Cultural Boundaries of Play,” in DiGRA Nordic 2012 Conference: Local and Global – Games in Culture and Society, Tampere Finland, June 6-8, 2012, ed. Raine Koskimaa, Frans Mäyrä and Jaakko Suominen.)) For our purposes, both the off-game social contract and the in-game magic circle afforded by it create a holding container for spontaneous co-creative play and shifts in identity presentation that can feel intensely liberating.((Wilfred P. Bion, Experiences in Groups (Tavistock, England: Tavistock Publications, 1959); Donald W. Winnicott, “Theory”; Kemper, “Battle.”)) However, these framing devices can also lead to cognitive dissonance, especially in communities where discussion of bleed and the transformative impacts of play are discouraged. In other words, playing with one’s self-presentation can only transpire within frames that have been established by and protected by alibi.

    Cognitive Dissonance, Role-Distancing, and Conformity

    Due to these expectations of proper performativity, the mind is often in a state of vigilance in social interactions as it attempts to regulate and adapt to the demands of the group. When we enter the magic circle of play and we allow ourselves to surrender into the experience, we are still aware and cognitively engaged, but our minds tend to relax some of this vigilance. We place some measure of trust in the group and experience varying degrees of immersion.((Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Immersion and Shared Imagination in Role-Playing Games,” in Role-Playing Game Studies: Transmedia Foundations, ed. Sebastian Deterding and José P. Zagal (New York: Routledge, 2018), 379-394; Leonard and Thurman, “Bleed-out on the Brain”; Lauri Lukka, “The Psychology of Immersion,” in The Cutting Edge of Nordic Larp, edited by Jon Back (Denmark: Knutpunkt, 2014), 81-92.)) We may experience intense moments of vulnerability and intimacy within our play groups, which can lead to a rapid sense of bonding. Yet, we also experience a paradoxical cognitive space in which parts of our brain perceive the game events as real,((Järvelä, “How Real Is Larp?”)) while other parts work hard to reality test by discerning fact from fiction and organizing information accordingly.((Sigmund Freud,  “Formulations Regarding the Two Principles in Mental Functioning,” in The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works by Sigmund Freud, ed. James Strachey (London: Hogarth Press, 1958), 13-21.))

    When we leave the magic circle, the mind often returns to a more vigilant state, moderating self-expression in order to conform to social norms. Memories of in-character events may feel hyperreal, meaningful, and profound, i.e. peak experiences. Yet, the mind must accept that they are not “real,” despite these feelings of profundity. Even within a supportive community, role-playing can be a confusing process in which previously solid notions of selfhood, proper behavior, and social rules are challenged. In order to manage this cognitive dissonance, the mind often erects defense mechanisms — ways in which it unconsciously attempts to protect itself from identity confusion, emotional dysregulation, challenges to paradigm, and social shame. In order to transition into daily life without major emotional disruption, the mind must find a way to resolve this cognitive dissonance.

    Additionally, we are expected to key our off-game behaviors and self-presentations as decidedly different from our playful ones through a process of role-distancing. When we role-distance, we indicate that we understand the difference between fantasy and reality, signaling that we will adhere to social norms outside of the frame of play.((Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Educational Live Action Role-playing Games: A Secondary Literature Review,” in Wyrd Con Companion Book 2014, ed. by Sarah Lynne Bowman (Los Angeles, CA: Wyrd Con, 2014), 112-131; Daniau, “Transformative”; Deterding, “Alibis.”)) This process allows us to displace any in-game behaviors that would be considered socially problematic, such as erotic, violent, destructive, manipulative, or otherwise “evil” play. In other words, our performances remain bounded within the magic circle, giving us plausible deniability that the whole experience was “just a game.” Alternatively, some of us work to justify our play experiences as “productive” by signaling to non-players that we have learned important, marketable skills that help us better integrate into mainstream society. While this tactic helps validate our play experiences as “useful,” it may further distance us from the pleasures of creativity and personal development for their own sake.((Deterding, “Alibis.”))

    In transformational language, an expansion of consciousness is often followed by a contraction, colloquially known as a crash or drop. While helpful and even important to a degree, role-distancing after play can lead to feelings of alienation and cognitive dissonance for people who have powerful moments of catharsis, profound realizations of selfhood, and intense experiences of intimacy within the magic circle. The insistence on alibi can become a shock to the system, in which meaningful experiences that occur within play have difficulty finding a place within the rest of life, leading some players to experience an existential sense of loss, grief, depression, or angst.((Sarah Lynne Bowman and Evan Torner, “Post-larp Depression,” Analog Game Studies 1, no. 1, 2014; Sanne Harder, “Larp Crush: The What, When and How,” Nordiclarp.org, March 28, 2018.)) While such responses can emerge after any peak experience ends, the bounded fictional framing adds an additional layer of complexity; peak experiences occurring within a Burning Man festival, a rock concert, or a weekend meditation retreat are still considered mostly “real,” whereas role-playing is not. While many larp communities have worked to normalize debriefing, discussions of bleed, and other forms of off-game processing, shame may arise if a person feels overly attached to a game experience that has long since passed for other players.((Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Social Conflict in Role-playing Communities: An Exploratory Qualitative Study,” International Journal of Role-Playing 4 (2013): 17-18; Lizzie Stark, “How to Run a Post-Larp Debrief,” Leaving Mundania, December 1, 2013.)) Subsequently, players may continue to sign up for larp after larp, yearning for the permission to deeply feel, experience, experiment, and connect once more.

