Tag: Online larp

  • Actual Plays of Live-Action Online Games (LAOGs)

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    Actual Plays of Live-Action Online Games (LAOGs)

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    Summary

    This article introduces the reasoning for making recordings of larps played online. We present our core concepts and provide a categorisation of motivations, followed by an overview of the historical development of LAOG Actual Plays (APs). We also discuss some theoretical concepts and design goals around AP-informed play, and point to some further avenues of exploration.

    What are Live Action Online Games (LAOGs) and LAOG Actual Plays (APs)?

    Live-Action Online Game – LAOG

    One of the truisms of larp design is that “everything is a designable surface” (Koljonen 2019, 27). It is not surprising, therefore, that different communities have used the specific characteristics of the online medium to design games that can be considered a larp. The term LAOG stands next to similarly used terms like online larp, digital larp, VORP (virtual online role-playing) and others. We suggest that something should be considered a LAOG if it corresponds to the components of the abbreviation: it is to be played as live-action, with a sense of a full-body experience; it is designed specifically for an online context; and it is a game (however one wants to define that term). LAOG as a term was first established in A Manifesto for Laogs in 2018 by one of the authors of this essay (see Reininghaus 2019).

    Actual Play – AP

    An Actual Play is a representation of game play – either live or recorded – that is prepared and made available for an audience. Actual Plays of digital and analog games have become a significant aspect of today’s popular culture. Platforms like Twitch and YouTube provide space for creators to host their own APs, some of them live, others pre-recorded. Actual Plays can present board games, video games, Tabletop role-playing games (TTRPG) – or larps.

    The history of and some current community perspectives on LAOG APs

    The history of AP recordings is connected to the development of technologies that make live-action online games and their recording possible. For some time, Skype was the most popular software that offered possibilities for online play, but this required paid accounts and had some technical drawbacks, like limited screen-sharing possibilities. TeamSpeak, as an audio-only platform popular for massive multiplayer online role-playing games (MMORPGs), offered possibilities to play online but to our knowledge was only used for TTRPG online sessions.

    The introduction of Google Hangouts provided a video chat platform which can be considered a game changer. Google Hangouts was a service offered by Google from 2013 to 2022 without any financial cost to users. It brought playing TTRPGs online to a wider audience, and allowed players from all over the world to connect and play together. Recording and hence making APs was easy, as the direct connection to the YouTube platform allowed users to stream or record and later publish their games with a few clicks after doing an initial setup. For example, Google Hangouts enabled the growth of The Gauntlet (now known as Open Hearth Gaming), an Indie TTRPG online community, where for many years it was used as the main medium of play. The resulting large library of APs is still available on YouTube.

    Already before the rise of Google Hangouts, in 2012, Orion Canning and Robert Bruce designed and played The House online. It does not fall within our narrower definition of LAOGs as it is not played synchronously, but players are invited to upload videos recorded in-character as inhabitants of a Big Brother-like reality TV show to a YouTube channel offered by the creators. Other players then react to these videos, again by recording their reactions and uploading them. The game is entirely based on the “confession video” format popularized by reality TV shows, in which participants of the show are talking to the camera by themselves, without the other participants present, about their motivations and strategies. As an AP, it is difficult for the audience to follow the exact stream of events, which possibly replicates the feeling of the source material quite closely.

    ViewScream by Rafael Chandler came out in 2013 and became the cornerstone for LAOG APs for the next six years. The game referred to itself as “Varp”, or “video-augmented role-playing”. In ViewScream players play people on a spaceship doomed to destruction. The mechanics guarantee that not all characters can get out alive. The video call setting is an in-game element: not only the players but also the characters are all in a video call together, calling in from different areas of the spaceship. The run time is approximately one hour. The game provided virtual backgrounds, several scenarios as variations of the game’s story, and included a captain role with some typical game master functions in the sense that this player was specifically asked to help create a dramatic story. All these ingredients and the novelty of the format helped to create a small ViewScream community and the creation of at least 30 APs.

    Interestingly, ViewScream did not emerge out of a larp community but was developed in the context of a TTRPG community, mostly active and connected on the platform Google Plus, which at the time was important for Indie TTRPG creators.

    In 2017, Gerrit Reininghaus started creating APs for LAOGs on his YouTube channel “betafunktion”, with Jason Morningstar’s Winterhorn (2017) as the first AP. Soon after, in 2018, Reininghaus published A Manifesto for Laogs and established the genre. Today, betafunktion contains the largest collection of LAOG APs, presenting more than 20 games by different creators (see Reininghaus 2020). The YouTube channel has become a reference point for LAOG creators, with the recordings with the largest view count making it to more than 1.6K views (of So Mom I Made This Sex Tape, 2016) at the time of writing.

    The pandemic brought increased attention to online larp. Many creators have since then entered the design field and shared design ideas (see e.g., D.& Schiffer 2020; Marsh & Dixon 2021). However, few APs have been created during the pandemic. The LAOG The Space Between Us (2020) became an underground hit and its APs and fan productions went viral in interested circles. Why LAOG APs did not become even more popular during this time of elevated attention for online play is a question that cannot be fully answered here. One suggestion the authors can offer is that larpers have a) a more rigid understanding of the social contract in larp, specifically that a larp shall not have an audience, b) that familiarity with the technology required to make APs was not immediately available, and c) that one platform which became a home for many designs during the pandemic was Discord, which – unlike Google Hangouts – does not allow for simple recordings. However, Zoom, which also became popular during the pandemic, does (see Otting 2022).

    Over time, the larp scene has recognised the existence of LAOG APs. For example, the German association of larpers (Deutscher Liverollenspiel-Verband, DLRV) awarded the FRED award in 2020 for advocating larp to a larger audience to the aforementioned YouTube channel betafunktion.

    Why should we make APs of LAOGs?

    There are many reasons to produce Actual Plays of Live-Action Online Games. We provide a structured overview here that hopefully reflects most motivations. In any concrete project, there often will exist a combination of different reasonings for producing AP recordings.

    APs as entertainment

    Currently, the most prominent form of role-playing APs are productions to entertain an audience. Actual Play video shows like Critical Role or podcasts like The Adventure Zone have become part of the entertainment industry. But even shows without large profit ambitions have created their own style and offer high production values. Nameless Domain is a producer of such APs, now award winning for GUDIYA, a Bluebeard’s Bride (2017) one-shot. The Magpies, a Blades in the Dark AP-podcast by Clever Corvids Productions is another example. Some of these APs can be both watched live and in recorded forms, with the recordings usually edited and enhanced for a better audience experience. Live shows make use of the entertainment format and excitement present in something like live sports – with the unexpected luring behind every corner. The actual game play is just one contributing factor in APs for entertainment, while participants’ performances, the production values, and pre-written story arcs often play a similarly important role for the end product.

    While TTRPG-APs have today become part of a growing entertainment industry, as far as we are aware not many LAOG APs have so far been (professionally) produced purely for reasons of audience entertainment. However, some of the larger commercial TTRPG shows like KOllOK have recently included live-action elements with success (when measured in terms of public appraisal and audience size).

    AP production can also be part of a LAOG’s design concept. The recording can be a diegetic feature of the game as in a reality show larp. Or, if watching or listening to a recording of (parts of) the game is itself considered an element of gameplay by the designer and hence it can be a source of entertainment for the players. In The House (2012), for example, directly interacting with the camera in-character is a central design element.

    APs for demonstration purposes

    APs can also be produced to demonstrate how to play. The teaching of games through play itself has always been an important part of play cultures, and assumes that people best learn about a game when they see how the rules work in practice. This is especially true for role-playing games and larps, which have a large body of implicit rules of engagement not laid down in scripts or rulebooks.

    In a certain sense, recording LAOGs for demonstration purposes allows non-larpers access to a first-person perspective of a larp. The audience sees exactly what the player themself has seen during play. Such APs also provide insights to the designers about how their game works “out in the wild”. Designers can benefit from seeing specific mechanics and techniques in play, for example to analyse player engagement and dynamics, and their effects on pacing.

    Play cultures in larp differ significantly: another proper reason to produce APs is to showcase your own playstyle, although this is often a side effect rather than the intended production reason. One exception might be if larp production companies want to showcase their specific playstyle, making it easier for potential players to identify if a larp is right for them.

    APs as a community contribution

    We do not larp alone. As larp communities, we share our joy, we like to engage in discussions of games, and of our play experience. We like to see people we have played with in other games, and we watch out for each other.

    Recording a game for the community can happen to establish facts about how the community is playing (safety, inclusivity). This is not the same motivation as demonstrating game play or showcasing play culture as previously described. APs from and for a community are revealing community norms in less intentional ways.

    Producing an AP from and for the community is sending a signal on what is played, who is playing, who is visible, and consequently who is relevant. It is a way to emphasise community structures and relationships.

    APs for posterity

    Making an AP can be an artistic expression. In this case, the game itself might be designed around the AP concept or the production might be focused on turning the game into an artistic expression.

    APs can make contemporary play culture visible, and that might also be a goal: to help future generations understand how live-action games were played online, who was playing, and what unwritten or undocumented elements were relevant to players at the time. Archivists and researchers will be grateful for live recordings of games from past decades.

    When participating in a LAOG, recording it can also be motivated by the idea of creating a personal memory. Just like taking photos at events, an AP is a form of conserving an experience in some form, to be able to return to it later in life.

    Audience in online game design and LAOG facilitation

    Making an AP of a LAOG is in most cases different from documenting a larp played in physical space. The recording button is not as intrusive as it is to have a person with a camera circling around the players in-character. Even when the camera is an in-game element, recording has a more direct effect in physical larps.

    It remains an open question if recording, both live-streamed or published later, is a violation of a central aspect of the sort of social contract (also called the “role-play agreement”, Stenros & Montola 2019, 17) often seen as a unique and required ingredient of larp: the fact that play is not performed with an audience in mind. Some players have reported that they cannot enjoy being in a recorded play session, as they start playing performatively. Other players explain that playing in a recorded session does feel different to them during an initial short period of time, often just minutes, in which they get used to the situation. This is similar to the inhibition expressed by players towards non-diegetic LAOGs (see Reininghaus 2021). Non-diegetic in this context means that the characters of the game are not speaking through a video call to each other but in the shared imaginative space might be physically close together. Some players report that they cannot enjoy the dissonance between the players’ distance and their characters’ potential closeness.

    From a safety perspective, recording online play requires a couple of specific considerations. The following procedure can be considered good practice:

    1. Announce in the sign-up process for the game that a recording is planned.
    2. Remind players at the beginning of the game that the session is going to be recorded and offer an Open Door, i.e. the option to drop out at any time for this reason (or any other, without having to offer any justification).
    3. Break debrief into two parts: a recorded and an unrecorded part.
    4. Do not stream the game live, instead offer a 48-hour hold-off period before publishing the video. Inform players that they can express a veto after play, meaning that the recording is not going to be published as an AP.

    From a game design perspective, APs offer an interesting additional creative dimension. A game designed to be recorded for AP purposes has specific requirements. If the video call’s chat is used as a communication dimension in the game, for example, a typical recording will not capture this and hence the AP will present only an incomplete version of the session.

    Games which assume that players move between different virtual video rooms require choosing the recording perspective. The audience will either follow one player through their experience of the game session in multiple rooms, or experience everything that happened in only the one virtual room that was being recorded. If more than one player is recording their play, the audience can shift between views and create their own experience of the game. The APs of End Game (2016) allow for such an experience, as players are shuffled between the two in-game rooms exactly every ten minutes, allowing the audience to choose whose story to follow next.

    Gerrit Reininghaus designed the game Last Words (2019) with an “audience first” approach in mind. Some players play the game muted, some without a camera or sound, due to the asymmetrically-designed communication setup. While during the game no player therefore fully experiences what is happening, an audience can have access to this experience – in a single recording.

    Conclusion

    Both for players of larps and for future researchers, an archive of APs of contemporary larp play styles online could turn out to be invaluable. This alone should encourage more community members to consider recording their games.

    We also see plenty of potential avenues for further theoretical and practical explorations around APs of LAOGs. For example, we do not know much yet about the concrete effects that being recorded has on online play. We equally should consider the possible ethical implications of recording and distributing records of LAOG play, like a near-future use of public video libraries for training generative AI models. On the positive side, APs could positively contribute to making minorities in the larp and LAOG communities more visible.

    Regarding future potential design avenues, we are excited – as facilitators, designers, players, and audiences – to further explore how LAOGs can be designed to make AP production easier, how the recording and re-watching of APs can be a tool for iterative game design, and what APs as a designable surface can contribute to larp. We are looking forward to seeing these questions explored in the future.

    Bibliography

    Quinn D. and Eva Schiffer (2020): Writing Live Action Online Games. NordicLarp.org. https://nordiclarp.org/2020/12/19/writing-live-action-online-games/

    Critical Role (2012–) [Multi-Platform AP-productions]. https://critrole.com

    F.R.E.D. – Preis für Fortschrittliche Rollenspiel Entwicklung in Deutschland (in German)
    http://www.larpwiki.de/F.R.E.D.

    Jaakko Stenros & Markus Montola (2019): Basic Concepts In Larp Design. In Larp Design: Creating Role-Play Experiences, edited by Johanna Koljonen & al. Kopenhagen: Landsforeningen Bifrost (Knudepunkt 2019), p. 16–21.

    Johanna Koljonen (2019): An Introduction to Bespoke Larp Design. In Larp Design: Creating Role-Play Experiences, edited by Johanna Koljonen & al. Kopenhagen: Landsforeningen Bifrost (Knudepunkt 2019), p. 25–29.

    KOllOK – a Live Interactive Series
    https://www.hyperrpg.com/kollok

    Erin Marsh and Hazel Dixon (2021): Accessibility in Online Larp. NordicLarp.org. https://nordiclarp.org/2021/03/17/accessibility-in-online-larp/

    Nameless Domain – an award winning AP show cooperative
    https://www.twitch.tv/namelessdomain

    Open Hearth Gaming Community – over 5.000 APs of LAOG and TTRPG sessions
    https://openhearthgaming.com/

    Ylva Otting (2022): The Online Larp Road Trip. NordicLarp.org https://nordiclarp.org/2022/10/21/the-online-larp-road-trip/

    Gerrit Reininghaus (2019): A Manifesto for Laogs – Live Action Online Games. NordicLarp.org. https://nordiclarp.org/2019/06/14/a-manifesto-for-laogs-live-action-online-games/ (first published in 2018 at https://tinyurl.com/laogmanifesto)

    Gerrit Reininghaus (2020): An Overview of Existing LAOGs. Alles-ist-zahl.de. https://alles-ist-zahl.blogspot.com/2020/03/an-overview-of-existing-laogs-live.html

    Gerrit Reininghaus (2021): Three Forms of LAOGs. NordicLarp.org. https://nordiclarp.org/2021/05/27/three-forms-of-laogs/

    The Adventure Zone (2014–) [AP-podcast]. https://maximumfun.org/podcasts/adventure-zone/

    The Magpies Podcast – A Blades in the Dark Actual Play Podcast (2018–2021). https://magpiespodcast.net.

    Evan Torner (2021): The Golden Cobra’s Online Pivot. Japanese Journal of Analog Role-Playing Game Studies. https://jarps.net/journal/article/view/23

    Ludography

    Blades in the Dark (2017) by John Harper. Evil Hat.
    Available at: https://evilhat.com/product/blades-in-the-dark/

    Bluebeard’s Bride (2017) by Whitney “Strix” Beltrán, Marissa Kelly, and Sarah Richardson. Magpie Games.
    Available at: https://magpiegames.com/pages/bluebeards-bride

    End Game (2016) by David Hertz. Glass-Free* Games.
    Available at: https://preview.drivethrurpg.com/en/product/179639/end-game

    Last Words (2019) by Gerrit Reininghaus. Gauntlet Publishing.
    Available at: https://www.drivethrurpg.com/product/293711/Codex–Melancholy-Jul-2019
    AP: https://www.youtube.com/live/Zi7FGdZ_7JE?si=B5iP1mGw0CKiKif5

    So Mom, I Made This Sex Tape (2016) by Susanne Vejdemo. #Feminism Anthology. Pelgrane Press. Available at: https://feministnanogames.wordpress.com/
    AP: https://www.youtube.com/live/yp9VHDnBAqw?si=CgWhgTOBCSyGKeTG

    The House (2012) by Orion Canning and Robert Bruce.
    Available at: https://thehousethegame.blogspot.com/2012/06/
    AP: https://www.youtube.com/@thehousethegame/videos

    The Space Between Us (2020) by Wibora Wildfeuer.
    Available at: https://wiborawildfeuer.itch.io/the-space-between-us
    AP: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8TgXj7N5tNw

    ViewScream, 1st Ed. (2013), 2nd Ed. (2016) by Rafael Chandler. Neoplastic Press
    Available at: https://www.drivethrurpg.com/product/187177/ViewScream-2nd-Edition
    AP playlist:
    https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5aYJUQzFBqWMQ8bXYddx1PMp4hDYmibY/

    Winterhorn (2017) by Jason Morningstar. Bully Pulpit Games.
    Available at: Game: https://bullypulpitgames.com/games/winterhorn/
    AP: https://www.youtube.com/live/sMx3K7ljNNI?si=4iWbrYBp81lT2lmv


    This article has been reprinted with permission from the Solmukohta 2024 book. Please cite as:

    Reininghaus, Gerrit, and Adrian Hermann. 2024. “Actual Plays of Live-Action Online Games (LAOGs).” In Liminal Encounters: Evolving Discourse in Nordic and Nordic Inspired Larp, edited by Kaisa Kangas, Jonne Arjoranta, and Ruska Kevätkoski. Helsinki, Finland: Ropecon ry.


    Cover photo: Screenshot by Simon Rogers from online larp The Space Between Us, written by Wibora Wildfeuer, run by Sydney Mikosch

  • Listen 2 Your Heart Season 8: An Unexpectedly Bleedy Experiment

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    Listen 2 Your Heart Season 8: An Unexpectedly Bleedy Experiment

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    This article is first in a series on Larping Intimacy and Relationships.

    From October 28-29, 2023, I participated in Listen 2 Your Heart Season 8 (L2YH), an online larp (or LAOG, Reininghaus 2019) based on the Netflix show Love is Blind (2020-). The game was organized by JD Lade and took place on Discord between Saturday evening and Sunday evening, with enforced off-game sleep hours. We played 8 characters, plus the robot-voiced “Production” who gave us instructions at each stage of the larp. 

    The following article describes the reality show genre within which this adaptation was placed, addressing its fascinating but also problematic nature, as well as its similarities and differences with larp. I then discuss the potency of playing romantic relationships as vulnerable and potentially transformative experiences, as well as the pitfalls that can arise. I briefly discuss Oliver Nøglebæk’s (2016, 2023) “4 Cs of Larping Love”: context, consent, communication, and chemistry. Finally, I explore how a larp’s design can impact player experiences of romance, situating Listen to Your Heart’s game design and my play experience as a case study. I discuss the surprise twist of this particular run and consider it with regard to safety and consent.

    Is Love Really Blind?

    As a binge-watcher of many shows related to intimacy, relationships and marriage, Love is Blind is one of my favorite concepts. Single people are invited to take part in an experiment to see if love truly is blind. An equal number of cis-het men and women who all ostensibly are ready to get married are grouped in living quarters according to gender. Then, they take turns dating each person from the other group with a twist: they cannot see each other and can only communicate through a thin partition between them. They spend hours on end in these rooms called “pods” and they can choose to share or not share aspects of their physicality to the person on the other end. However, most avoid such talk, as the premise of the show is to date people without judging them immediately based on looks alone. Of course, some of the cast are there to get on TV and get famous, but some earnestly want to find a life partner through the show. 

    If one of the cast proposes to another — always heterosexual pairings, with usually the cis man proposing in the traditional fashion — and the woman accepts, they prepare for The Reveal. The two are placed on opposite sides of a room with the partitions slowly rising. The anticipation is intense — will they be attracted to this person who they only knew by voice, and vice versa? After they propose, they rush to the center of the room, where they embrace, and if he still wants to propose, the man drops to a knee and asks again. 

    They are then thrown into a honeymoon with the other newly engaged couples, which can be intensely romantic or disastrous depending on the couple’s compatibility and each partner’s ability to handle insecurities or shallow habits, such as focusing overmuch on physical traits that are not their usual “type.” If they make it past the honeymoon, they have three weeks to live together back in the “real world,” then have a wedding with their friends and family watching. At the altar, they find out if the other person will actually marry them, which makes for high-stakes and intense television. A year later, they come back to the show for the reunion, sharing how life has unfolded for them since they made this big decision. 

    Emotional Extreme Sports and Consent

    I have seen many seasons of the show, as well as its spiritual predecessor, Married at First Sight (2014-), which is made by the same production company. In Married at First Sight, the cast members are matchmade by experts (a sexologist, a pastor, and a sociologist) and are subject to extensive questionnaires and interviews before, during, and after meeting their spouse at the altar. The experiment in this show is to see if love can grow over time. At times, these experts intervene in times of conflict, which is viewed as inevitable, and guide the couples through marriage counseling. The experiment is predicated on research developed at the Gottman Institute (2023), where psychologists have studied the formula for long-lasting relationships. The show emphasizes how love can grow through moments of intimacy and connection, even if attraction is not present, as attraction can fade, while intimacy needs tending over time. In this way, Married at First Sight is educational, and my view is these counselors deeply want these couples to be happy and have healthy marriages.

     The Love is Blind experience has little to none of that concern. No one intervenes on camera, although occasionally the fourth wall breaks and you can see a producer or camera person trying to persuade the person to stay in the relationship. Cast members have recently revealed shocking filming conditions, including being abandoned with no food, sleep-deprived, and forced to stay on set for 20 hours straight at a time (Hogg 2022). As a larper, this makes total sense to me: of course you would deprive people of their basic needs in order to push for intense emotional reactions (Leonard and Thurman 2018) — and many larpers willingly push these limits regardless of the game’s design, and some larps consider such deprivation a feature, not a bug. Larpers who enjoy this type of intense experience or even edge play (Poremba 2007; Montola 2010) often refer to their play activities as emotional extreme sports. Furthermore, such extreme experiences, especially when paired with romantic play, often do lead to romantic feelings between players, as they experience the catalytic container of the liminal space of the larp and the altered, paradoxical state of being themselves-yet-a-character. 

    However, although these cast members signed a contract and receive the benefits of being on the show, such as instant fame, they clearly are not privy to the kind of consent and safety mechanics we encourage in the international larp community. That contract also states that they must stay legally married for one year and can only get divorced after the reunion is filmed, which is a surefire way to ensure psychological damage if the relationship is dysfunctional. They risk the humiliation of being turned down at the altar not only in front of their friends and family, but the world. It’s exploitative, problematic, hetero-, mono-normative, although not necessarily more so than other Hollywood products sadly.

    Nonetheless, I can’t help watching and being fascinated by the human struggle to relate to one another playing out in all these different dynamics. What is remarkable about these shows is the way in which cast members open their relationships to be inspected and consumed by millions of people. Relationships are the places in which our deepest insecurities can be revealed, including any prior wounds or attachment trauma, such as a tendency to fear abandonment (anxious attachment) or engulfment (avoidant attachment) (Levine and Heller 2011). As the show airs, fans around the world watch every (edited) moment of their relationships at their ecstatic best and excruciating worst. Furthermore, the edits they receive tell a narrative that is more of what the producers want to portray, which may not accurately reflect the actual dynamics and happenings between the participants. Many have difficulties dating non semi-famous people after the show airs, instead dating other people from the show or from other reality TV shows, especially if fame was indeed their objective. However, it’s clear that being on the show changes their lives forever; one cast member recently claimed he has been turned down for jobs in his profession due to his participation on Love is Blind, although other cast members have found these claims dubious (Brathwaite 2023).

    I think what fascinates me most about this show in particular is the idea of only knowing someone by voice and spending many hours with them, learning all about them, without the distraction of examining their physicality or the anxiety of them examining yours. When I think about concepts that would be appealing to larp, a Love is Blind-themed game was on the top of my list. Could “the experiment” be replicated in a serious way in larp form, or would it devolve into the familiar (and safe) realm of satire, as in The Upgrade (2004) a jeepform larp by Tobias Wrigstad, Thorbiörn Fritzon, and Olle Jonsson about couples deciding whether or not to “trade up” for a different partner? Would players experience emotional bleed (Montola 2010; Bowman 2015) or relationship bleed (Harder 2018) they find triggering or exposing? Or perhaps have a breakthrough as a result of playing out a trial relationship under these circumstances? As a result of this fascination, when JD Lade posted in Larpers BFF that late spots were open to Listen 2 Your Heart Season 8, I jumped right into playing that evening.

    Photo by Efe Kurnaz on Unsplash.

    Romantic Play and Personal Development

    One of the things that interests me most about romantic play is the way it can open opportunities for players to explore relationship dynamics that are unfamiliar, but might reveal parts of themselves, their desires, and their patterns that were less clear to them before. They can experience hypercolor moments of relationship intensity that they may never have felt safe, worthy, or brave enough to try to achieve before. They can play characters that are more sexually or romantically confident and experience what that feels like; alternatively, they can play deeply insecure people who employ manipulative tactics in order to gain power over one another. They can watch in horror as their character takes their own attachment trauma into dysfunctional extremes, or practice playing out a more healthy relationship dynamic. They can experience what true love is — for their characters, at least. What happens to the relationship between the players and any lingering feelings afterward, i.e. the larp crush (Harder 2018), is an often taboo, but necessary topic to openly discuss within larp circles and between players. Ultimately, such experiences can be spaces for healing, learning, personal, and interpersonal growth if handled with care (Baird, Bowman, and Hugaas 2022).

    Aware of the vulnerable space that romantic play can open, I am always curious how larps will handle issues of attraction, consent negotiations, storylines, and relationship dynamics. A tendency in role-playing game design in general and romantic games specifically is to design for conflict and tension — the more explosive, the better, especially in communities like Nordic larp that emphasize playing to lose or playing for drama. I am often dubious and even bored of such dynamics — beginning play at the height of conflict means next to nothing if there was no relationship developed between the characters beforehand, no embodied sense of what being “in love” with that person might feel like. For that reason, I have often favored preparatory scenes (Holkar 2021), also called backstory play, in which the basic dynamics of the relationship, including the excitement, the tenderness, and the passion can be experienced, therefore making any drama that unfolds meaningful. 

    Furthermore, the idea of trying to play out functional relationship dynamics can be equally fascinating, as conflict often arises in human interaction whether we pre-plan it or not. Being asked by the larp’s design or by organizers to overperform drama in order to keep things exciting for other players has often annoyed me, as sometimes the best play in my view is in the quiet, gentle moments of subtle intimacy. I am also careful about bleed, as I am aware that angry or shaming words said in-character when in such a vulnerable state can often reach us as players, especially if the dynamics we are exploring are relatable to our own lives.

    The Four C’s: Context, Consent, Communication, and Chemistry

    Of particular sensitivity are matters of chemistry and attraction. According to Oliver Nøglebæk (2016; 2023), “four Cs” are important to consider when larping romance (and, arguably, when engaging in relationships in general):

    1. Context: Considering the context of the larp as a whole, its themes, and the experiences of other players when approaching romantic play;
    2. Consent: Making sure all players enthusiastically consent to play within stated boundaries;
    3. Communication: Directly, openly, and regularly communicating what types of experiences each player would like to have;
    4. Chemistry: The inexplicable spark of connection that can be instantaneous or cultivated over time.

    Regarding this last point of chemistry, many larpers will understandably lean more into in-game relationships with people to whom they are emotionally, intellectually, physically, or spiritually attracted; that sort of bleed can be experienced as pleasurable and may even lead to relationships with the other player in daily life (Bowman 2013). Chemistry from this perspective need not be rooted in sexual desire. On the other hand, if one only plays for chemistry, one might end up rejecting play from others, which can emotionally impact other players, especially if they consider themselves outside the bounds of conventional attractiveness, or as Karijn van der Heij (2021) calls it, appearance-based prejudice. Rejecting such connections can also negatively impact the larp, e.g., in larps with a strongly narrativist structure like Fortune & Felicity (Harder 2017; Kemper 2017), where a specific arc is meant to be played out over time with one’s assigned co-players. However, when considering the importance of consent, we arrive at a conundrum: should we force players to engage with one another in romantic play at all if they are not enthusiastically consenting? When considering the ethics of larp, this sort of peer pressure to perform romance can be a bit murky. In such cases, trying to find mutually satisfying ways to adjust the narrative through larp hacking might be kinder for everyone involved. Larp hacking involves subverting the game’s parameters such that it is more playable or enjoyable for participants but does not “break the game” completely (Svanevik and Brind 2020).

    Nøglebæk’s (2016, 2023) view on chemistry is “You can’t force it. But you can grow it, if both of you are willing to open up – it takes a little work and communication to build up mutual trust and connection.” This philosophy is quite similar to the stance taken by the Gottman Institute and, by extension, Married at First Sight and Love is Blind. Laura Wood (2022) has given a Nordic Larp Talk on the topic, advising much the same, discussing the way larpers can cultivate chemistry through “emotional bids,” as Gottman describes. It is certainly possible to foster such connection in a startlingly short amount of time in larp through workshop activities such as eye gazing; ars amandi, a technique developed by Eliot Wieslander for playing out sexuality through touching arms (Nordic Larp Wiki); or asking each other 36 Questions intended to help you fall in love (Aron et al. 1997).

    Listen 2 Your Heart: Salem Edition

    The run I experienced of Listen 2 Your Heart was called Season 8 diegetically and was the eighth iteration of the larp non-diegetically. The title of the larp refers to the Roxette song by the same name; the Glee (2009-2015) version of the song (2015) was played at the beginning of the larp, ostensibly as the theme song for the show. The setting was realistic in principle: all characters were given their own apartment and were communicating through chat rooms, audio, and video conferencing. This practice made it easier to immerse through the interface, which can be challenging in online larps. Furthermore, the online format took any anxieties around physical touch or intimacy off the table, which was a nice change of pace from physically embodied larp.

    By this point in the larp’s evolution, certain rules were in place in order to try to avoid the pitfalls of larp romance described above, which was a pleasant surprise. I am particularly sensitive to issues of chemistry; people’s feelings can get hurt if romantic gestures are not reciprocated or they can feel violated if forced to play out relationship dynamics without the option of opting out. Such issues can lead to larp ghosting, in which players drop their pre-arranged relations to seek out more fulfilling play. 

    Listen 2 Your Heart dealt with this conundrum in several ways. Most importantly, it broke with the cis hetero-normative formula endemic to many of these mainstream shows. The setting document states, “All characters are some flavor of bisexual / pansexual. They may have preferences, but none of the characters are to be played as straight or homosexual with only one gender preference” (“L2YH Schedule and Rules”). This rule tries to solve issues that can emerge in larps, such as queer players being forced to play straight romances (Paisley 2015; Stenros and Sihvonen 2019; Wood and D 2021), players steering away from players that their off-game self would not normally consider “their type,” etc. However, the rules also explicitly state that this world is mono-normative and that the dilemmas inherent to dating in groups cannot be solved through polyamory or dating outside of the pods. Such solutions break the premise of the game. In addition, the setting document states that all characters want to be on television and consented to the possibility of marrying someone. 

    I played Melaina, a young adult Fantasy author who believed she could do magic. The last part was a tweak I added to the original pre-written character concept when I started noticing the twist (see below). The in-game experience toggled between playing in the pods in a series of dates with members of the other group (audio only), in my case, Group B, then communicating with one’s group about what unfolded (audio and video), in my case, Group A. Though the larp was fairly long for the online format at approximately 13-14 hours of play over a 28 hour period, the pacing was such that while we were asked to interact with co-players through these “pod dates” played out in a series of Discord channels with camera off, we were not interacting with any one person for more than 20-30 minutes at a time. This kept the pace going and the format allowed for players to make any choice with regard to their character’s romantic storyline, although they were not allowed to unalive themselves, as that kind of choice can negatively hijack the narrative for everyone. 

    Group meetings featured different stimuli in addition to talking, such as prompts for us to go to the “confessional camera,” prompts to vote on characters in specific ways, e.g., “Most Likely to Receive the ‘Hero Edit’,” “Least Favorite Date.” This input was gathered in practice in Google Forms, then the larp adjusted in some way. For example, characters could request all the confessional quotes from a particular character, or were given anonymous confessional quotes to decipher. Votes were tabulated and winners (even in “losing” categories), were sometimes invited to choose the next series of dates, including to benefit themselves and either thwart or assist others. This practice kept us always on our toes and the game flowing nicely. Consistently shifting between interactions ensured that even if the setting was mono-normative, the play was more a collective negotiation.

    Many larps these days have rules against larping rejection of someone based on personal appearance for the reasons van der Heij (2021) described. L2YH had a particularly interesting approach to this rule, stating: “Don’t play negatively on someone’s OFF-GAME looks / age / etc. Everybody is hot, that’s the fun of the show, right? Somebody might not be your character’s type, but they are still objectively hot (“L2YH Schedule and Rules”). In practice, this was quite lovely after Reveal scenes, in which each of us were sent on dates where the camera suddenly came on, like the barrier lifting in Love is Blind. Cast members on Love is Blind often comment on how jarring it is to finally connect this new face with the voice they fell in love with and the physicality they imagined, which I found to be true as well, but still a pleasant surprise. In fact, these scenes were even more potent for me perhaps than the several of the other players, who seemed to play the larp together often I presume as new characters each time; I only know one of the players previously so I had an authentic experience of curiosity and surprise.