    A diagram of the role-playing process, with two people entering the magic circle, playing witches and wizards, then leaving play mostly the same Figure 1: This figure charts the role of alibi within the role-playing process. Players are able to depart from their daily selves, adopting characters within the magic circle. While the social contract of the game allows for playfulness, alibi may interfere with desired transfer of traits, insights, and relationship dynamics from character to player. Vectors designed by macrovector_official and bybrgfx / Freepik.

    This article seeks to complicate notions of identity and reality by suggesting that alibi can actually hinder one’s potential for personal growth. Paradoxically, the very same mechanism that allows for playful transgression of self-presentation can also create a barrier for the transfer and integration of play experiences into one’s daily life, self, and community (Figure 1). Even if we experience a shift of selfhood during play((Christopher Sandberg, “Genesi: Larp Art, Basic Theories,” In Beyond Role and Play: Tools, Toys, and Theory for Harnessing the Imagination, edited by Markus Montola and Jaakko Stenros, 264-288. (Helsinki, Finland: Ropecon ry, 2004); Jaakko Stenros, “Living the Story, Free to Choose: Participant Agency in Co-Created Worlds,” Alibis for Interaction Conference, Landskrona, Sweden, October 25, 2013. Reprinted as “Aesthetic of Action,” Jaakkostenros.wordpress.com, Oct. 28, 2013.)) — often enacting a dual consciousness that holds both self and player — ultimately, these experiences are happening to the same person embodied within the same physiological organism.((Järvelä, “How Real Is Larp?”)) If alibi is a polite fiction in which we allow players to obviate responsibility for their actions within games, what happens when we adopt a view of self as consistent and fluid between player and character? What happens when we decrease alibi and imagine the role-playing container as extending beyond just the fictional space and the temporally bounded event? What becomes possible when we steer toward “magical” experiences that can inform our self-concepts, our worldviews, and our definitions of community in more permanent ways?((Beltrán, “Shadow Work”; Kemper, “Battle”; Hugaas, “Investigating.”))

    Role-playing and Manifestation

    Answers may lie in contemporary occult and metaphysical discourses that conceptualize manifestation as a magical process. The process of manifestation varies from source to source. Modern witchcraft often focuses upon the casting of spells using rituals, physical components, and invocation of spirits. Alternatively, New Age conceptions of manifestation often involve aligning one’s attention and imagination toward the types of experiences one wants to summon into their life, e.g. The Law of Attraction. People outside of such communities may find such concepts suspiciously unscientific or fantastical — forms of magical thinking that do not reflect social or physical reality. Such thinking can also reveal a form of privilege, e.g. leading some individuals to dismissively downplay the real structural inequalities that might inhibit someone from “manifesting” a new Ferrari. With these limitations in mind, we wonder: what insight on personal transformation might role-players gain from manifestational theory and practice?

    Although many manifestational models exist, this article will focus on Mat Auryn’s Psychic Witch, which has become successful within alternative subcultural audiences in the last year. In the book, the author works to streamline and make coherent for newcomers different threads of metaphysical thought.((Auryn, Psychic Witch.)) He synthesizes theories and practices pertaining to witchcraft and psychic abilities in non-denominational ways by crystallizing these concepts into more universally applicable language.

    Auryn explicitly discusses the connection between role-playing and magic. Due to his belief that all people have inherent psychic abilities, as a basic exercise that he terms “psychic immersion,” he recommends that practitioners role-play being a gifted psychic for a day in order to notice their latent skills.((Auryn, Psychic Witch, 18-20.)) In other words, the author recommends invoking the alibi of inhabiting the role of a skilled psychic, using imagination as a tool for practitioners to step more fully into their nascent abilities. Drawing further parallels, Auryn has addressed an apparently common dismissive attitude held within occult communities toward spellcraft that looks performative as “mere role-playing.” He opines, “The level of devotion and dedication role-players have is something I think witches should aspire to in their Craft. So when someone accuses you of this, take it as a compliment.”((Mat Auryn, Twitter post, February 22, 2020, 8:33 a.m., https://twitter.com/MatAuryn/status/1231225521062776832; Mat Auryn, Twitter post, February 22, 2020, 8:36 a.m., https://twitter.com/MatAuryn/status/1231226271683792896))

    If we consider that the processes behind postmodern magic are at the very least similar to role-playing, how is manifestation conceptualized? In one chapter of Psychic Witch, Auryn describes several dimensions of reality that overlay the physical world.((Auryn, Psychic Witch, 182-183. )) He states that successful manifestation — or simply put, “creation” — requires performing several steps within each dimension:

    1. Physical reality: Gathering physical ingredients that support the magic, e.g. herbs, crystals, candles, etc. Physical gestures may also be helpful.
    2. Etheric reality: Creating an energetic container for the magic to take place, e.g. meditation, altered states, establishing a time and space within which to invoke the (literal) magic circle.
    3. Astral reality: Pushing the magical container, which holds a thoughtform or conceptualization of the desired effect, into another realm. This process involves filling the container with one’s personal willpower.
    4. Emotional reality: Moving the thoughtform into alignment with the emotional energy the person wishes to manifest and using those emotions to direct the work, e.g. invoking magic to call love into one’s life by imagining experiencing bliss.
    5. Mental reality: Distilling the thoughtform into concepts or words that represent what the person wants to manifest, e.g. vocalizing affirmations, intoning a spell, chanting, singing, or composing a petition to an entity.
    6. Psychic reality: Using visualization to clearly envision the desired outcome.
    7. Divine reality: Sending the thoughtform to the divine with a petition for assistance with this goal, surrendering, and releasing attachment to the outcome.