    When Group A would reconvene to gossip after these Reveals, we would play to lift (Vejdemo 2018) the other players, talking about how hot they were and how confusing it made everything, which we would then also sometimes reveal to characters in Group B. This practice can potentially lead to positive experiences of bleed that might counteract feelings of insecurity present in the player.

    The game encouraged players to amp up the interpersonal drama, which I sometimes struggle with being forced to do considering my preferred playstyle of keeping intensity growing at a slow boil  rather than exploding for the sake of narrative drama. However, off-game calibration with other players in terms of boundaries and the direction of storylines was strongly encouraged. In practice, this worked quite well, especially when communicating with experienced larpers who are conscientious of other player’s experience. 

    However, from my perspective, a major issue with such calibration occurred due to in-game secrets embedded in this particular run of the larp. While most runs focus on the traditional relationship trajectory storyline, this run of L2YH had a twist due to its proximity to Halloween: all the characters in Group B were actually vampires. Furthermore, it was revealed through play that if anyone in Group A does not choose to get married, they will be hunted and killed on the vampire television network on which the show now airs. Furthermore, they would then be forced to become a vampire themselves or die, thus becoming the monster themselves, now implying an additional meaning to the word “bleed.” This plot was hinted at in our briefing, in which the facilitator alluded to spooky things being afoot due to the game running close to Halloween and placed in Salem, Massachusetts, the location of the famous witch trials in colonial America that were unfortunately all too common in Europe.

    In terms of a plot, it was intriguing and my character figured out some of what was going on fairly early, but the secrecy of the game led to some cognitive dissonance around genre. On Love is Blind, you might end up with someone with narcissistic or abusive tendencies, but on this show, you would most certainly end up with a serial murderer, which is a steep escalation. Players in Group B were instructed to try not to reveal the secret until the Reveal, ostensibly to stir up the aforementioned drama. However, as it leaked early, I had to make a choice as a player: I could lean into the premise as horror or as the aforementioned satire/mockumentary style of play, similar to What We Do in the Shadows (2014, 2019-). I ended up doing what my characters often try to do when playing romance in larp: attempting to redeem or save the “troubled, misguided” abuser. My storyline started off fairly seriously, as I wanted my character to be earnestly looking for her life partner, as befits the genre of the show, but ended up in a dysfunctional love triangle between murderous psychopaths in order to amp up the drama for the finale. Furthermore, as Vampire fiction is often considered a metaphor for sexual violence, this twist did not entirely line up with the rule, “Do not play upon child- / sexual abuse / non consensual sexual encounters” (“L2YH Schedule and Rules”).

    I decided to lean into the absurdity and still had a good experience. However, this example illustrates the problems with secrecy in larps in terms of player consent (Torner 2013), as I may have declined playing upon such themes or negotiated a less severe storyline through calibration if I had known ahead of time. My understanding is that the next runs of this larp will revert to the typical Love is Blind format and will therefore likely not have such issues.

    A further hiccup revolved around the opt-out mechanic, a semi in-game phrase, “I’d rather not…”  We were instructed to say or chat the phrase and use the X-arms to the camera if we wanted to take the scene in a different direction. “I’d rather not…” could also be used to indicate a desire to change the topic of conversation, similar to an X-card (Stavropoulos n.d.), meaning that topic was off-limits. In practice, remembering such phrases during play can be quite difficult, as can remembering to signal, or remembering to check the chat to see if someone had sent an off-game message. These issues are ongoing with regard to safety. Cues can be missed whether in-person or virtual play, and in-game phrases meant to be immersive can sometimes be missed. In future runs, I would recommend workshopping such techniques to make sure all players had some embodied experience with them before play rather than only receiving them in the rules document and having them explained at a briefing.  

    A Successful Experiment

    Despite this narrative twist at the end, overall Listen to Your Heart Season 8 provided an authentic-feeling experience that strikes me as similar to what it might feel like to be in the pods of Love is Blind. I very much enjoyed being able to focus only on the voice as a means of communicating, whether the topics were flirtatious or deeply metaphysical, which is where my play tends to go. The experience of listening to the character’s voice on headphones strikes me as particularly intimate, as well as the pressure of attuning to every nuance the person was communicating explicitly or implicitly in order to ascertain in a short amount of time whether or not the relationship would work. Overall, I think the designer made smart choices in terms of the parameters of the larp. 

    References

    Aron, et al. 1997. “The Experimental Generation of Interpersonal Closeness: A Procedure and Some Preliminary Findings.” Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 23, no. 4: 363-377.

    Baird, Josephine, Sarah Lynne Bowman, and Kjell Hedgard Hugaas. 2022. “Liminal Intimacy: Role-playing Games as Catalysts for Interpersonal Growth and Relating.” In The Magic of Games, edited by Nikolaus Koenig, Natalie Denk, Alexander Pfeiffer, and Thomas Wernbacher, 169-171. Edition Donau-Universität Krems.

    Brathwaite, Lester Fabian. 2023. “Love Is Blind star Nick Thompson says he’s applied for 400 jobs, is Two Months Away from Losing Home.” Entertainment Weekly, August 2.

    Bowman, Sarah Lynne. 2013. “Social Conflict in Role-playing Communities: An Exploratory Qualitative Study.” International Journal of Role-Playing 4: 17-18. https://doi.org/10.33063/ijrp.vi4.183

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

    Gottman Institute, The. “The Gottman Institute: A Research-Based Approach to Relationships.” Gottman.com.

    Harder, Sanne. 2017. “Fortune & Felicity: When Larp Grows Up.” Nordiclarp.org, June 13.

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

    Hogg, Ryan. 2022. “‘Love is Blind’ Contestant Sues Netflix After Being Forced to Work ‘Inhumane’ 20-hour Days without Enough Food or Sleep.” Business Insider, July 17.

    Holkar, Mo. 2021. “Larping Before the Larp: The Magic of Preparatory Scenes.” 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.

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

    Lade, JD. 2023. “Schedule and Rules. Listen 2 Your Heart, Google Docs.

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

    Levine, Amir, and Rachel Heller. 2011. Attached: The New Science of Adult Attachment and How It Can Help You Find — and Keep — Love. Jeremy P. Tarcher/Penguin, 2011.

    Montola, Markus. 2010. “The Positive Negative Experience in Extreme Role-playing.” In Proceedings of DiGRA Nordic 2010: Experiencing Games: Games, Play, and Players. Stockholm, Sweden, August 16.

    Nøglebæk, Oliver. 2016. “The 4 Cs of Larping Love.” Olivers tegninger om rollespil, August 18.

    Nøglebæk, Oliver. 2023. “The 4 Cs of Larping Love.” Nordiclarp.org, November 14.

    Nordic Larp Wiki. 2013. “Ars Amandi.” July 11.

    Nordic Larp Wiki. 2014. “Jeepform.” May 29.

    Paisley, Erik Winther, 2015. “Play the Gay Away: Confessions of a Queer Larper.” In Larp Politics: Systems, Theory, and Gender in Action, edited by Kaisa Kangas, Mika Loponen, and Jukka Särkijärvi, 170-177. Helsinki, Finland: Solmukohta 2016, Ropecon ry.

    Poremba, Cindy. 2007. “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.

    Reininghaus, Gerrit. 2019. “A Manifesto for LAOGs – Live Action Online Games.” Nordiclarp.org, June 14.

    Roxette. 2015. “Listen to Your Heart.” Perf. Lea Michele and Jonathan Groff. Glee.

    Sedillo, Joaquin, dir. 2015. “S6.E11. We Built This Glee Club.” Glee, May 13.

    Stavropoulos, John. N.d. “X-Card: Safety Tools for Simulations and Role-Playing Games by John Stavropoulos.” Google Docs, accessed January 13, 2019. http://tinyurl.com/x-card-rpg

    Stenros, Jaakko, and Tanja Sihvonen. 2019. “Queer While Larping: Community, Identity, and Affective Labor in Nordic Live Action Role-Playing.” Analog Game Studies: 2019 Role-Playing Game Summit (December 23).

    Svanevik, Martine, and Simon Brind. 2020. “Larp Hacking.” Nordiclarp.org, February 2.

    Torner, Evan. 2013. “Transparency and Safety in Role-playing Games.” In The Wyrd Con Companion Book 2013, edited by Sarah Lynne Bowman and Aaron Vanek, 14-17. Los Angeles, CA: Wyrd Con, 2013.

    van der Heij, Karijn. 2021. “We Share This Body: Tools to Fight Appearance-Based Prejudice at Larps.” Nordiclarp.org, June 14.

    Vejdemo, Susanne. 2018. “Play to Lift, not Just to Lose.” In Shuffling the Deck: The Knutpunkt 2018 Color Printed Companion, edited by Annika Waern and Johannes Axner, 143-146. Pittsburgh, PA: Carnegie Mellon University: ETC Press.

    Wood, Laura. 2022. “Larp Chemistry – Laura Wood.” Nordiclarp.org, September 11.

    Wood, Laura, and Quinn D. 2021. “Sex, Romance and Attraction: Applying the Split Attraction Model to Larps.” Nordiclarp.org, February 22.

    Wrigstad, Tobias, Thorbiörn Fritzon, and Olle Jonsson. 2004. The Upgrade. Jeepen.org.


    Photo by Efe Kurnaz on Unsplash. Image has been cropped.

  • The Online Larp Road Trip

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    The Online Larp Road Trip

    Written by

    With: Sandy Bailly, Brian Bors, Debbie, Raúl Peña Fernández, Evie Hartman, Steve Hatherley, Sydney Mikosch, Will Osmond, Inge-Mette Petersen, Gerrit Reininghaus, Amalia Valero, and Wibora Wildfeuer

    The pandemic was catastrophic for physical larp but also acted as the catalyst for the development of online larp.

    Larp has been heavily affected by the pandemic. For a long time physical larps weren’t an option so people started trying online experiences. It felt like we were taking a (digital) road trip to see what was possible, tourists in this thing called online larp.

    And what a trip it has been already! Obviously, online larps existed way before the pandemic hit, but it still felt like witnessing a creative revolution. With little to no experience in running games online in the case of most, designers started experimenting and creating new games.

    Even the name seemed to be up for discussion. The artform has been called “laog” (live action online game), digital larp and online larp, among other things.

    Game For a Year

    The experiments resulted in a wide range of games. For example, games were created with a playtime ranging from one hour to months (continuously). You could be sitting behind a laptop, or walking around, or be guided through the story through music, or lie on the ground in something akin to guided meditation. It could be video, with or without sound, or text only or voice only, or a combination of these options.

    The creators of the larp could send emails before the larp, or use websites, or send letters or complete packages to your home address. The themes could be anything: serial high-fantasy, dystopian future, or current day slice of life. It could deal with very serious matters, or could be comedy and slapstick. The player could be the same as the character so what you see is what you get, or players could be represented by an avatar with a fake background. You could create art, or cook and eat together, or take a bath, make music, solve puzzles, and write fiction.

    It made for a wide range of options available for interested players. 

    A player online in fantasy clothing with a scar on their face
    Elina Gouliou playing the online larp Meet at the Tavern, by Omenstar. Image by Elina Gouliou.

    Lessons For Designers And Players

    It was a lot of experimenting, and not everything worked. The players learned how to dress up when your costume is only visible for the top half and from the front. Some people would stay behind their laptop unless there is explicit room to take a break, so bio breaks needed to be specifically added. It’s not easy seeing if someone is ok if they’re only visible on a screen, or not visible at all, so safety became more important. And having an online larp with 25 people in the same call for a longer period of time is not the best option, so designers created smaller groups.

    The tech and internet wouldn’t always work properly, and drop offs needed to be taken into account. And not all technology could be used by everybody, so people were limited in what to use. 

    Of course, technology created part of the experience and took a huge leap during the pandemic as well. The amount of new apps becoming available, or existing apps changing or adding new features, meant a whole lot of new options. Discord, Teams, Zoom and Jitsi were used to create online worlds. Proximity chat apps like Gather and SpatialChat were used to mimic the feeling of walking around and talking to other players. Adding a virtual background became a thing. Snapchat was used to alter player appearance. 

    Online larp has come a long way the last couple of years. So let’s see some of the sights we have witnessed along the way!

    Image of 5 larpers online on Jitsi.org
    A screenshot from a run of Make Up Moments. Image by Gerrit Reininghaus.

    Sightseeing 1: Start From Home

    From offline to online.

    Gerrit Reininghaus started with online larps when he moved to Central America because no other options were available. He started by translating physical larps like Winterhorn to the online larp format.

    Converting from off- to online is something that happened a lot at the start of the pandemic. Debbie joined the online version of the larp Empire. When the pandemic started, they were playing tabletop roleplaying games but found it lacked the connection with the character. They also missed the interaction with the players from Empire.

    The bards from Empire, basically the musicians who would perform during Empire in the live games before the pandemic, created online evenings for song and story time. Everybody could join, in costume, and act like they would normally do at the physical larp around the campfire. A couple of people could sing or tell a story, using Twitch, and the audience could listen or comment using text.

    Regular evenings would have 20 to 30 performers. It was a great reminder of what the characters were about, although it was less playing a character and more hanging around. People did get creative and did things that wouldn’t have been available during the physical larp. For instance, a performance with a green screen and puppets, including recordings of the puppets which were played during the song.

    Bots

    Steve Hatherley turned the physical games he designed into online games at the start of the pandemic. He discovered that the usage of bots is an advantage for running games.

    Murder mystery was already a usable format for online so it didn’t need must adjustment. People were starting to get together using Zoom and freeform games could be played the same way. It did have limits for the amount of people that could play and the length of the game. Normally a weekend game with 60 to 70 people was possible but the online format meant adjusting this to a maximum of 25 people. The duration had to be capped at a couple of hours. 

    Debbie also joined the Glasgow Vampire larp, their first time larping online. It was a physical larp campaign turned online, mostly using only voice and a picture of the character but no video. Separate channels represented physical rooms.

    The channels contained a description of the location and made it possible to play in a wide range of places. For Debbie, online made it possible to join the game because they don’t live near the physical game location. It was easier to join the campaign as an online player.

    After adapting physical larps for online play, Reininghaus started thinking about the real possibilities of online. One of the online larps Reininghaus created, Make Up Moments, was first run in 2018 and uses the camera as a mirror. It’s for up to four players, and lasts one to two hours. Players put on makeup while talking to other players, in preparation for a big event.

    Players see themselves in a mirror and other players can see them through the video. It ends with a selfie shared with others. This is something that wouldn’t have been possible in a physical larp, and there are other technical and safety possibilities to explore as well. Reininghaus says he enjoys the accessibility, being able to do things you couldn’t or wouldn’t do offline. It’s empowering.

    Online turned out to be a safe environment where you can get a larp experience.

    Image of 2 online larpers with a spaceship interface
    A screenshot of players playing The Space Between Us. Image by Elina Gouliou.

    Sightseeing 2: The Space Between Us

    Designed to be replayed.

    The Space Between Us is, without a doubt, the most run online one shot larp during the pandemic. The designer Wibora Wildfeuer created a complete design document which made it easy for others to run the game, and they have.

    With translations into many languages, people playing it multiple times, the estimate is that it’s been run over 50 times. Wildfeuer herself ran it 17 times. Sydney Mikosch ran the larp 15 times, and described the experience as shutting your mind off for a couple of hours and being in another world with other people. They found it to be a very immersive larp, offering the possibility to create an experience together that sticks. 

    Wildfeuer didn’t have any experience with online larps before the pandemic and played just a couple before she created The Space Between Us. She guesses that its success can be attributed to replayability and the pandemic.

    “It wasn’t written for Covid on purpose, but it has themes that coincide with Covid. Everybody wanted to larp, and it mirrors all the stuff that was happening in real life.” The basic story has five family members, each in their own spaceship, trying to find a new Earth. The players don’t have to prepare except by reading their pre-written character which includes a separate secret role and the setting background. The larp contains a couple of different scenes and starts out without much interference by the organizer. Just the characters interacting with each other.

    Wildfeuer designed the larp so that players as well as characters interact only via video. The larp is limited to five players and has a fixed amount of scenes. This created a structure and a setting where each player got the same amount of play time, but wasn’t on screen the whole larp. Wildfeuer explained that she designed the characters as a family to make sure that the players felt a close connection, so the larp is mainly about the relationships and their past.

    More

    You can learn more about Wibora Wildfeuer’s work here: Instagram.com/wiborawildfeuer

    The Space Between Us is available here: wiborawildfeuer.itch.io

    Sightseeing 3: I’ll Have What They’re Having

    Let’s eat.

    It’s special to have dinner together eating the same food, face to face or online. I’ll Have What They’re Having was a larp where you are eating together online, created by Sandy Bailly. The dinner wasn’t brought to your table, you still had to cook it yourself, but all players were having the same dinner and were eating together. As member of the larp’s crew Amalia Valero explained, it had a physical component while still being a digital larp.

    The larp was a slice of life story with prewritten characters for 16 players set in a near future dystopia. You couldn’t eat in a physical restaurant so you had dinner online with the food being brought to your home. The players got the recipes in advance and could cook the food between the in-game acts

    You formed a duo with another player and had dinner together with another duo. The people in the group swapped so you would have dinner with different people each time. It used Discord with different channels to simulate different restaurants. 

    The recipes gave people an option to try some new things. Players Will Osmond and Sydney Mikosch both still cook the food that was part of the larp. Osmond considers it a great experience, going beyond the obvious. Mikosch thought it was great fun to cook the food with the recipes provided during the breaks, and says cooking it now still brings up memories from the larp.

    Bailly got the idea for the larp while watching the tv-series Midnight Diner: Tokyo Stories. Its stories revolve around food, and seemed really larpable. Eating food together forms a connection between people, even when you’re not at the same location. The food you were eating could always be a subject to talk about. Unintentionally, it turned out as a feelgood larp.

    The breaks were used to cook food, but also made sure that screen fatigue wasn’t a thing, with enough time between two dishes. 

    The result was a low key slice of life larp, which brought people together and let them co-create the story. Just eating food together and having a good time.

    Many different plates of food
    A collage of the food made by the players during I’ll Have What They’re Having. Photos by Elina Gouliou, Patrik Bálint, Will Osmond, Andrea Vaghi, and Ylva Otting.

    Sightseeing 4: Hack From the Damn

    Hack the planet.

    Hack From The Damn was an online larp based on the idea that in the near future quantum computers allow quantum hacking. It centered around a broker server where four different collectives could join an auction every week to bid on jobs and then have the rest of the week to prepare and run the jobs by hacking a server.

    The mechanics for hacking were based on the board game Space Alert, and were basically a puzzle that needed to be solved in 10 minutes. The jobs generated cryptocurrency and a better reputation when they succeeded, and cost money and reputation if they didn’t. The collectives could also interact with each other, the client who provided the job, or just hang out on the server. 

    The larp used Discord, with different channels for the different groups and clients. It had 2 bots, to keep track of the money and skills for every player, and to run the actual hack. Github was used to set up the challenge with a random generator. People communicated through text chat and voice on Discord. Google Drive was used to share all documentation. 

    Brian Bors came up with the idea and started the larp after the first lockdown began. All physical larps he was running or playing shut down so he had nothing to do all of the sudden. He started asking people to form a larp team before having an explicit design. This resulted in a huge organizer team since other people didn’t have much to do either.

    The setting and rule system were created in a couple of days, with the expectancy to run the larp for a couple of weeks. Instead, the larp ended after six months. 

    Both players and organizers worked together creating the bots, the story, the background and the jobs, making short films and writing characters. After a couple of weeks the game was set up and the first auction and jobs were run. It wasn’t part of the design to let the game continue 24/7. There was just the idea that the servers didn’t have to be shut off after the auction and the hack. The result was that the players continued playing when they wanted. The game ran continuously from April 2020 to June 2020, then introduced breaks until it definitively ended in September 2020.

    Bors said that the game was a joy to run and play, but wouldn’t set up something like this again. The fact that the game ran continuously for so long made it too heavy for the organizers.

    Text of a computer interface inviting characters to become hackers
    Part of the message inviting players to Hack From The Damn. Image by Ylva Otting.

    Sightseeing 5: So Much To See, So Little Time

    An explosion of creativity.

    As with any road trip, there is so much more to see but not enough time to see it all.

    Tavern Quests

    Each Tavern Quest game is titled according to the same format: Meet At the Dungeon, Meet at the Space Station, Meet at the Shipwreck and so on. They have different formats but the same design and tech. The story and characters are different for every meet, so characters can be meeting in a dungeon, or a tavern, or a space station. The play time is a couple of hours, and it’s run on Discord, with the different channels being used for different rooms. It’s a lighthearted drama where, as player Will Osmond explains, you try to do the worst thing possible and want to create as much chaos as you can.

    The Loop

    The Loop is a weekend long larp where you play a character, or a catfish that is played by a character. It is a contest where characters are voted to leave a couple of times during the larp and then can reveal if they were who they said they were. It is text based, played on Discord. Player Amalia Valero commented that: “People are completely free to play whatever they want, not limited by their bodies.”

    After Dark

    After Dark is about people sitting behind their webcam trying to communicate with each other without making noise, since it seems that noise is what attracts monsters that roam the streets. It can be played with for instance Zoom, and lasts a couple of hours. The relationships in the larp are a family, so it’s easy to feel a deep connection with the other players.

    Together Forever

    Together Forever has different formats but is basically a weekend larp on Discord. You create a character, the relationships are created by the organizers, and you have a date in a near future dystopian future where you can’t meet other people in person so you have to meet online. An AI will decide who you should be matched up with. Inge-Mette Petersen played most of the formats and thinks the larp is easier to play online than offline. It’s a co-creative world where ideas from the players are incorporated into the story. 

    Zoe’s Christmas Task Force For Personal Betterment / Zoe’s Easter Egg Experience

    A weekend larp inspired by TV series like The Gilmore Girls. It’s a romcom. People find love, get married, break up, get sick. It used Discord and had channels to represent all the different locations: the bar, character’s houses, the park and so on.

    Props on a table including flowers and a stuffed bunny
    Props and background for Elina Gouliou playing Zoe at Zoe’s Christmas Task Force ​For Personal Betterment‘s first run, by Karolina Soltys, Patrik Bálint, Will Osmond and David Owen. Photo by Elina Gouliou.

    The Road Ahead

    Beautiful things to come!

    Now that we’ve seen the sights along the road that brought us so far, it’s time to look ahead at what we might expect in our future travels. 

    We can start with the question of what are we going to call the opposite of online larp? Offline larp? In person larp? Physical larp? Or bluntly flesh larp, as suggested by Will Osmond

    In person, offline games are back on the table and up and running again, which has already resulted in declining interest in online larp. There are fewer online larps available, fewer players want to play online larps and fewer new larps being created. Online larp designer Gerrit Reininghaus expects online play to continue because the financial advantages and the option to play internationally are such obvious advantages. Designer Sandy Bailly suggests it will experience a resurgence in winter when there are less physical larps. 

    The Advantages of Online

    Online larps still have the same advantages as before, being more accessible for people with physical issues, affordable, easy and environmentally friendly because players don’t have to travel. You can meet players from all over the world.

    Osmond thinks that relationships during online play can be very intense, more so when the story is congruent with sitting behind a screen. Using channels or other options only available in a digital space also means that it’s easier to switch between conversations, leave chats when things get overwhelming while still being able to continue to play.

    Digital representation can make it easier to create a world and digital effects can be used. It can be just as immersive, or immersive in a different way, as in-person larp. Sydney Mikosch discovered that the online larpers seemed to have formed a strong community and think it will keep going. It can be fun to just play a more lighthearted short online game, when you want to socialize with other people. As Amalia Valero pointed out, online larp tells stories you can’t tell in a physical medium: “It’s not going to be the huge thing it was during the pandemic, but it is its own medium and will tell its own story.”

    Person on chair in long dress holding a champagne glass
    Inge-Mette Petersen playing Marina Daulnoy in The Loop. Photo by Inge-Mette Petersen.

    Hybrid Forms

    One interesting avenue of exploration is hybrid larps, where parts of the larp are in person and parts are online. The in-game experience can be divided between in person and online, as seen in the German larp Healing, where some participants played online and others in person.

    The same larp can have an online and an offline version, such as in the case of Together Forever. It started as an online larp, but has a physical run coming up in 2023. 

    Some things work better online than offline. Switching rooms, finding people, creating a spotlight for everyone, watching people without them watching you, turning your screen upside down, using bots to count money, creating spaces that are accessible for specific groups, asking for play and a ‘dear diary’ mechanic  where you can explain to other players what your character is feeling.

    The technology which will also advance. Evie Hartman is working on a website to compare the different options available (gvguide.com) and is also working on ways to compare the 150+ different (proximity) chat options available. According to Hartman, the spatial chat options are not yet perfect but they’re getting there. The experience from the past couple of years is that platforms can be changed if people want it. She wants us to be louder as a community so we can help change the platforms. As she explained it: “Things developed for games will develop because people think it’s fun.” 

    Hartman thinks that the tallest mountain top to climb will be Augmented Reality (AR), when it becomes possible for instance to find objects in AR and not have to look for cards or other representations of those objects.

    Online larps were an option before the pandemic, the pandemic caused lots of new stories and options to be added to the online experience and now we’ll see where the artform goes next.


    Cover photo: Players using backgrounds to great effect in The Space Between Us. Image by Amalia Valero.

    This article is published in the Knutpunkt 2022 magazine Distance of Touch and is published here with permission. Please cite this text as:

    Otting, Ylva. 2022. “The Online Larp Road Trip.” In Distance of Touch: The Knutpunkt 2022 Magazine, edited by Juhana Pettersson, 100-104. Knutpunkt 2022 and Pohjoismaisen roolipelaamisen seura.

  • Pandemic Larp Improvisation

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    Pandemic Larp Improvisation

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    Larp organizers have learned a thing or two about organizing scenarios. How have we applied those skills during the COVID-19 pandemic?

    If nothing else, larping means engagement. Players invest themselves in bringing made-up characters to life, mapping a fictional world onto our real world. During the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic of the past several years, engagement became a scarce commodity.

    Every organization, be it schools or businesses or governments, wanted to re-engage with its constituency who, through pandemic isolation and general neoliberal precarity, had understandably become detached from society and lacked the necessary motivation to do most activities of institutional benefit. You know: all of us.

    Ironically, just as we ourselves as larpers could no longer gather – since our events are natural super-spreaders of any number of diseases, including COVID-19 – my own larp expertise began to be called upon as an asset and skillset. I started getting messages from Fortune 500 companies and major news outlets about this thing called “larp,” which could then be leveraged to win back – you guessed it – engagement from their customers, students, and volunteers.

    My tales of pandemic-era collaborations in non-larp and larp-adjacent contexts highlight both the very special medium (of larp) with which we work, as well as the limitations of such collaborations.

    Image of players in costume in an online video conference
    Screenshot of the crucial Zoom call in which University of Cincinnati students role-played cardinals electing a pope.

    Temptemus Papam

    The 1492 Papal Election was an absolute shitshow, and I ran it as an online larp for a history class at my university.

    The conversation began in fall 2020 when Dr. Susan Longfield-Karr in the History department at the University of Cincinnati reached out to me as Director of the UC Game Lab about running a “papal election larp” called Temptemus Papam that famous SF author and historian Ada Palmer ran at University of Chicago in 2018. I took one look at the materials as a larpwright and was overwhelmed: over 50 character sheets 6-12 pages in length, with many different overlapping subsystems for combat, intrigue, religious favors, economics, and inheritance. Hundreds upon hundreds of pages lay before me, all during a time when my own patience for this much reading was stretched to its natural limits. I agreed to do the project on one condition: I would need to substantively pare down the material and scope of the game, in addition to adapting it to a remote experience rather than an in-person one. Dr. Longfield-Karr agreed. The UC Papal Election Game was born.

    We transformed Temptemus Papam into a correspondence game, like the old play-by-mail Diplomacy runs. Over the course of 8 weeks, player-characters would exchange virtual letters with each other while sending “orders” for any character action to me. Every week, a video would be posted online with updates and the results of the previous week’s orders, giving the players a sense of agency and impact. All of these videos and the letters would be stored in a shared online folder, from which the passive players taking on the roles of historians could assemble the history of this particular election based on player-generated “primary documents.”

    Dr. Longfield-Karr and I tapped into 2 different funds available to us and hired ourselves a larp team: history student Matthew Photides made hundreds upon hundreds of shared folders to deposit letter correspondence, Erich Pfingstag made the videos, and Felicity Moran assisted with student communication. We had intrigue, kidnapping attempts, and even a few cat-and-mouse murders as letters flew.

    Several faculty playing NPCs got very involved in their characters, leading me to believe that participant safety is equally important for non-players. Two Zoom meetings let us first conduct the papal election, and then inaugurate the new pope, who turned out to be Rodrigo Borgia, the very person actually elected pope in 1492.

    Image of a computer directory with character names
    One of the many shared online folders containing letter correspondence in the UC Papal Election Game.

    D&D Speed Dating

    Shared-folder correspondence was only one form of online larping I organized. Another was in the long-standing virtual community Second Life, as part of the event SLarpFest organized by Celia Pearce and Jenn Frank in 2021 at the IndieCade island. The game I ran was Marc Majcher’s First Impressions, a Dungeons & Dragons-style speed-dating larp from his book Twenty-Four Game Poems.

    The premise of the game is simple: a group of fantasy adventurers go on a series of “dates” to determine whom they’d like to include in their questing party. Players get to embody fairly basic fantasy stereotypes while also deepening their own relationships with each other –– often role-players whom they’ve just met. In-person at conventions, I can run the game for 8 people in about an hour. The reason why I run it at conventions is also the reason why it worked well in Second Life: it’s short and it helps people navigate an awkward social situation. Most of our players knew either Second Life or larp, but almost no one knew both well. They’d switch partners maybe 3 or 4 times, with me calling them back to the tavern each time.

    Players felt safe enough to experiment with their avatars and their roleplay without too much worry about the stakes or consequences. First Impressions in fact served as a “warm-up” larp for other, more intimate and serious SLarpFest games: Angel Falls, a funeral larp inspired by Wim Wenders’ Wings of Desire (1987) by Pearce, Frank, and Annika Waern, Athena Peters’ Regency matchmaking game Romancing Jan, and The Sleepover by Julia B. Ellingboe and Kat Jones from the Honey and Hot Wax anthology, which deals with teen queerness and sexuality.

    All of us at SLarpFest were veteran larp organizers, and thus understood the relationship of comfort, safety, and community-building even in an online space: seemingly “silly” games like First Impressions build the trust necessary to take further role-play risks. Many of us have been running games on Discord, Zoom, and now Second Life for several pandemic rules, and our previous in-person larp experience directly applies to building necessary trust and competence in online spheres.

    Ongoing and Upwards

    Organizing continues! Jones and I have joined the writing team for JEWEL, a 2-day interactive experience for Jewish teens in Cincinnati. We’re using the larp design toolbox to help plan an event in which the participants experience Moses’ teachings and then mourn at his funeral. JEWEL is intended to reconnect Jewish youth with the social-justice meanings and embodied nature of their beliefs. But it is also an opportunity. JEWEL lets us take part in an exciting new world of event planning, in which larp activities can be integrated into broader community events with large constituencies and deeper pockets.

    “Larping exists in various other activities besides larps,” wrote J. Tuomas Harviainen in his 2011 article “The Larping that is Not Larp.” This persistent fact is solace during a time in which we’ve all become radically separated from one another and larps themselves are endangered by logistical and pandemic-level uncertainties. Our own generation of larpwrights are now, voluntarily or not, performing what Rudi Dutschke called “the long march through the institutions”: the incorporation of larping into whatever organizations we serve, with whomever will take a chance on our vibrant and evolving form.

    These organizations have, at last, discovered that engagement isn’t to be taken for granted. We as larpwrights can now choose to engage, too.

    References

    Harviainen, J. Tuomas. 2011. ”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.


    Cover photo: SLarpFest attendees hang out in the tavern on the IndieCade island in Second Life. Photo by Celia Pearce. Image has been cropped.

    This article is published in the Knutpunkt 2022 magazine Distance of Touch and is published here with permission. Please cite this text as:

    Torner, Evan. 2022. “Pandemic Larp Improvisation.” In Distance of Touch: The Knutpunkt 2022 Magazine, edited by Juhana Pettersson, 78-82. Knutpunkt 2022 and Pohjoismaisen roolipelaamisen seura.

     

  • The Magic of the Silicon Screen

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    The Magic of the Silicon Screen

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    The digital world is a place of magic. It is a liminal space that can connect your home with other realms, gives you the power to summon things, grants you access to vast stores of knowledge and ideas, and allows you to be anyone and anything you choose.

    Since the Covid-19 pandemic, mainstream larp has ventured into the magic of modern technology and what it has to offer. Many larp writers have begun to discover ways to use the varied online mediums and availability of transmedia technology to bring the extraordinary into bedrooms and living rooms. Digital larp has proven that it can be:

    • Immersive
    • Largely accessible
    • Profitable (when desired)
    • Transformative
    • Social
    Photo of a laptop
    A laptop on a desk, screen up and waiting

    Yet this is a medium which has long been used by larpers who have frequently found themselves unable to access the magic of in-person larps. Barriers of cost, time, distance, and mobility have led many people with caring or parental responsibilities, disabilities, or chronic conditions to seek alternative ways to larp through the use of online games. Through the magic of their computer screens, people have been quietly creating and transforming their own sacred spaces (Clapper 2018).

    In this article, we seek to recognise the enchantments of these accessible spaces and some of the reasons why you should consider using the silicon screen to create and share the magic of larp.

    1. Portals

    Digital larp refers to online roleplaying experiences where the majority of the interaction is character-to-character; i.e. non-narrated (Clapper 2019). For larpers with accessibility needs, digital larp can be a necessary gateway to social gaming – and one often dismissed by some able-bodied larpers, especially prior to the pandemic.