    Auryn emphasizes the need in this last stage to envision the effect as having already happened, consciously avoiding considering any outcome that contradicts this imagined reality. He further stresses the need to take inspired action on one’s goals through the use of willpower, stating as an example, “You are not going to manifest the perfect relationship for you if you are not actively putting yourself in social situations where you can meet someone.”((Auryn 2020a, p. 184)) Thus, in manifestation, magic requires not only imagining and energetically aligning with the goal, but also taking action and focusing one’s will in order to achieve it.

    While these concepts may seem far-fetched to many role-players, if we consider the basic principles Auryn is describing, they do not seem removed from other processes of personal growth and creativity: establishing space for the growth to transpire; aligning emotions, thoughts, and intention toward the desired goal; taking action based upon this aligned, focused willpower; and letting go of attachment to the result. One can imagine these steps being useful, for example, when building a house, establishing a business as an entrepreneur, or pursuing a consensual romantic relationship.

    Furthermore, these steps can inform how we might envision our participation in a larp: learning about the location, setting, and game design; excitedly creating characters and costuming; imagining a positive future experience; purchasing tickets and arranging travel; calibrating with co-players for consent regarding the themes one would like to explore; and surrendering to the experience. Surrender in this case still involves remaining aware, present,  and conscious, but may require releasing one’s attachment to the larp unfolding “perfectly” or banishing one’s “fear of missing out.” We can also envision these steps as useful after the role-play experience in order to integrate our desired goals: establishing space and time to process the events of play; distilling takeaways; and continuing to align thoughts, emotions, and actions toward concretizing these takeaways in daily life.

    Person walking in the woods approaching a magical portal
    Photo by Ivilin Stoyanov, Ivilin on Pixabay.

    Aspecting and Wyrding the Self

    From a “magical” perspective, the distinctions between self and character are less stark. We can view our characters not as a means of leisurely escape from reality, but as tools for self-reflection. A lifelong Pagan, Phil Brucato, the primary author of White Wolf’s Mage: the Ascension since the 2nd Edition, connects role-playing to the occult practice of aspecting: a term that generally refers to the act of embodying or performing aspects of a divine entity’s characteristics. When conceptualizing characters through the lens of aspecting, Brucato envisions Mage in particular — and role-playing in general — as a metaphor for personal growth and transformation.((Phil Brucato, “Mage 20 Q&A, Part I: What IS Mage, Anyway?,” Satyrosphilbrucato.wordpress.com, March 23, 2014.)) He states, “I view aspects as creative masks and mirrors through which we can understand ourselves better… and thus, grow further than we would grow otherwise if we stuck to a stubborn (and often self-deceptive) sense of one Self.”((Phil Brucato, “Aspecting: Song of My Selves,” Satyrosphilbrucato.wordpress.com, April 23, 2013.)) Thus, when used intentionally, the character can become a tool for better understanding and transforming the self rather than an isolated entity bound to the fictional frame and disconnected from one’s self-concept.

    Additionally, characters can occupy spaces, express aspects of selfhood, and perform behaviors that we might feel socially inhibited from exploring in daily life. In “Wyrding the Self,” Jonaya Kemper presents her assiduous process of autoethnographic documentation before, during, and after larps.((Jonaya Kemper, “Wyrding the Self,” in What Do We Do When We Play?, edited by Eleanor Saitta, Jukka Särkijärvi, and Johanna Koljonen (Helsinki, Finland: Solmukohta, 2020).)) Kemper intentionally steers her characters toward experiences of liberation and seeks out emancipatory bleed, a type of bleed that allows players “from marginalized identities to fight back or succeed against systemic oppression.” Kemper discusses how the root of the word “weird” arose from the Old English term “wyrding,” which was also connected to the concept of magic and fate. Kemper asserts:

    To be weird, is to control one’s fate, rather than let society determine your place and fate. To be weird, is to be outside the normal aspects of society, yes, but to also collectively decide who you would like to be, not based on societal pressure. It is my belief that larp affords us the actual ability to wyrd ourselves, that is to shape ourselves and our conceptions of self through play.((Kemper, “Wyrding.”))

    Like Kemper and Brucato, we believe that role-playing can be used to better understand and wyrd the self. Ultimately, we assert that participants need not believe in magic, different layers of metaphysical reality, or fate in order to use role-playing as a tool for manifestation. Rather, we view role-playing as a vehicle for self-development and community building that can be used alongside other more traditional practices, whether educational, therapeutic, or recreational.

    Imaginal Selves, Performance, and Agency

    How can we conceptualize this type of “magical” thinking from a scientific paradigm? In this section, we will explore evidence of the impacts of imagination on self-concept and community, drawing parallels between spiritual frameworks, ritual studies, and other social scientific perspectives. We assert that while the domains of science and magic have developed largely in isolation from one another, they reveal similar insights about the human experience and personal growth. We will examine five topics that seem especially relevant for understanding how role-playing can be used as a transformational process: ritual, narrative, identity, empowerment, and imagination.

    Ritual

    Is the ritual of larp distinct from other forms of magical practice? In terms of formal attributes, J. Tuomas Harviainen has explored how the two practices of larp and postmodern chaos magic are “identical”; they both involve delineating time and space in order to shift identities and engage in pretense play. Harviainen discusses the work of D.W. Winnicott((J. Tuomas Harviainen, ”The Larping that is Not Larp,” in Think Larp: Academic Writings from KP2011, edited by Thomas D. Henriksen, Christian Bierlich, Kasper Friis Hansen, and Valdemar Kølle (Copenhagen, Denmark: Rollespilsakademiet, 2011); Donald W. Winnicott, “Transitional Objects and Transitional Phenomena,” Playing & Reality (Tavistock, England: Tavistock Publications, 1971).)) and Ana-Maria Rizzuto, emphasizing that the processes underpinning play are central to human practices from infancy onward, as children often project fiction onto objects that later grow into imagined entities.

    These imaginings are especially strengthened when supported by engagement with others in playful activities, as we do in role-playing communities. Following Winnicott((Donald W. Winnicott, “The Theory of the Parent-Infant Relationship,” The International Journal of Psychoanalysis 41 (1960): 585–595.)) and Wilfred Bion((Bion, Experiences.)), we can conceptualize role-play spaces as ritualized holding containers: environments in which players feel sufficiently secure within the group to explore their authentic selves and experience empowerment by projecting fantasy onto brute reality.((Montola, On the Edge; Jaakko Stenros, Playfulness, Play, and Games: A Constructionist Ludology Approach, PhD diss, University of Tampere, 2015.)) In ritual theory, participants engage in three phases: separation from their mundane roles, entrance into the liminal — or threshold — space, and reincorporation into daily life.((Victor Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure (Piscataway, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 1969).)) According to anthropologist Victor Turner, these activities are often associated with rites of passage that support communitas: a group feeling of camaraderie and interconnectedness.

    Lady Gaga in a Blue Dress with a large monster behind her
    Lady Gaga symbolically enacting her battle with the Fame Monster in an on-stage ritual. Stefani Germanotta created the alterego of Lady Gaga as a means to gain strength. Photo by John Robert Charlton, Wikimedia (CC BY 2.0).

    Despite these formal similarities, enactment in role-playing games as they are generally played today remain fundamentally different from magic or other religious rituals. Players agree to a social contract that dismisses these activities as not “real” in the same way that a religious ceremony or spiritually-motivated ritual is real for a believer. In Turner’s formulation, larps would be considered liminoid, not liminal; players do not acknowledge these shifts in role as rites of passage that have lasting meaning in daily life, e.g. an in-game wedding does not officially marry the players off-game.((Victor Turner, “Liminal to Liminoid, in Play, Flow, and Ritual: An Essay in Comparative Symbology,” Rice University Studies 60, no. 3 (July 1974): 53-91.))

    Again, when considering the power of ritual, alibi can become a barrier between the incorporation of game elements to socially recognized states outside of play. By invoking alibi and strongly reinforcing the boundary between reality and fiction, we distance ourselves from much of the content that takes place within the container of the magic circle, blocking it from transferring to our self-concept and group understanding of reality. In Mike Pohjola’s words, we “pretend to believe,” rather than actually believing that what we are invoking is real.((Pohjola, “Autonomous Identities.”))

    On the other hand, game scholars Doris C. Rusch and Andrew M. Phelps describe play as a form of “psychomagic,” asserting that games are ritual spaces where players can perform deeply meaningful acts through the lens of fiction. They assert that “symbolic acts are particularly conducive to envisioning – through the tangibility of bodily experience – new ways of being, utilizing the powerful interaction between body and mind.”((Doris C. Rusch and Andrew M. Phelps, “Existential Transformational Game Design: Harnessing the ‘Psychomagic’ of Symbolic Enactment,” Frontiers in Psychology (forthcoming).)) The authors emphasize the role of post-game reflection as central to these transformational processes of envisioning and meaning-making.

    What becomes possible when we uphold larp as a liminal rather than liminoid activity? In other words, what happens when we shift our perceptions to actually believing that some of the emotional, social, and physical changes that we experience in games can become lasting over time?

    Narrative

    One way this shift can occur is by streamlining narratives that happen within role-playing games within the context of our larger life stories. Humans are storytelling machines. According to the theory of narrative identity,((Jefferson Singer, “Narrative Identity and Meaning Making Across the Adult Lifespan: An Introduction,” Journal of Personality 72 (2004): 437-59.)) a person will form their identity by integrating important experiences into a structured “life story” that provides them with a sense of purpose, unity, and a consistent self-concept. When such life events involve adversity or suffering, psychologist Dan McAdams has found it beneficial for people to create narratives of redemption, i.e. extrapolating redemptive meaning from otherwise challenging experiences. In McAdams’ research, individuals who were able to construct stories of agency and exploration tended to “enjoy higher levels of mental health, well-being, and maturity.”((Dan P. McAdams, “Narrative Identity,” in Handbook of Identity Theory and Research, ed. Seth J. Schwartz, Koen Luyckx, and Vivian L. Vignoles (Springer, New York, 2011).))

    Role-playing is one of that many forms of narrativization that people employ in order to make sense of their experience. As role-players, we not only tell stories, but also embody the characters whose stories we tell. Sometimes, we construct clear story arcs, whether redemptive or tragic. Additionally, many players will engage in forms of storytelling after larps, whether by relaying amusing or exciting anecdotes — i.e. war stories — or sharing serious, intense narratives as a form of emotional processing, e.g. debriefing sessions or written accounts of play. Players may slip between first- and third-person perspective when recounting these tales. In first-person, players may feel more self-immersed and connected to the story as an active participant. In third-person self-distanced narratives, the players may feel less connected, recounting the tale as an observer of their character’s actions.((Ethan Kross and Ozlem Ayduk, “Self-Distancing: Theory, Research, and Current Directions,” Advances in Experimental Psychology 55 (2016): 81-136.))