    There are some who combat the use of the word larp to describe digital larping (also known by other monikers such as online larp, remote larp, and e-larp). Game designer Gerrit Reininghaus invented and popularised the term LAOG (Live Action Online Games), viewing digital larp as enough of a distinctive format to merit a new term (Reininghaus 2019). While there are potential advantages to using a different label to highlight the features of the online experience, many who oppose online larping consider it a less legitimate format, which we feel provides an ableist perspective.

    Photos of players in a virtual larp
    Screenshot of contestants in the Astrovision Song Contest (2020) about to perform

    Digital larp can be used to create an immersive portal into another realm. In Dealmakers and Dreamers (2018), the computer screen represents the dream world, and players use masks and dreams to create an ethereal atmosphere. In both CHARIOT (2017) and ViewScream (2013), the screen is integrated into the worldmaking itself, becoming a video screen on a spaceship. As in in-person larp, participants of video-based games will usually wear appropriate costumes for immersion. It is also common for participants to either rearrange the objects they choose to be in view, or to make use of background images to show scenes that would be more difficult to re-create in-person.

    Photo of person in blue makeup larping online
    In CHARIOT (2017) characters on starships speak through screens, making the computer diegetic

    2. Magic Mirrors

    During the COVID-19 pandemic of 2020 onwards, larpers around the world gained extra accessibility requirements due to the loss of safety in in-person gatherings, additional difficulties with travel, and higher financial strain (Ebuenyi 2020). In addition to the expanded accessibility options in other features of life such as an increased capability to work at home, our societies discovered that while different, it is entirely possible to larp at home. The use of digital larp expanded significantly, leading to many new digital designers to experiment with different ways of using the online medium. For many seeking remote work status and advocating for digital larp as a means of physical accessibility, their needs suddenly became the world’s needs, and therefore more acceptable. As a result, many such gamers have found themselves with many more opportunities to take part in larp.

    Digital larp designers have played with the idea of using the features of video chat clients to provide different visual experiences. In Makeup Moments (2019), participants use the mirror-like image of themselves on the call to mimic an actual mirror as their characters get ready for a night out. Players in The Batcave (2020) turn their cameras upside down to create the appearance of a colony hanging from the roof of a cave. Outscored (2019) uses changes in the screen image to visibly alter the lighting in a dark room, varying players’ light levels as a way to visually reflect their respective social standing.

    Photo of four people larping online
    Screenshot from Outscored; the game mechanic causes lighting to vary, a visual reminder of character scores.

    3. Scrying

    Your digital screen is a crystal ball that allows you a glimpse into another location. Its use allows digital larps to span countries and continents, granting distant players who do not have easy access to transportation a chance to play. Larpers facing disabilities, chronic illnesses, and mental health concerns have been historically prominent users of digital larps, as most digital larps only require the participant to remain stationary in a chair or bed.

    Like most scrying devices, the screen grants a limited view. This grants a potentially enticing feature: it is possible to imply events taking place ‘off screen’. In Disconnected (2020), players are encouraged to ”vanish off screen and return to report something strange, and blame technical glitches on the breaking reality”. Tale As Old As Space (2020) instructs players to ”move to different spots if you are able, or otherwise find different camera angles, letting your camera angles change wildly as your character runs to reach the next spot before you are caught”.

    Person larping online in a spaceship setting
    Screenshot of The Inhabitant in Tale As Old As Space making use of costume and backgrounds.

    4. Hearth and Home

    A digital larp brings the game into the protective circle of hearth and home. For some players this can allow them to create a safe space containing their own accessibility devices. The ability to switch off video or microphone at any time and the control over their space is helpful for people with anxiety disorders or sensory issues. Additionally, in some areas of the world, it is not always possible for every player to feel moderately safe at physical larp locations, particularly for marginalised participants.

    A number of digital larps have taken advantage of the integration with the home circle to create a sense of intimacy. Sanctuary Avalon (2020) used ritual and guided meditation to invoke spirituality and allow participants to explore themselves within the safety of their own spaces. In Live Online Raptor Experience (2020), players who are able may use their devices while walking through a house or other location, creating a mobile ‘on the scene’ effect.

    Photos of people larping online
    Participants in Sanctuary Avalon performing a ritual and guided meditation.

    5. Time Travel

    Scheduling and travel time are difficult for many larpers, but digital larps can take place in one or more sessions in front of the computer. This makes larp more accessible for some parents and caregivers, who are disproportionately more likely to be of marginalised genders. It offers a shorter, more manageable time commitment for people with chronic health conditions or limited energy.

    The House (2012) was one of the earliest digital larps, based on reality TV shows where contestants compete to be the last remaining inhabitant of a shared household. In this game, players record daily videos in which their character speaks to the audience about their experiences and their opinion of the other contestants, allowing for asynchronous play and looser time constraints. Uneasy Lies The Head (2020) is another vlog-based game with flexible timing; characters post vignettes as short video blogs which can then be commented on as other players speculate on answers to questions and rumours.

    Photo of a text-based role-play session
    Characters in text-based game Thread explore links between theology and the labyrinth.

    6. Fairy Gold

    Digital larps are typically free or inexpensive, especially when compared to in-person larps. Even when run for a profit, digital larps require lower overhead and less resources; for example, there is no need to hire a venue, feed players, or purchase site-based insurance. This can make them more accessible for players with lower incomes.

    Digital larps can make use of inexpensive or even free technologies and resources to supplement the main game. Animus: The Eternal Circle (2020) uses a mixture of bots and websites to provide a puzzle element that unlocks extra plot and allows players to discover literal virtual connections to weave a feeling of connection to a larger force. Thread (2020) utilises background soundtracks and philosophical bots to invoke ancient myth and play with existential questions intrinsically linked to the online medium. And Tale As Old As Space includes password-protected files that are gradually opened to provide new information during the course of the game.

    7. Telepathy

    While in-person interaction favours personalities who are more extroverted and confident, a recent study found that online communication favoured more organised goal-oriented types (Purvanova et al. 2020). Other studies have found that gender can also be a factor; female-presenting people are more able to be assertive in virtual negotiations (Stuhlmacher et al. 2007). The differences in communicating online could mean that quieter players, who struggle to have their spotlight moment in in-person larp, get a chance to shine.

    Video is not the only medium for digital communication. Tankers (2020) uses audio-only while players lie in a dark room to create an experience simultaneously intimate and set in the vastness of space. As We Know It (2015) is a game played entirely by text message as survivors of an alien invasion try to connect with each other. Another  possibility is to use video and text communication for different purposes; for example, After Dark (2020) allows dead characters to communicate by text chat after their video is turned off, and Disconnected uses text chat as a method for the facilitator to pass out-of-game guidance to the players during video-based scenes.

    8. Running out of Spell Slots

    While digital larping is generally more accessible for larpers with disabilities, some have reported challenges. For players with visual impairments or hearing loss, over-reliance on either sound or images can create extra difficulties. Ideally, game designers should ensure that information can be accessed in other ways; use image descriptions and use text that can be read by text readers. In video play, ask players to display strong emotional signals and show their mouth clearly when speaking.

    Larpers with autism, ADHD, and auditory processing difficulties have noted that video platforms or fast scrolling text can challenge their ability to focus and comprehend. Neurotypical players can also find sustained engagement challenging: “Video chats mean we need to work harder to process non-verbal cues like facial expressions, the tone and pitch of the voice, and body language; paying more attention to these consumes a lot of energy” writes Manyu Jiang (2020) for BBC. This means that digital larps must be run, if not designed, with video chat fatigue in mind.

    9. Divination

    The use of technology in larp and games containing partial digital experiences has been increasingly used in recent years (Segura 2017), and it is possible that this trend will continue towards integration with digital larp design, allowing some players to take part entirely remotely.

    Larp studios aren’t the only organizations pivoting towards online experiences in the wake of the pandemic; theatres, escape rooms, and other immersive experiences have moved to online environments in creative ways. And there are many others who play with the construction of identity online to create larp-like experiences, though most of these would not call this larp (Manavis 2019). As these experiences become more widespread, there may be a cross-pollination of ideas and techniques.

    It is our hope that digital larp experiences will continue, following the cessation of the global pandemic. Now that more players have experienced larping on digital platforms, it’s time to normalize the legitimization of digital larp and to recognize the considerable flexibility and accessibility digital larps provide to many participants.

    References

    Clapper, Tara M. 2018. “5 Things I Learned about Running Digital Larps.” TGI. https://geekinitiative.com/digital-larp-experiences/

    Clapper, Tara M. 2019. “What is Digital Larp?” TGI. https://geekinitiative.com/tgilarps /what-is-a-digitallarp-faq/

    Ebuenyi, Ikenna D., Emma M. Smith, Catherine Holloway, Rune Jensen, Luc´ıa D’Arino, Malcolm  MacLachlan. 2020. “Covid-19 as Social Disability: The Opportunity of Social Empathy for Empowerment.” BMJ Global Health 5, no. 8: e003039.

    Jiang, Manyu. 2020. “The Reason Zoom Calls Drain Your Energy. BBC, April. https://-www. Bbc com/worklife/article/20200421-why-zoom-video-chats-areso-exhausting

    Manavis, Sarah. 2019.Why Young People are Turning to Online Live-action Roleplay.” New Statesman (July).

    Purvanova, Radostina K., Steven D. Charlier, Cody J. Reeves, and Lindsey M. Greco. 2020. “Who Emerges into Virtual Team Leadership Roles? The Role of Achievement and Ascription Antecedents for Leadership Emergence Across the Virtuality.” Journal for Business And Psychology (June): 1-21.

    Reininghaus, Gerrit. 2019. “A Manifesto for LAOGs Live Action Online Games.” Nordiclarp.org, June 14. https://nordiclarp.org/2019/06/14/a-manifesto-for-laogs-live-action-online-games/

    Segura, Elena Marquez, Katherine Isbister, Jon Back, and Annika Waern. 2017. “Design, Appropriation, and Use of Technology in Larps” In Proceedings of the 12th International Conference on the Foundations of Digital Games, FDG ’17, New York, NY, USA. Association for Computing Machinery.

    Stuhlmacher, Alice F., Maryalice Citera, Toni Willis. 2007. “Gender differences in virtual negotiation: Theory and research.” Sex Roles 57, no. 5-6: 329-339.


    Cover photo: Photo by Ales Nesetril on Unsplash.

  • Immersion through Diegetic Writing in Character

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    Immersion through Diegetic Writing in Character

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    Background

    I wrote my first poem when I was seven or eight years old. It was during a late dinner, I had just seen Carmen at the opera and was bored during dinner with my mother and my grandfather. On a napkin I scribbled a short poem. Thinking back, I don’t believe it was a coincidence that the creation of this first poem happened in close relationship to a very strong theatrical experience. Of course I had been in love with language long before that. Making up poems before I could even write, enjoying the feeling of stringing words together, making something beautiful. That this first actual written creation happened after my child self had experienced a very strong artistic performance made sense. I was filled with emotions I hardly understood, that needed to be expressed, and in that vacuum, poetry happened.

    As I grew older I would write poetry based on my own strong emotional experiences, a way of process perhaps? I would change my creative outlet from poetry to larp creation. Sometimes letting years go without writing a single poem. But it was always there as a way to gather my thoughts in moments of emotional turmoil, and strong emotional dissonance.

    Thankfully my life is not that filled with traumatic emotional experience these days, so my poetry writing has become much more rare. The most drama I experience these days is as a character at larps. However, I missed writing, and so I started experimenting with playing characters that expressed themselves through poetry. I quickly noticed that this was not only an excellent way to fuel my creativity, it also made my voice different. I might be the same person, but my style of poetry is not the same style as that of my characters, even if some similarities are unavoidable.

    Even more interesting, writing as a character, in-game meant I could sit alone in a room with a notebook, completely immersed in my character. Finally, I understood Finnish immersion closets; all I needed was some paper and a pen!

    I started to wonder, what happened there, in the meeting between me as a creator and the character? Could the written text change and influence play, but maybe more interestingly, could my character influence my own writing and creativity? Was this something more than I had experienced?

    In this little essay I will both use examples of my own writing, case studies of characters I played and how the diegetic poetry influenced the larp, but also of how the character influenced the writing style. I have also collected testimonies from other writing larpers or larping writers, since I wanted to know if this was more than a personal experience, asking them to reflect around their own diegetic writing experiences.

    Lastly I will talk a bit about larping through text, and how – if at all – using the writing medium changes the way we can interact, and the importance of writing style in our play.

    Feather quill in a gold pot near glass and metal containers
    Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.

    Three Examples from My Own Larping Career

    Below I will give three examples of larp characters I played and poetry they created. My focus will be on how creating these poems:

    • Felt in the moment
    • Changed the projection or story line of my character
    • Differed from my ordinary writing style

    I will also ask:

    • Did the larp experience change my normal writing?
    • Did design choices affect my use of writing in the larp?

    The Princess

    At Harem Son Saat (2017), I played the princess Samara. The larp designed by Muriel Algayres in itself did encourage writing. As a part of the larp all players got a small diary in which we were told to write either as our characters, or make small off game notes if needed. For me playing the sheltered young princess of the Harem, poetry became a natural way of self expression within the frames of female culture portrayed in the Harem of 1913.

    Harem Son Saat is a larp of the Romanesque tradition mixed with techniques from nordic larp. The romanesque larp style is much more narrative in its design elements, Muriel explains:

    [In] the French romanesque tradition . . . characters are quite frequently given as subjective diaries (and almost always written in the first person). This is in keeping with the literary origins and inspirations of this specific scene (tapping a lot in serialized novels of the XIXth century and Victorian melodrama), and also presents the characters through their subjective views, which allows for misunderstandings, play on prejudice, different readings of situations, etc.((Nast Marrero. 2016. “The Last Hours of the Harem.” Medium, June 26.))

    As a part of the design the players received a small diary for their character. It both contained subjective notes prewritten by the organizers but did also contain empty pages for the players to fill out in character during the larp. It was also to be saved afterwards as memorabilia of the larp experience if you wished.

    That we were given this physical artefact that encouraged us to do diegetic diary entries made it an easy choice for me to also start to write poetry in it, since poetry was one of the acceptable ways for my character to self express in a more or less safe way. The art of poetry became an alibi for her to speak her mind.

    Calligraphy pen writing in cursive on a page
    Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash.

    Preparing for the larp I also read a lot of Rumi, a famous mystical Turkish poet from the 13th century, to try and get some of the flavour of Turkish and Ottoman poetry, a style very far from my own personal writing. I also wrote poems in advance, marking important situations in her backstory.

    As the story of the princess born into a Harem longing for modernized western society progressed the poetry she wrote started to tell her story in it’s own way. Pivotal scenes documented in-game by her poetry. As a woman in the Harem she had limited possibility to communicate with men, even her father. She did however have the possibility to declare poetry or sing a song after dinner. This she did, as a way to communicate with her father and brothers.

    These are some examples:

    I am but a tool in my fathers hand
    Please God make me sharp and strong
    I am but the fruit of my fathers land
    Please God keep me sweet and young
    My heart is a sparrow small
    It flutters when I hear his call
    I step with care on burning coal
    Please grant me peace within my soul
    Purge my yearning, purge my dreams
    Drench this restlessness in my fathers streams

    Samara (A poem written earlier the same evening after a serious talk with her grandmother about Samara’s impending marriage, read out loud to her father the night of the 19th)

    A daughter’s duty is a rock in the ocean
    I will not be carried on the waves
    Your mightiness will overflow me
    Your current guides my night and days

    Samara (trying very hard to write a nice poem to her father for the competition 20th of June)

    But sometimes when the moon shines
    A lost ray will wander and shed some light,
    Reminding the rock that time
    will surely return it too the world

    Inayat, played by Jean-Damien Mottott (Answering by finishing Samara’s poem for her. She carried that close to her heart afterwards.)

    In this example Samara tries to make amends after some arguments about her future with her father, by writing this poem to declare to him during a poetry competition. Her secret lover Inayat, touched by her feeling of hopelessness, continued the poem with a verse of his own which he smuggled to her. A lot of this love story took its place in smuggled poetry and hidden glances.

    To sit and write the love poems, or the poems to my father in character helped me channel my character. It was a truly immersive experience helped along by the game design in itself that encouraged this type of diegetic writing.

    Old desk with pen and feather quill in a pot
    Photo by Clark Young on Unsplash.

    The Runaway Mother

    Another example of a larp were writing poetry in character had a huge impact both on my way of understanding my character, my characters self expression and my immersion is The Quota that ran in the UK in 2018, organised by Avalon Larp Studios and Broken Dreams larp. The larp takes place in a dystopian future where refugees try to get from England into Wales. It is set at the holding facility for refugees seeking asylum in Wales.