    In terms of using narratives as a tool for transformation, alibi might help or hinder the process. As described above, alibi might make it harder for players to own core elements of these narratives and apply them to life outside of games, e.g. “My character was brave, but I am not.” On the other hand, overly immersing in the fictional content off-game might also disrupt growth. As Ethan Kross and Ozlem Ayduk discuss in their work on self-distancing, with regard to one’s own life stories, continued self-immersion in the first-person perspective may lead to rumination and a lack of closure.((Kross and Ayduk, “Self-Distancing.” )) In these cases, adopting a third-person distanced perspective may help players reduce shame and engage in self-reflection, e.g. “I wept for hours when he left me at the altar” versus “Elizabeth wept for hours when Anya left her.” Such distancing can enhance post-game narrative meta-reflections when streamlined with the player’s own narrative identity, e.g. “Looking back on Elizabeth’s story, I can see how my own abandonment fears led to strong emotional bleed-in.” The player might then consider approaching future situations differently after reflecting upon these experiences, e.g. “Unlike Elizabeth, I am going to take active steps to make sure that partners are willing to remain in relationship with me before I commit.” In other words, the third-person perspective might allow someone to create a narrative identity that distills important redemptive lessons from the character’s experiences without persistently reliving and rehashing painful emotions.

    Additionally, using narrativization tools, players can intentionally explore and process aspects of their own lives within the fictional settings that they inhabit. Organizers can construct containers for this specific intent, giving participants explicit permission to bring personal content into the fiction, e.g. a player’s fear of abandonment. Players can find redemptive meaning within their life stories through their game experiences, especially ones that emphasize adversity, e.g. “When I experienced the death of my character’s partner in the larp, I realized I am more resilient than I thought.” Ultimately, the most important component of this narrativization process is creating opportunities for post-game reflection, which allow players to streamline character narratives with their life stories, making meaning that can positively impact their lives.((Bowman, “Active Imagination.”))

    Elton John in a metallic puffy outfit, glasses, and a poiny hat playing piano
    Reginald Kenneth Dwight, aka Elton John, in 1975. Publicity photo, Wikimedia, no copyright.

    Identity

    One of the most potent tools for transformation within role-playing is identity exploration. When we role-play, we inhabit a dual consciousness((Sandberg, “Genesi”; Stenros, “Living.”)) in which we simultaneously experience both our own subjectivity and our character’s. We engage in perspective taking when we willingly alter our own identity in order to consider the perspective of another.((Adam Gerace, Andrew Day, Sharon Casey, and Philip Mohr, “An Exploratory Investigation of the Process of Perspective Taking in Interpersonal Situations,” Journal of Relationships Research 4, no. e6 (2013): 1–12.)) This perspective taking process can help us approach challenging situations or embolden us to act in ways counter to our self-concept.

    The Batman Effect and The Proteus Effect

    The creation and embodiment of characters occurs in many activities outside of role-playing games. D.W. Winnicott suggests that through imaginal play, children can express themselves in ways that may feel more authentic than their daily social roles permit.((Winnicott, “Theory.”)) Additionally, researchers have studied the phenomenon of the creation of alter egos: personalities that someone envisions and embodies who can better handle stressful, challenging, or even traumatic situations. When the alter ego is the one performing challenging tasks, some people seem able to exert a greater level of control over their own performance. In their research on how alter egos can affect perseverance in children, Rachel E. White et al. coined the term The Batman Effect.((Rachel E. White, et al,. “The ‘Batman Effect’: Improving Perseverance in Young Children,” Child Development 88, no. 5 (2017): 1563-1571. The added meta layer of Batman being the fictional alter ego of a fictional Bruce Wayne that was created as a result of emotional avoidance after a traumatic event in Wayne’s life, is not lost on the authors.)) They found that children who adopted a third-person perspective in relation to a task showed higher degrees of perseverance than participants operating in the first-person did, but both of these groups were surpassed by the participants that took on powerful alter egos such as Batman. This technique is also common in edu-larp theory and practice; for example, students at the Danish boarding school Østerskov Efterskole are often asked to play experts in larp scenarios in order to cultivate their perceived competence and self-efficacy in leadership.((Malik Hyltoft, “Full-Time Edu-larpers: Experiences from Østerskov,” in Playing the Learning Game: A Practical Introduction to Educational Roleplaying, ed. Martin Eckoff Andresen (Oslo, Norway: Fantasiforbundet, 2012). 20-23.))

    As role-players well know, alter egos are not just helpful for children. Drag performers routinely report creating and embodying larger-than-life characters through which they can draw the personal strength to face marginalization in their daily lives. The name of Brian Furkus’ famous drag alter ego Trixie Mattel arose from childhood slurs hurled upon him by his stepfather in response to Furkus’ queerness. Furkus describes:

    If I was being too sensitive or acting too feminine especially, he would call me a Trixie. You know, for years that was one of the worst words I could think of. So I took that name Trixie that used to have all this hurt [connected] to it and I made it my drag name. And now it’s something I celebrate, something I’m so proud of. If I hadn’t gone through all that horrible shit when I was little, Trixie Mattel might not even exist.((Nick Murray, dir., “Episode 8,” RuPaul’s Drag Race Season 7,eprformed by RuPaul Charles, et al. (Los Angeles: World of Wonder Productions, 2015).))

    Trixie Mattel in a Girl Scout inspired outfits holding a stake with marshmellows at the end
    Brian Furkus transformed childhood experiences of abuse and shame into creative fuel for his drag persona, Trixie Mattel. Photo by dvsross, Wikimedia, (CC BY 2.0).

    Other famous performers have created alter egos that are able to withstand the demands of marginalization and even stardom. Before he created Elton John, Reginald Kenneth Dwight was an introverted bespectacled piano-playing teenager.((Dexter Fletcher, Rocketman, performed by Taron Egerton, Jamie Bell, and Richard Madden (2019; Paramount), film.)) Stefani Germanotta created Lady Gaga as a separate and “stronger” version of herself.((Sarah Begley, “Lady Gaga Says Her Public Persona Is a ‘Separate Entity’ From Her True Self,” Time, June 8, 2016.)) However, the lines between these two entities often bleed together for Germanotta as art becomes life. With regard to this artistic process, she has insisted that we humans “possess something magical and transformative inside — a uniqueness and specialness waiting to be exiled from the depths of our identity.” In order to delve into these depths, bleed is a necessary state, as we “must effortlessly vacillate between two worlds: out of the real and into the surreal. Out of the ordinary, into the extraordinary.”((Lady Gaga, “V Magazine Gaga Memorandum No. 2,” V Magazine 72 (Fall 2011).)) Another widely-known and fascinating example is how Beyoncé created her alter ego, Sasha Fierce. When even someone as successful and praised as Beyoncé feels the need to create an alter ego to accomplish what she wants, the positive potential of identity alteration becomes difficult to dismiss.

    Similarly, in role-playing studies, we have the Proteus Effect.((Nick Yee and Jeremy Bailenson, “The Proteus Effect: The Effect of Transformed Self-Representation on Behavior,” Human Communication Research 33 (2007): 271-290.)) Named after the shapeshifting Greek god Proteus, this effect describes how the physical attributes of virtual avatars can sometimes affect the behavior of their players. In their research, Nick Yee and Jeremy Bailenson show how playing more attractive avatars led to more confident behaviour in in-game interpersonal situations and how playing taller avatars led to greater confidence in negotiation tasks during play. While MMORPG avatars are not always fully “role-played,” the avatar clearly provides players with enough alibi to present themselves in ways that they might otherwise feel inhibited when enacting their daily identities.

    Some role-players do report actively utilizing their characters to handle situations in their daily life. Players describe a form of “aspecting,” where they enact certain traits or skills from a character rather than performing the character in its entirety, e.g. aspecting a character’s leadership skills during a work meeting. In other words, even in small ways, we can expand alibi beyond the magic circle to allow for certain facets of the role-play experience to extend to the “real” world. Ultimately, role-players do not “become” our characters, but we can distill core aspects and substantiate them into our self-concepts.

    Empowerment and Imagination

    How can role-playing enhance our sense of personal empowerment? One of the coding constructs used in the narrative identity theory described above is agency. People who create narratives in which they see themselves as protagonists with a high degree of ability to affect change in their lives are likely to feel more agency in general. Agency is closely linked to the concept of locus of control.((Julian B. Rotter, “Generalized Expectancies for Internal Versus External Control of Reinforcement,” Psychological Monographs 80 (1966): 1-28.)) Individuals who have an internal locus of control tend to believe that they have a high degree of influence on the events and outcomes in their lives, while those with an external locus of control tend to insist that outside forces are primarily responsible for determining what happens in their life story.

    In relation to role-playing, our characters often have a large degree of agency and even power. Even for disempowered characters, the very act of playing involves exerting a certain amount of control over the character and the environment. As such, role-playing can be a way for players who tend to favor an external locus of control in their everyday life to experience how it is to shift to an internal locus of control through the game. If those experiences feel empowering, through the use of narrative identity, players may be able to shift their own locus of control more readily in daily life. While we acknowledge that, in many situations, outside factors such as structural inequalities and marginalization will reinforce the external locus of control, processes such as Kemper’s Wyrding the Self can feel emancipatory and empowering for players.

    Beyoncé on stage in black leather and sunglasses with two other dancers
    Beyoncé during the tour for I Am… Sasha Fierce. The album explored empowerment through the embodiment of an alterego. Photo by idrewuk, Wikimedia, (CC BY 2.0), cropped.

    We believe that the more individuals can experience themselves as agentic beings in games, the more they can feel empowered to make changes in the spheres of influence they inhabit, including the personal, interpersonal, and communal. Many role-players likely never believed they were capable of leading groups or running large-scale events before they experienced the motivating agency of larp. From this perspective, the very structure of our role-playing communities has been built upon this increased sense of agency, demonstrating that some forms of transfer are observable. Role-players also often describe the ways in which larp situations have prepared them for the working world in terms of social skills like leadership, teamwork, and understanding how to operate within systems.((Bowman 2010, 2014.))

    While these concrete “productive” skills are of interest, we invite players to consider ways in which they might bolster agency throughout other dimensions of their life, including altering their personal narratives to ones that are more empowering. For example, a player may have previously believed themselves to be unlovable, then experienced a successful, impassioned romance in a larp. If they can distill that experience into a new belief about themselves, such as “I am capable of cultivating love,” then they might make different choices in daily life that proactively seek the love they desire based upon the positive proof of concept within the larp. Alternatively, if these experiences remain bounded within the fiction, a player might instead reinforce their previous belief with such thoughts as “My fictional characters are capable of cultivating love, but I myself remain unlovable.” Therefore, we strongly recommend finding ways to integrate these experiences into one’s personal narrative in order to foster a greater internal locus of control.