    In The Book of The Quota: A Larp about Refugees,((Elina Gouliou, ed. 2020. The Book of The Quota: A Larp about Refugees. Avalon.)) you can read more about the projects as well as several texts written by players both in and off game. There you can find all poems I wrote in character as the political poet, alcoholic Amanda Marks. Signing up for the larp, you got to choose between different archetypes, then one I got was “The Poet.” In preparation for the larp I knew I wanted her to try and leave England in the dystopian future the larp portrayed because she had written political poems, so I did create a couple beforehand. However the bulk of the poems were written ingame, drawing inspiration from what I saw and experienced there. I noticed how sneaking out for a smoke by myself (a moment that usually brings me off game and makes me reflect on the experience) became deeply immersive as what I saw while smoking would inspire poems I then would hurry in to write.

    The poetry also became acts of rebellion, creating play for others. I would hang them on the walls of the venue, and others would read them and get emotional. At one point I even delivered a poem to the overseer of the holding facility who responded with an intense scene of physical and emotional violence. Still most of the poetry was written for me. I would spend down time in the larp (which there was a lot of since it circled a lot around waiting and feeling powerless) writing and expressing myself through my poetry. At those moments I could become even more immersed than in actual scenes were I played with other larpers.

    I count the days until judgment
    Knowing the odds are against me
    There must be a better way out he said,
    Fresh eyes, hopeful smiles
    The key to survival is to survive the boredom
    and when you cannot wait anymore find a quick death
    Not too messy, think of the cleaners
    You can count many things in a prison
    Your friends, your enemies, your sleepless nights
    your pointless fights
    And when you run out of counting
    spread your wings and fly into a grey sunset
    without regret

    The silent scream is the loudest
    The yawn of desperation
    “You are not a good mother” they said
    Well you are not a good motherland
    I mean not to offend, but you need to amend
    Your view on humanity
    Bring back a little sanity
    A little decency, a little love
    I am not fooled by your rethorics
    I know your true nature mother England
    You eat your children, I only left mine

    Amanda’s poetry was a way for her to process her experience and after the larp I felt very little need for debrief writing, something I often do otherwise during an intense larp experience. I believe this was because I had already been processing the experience through words as it happened.

    The language also is a bit harder than in the case of Princess Samara. The subject is quite similar, both characters were women confined in space, by circumstances outside their control, and both characters had a rebellious streak, using poetry to not conform. Still Samara operated with her poetry within the confines of her situation, and it is in a way seen in the way her poetry is more bound by rhymes and rhythm, where Amanda’s poetry is more like spoken word, and flow rather than a set form.

    The Waiting Woman

    Feather quill in a pot on a desk with wooden drawers behind
    Photo by Chris Chow on Unsplash.

    When Covid-19 made larping in real life impossible this year, I started up a letter larp called My Dearest Friend (2020), running from the 1st of April to the 30th of November 2020. The setting and the idea was simple. Taking place in the middle of the First World War it centered around a boarding school for girls, and the men in their close acquaintance, many of them off at war of course. The parallels between the feeling among people during the beginning of 2020 and the characters in 1916 were deliberate. There was a feeling of life being thrown upside down. A new strange normalcy, the eager following of the news for updates. The feeling of being separated from loved ones as we practiced social distancing. For many participants the letters sent became something to look forward to in the dull normalcy of self isolation, much in the same way they would have been for the characters. In this larp I play several different characters but one of them, Millicent Struthers, writes poetry. This was something that I started on a whim, but as the larp has progressed the poems of Millicent have been a great way for me to process intense feelings of bleed in character.

    Though the format is low intensity, since you only are in character in your head while writing the letters it has for many become an intense experience where the borders between character and player easily get muddled due to the longevity of the larp. On top of that, many of the players, including myself, have introduced chat play as a part of the larp experience. It is not unheard of that I play my character on low intensity in these chats for weeks on end, without much break. This means that the immersion into character, although low in realism, becomes very emotional. By writing a poem when my character has a strong emotional response to a letter she received, or a situation in a chat, I can sort of debrief continuously while still in character.

    The style of Millicent’s poetry is romantic, on verse, and a bit naive just as her character is. One example is “I Have to Try and Go Alone,” written as an homage to her twin brother missing in action.

    Where are you; my brother now?
    In foreign land an unmarked grave
    In mud and rain and twilight gloom
    Where only foreign flowers bloom
    They cannot whisper any tales
    Of dear old britain’s glens and dales
    Where is that little daisy pray
    I gifted you to make you stay?
    Where is your smile, your beating heart?
    Your liquid tongue always so smart?
    Why were we so torn apart?

    My darling where are all your jokes?
    Your teasing and your ruthless mind?
    Where is that soft and tender side
    That so sorely hurt your pride?
    How am I to now be strong and bold?
    To laugh and live and then grow old?
    How am I to learn anew
    to be a person without you?
    I hear your voice as you scold me
    You are alive, you are set free!
    I am wherever you will be!

    But darling brother, life is hard
    When every step you ever walked
    Was hand in hand with you so dear
    Together always brave no fear
    Those unsaid words that still you knew
    Those dreams you wanted to come true
    Your reckless way of always running
    You complete lack of thought or cunning
    Your way that made me feel allowed
    To be strong, and clever and proud
    To stand tall and be unbowed

    I know you want for me to smile
    To live and love for both of us
    I try to find my heart again
    A tender voice a loving friend
    I listen to your voice these days
    You scold me in familiar ways
    And wild grass grows above your head
    And all the words we left unsaid..
    Your dear beloved smile is gone
    I have to try and go alone
    I have to try and go alone

    These poems were very different from my personal writing style, and much more dramatic and filled with adjectives.

    In the larp the poetry has been a good way to address hard subjects without saying things straight out, subtlety being much harder in a larp only taking place as a written media. The poem about the dead brother was for example sent to another character whose brother was missing in action, in an attempt to get him to open up about his grief.

    Summary of my Experiences

    In all three examples above gathered from my own larping experience there are some common threads. The writing was all influenced by the character and the setting when it came to both style and quality.

    The moments I wrote diegetically made immersion stronger, sometimes creating a feeling of flow more pure than while larping with other people. At times I felt like I was more channelling the character’s voice more than anything else, and seldom did I have to consciously alter my writing style to fit the setting or the character’s voice.

    I do believe that the diegetic writing has in all instances influenced the narrative of my larp, albeit not changed it completely. With Samara the ways she could communicate through poetry with her father and her love interest definitely steered the overall narrative arc in a certain direction. With Amanda her poems being put up on the walls of the prison became a way to rally the other detained refugees, but also created a sub plot of conflict between her and the management that created an even stronger tension and friction between her and the confines she was living under. I don’t believe the poetry has been as strong an influence in the letter larp with Millicent. Perhaps because it is hard to see what effects a choice like sending a poem has with your co-player’s story when you don’t see them react to it. Instead it becomes more like all the other letters sent out into the void, a way of communicating equal to any other mean used.

    I don’t think in-game writing influences my off-game writing much except for being an inspiration to write more. As a way of processing emotions created by bleed, or as a way to use the allegory of the larp to process my own emotions in real life. However I do believe it does make me a better writer, as the skill to intuitively change voice in your writing is very useful.

    How a larp is designed can also of course influence how useful ingame writing is in developing narrative or deepening the relationships between characters.

    In Harem Son Saat, not only were we given diaries and encouraged to use them, but the way female and male characters were separated and forbidden to communicate with each other that then in very structured ways meant that the use of poetry as secret communication was a natural development. Having a prompt to make the character creative, such as the archetype Poet that was given in The Quota also makes it a natural choice to make the character creative.

    However I was interested in finding out if other larpers who write diegetically had the same experience or if this was just me.

    Pot of ink with a swan decoration and feather quill
    Photo by Pierre Bamin on Unsplash.

    Other Testimonies

    Preparing to write this article about diegetic writing and its power for immersion I asked any larper that wanted to send in their answers and reflections around my basic questions of reflection as well as these four questions:

    1. In what way do you write creatively as yourself?
    2. How many larps have you on purpose incorporated your writing into your character?
    3. Did writing diegetically change how you immersed into your character?
    4. Did your style of writing change in regard to the type of character you portrayed?

    My real question was of course, does writing diegetically change your larping experience, and does your larping change your written expression? It seemed like this was the case. Out of the ten people that replied some common denominators could be found.

    All but one stated they wrote different kinds of lyric or fiction outside the larp realm as well, many in a professional capacity as poets, authors or journalists. It makes sense after all, that people who already express themselves through writing would feel inclined to use that medium to bot process and create emotional intense experiences in-game.

    Writing is how I as a player process my feelings and observations, so writing in-character brings me closer to my character. Writing in-character fosters a more introverted style of playing, as otherwise I might pour my feelings more outward; it produces a less extroverted character interpretation.

    Elli Leppä

    For others it wasn’t so much the writing in itself that contributed to the larp experience but more the act of embodying a writer with the added alibi for interaction that gave ingame:

    Did writing diegetically change how you immersed into your character?

    Not, I think, so much the writing as much as being the writer, whose driving force in both instances became a) meeting the deadline and b) finding the next thing to report. Interviewing people for colour pieces was good for engaging with new people and the newspaper was good for disseminating information of major events to people who weren’t there.

    Jukka Särkijärvi

    How often was more varying, some had only consciously done it once, others had a hard time remembering the amount of larps where diegetic writing had been a prominent part of their experience. Sometimes this had been designed into the characters, and helped propelling the plot. At other times it was a private decision. In some instances it is actively used as a tool for deeper immersion into the character:

    I find it easier to immerse through the written word, so the act of writing as my character diegetically – particularly as an introspective act – helps to cement who they are within the diegesis.

    Simon Brind

    I found that sitting with my notebook made me feel more comfortable sitting alone and also made it easier to sit near people and join the conversations. Writing lullabies for rain – her dead and then returned daughter made the grief and longing and the need to believe in her being there far more real and immersive.

    Laura Wood

    [I]t makes it seem [a] bit more ‘real’ if you write a report, a ritual, a letter a story, song, poem etc as your character.

    Woody J. Bevan

    I felt that having this extra dimension of immersion into the character was very effective. When writing as them, I could think as them and feel as them, perhaps more powerfully than I could have done without it.

    Mo Holkar

    This was not true for everyone though. Toril Mjelva Saatvedt said that the writing in character didn’t change the way she immersed herself. However the act of writing, and the product of that writing added to the character embodiment and became a tangible part of who they were. It was something that could be performed in character, or something that could be shown to other players, a way of portraying the character’s thoughts and feelings.

    Another part of diegetic writing is when the larp in itself takes place through a written medium.. In some larp communities pre-larp in text chat is implemented. Another example of larp performed in the written medium is letter larping, a genre that is quite common and has had an upswing during the Covid-crisis when physical larps have had to be cancelled or postponed. Chris Hartford talked about the impact of pre larp in order to get a stronger connection to characters and plot:

    I think writing helps to embed the character in yourself — you get a feel for their reactions and limits – as well as providing an emotional connection, both for myself and co-players. Often there is an off-game chat alongside the text RP, and on more than one occasion I’ve had co-players say those scenes solidified the game and concepts. For example, at one [College of Wizardry (2014-)] a co-player said, ‘and if you wondered, that was the point [the character] thought it could work” and before Odysseus, a short (600 word) preplay scene turned a dry on-and-off-relationship into a living and breathing (but challenging) romance.

    Chris Hartford

    However it is an important distinction here. Preplay is not diegetic writing. It is written in a meta space, where you describe actions and conversations in written form. It is not written from the headspace of the character. The resulting text is not a prop that can be used ingame. Letter larps on the other hand is a larp solely played out through diegetic writing. Where the words filtered through the characters is the only means of communication between characters and therefore play. In this format the diegetic writing becomes the playing, and the creations of poetry or diary notes outside of the letters might be a way to develop your own emotional connection to the character. Especially since the letters written diegetically might not always be as honest as a conversation, since the character has time to filter through what will be said, and how it will be said.

    In the interviews Lolv Pelegrin addressed a very important question when it comes to diegetical writing on the international larp scene. When discussing if the writing style changed in regard to the type of character they played, they reflected that it did, but that the change was bigger if they wrote in their native language. However, with English being their third language meant that the nuances in the writing were less prominent. This is an interesting point that is important to note. In our international community, fluency of language does create an invisible barrier between player and immersion. Not only in diegetic writing, but in larping in general. If you are not comfortable with the English language the fluidity of immersion will always be hindered as the player will need to struggle to formulate themself in a foreign language. Diegetic writing will therefore naturally not be as beneficial for immersion as it would be for someone fluent in the language.

    Calligraphy pen next to pink flowers
    Photo by John Jennings on Unsplash.

    Conclusion

    Writing diegetically at larps seems to be a way to enhance immersion and get closer to the characters inner feelings for most of the people who have done so. Most likely this would not be true for players who aren’t naturally inclined to write in their everyday as well. It takes a predisposition to express oneself through the writing medium for this to be a seamless action that enhances play. However, for those that already use the written language to process emotions and thoughts, writing as a character will often not only immerse the player on a deep level but also inspire the player to create in a different way than normally. In many instances the act of writing in itself can create meaningful moments for the player, even without the input of other players in that moment. It also is useful as a way to communicate a character’s emotion openly even when the setting or the character traits means that such displays of strong emotion are inappropriate. Diegetic writing can also when done as an active choice and displayed to the other players as in Jukka’s journalist that gave him an alibi to interact with other players, or in my own examples described above, influence the larp on a bigger level. Creating moments of emotional connection, and meetings between characters who might not have communicated in that way with each other without the written text.

    Even though diegetic writing is something you as a player easily can implement in almost any setting, there are things that will make this choice more natural. Characters that are already written as prone to creative writing is of course a motivator to take that route. Perhaps more so is when the organizers themself press upon the written medium as a way to communicate and self reflect continuously through the larp experience such as the diaries and the poetry competition at Harem Son Saat.

    When it comes to larp that singularly takes place through the written medium, such as letter larps, this creative writing might be a good supplement to process emotions within the character that cannot be expressed in letters addressed to others. It might help in immersion and in processing emotions diegetically although letter larps by nature have low levels of immersion due to the format.

    The skill of larping in your own head, the finnish immersion closet is hard for many players that need the input from others in order to completely let go of their off-game meta reflections. By forcing oneself to write in character you engage your character’s thoughts and feelings in a lonely environment. It’s a tool that can help you get to grip with what the character really is feeling and thinking that can enrich both your own larp experience and by extension, in spreading the written text, the larp experience of others.

    As a writer, or someone who enjoys writing in their everyday life it can also act like a motivator to explore different formats and styles of writing. By channeling the character’s voice you push yourself to experiment with tone, format and voice. It is a playful act in and of itself, in stretching your creative muscles. The writing itself becomes its own kind of documentation of the larp experience, and a memorabilia of an experience that often is hard to capture by other means. Although pictures are a good way of capturing the larp from the inside. The written text becomes a documentation of the larp from the inside, and can be saved and relished for a long time afterwards as you as a player look back at the larp experience.

    However it is a tool that is not easily accessible to all players. It depends a lot both on the aptitude for writing in the player as well as their comfort level with the language used at the larp; something you might want to keep in mind if you want to try it out yourself.

    References

    Gouliou, Elina, ed. 2020. The Book of The Quota: A Larp about Refugees. Avalon.

    Marrero, Nast. 2016. The Last Hours of the Harem. Medium, June 26.


    Cover photo: Image by Digital Content Writers India on Unsplash. Photo has been cropped.

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

    Sandquist, Siri. Immersion through Diegetic Writing in Character. In Book of Magic, edited by Kari Kvittingen Djukastein, Marcus Irgens, Nadja Lipsyc, and Lars Kristian Løveng Sunde. Oslo, Norway: Knutepunkt, 2021. (In press).

  • Three Forms of LAOGs

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    Three Forms of LAOGs

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    In this article, I present a categorization of LAOGs – depending on how they make use of the communication channels in place. I identify three different forms: The Diegetic Call, The Invisible Call, and The Metaphorical Call. Let me take you on this journey of design exploration. Then make up your own mind how your experience fits or does not fit into this picture.

    Three forms of LAOG, illustration by Gerrit Reininghaus
    Three forms of LAOG, illustration by Gerrit Reininghaus

    LAOG stands for Live-Action Online Game. As the name indicates, this is a category of games which have a strong live-action component and are designed for online play. LAOGs have dramatically increased in popularity due to the pandemic of 2020 / 2021 when many larpers turned online to find an outlet for the grief for the loss of their hobby in the time of social distancing. Many people also use the terms online larp, digital larp or LORP (Live-Online Roleplaying) for more or less the same thing. It does not matter that much how it is called.

    However, LAOGs have the distinct claim that they are designed for the online space and are not a mere replacement for something else. Moreover, as the author of this piece is personally coming from a TTRPG background, the word LAOG nicely combines these worlds: taking the LA from larp, the G from RPG and then merging the two and their design world in the O for the online space.

    The concept existed already before. The LAOG manifesto was published in early 2018, first as a collaborative Google Doc, then later on the larp theory website nordiclarp.org. The first LAOG in existence though at that time was already a few years old. ViewScream by Raphael Chandler came out in 2013 and already had all the ingredients in place.