    Furthermore, imagining ourselves as capable of certain activities might actually enhance our physical performance at tasks. While role-playing is not always an obviously physical activity, for many players, especially in larp, some degree of physical embodiment of character is central to their experience. In 1874, William B. Carpenter originated psychoneuromuscular theory, positing that the visualization of mental imagery related to a specific behavior will lead to subsequent greater motor performance of that activity.((William B. Carpenter, Principles of Mental Physiology (Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press, 1874).)) This theory is still central to a number of approaches to sports psychology. In brief, research into mental imagery shows that the mere practice of imagining oneself performing a task in an optimal way — such as lifting a heavy weight — will lead to noticeable increases in physical ability when one later performs that action.((Robert S.Weinberg and Daniel Gould. Foundations of Sport and Exercise Psychology. 7th ed. (Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics, 2018); Paul Holmes and Dave Collins, “The PETTLEP Approach to Motor Imagery: A Functional Equivalence Model for Sport Psychologists,” Journal of Applied Sport Psychology 13 (2007): 60-83.)) Studies have also shown that substituting the physical act of working out with imagining the activity can have positive effects on motivation, self-confidence, anxiety, arousal control, and injury rehabilitation.((Danielle Alexander, Eric Hutt, Jordan Lefebvre, and Gordon Bloom, “Using Imagery to Enhance Performance in Powerlifting: A Review of Theory, Research, and Practice,” Strength and Conditioning Journal 41 (2019): 102-109.)) Similar to Auryn’s insistence that action is necessary to fully realize manifestational outcomes, psychologists pair imagination with action in psychoneuromuscular work in order to enhance performance. In other words, while some limitations we cannot control, when we imagine ourselves as capable, we come to realize other limitations are psychological in nature; thus, we can imagine and perform a self that might be able to move past them.

    In summary, role-players can find value in both metaphysical and social scientific explanations of transformation. In fact, manifestational work aligns with concepts in social science in the following ways:

    We can place collective social meaning upon our ritual experiences that lasts far beyond the liminal phase;

    1. We can place collective social meaning upon our ritual experiences that lasts far beyond the liminal phase;
    2. We can use narratives to construct positive meaning, streamlining our fictional and non-fictional lives;
    3. We can adopt aspects of our alter egos in daily life in order to augment our personalities;
    4. We can imagine ourselves as capable of performing difficult tasks; and thus,
    5. We can strengthen our belief in our own abilities to affect change in the world.

    For participants who wish to experience lasting change from their role-playing experiences, the question remains: How do we design, facilitate, and play to maximize such impacts?

    Role-Playing Communities as Transformational Containers

    As we have discussed, many role-players claim to have experienced powerful transformative impacts as a result of adopting alternate identities in fictional worlds. In many cases, these impacts have evolved somewhat accidentally or even in spite of the game design, meaning that designers and players may not have intended for such effects to unfold. Role-players sometimes have differing views regarding the potential of the medium. Some participants make broad claims about the ability of role-playing to “change the world,” whereas others may insist that their larp activities are purely recreational or for entertainment. Similarly, in role-play studies, some scholars emphasize the educational or therapeutic potential of games, whereas others remain skeptical or conservative about such claims, pushing for quantitative evidence of change over time along specific dimensions of human growth.

    While we hold each of these perspectives as valid, our goal is to envision role-playing communities as transformational containers. We define transformational containers as spaces explicitly and intentionally designed to facilitate personal growth and encourage communal cohesion, consent, and trust. Transformational containers extend far beyond the bounds of the magic circle of play. These containers include pre-game goal-setting, transparency, creative activities, bonding, trust-building opportunities, and workshops. They include safety structures, calibration, and negotiation during play. Most importantly, they involve post-game integration activities, such as creative expression, intellectual analysis, emotional processing, community support structures, and taking action on goals. These practices help players streamline game experiences with their self-concepts and social lives (Figure 2).((Sarah Lynne Bowman and Kjell Hedgard Hugaas, “Transformative Role-play: Design, Implementation, and Integration,” Nordiclarp.org, December 10, 2019.))

    Transformational containers place personal growth and emotional safety at the forefront of activities. They strengthen and extend the magic circle, providing support for individuals and groups undergoing powerful and sometimes confusing processes. They hold space for personal alchemy, not only facilitating the shift from one state of consciousness to another, but also guiding the process of intentionally shaping consciousness and social reality through experimentation. Central to this process is projection of imagination; thus, fantasy becomes an asset to personal growth rather than “escapism” or a distraction from life.

    Such role-playing containers may encourage players to consciously seek out certain types of bleed. While bleed is often unconscious and unpredictable, players can notice bleed when it arises by practicing meta-awareness and can even steer for desired types. Examples include:

    1. Emotional bleed: Accessing and expressing one’s often suppressed emotions, allowing for deep catharsis and further processing;((Markus Montola, “The Positive Negative Experience in Extreme Role-playing,” in Proceedings of DiGRA Nordic 2010: Experiencing Games: Games, Play, and Players (Stockholm, Sweden, August 16, 2010); Nilsen, “High on Hell”; Sarah Lynne Bowman, “Bleed: The Spillover Between Player and Character,” Nordiclarp.org, March 2, 2015; Hugaas, “Investigating.”))
    2. Ego bleed: Exploring new or suppressed aspects of personality or identity, allowing for consolidation of these aspects into one’s off-game self-concept;((Beltrán, “Shadow Work.”))
    3. Procedural bleed: Practicing physical abilities, habits, or ways of holding the body, allowing for greater skill and confidence in one’s off-game abilities;((Hugaas, “Investigating.”))
    4. Emancipatory bleed: Experiencing a successful challenge to structural oppression, allowing for feelings of liberation for players from marginalized identities;((Kemper “Battle”; “Wyrding.”))
    5. Memetic bleed: Experimenting and acting in accordance with different paradigms, allowing for the adoption of new sets of values, ideas, and understandings of reality.((Hugaas, “Investigating.”))