    The Golden Cobra freeform / larp competition recognized the existence of the design framework first in 2019 when the jury made LAOG its own category to win a Golden Cobra. The 2020 competition of the Golden Cobra was then already all and only about LAOGs (plus epistolary games).

    With the plethora of LAOGs now in existence, it is time to take a step back and see if they can be categorized in a meaningful manner. Categorization is not to be understood to once and forever put ideas and designs into a box and never let them out again. It will also inevitably fail to recognize the beauty of imagination of game design and how it slips out of any attempt to pin it down on one definition. Quite the opposite, the following categorization shall be an invitation to break it. Designers, please look at this and prove it all wrong!

    The video call – communication kernel of LAOGs

    The core of most (not all, more about exceptions later) LAOGs is the video call. Google Hangout was the first and most prominent service for many years in which RPGs could be played in a video call for free (well, paying with your personal data in your Google account, that is).

    In a video call you have many ways to express yourself: there is your voice, with all its nuances, your face expression, your background, i.e. what is behind you, the side chat. In some services you see yourself as a group (gallery view), other services provide an AI controlled speaker focus, most modern services allow you to choose whatever you prefer.

    Virtual backgrounds add another dimension (thanks to AI identifying your upper body that even now works without a proper unicolored background – aka green screen). Many side chats allow for direct messages to other participants, allowing for secret communication. You can mute yourself and switch your video off. Hosts often can do so for others.

    Features, fancies and the future

    Every platform has its own set of features beyond that – allowing for very different design surfaces. However, as a designer it is a big bet to rely on a non-standard feature. Not only will the game be less likely played if players are forced to use a platform they are not on yet. More so, if the service your game relies on switches that feature off or goes completely out of service, your game is dead.

    Another array of video platforms has arisen in 2020: 2D or spatial chat services like gather.town or spatial.chat imitate a two-dimensional landscape one can wander on. A video call is established as soon as people are in a certain proximity to each other. For some services, the sound volume depends on how close you are to somebody.

    Finally, Discord is until now the most elegant way (though by far not the most elegant video call service) to connect many video, voice and chat channels together in a meaningful way. Games designed for a Discord use channels to imitate real world places or thematically separate players and their in-game-abilities.

    Forms of LAOGs

    Yet, the dominant play form still is the video call in one version or another.

    Given this preset, what forms of LAOGs have we seen emerge in the last years? The following is the attempt to categorize some of the games we have observed and how to set them into position to each other. A disclaimer right at the start: no form is better than the other. However, I have to admit that I personally am more excited by some forms than by others at the moment. You can probably guess which.

    Cover of The Space Between Us, composite image by Wibora Wildfeuer
    Cover of The Space Between Us, composite image by Wibora Wildfeuer

    The Diegetic Call

    The first category or form of LAOGS, diegetic video calls, has been around since the very beginning. This is about LAOGs where the video call is a video call in-game or something very close to a video call for the characters.

    Already in 2013, ViewScream was published and immediately a success in TTRPG circles (not in larp circles interestingly). ViewScream, by Raphael Chandler is a space drama to be played fully in-character about a crashing spaceship with just not enough tools to rescue everybody. Players are connected via video call which is interpreted as the board communication system. The call is a call. Characters are at different locations. They connect through a video call – just as the players do.

    Another example is So Mom, I Made This Sex Tape. This game by Susanne Vejdemo came out in the #feminism anthology in 2016. The LAOG variant was first played in 2018. In the original game, female family members meet for coffee and cake to discuss the involuntary publication of a private sex tape. In the LAOG variant, the setting is naturally modified to have the family members only be connected through a video call. Bad connection, grandma not finding the unmute button, etc: you can build all your technology troubles into your game play.

    The same principle applies to Winterhorn by Jason Morningstar. The LAOG variant was first played only a week after the game was published in 2017. A group at the Gauntlet Community, which is known for being at the forefront of work on online play, played the game as a LAOG. In its original version it is supposed to be a series of office meetings of secret agents and state policy to sabotage a group of political activists. Obviously, these meetings can equally be held in online meetings – as the rest of the world learned in the pandemic of 2020.

    There are plenty of games now using the video calls in this diegetic manner. The Space Between Us by Wibora Wildfeuer, maybe the most often played LAOG until now, and winner of the prestigious German larp award FRED as the Best Mini-Larp 2020, is returning to the video call as a remote connection between spaceships as did ViewScream seven years before.

    There are games which go a bit further in the diegetic interpretation. For example, games in fantasy settings consider the video call as “magic crystal balls of distant communication.” But in the end, the call is a call.

    This seems important to many people coming from a physical larp background. I have heard voices who claim that their immersion fails if games consider the video call in other ways. It seems difficult to imagine doing what you did before out in the world, face to face, now disrupted by screens, headsets and microphones.

    However, I would suggest thinking about this: wasn’t it equally difficult to imagine at the beginning of your larp career that you could ever take foam swords or foam fireballs seriously? That people with crossed arms on their chest can be ignored as if they were not there although they obviously are? Suspension of disbelief is a difficult beast. But I ask myself why it should stop at a video call but has not for other meta techniques.

    This especially goes for safety techniques. I still remember the days when safety techniques were considered as making our games lame. The disruptive nature of the X-card or an out-of-game check-in if somebody is ok with certain content seemed problematic. But safety techniques did not take away the fun, instead quite the opposite. People got over it. We now have a widened repertoire of techniques and more games available than we had before. The same goes for LAOGs in which video calls are not diegetic. Which brings me to the next form of LAOGs.

    The Invisible Call

    Second-generation LAOGs did not mind about the video call. The call stayed invisible in the background. That you and the other players could not interact physically was considered as much of a fact as that you would not hurt or sexually interact with other players in a physical larp although your characters would possibly do that.

    They might have taken inspiration from freeform RPGs like Witch: Road to Lindisfarne or Fall of Magic, which were already played freeform widely online without trouble and often enough pretty much all in-character within a scene. More likely though they were inspired from the Nordic Larp tradition of chamber larps or black box larps.

    Digital Black Box cover from The Election of the Wine Queen, illustration by Gerrit Reininghaus
    Digital Black Box cover from The Election of the Wine Queen, illustration by Gerrit Reininghaus

    The first was The Election of the Wine Queen which started as an adaptation of a physical larp but quickly turned into its own beast. It was labelled as a “digital black box larp” back then (that was before the LAOG manifesto was published) and it delivered on these terms: The game ignores the video call. Players who are not in a scene switched off their camera. As this game is about a competition in a wine region (a bit like a beauty queen contest), players not in a scene are invited to make wine drinking noises, like pouring water or wine close to the mic, or letting two glasses clank. This is purely for ambience. Between acts, each consisting of 4 to 6 scenes, players step out of character to plan scenes and discuss the progress of the story. Then scenes are played without further breaks.

    Inner monologues are part of the game: while everybody else has their camera off, the monologuing player talks to themselves as if they are alone in the room. Sometimes this can be interpreted as a video diary. Sometimes it is seen as talking with your mirror.

    LAOGs with invisible calls might be designed to be about people sitting together at a table (like in The Wizard’s Querulous Dram or in the Society of Vegan Sorcerers) over the whole play time, and so by design not interacting physically. But, like in The Election of the Wine Queen, they can also focus simply on the dialogue. Aspects of the surrounding can be brought in easily as direct speech, in the same way that an audio play would do it: “How do you like my new green dress?” establishes smoothly what your character is wearing. “Shut up, little sis’, I’m now talking to mom” introduces an NPC without ever hearing an actual word from them.

    While Diegetic LAOGs have to care less about the limitations of an online connection compared to being physically present in the same space, Invisible Call LAOGs have more freedom in the design.

    Another important thing is tone setting: Diegetic LAOGs inherently emphasize the isolation between the players. We are not in the same space and this fact is part of the game. Invisible LAOGs allow us to forget the physical distance for a moment. We can feel like sleeping together in a room with bunk beds, focusing on hearing the others breathing: in the flow of play, we can forget about the fact we are bound to a computer screen and a keyboard. Especially in times of a pandemic, many people consider games an escape from feelings of isolation. So Invisible LAOGs might be a better choice for them.

    The Metaphorical Call

    Finally, the call can be a metaphor. This goes beyond coming up with a different interpretation of what the call stands for. Instead, what I mean by the metaphor is that the call is stripped to its essential ingredients, re-interpreted in some of its elements and transformed into an integral mechanic of the game. This might become clearer after some examples.

    The communication setup of Last Words, illustration by Gerrit Reininghaus
    The communication setup of Last Words, illustration by Gerrit Reininghaus

    Last Words is a three-player LAOG about a deceased and a living person who still has unresolved business with each other. The Living frequently comes to the grave of the Deceased and tells them what is changing in their life. The spirit of the Deceased is responding but cannot be heard by the Living. An Angel, the third player, is instead communicating for the Deceased by sending images into the Living’s dreams. This is all realized by a video call in which the Living is putting their volume to zero as does the Angel. If the session is recorded, which is especially recommended for this game, the player of the Living can later listen to what the Deceased had to say. The Angel still can hear what the Deceased has to say but not what the Living says, as Angel and Deceased are connected through a separate voice-only call. The dream images are sent through a shared Google Drawing. If you want to go full in, the Deceased can play the game from their bed, in the dark, emulating the feeling of lying in a grave.

    As we see, the call is dissected into its communication components: who sees whom and can hear or express themself is limited by the game’s logic. The Metaphorical Call feels much less like a call than an intermittent medium subordinated to the meaning of the in-game equivalent.

    Other games do not go that far and yet turn the video call into something new. In Makeup Moments players are a group of friends or colleagues preparing for a big event, by putting up makeup on together. Players actually put makeup on in the game and are asked to use their webcam view as a mirror. The intimacy of caring about your appearance is literally mirrored by the secret not so secret observer who can look at you as if they are behind the mirror. The webcam as a mirror is a powerful re-design of a tool which is in its original design meant to look at others, not yourself.

    In The Batcave players play a family of bats hanging from the ceiling of their cave to figure out which cave to inhabit next. Feeling like a bat is achieved by putting a blanket around your shoulders – and by turning the camera view upside down – a feature Zoom currently offers and which can also be reached through the OBS video processing software. That way, players look like they are hanging from the ceiling. While in the game, one gets quickly used to that view – a group of people in a call all upside down is absurd enough – and players turn fully bat in their body motions and noises they make

    Screenshot from The Batcave, by Gerrit Reininghaus
    Screenshot from The Batcave, by Gerrit Reininghaus

    What’s next

    I have given a short introduction into the art of LAOG and offered a categorization on what forms a video call can take in a LAOG. The LAOG manifesto will present to you more important stuff I could not pack into this article, like talking about the many aspects of inclusivity LAOGs are providing or discussing safety issues in LAOGs.

    More and more sources about the potential and interpretations of this design framework are getting published. Scholars also discuss questions around accessibility of the format, extending on what has been laid out only roughly in the LAOG manifesto. The best place to stay in touch with the latest developments currently is a Facebook group called Remote, Digital Larp and Live-Action Online Games. There, you will also find out how many other forms LAOGs can take, far beyond the expected video call.

    Playing a LAOG through sending songs to each other alone (Radio Silence by Hannah J. Gray) or a text chat based LAOG accompanied by its own pace setting soundtrack (Alice is Missing), playing through Instagram by sending euphoric and supportive comments to each other’s best yoga poses (#instayoga) – there are more options that “Online” can provide to us.

    Give it a try. LAOGs come in all kinds of flavours and forms.


    Ludography

    Chandler, Raphael. ViewScream, 1st Edition. Neoplastic Press. 2013

    Cowman, Ross. Fall of Magic. Heart of the Deernicorn. 2015

    Gorman, Wendy. Society of Vegan Sorcerers. Gauntlet Publishing. 2017

    Gray, Hanna J. Radio Silence. Game and a Curry. 2021 (still to be published)

    Lacy, Richard & Barthaud, Kevin. Witch: Road to Lindisfarne. Pompey Crew Design. 2012

    Morningstar, Jason. Winterhorn. Bully Pulpit Games. 2017

    Reininghaus, Gerrit. Last Words. Gauntlet Publishing. 2019

    Reininghaus, Gerrit. Makeup Moments. Gauntlet Publishing. 2019

    Reininghaus, Gerrit. Outscored. Golden Cobra Challenge. 2019

    Reininghaus, Gerrit. The Batcave. Golden Cobra Challenge. 2020

    Reininghaus, Gerrit. The Election of the Wine Queen. Gauntlet Publishing. 2018

    Roske, Shawn. #instayoga. 2019

    Stark, Spenser. Alice is Missing. Hunters Entertainment. 2020

    Stark, Lizzie & Morningstar, Jason. The Wizard’s Querulous Dram. Bully Pulpit Games. 2020

    Vejdemo, Susanne. So Mom, I Made This Sex Tape. #Feminism Anthology. 2016

    Wildfeuer, Wibora. The Space Between Us. 2020

    Bibliography

    D, Quinn & Schiffer, Eva. Writing Live Action Online Games. NordicLarp.org. 2020

    Felton, Acata. LARPs Playable Online. Google Sheets. 2020

    Marsh, Erin, and Hazel Dixon. Accessibility in Online Larp. NordicLarp.org. 2021

    Reininghaus, Gerrit. The LAOG manifesto. NordicLarp.org. 2019

    Reininghaus, Gerrit. An Overview of Existing LAOGs. Alles-ist-zahl.de. 2020


    Cover photo: Negative Space from Pexels.

  • I Stepped into the Eternal Circle, Animus: the Larp

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    I Stepped into the Eternal Circle, Animus: the Larp

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    Animus: the Eternal Circle — a Transmedia Larp is an online game.((Sometimes called a LAOG, see Reininghaus (2019).))  It has been run four times over the course of 2020 and included 288 players. The designers, a team originated from Italy with helpers all over the world, Chaos League, describe Animus as:

    A story in which ordinary people with their doubts, weaknesses, and fears, are confronted with a greater destiny. It talks about our lives and what we might have been in another time and space. Other lives. In search of our own self. In search of the people we are connected to.

    Inspired by Sense8 and The OA, Animus is about friendship, courage, hard choices. About what we were and what we still are deep inside. Animus is a larp that speaks to our emotions. It’s a journey to discover who we really are.

    Animus takes place nowadays and tells of the past and present lives of a group of special people bound by destiny. (Chaos League)

    I participated in both Run 2 on 23-24 May 2020 as a player, and in Run 4 on 13-14 June 2020 as an NPC and facilitator.

    In this article, I will present the larp Animus: The Eternal Circle, discuss its mechanics, and  share how the different tools used in designing this game have contributed to my good experience both as player and facilitator. I will first describe why my own story as a larper Animus was so appealing.

    Preparing the Leap of Faith: Before the Game

    I started larping in 2012. Before that, I was used to tabletop games and forum role-play. I first played locally in France, but went exploring in the international scene in 2018, taking part in the larp Suffragette! 

    I am attracted to larp because the magic circle is one of my specific interests, as is storytelling. I love all kinds of larps as long as I can share a wonderful, transformative experience with my co-players and organisers. I’ve been a Wachowski fan since The Matrix, so when I first heard about Chaos League’s Sense8-inspired transmedia piece, I had to have a look for myself. Sense8 (2015-2018) is a television show about 8 people across the world who are linked together psychically and empathically.

    Enough to get me on board, indeed, but what made me stay after and enroll myself as NPC?

    Animus was not my first online larp. During the lockdown, I was lucky enough to try several.  For example, Mo Holkar’s After Dark, which was workshopped and played on Jitsi, is a game in which you play the last reunion of a family over visio-conference before their emotions get the better of them and they die of an unknown virus. I also played Are You There?, a Discord-based online larp by Mia Welander. The game follows a forum chat by a group of survivors after a deadly virus killed ninety-nine percent of the population at the beginning of 2020.

    While I loved delving into Type 2 fun,((“Type 2 is a strange beast, because it isn’t actually fun at the moment. In fact, it feels much like suffering. It’s only after the event, and in reflection, that you come to realize you actually had fun” (Peck 2017).)) Animus with its hopeful story seemed like the breath of fresh air I needed. As I saw lockdown in France persisting, I signed up to play it.

    Although the game is mostly “Discord-based,” it is a transmedia experience.((Wikipedia (n.d.) describes Transmedia in the following way: “Transmedia storytelling (also known as transmedia narrative or multiplatform storytelling) is the technique of telling a single story or story experience across multiple platforms and formats using current digital technologies.))

    In Animus, the players use audio files, Google docs, a website, and a musical soundtrack, all of which make the play richer and all the more stimulating. The play, scattered across different media, tells one beautiful story.

    After my sign-up, I received a form with a short description of each character. The files were well-made and the short description included the themes, keywords, and triggers relevant to each character. We were asked to choose four characters out of six in our order of preference.

    Later on, we received specific files for our final character including their past, present, how they were perceived by others, and the first feelings and impressions that strike them when meeting the other characters at the beginning of the game.