    Some players may require a strong alibi in order to experience these impacts, whereas others may play thin characters that are quite similar to themselves. Whatever approach players choose, the goals of the transformational container are to facilitate the exploration of self, envision new configurations of community, and transfer insights from these experiences to one’s life through integration practices. In other words, alibi should not remain so strong as to get in the way of this transfer process.

    A diagram of the role-playing process, with two people entering the magic circle, playing witches and wizards, then leaving play transformed and integrated Figure 2: Envisioning role-playing as a transformational container. Explicit goals, agreements, safety structures, community support, and integration practices facilitate changes in participants’ identities over time. Vectors designed by macrovector_official, and bybrgfx, and kjpargeter / Freepik.

    Thus, in a transformational container, we do not simply de-role, with a brief exercise evaluating what we wish to take with us and what we wish to leave behind. We distill the essence of the experience and infuse our lives with the meanings we uncovered. We do not shy away from owning the shadow parts of our identities that may have emerged during play. We embrace the shadow as part of the human experience. We learn to acknowledge and come into psychological balance with the different parts of ourselves. We reflect not only upon the “positive” traits that we hope to cultivate further, but also upon those “negative” behaviors that we fear to own. We hold space as a group for all of these aspects to emerge and develop, providing ongoing opportunities for reflection as individual and group processes. We avoid shaming others for what they have exposed about themselves so long as it emerged under conditions of mutual consent. We understand that feelings may linger, intense bonding may occur, and players may need support long after the game is done. We work together to process such emotions and to help each other learn how to create experiences in life that are as meaningful as we experience in larp. Ultimately, players within transformational containers must feel supported enough to expose their true intentions, desires, and vulnerabilities and the container must feel secure enough to hold space for such goals to potentiate.

    Let’s perform magic together.

    Acknowledgements

    This theoretical framework is part of Sarah Lynne Bowman’s larger ethnographic research project on the therapeutic and educational potential of role-playing games. This project was approved by the Austin Community College Institutional Research Review Committee in June 2020 under the supervision of Dr. Jean Lauer. The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions or policies of Austin Community College. Sarah would like to thank from the bottom of her heart all of her participants in this study, who have helped her refine her thoughts on these topics by offering their own expertise. Special thanks also to Doris Rusch, Lauri Lukka, Lars Kristian Løveng Sunde, Sanne Harder, Michael Freudenthal, and Mo Holkar for their insightful feedback on early drafts.

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    Cover photo: Photo by Stefan Keller, Kellepics on Pixabay, cropped.

    This article was published in the Knutepunkt companion book Book of Magic and is published here with permission. Please cite this text as:

    Bowman, Sarah Lynne, and Kjell Hedgard Hugaas. 2021. “Magic is Real: How Role-playing Can Transform Our Identities, Our Communities, and Our Lives.” In Book of Magic: Vibrant Fragments of Larp Practices, edited by Kari Kvittingen Djukastein, Marcus Irgens, Nadja Lipsyc, and Lars Kristian Løveng Sunde, 52-74. Oslo, Norway: Knutepunkt.

  • An Invitation

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    An Invitation

    Written by

    This is your invitation to magic. To visit magic. To return to magic, again and again.

    And to one day stay and never leave.

    This is your permission to enter. To dip your toe, or completely immerse.

    To explore traditions and follow or to forge a path out into the unknown, following no rules or teachings.

    Painting of a person looking in the mirror at their image. They are wearing horns and a flower crown with fur lining their shoulders.
    Painting by Karin Edman.

    Magic is as old as the self aware mind. Magic is an altered state. And you can enter it, you are allowed to enter it, you are invited to enter it even if you need to use the alibi of role-play to do so. Magic is for you and no one needs to know how seriously or non-seriously you take it.

    You don’t need to leave it behind.

    Not when you stop playing and become yourself again.

    Not when you become older and wiser.

    Not when you go back to your regular life.

    Never.

    You don’t ever need to leave.

    Painting of a person with luggage waving goodby to someone outside.
    Painting by Karin Edman.

    We talk about entering the magic circle when we go to a larp, and we talk about leaving it. But there are other ways for magic to exist in your life.

    Like a parallel universe, just on the other side of the thinnest of veils.

    Like a double meaning to the tasks you undertake.

    Like a special room inside your mind, that you share with others or that you keep private.

    The way I see it, you don’t need anyone’s permission to start living with magic.

    Not from a living person, and not from a manual written by a dead historical person.

    Magic will be personal anyway.

    Never let anyone else gate keep you from connecting with magic. They don’t own that bond, you do.

    You do.

    Painting of people in a ritual in the woods in the moonlight. Two naked people hand a third horned and naked person a cup. Two clothed people oversee the ritual.
    Painting by Karin Edman.

    Manuals and grimoires and magic books and traditions are not THE truth, just a truth. It was hopefully true for the writers, the makers, the members, doesn’t mean it has to be true to you.

    Larp is fiction, but fiction can inspire real life choices.

    By larping witches, mages, magic users, sorcerers, völvas, druids we can try with our physical bodies to move through so many strands of magic and see if they resonate with us.

    You are invited.

    Painting of a clothed person holding a cup, with a naked horned person reflected in the mirror
    Painting by Karin Edman.

    Cover Photo: Close-up of painting by Karin Edman.

    This article will be published in the upcoming companion book Book of Magic and is published here with permission. Please cite this text as:

    Edman, Karin. “This is an Invitation to Larp.” In Book of Magic, edited by Kari Kvittingen Djukastein, Marcus Irgens, Nadja Lipsyc, and Lars Kristian Løveng Sunde. Oslo, Norway: Knutepunkt, 2021. (In press).