    The Lines of the Circle

    Background

    The larp was set in the present in the midst of the Covid-19 pandemic in an international lockdown. The characters were a group of people getting online self-guided group therapy to treat their compulsive fantasy disorder, also known as maladaptive daydreaming, a condition that they first dealt with using beta-blockers.((In Sense8, beta-blockers are a type of medicine that characters take to shut down their psychic link with others.))

    Setting

    The seven pre-written characters: Alexis, Camille, Elliot, Jackson, Sasha,  Robyn, and Hayden (NPC) are complete strangers when they get acquainted through a self-analysis platform, The Beacon, and are grouped together as a Circle by a team of online therapists. They’re all from different places in the world, from different age groups, ethnicities, genders, and backgrounds with the very same goal: stopping the worsening of their condition, which is starting to wreak havoc into their life and impeding them from enjoying it fully.

    Little do they know they are linked to one another.

    During two days and three therapy sessions, each of them is expected to share with their peer group their fears, their hopes, the content of their daydreams, and most of all, their secrets. In revealing these things, they will unveil a bond that goes beyond what is written in stone or the stars.

    The game is based on two strong pillars: 1) emotional play and interactions of characters mixed with 2) discoveries and mystery solving. The characters tell a story while working together, hoping to bring the hidden truth to light.

    Despite this search for truth, the game is also an exercise based on trust, fostered by an off-game workshop where the principle of “no false bottom” was introduced and developed. No false bottom means that the key facts of the premise, the therapy, the beta-blockers, and the psychological condition contain no twists or surprises; there is no team of evil doctors nor secret scientist programs like in Sense8. The secrets lie inside the character’s lives, their present, past, and future.

    Structure

    The game was divided between official time slots (the group therapy sessions) and two free time slots.

    The therapy sessions and workshop were played over video conference, a new feature that the platform Discord added to their vocal channels and released within the first day of lockdown. During the free slots, the players were welcome to use the text channel as well as the video/vocal ones.

    After a short workshop meeting with our facilitator on Friday night, we started the game in character the next day to engage in the first of the three therapy sessions.

    The sessions always followed the same structure: each character took the floor and revealed one secret, unveiling their link as they did so, while the other characters listened, offered advice, support, and care.

    The players were encouraged to fill in a diary: a shared document on Google Drive. In the fiction, the characters were asked to write in the diary for the therapists, explaining the content of the session,  their feelings, and the questions each character harbors for their peers, etc. Furthermore, the diary being available to all, everyone had an opportunity to play on the other characters’ feelings, to flesh out their relationships, and to make them evolve with each session.

    The structure was repetitive, but that was a good thing, setting up an atmosphere of comfort and familiarity.

    This structure meant that by the time of the third session, despite the tension of the game, we knew what we had to do. The group was closer and everybody’s role in it was clear.

    Photo of 7 players in a Discord larp called Animus
    Run 2 of Animus larp. Photo by LolV Peregrin.

    Entering the Circle as Player

    A Perfect Trust

    I first entered the Circle playing Sasha. Written as a burned-out humanitarian who has been working in a convenience store for the last ten years, I interpreted him through my prism: of someone living with PTSD. Based on my own perception of my syndrome, Sasha was on edge — a bundle of good intentions and very raw, very intense emotions. A soul still marked by his experience and the horrors he witnessed after the earthquake in Haiti.

    He was shy, lonely, but sweet and eager to connect with these new people and to try to get better. He was starting to have enough of his convenience store life: safe, comfortable, a bit boring, but not happy.

    Sasha wanted to stop waiting and start acting again, but without losing himself this time. He wanted to reclaim himself and start protecting others in doing so.

    During the game, he tried to help to the best of his capacity, sometimes coming close to losing faith: faith in himself, in others, in his belief that a moment — his moment — will come.

    He was supported, cared for, and helped through his tough time by his Circle members. When allowed, during the very peculiar and secret circumstances of the end of the game, to leave a message that will outlive him, he wrote:

    I’m not afraid anymore. I have found myself. I have found something to protect. I am ready to enter the Circle with a perfect love and a perfect trust.

    A thought that he shared with his friends before they made a big decision together, a leap of faith.

    My time with Sasha was good, but not great. My experience was beautiful, but complicated. I confess that I bled heavily; Sasha’s struggles and mine overlapped in too many places to not feel uncomfortable and uneasy when our time together was cut short at the end of the game.

    In lockdown, away from friends and family, I had no means to fix my problems, and I had a huge amount of larp-blues to deal with atop of that.

    I tried to enjoy our departure stepping out of the Circle and I wished Sasha well for his future, for he deserved it; but at first, I wanted to never hear about him again.

    I sent my feedback to Chaos League, expressing some of the issues I encountered. The form also included the following question: “Would you be willing to help organize/facilitate a future run of Animus: the Eternal Circle?” I answered positively because, no matter my own feelings toward Sasha, I still felt mostly positive about the game, and I was enthusiastic and curious about the prospect of facilitating. I was longing for the friendship and closeness I got to explore in my run as a player while aiming for a bit of emotional distance by playing an NPC.

    Coming back to the Circle as a Facilitator

    A Perfect Love

    I returned to Animus for the 4th run as facilitator and NPC. I played Hayden. Hayden who worked with AI in a big company but who looked like a rock star. Hayden who felt too much but was hiding from it the best he could, channeling it, conceptualizing it, distancing himself from it. The boy who loved stories and hides in music. Hayden who managed to live through his anxiety attacks but was now dealing with severe maladaptive daydreaming. Hayden who didn’t even want to do therapy but was chosen by the team from the Beacon, among his Circle members, to facilitate the group therapy session.

    As a player, I felt a strong connection to Hayden; yet his way of processing, addressing, and dealing with his emotions was sufficiently distinct from mine that I didn’t feel like the situation was too close to home.

    I already knew the themes, the plot, the characters, and what was expected from me. Entering the Circle felt like coming back to someplace familiar.

    Indeed, as a facilitator, I had access now to several new channels, including one where I was navigating the ambiance of the therapy session. I had to deal with a bit of code and a bot every now and then, mostly to start the audio tape and the soundtrack made by the organizers. Even though this felt alien, I had help when I slipped up, no grudge was held, and no player was the wiser since, after all, larp is a good chunk of improvisation and adaptability.

    Playing Hayden as an NPC, making sure we were on time, fostering closeness between the characters, and supporting the players was easy. Facilitating the weight of the secrets of the game in my hands felt comfortable.

    The only wild card was the players. I was deeply afraid of messing things up for them and for the Chaos League, of not being “good enough” as a facilitator. But by the time the third therapy session rolled in, thanks to the amazing players in my Circle (which was named Hadar), and the tightly linked and supportive organizers team, I felt as if Hayden and I were coming home.

    Conclusion: Leaving the Circle?

    Entering the Circle was not always easy but it was, for me, a teaching, transformative experience. I made new friends, I learned, and I grew from it.

    Talking about coming home, even though I’m still unable today to write a letter to Sasha, I’m enthusiastic at the idea of coming back to the Circle as a player in a few weeks; this time in Animus 2: In Search of Sky.

    The Circle is a Never Ending one, opening the ways for stories of friendship, support and connection across the world. It was Chaos League’s goal, and personally, I think they have succeeded.

    Useful Links

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

    Bowman, Sarah Lynne, and Evan Torner. “Post-Larp Depression.” Nordiclarp.org, January 19.

    Nilsen, Elin. 2015. “A Beginner’s Guide to Handling the Knudeblues.” Nordiclarp.org, February 17.

    Peck, Tim. 2017. “What Are the Three Types of Fun?” Go East, January 6.

    Reininghaus, Gerrit. 2019. “A Manifesto for Laogs – Live Action Online Games.” Nordiclarp.org, June 14.

    Animus Larp Credits

    Production: Chaos League

    Character Design: Andrea Giovannucci, Mikhail Sustersic

    Character Writing: Chiara Cappiello, Livia Blasi, Fabio Garbo,  Mikhail Sustersic

    Music and Sound Design: Stefano D’Arcangelo, Alessandro Giovannucci

    Video: Daniele Bergonzi

    Technical Support: Fabio Garbo, Melania Esposito, Davide Ruscica, Andrea Giovannucci

    Promotion: Fred Brand

    Safety Team: Alessandro Giovannucci, Chiara Cappiello, Mikhail Sustersic

    Documentation: Daniele Bergonzi, Chiara Cappiello, Andrea Giovannucci

    Website: https://animus.chaosleague.org/


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

    Editing by Elina Gouliou.

  • Accessibility in Online Larp

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    Accessibility in Online Larp

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    With the pandemic preventing us from larping in the flesh, more and more designers have been running games online. These experiences are not only highly immersive and engaging, but also have the tremendous potential to make games accessible for a wider variety of players who may be excluded from mainstream, face-to-face larps.

    For example, the larp TANKERS by Sarah Cook is designed to be played while blindfolded and lying down – much easier for someone with chronic fatigue or migraines to engage with than an in-person game. Similarly, Plug In by Stephen Duxbury – as reimagined by Wrenna Robson and Nat Saunders – is played in real time completely via text, making it ideal for those of us who struggle with speech.

    As the Bobbit Worm team, we’ve designed and run three online larps so far (The Nautical Trench, T67 Survival Night, and UPLOAD) and are working on a fourth. When we started running immersive games and larps online, it became clear that new and exciting accessibility challenges were emerging, despite the benefits of this medium. Although you won’t have to deal with a venue made entirely out of stairs, you may be adding a typing element that’s a nightmare for dyslexic participants.

    In this article, we want to outline some of the methods we have included in our games to help make them more accessible.

    Hazel and Erin sharing post-game icecreams (photo, Hazel Dixon)
    Hazel and Erin sharing post-game icecreams (photo, Hazel Dixon)

    Pre-Game

    When running a game online, it’s still important to treat the physical and emotional wellbeing of your players with care. You should take responsibility for this the same way as you would for a game in a physical space – ask players about their disabilities, triggers, and what accommodations would help them to access your game, and make sure to keep that information somewhere secure but easily accessed. We find this blog post on Access: Larp on how to ask and how to tell to be quite useful.

    However, using online platforms adds a layer of complexity. Make sure to clearly inform your players of how to use the technology you’ve chosen. It’s a great idea to include optional software testing beforehand, for anyone who is unsure or worried about using the tech involved in the game. Whilst playing the game, always have a way for players to contact you on a different platform – such as by email or over the phone – so that if they have technical issues they can still contact you to let you know.

    If the game involves documents or files, these should be accessible in multiple formats should a player require them. For example, make sure to prepare transcripts of audio/video files, provide image descriptions, and remember that screenshots and some ways of formatting text files aren’t accessible to everyone.

    Text-based considerations

    When you’re including text-based elements in your game – whether that’s doing the game entirely via text or allowing players to message each other during your game – bear in mind that players may have problems processing text quickly, typing quickly or typing accurately.

    We’ve found that a lot of people are anxious about taking part in games with typing elements, because they perceive themselves as having bad typing, or have disabilities such as chronic hand pain that make it difficult for them to type quickly. We mention in our code of conduct that no one should comment on or shame other players for incorrect grammar/spelling or slow response times.

    In addition, if you are letting players upload videos or gifs, remind them to avoid uploading images that flash more than once per second, as these can trigger migraines or epileptic seizures.

    Video-based considerations

    Video calls, while a great substitute for being in a physical space together, can present their own specific accessibility challenges. For example, deaf people and autistic folks with auditory processing issues may find it difficult to participate if they can’t lip read or see the facial expressions of others; so making sure players have their video switched on and the camera facing them can help them to access video communications.

    It’s important to keep in mind a few simple ways to keep video calls a welcoming space for everyone: background noise and feedback can be reduced by wearing headphones or using push to talk; hand gestures and other forms of body language can be made more visible with careful camera framing; players can avoid talking over each other by staying conscious of whether anyone is trying to speak. All of these can mitigate common issues if you bear them in mind, although it’s likely that you won’t be able to keep on top of them all the time. In general, aim for pairing a visual or auditory cue with something else. The word cut can be used in conjunction with crossing your arms across your chest, for example. Leave the option open for players to message each other if they need to communicate and calibrate or to post messages in an open channel.

    In a lot of physically co-located games, we end up with natural breaks in action that allow us to collect ourselves and be alone to a certain extent. When it comes to online games, there is more of a feeling of being “always on” that can be overwhelming for some. You can help with this by managing the spaces in your platform. We try to ensure that we have enough separate rooms so people can split off into groups of 2–4 if they need to. As well as this, you can utilise an off game channel to allow players to take a break in a quieter space, and by making sure to stress that anyone is free to leave the space at any time for any reason.

    Another consideration is that some video conferencing software, such as Google Meet, will allow you to have automatic live captioning which you may find helpful for people with auditory processing problems. Zoom has now added closed captioning which you can integrate with third-party captioning software and you can find out more about this process on the Zoom Help Centre.

    Conclusion

    Different games will have different requirements, and it’s important to both consider what you’re trying to do with your game and to work with the players to provide them with the best experience you can. We still have a lot of work to do and a lot of unanswered questions, such as how to make our games easier to play on an unstable internet connection and how to replace some of the physical cues that aren’t easy to communicate over video. Even so, we want to dare you to dream big on accessibility. Immersive experiences are pretty damn cool, and we want as many people as possible to have the opportunity to experience that.


    Ludography

    Bobbit Worm Games, T67:// Survival Night (2020)
    Bobbit Worm Games, The Nautical Trench (2020)
    Bobbit Worm Games, UPLOAD (2020)
    Cook, Sarah, Tankers (2020)
    Duxbury, Stephen, reimagined by Wrenna Robson and Nat Saunders, Plug In (2020)

    Credits

    Article republished from blog post here:
    https://bobbitwormgames.wixsite.com/bobbitwormgames/post/accessibility-in-online-games
    Originally edited by Rowan Pierce. You can contact them at @NotWrittenHere on Twitter or at rpiercefreelancing@gmail.com


    Cover photo: Online activity, by Soumil Kumar on Pexels

    Editing on NordicLarp.org by: Elina Gouliou and Mo Holkar

  • Navigating Online Larp

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    Navigating Online Larp

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    While online larps have been around for years, the COVID-19 pandemic has brought a new crop from a wide variety of designers and larp traditions and has seen a huge influx of players looking to fill the gap left by the cancellation of most in-person larps. We’re enjoying large numbers of new larps running and re-running, with designers trying innovative and exciting things in the field, but also making mistakes that those who have been running larps online since the beginning have corrected for years ago. Some players are finding the format accessible and powerful, while others find it difficult to invest in either the event itself or the buildup beforehand.

    Qualia by Mia Devald Kyhn and Adrian Hvidbjerg Poulsen, using Spatial Chat with Discord for text. Screenshot by Charlie Haldén.
    Qualia by Mia Devald Kyhn and Adrian Hvidbjerg Poulsen, using Spatial Chat with Discord for text. Screenshot by Charlie Haldén.

    I’ve played several larps online since in-person events became untenable, mostly from the international European and local British larp traditions, and mostly the designers’ first forays into this kind of digital events. The formats have been very varied – some across one or several sessions in the same weekend, one running fortnightly for months, some using text, audio, and video to communicate, others using two or even just one of those mediums. Amongst that wide selection, some trends have started to emerge.

    The first is that online larps can absolutely be a huge success. It’s true that they lack some components of physical larps, but many players, including a lot who were initially skeptical, have found that online larps are capable of producing a depth of emotion comparable to their real-world counterparts. I have sat in front of my computer with tears streaming down my face at both video and text conversations, and felt my heart rate rise based on sound effects alone when lying with my eyes closed and headphones on in a dark room.

    Tenement 67 by Bobbit Worm Games, using Discord video and text chat. Screenshot by Hazel Dixon.
    Tenement 67 by Bobbit Worm Games, using Discord video and text chat. Screenshot by Hazel Dixon.

    There is also, to me, a clear dividing line between online larp and online tabletop gaming, though the difference can be less distinct than it might be for in-person play. I’ve played one online larp where I was fully embodying my character for the duration of play, without having to make any out-of-character actions or imagine anything in my surroundings that wasn’t there, and that felt absolutely like larping. On the other hand, the more my character is supposed to be doing things that I myself am not physically doing, the more it feels like I’m playing a tabletop RPG in costume. As always when we’re in uncertain territory, the best way to avoid disappointment is to communicate as clearly as possible what experience the designers are intending to provide and hoping the players will participate in.

    Tips for Players

    If you’re a player venturing into online larp for the first time, you might have to try a few things to find out what works for you, and just like in in-person larps you’ll enjoy some events more than others even if the format is identical. There’s no obligation to do something you don’t think you’ll enjoy, but plenty of players have been surprised by how much they got out of online larp. Here are some things to think about that might help you get ahead when you’re starting out.

    Preparing Your Gear

    A lot of video larps will ask you to set-dress the area behind you so you appear to be somewhere appropriate to help the immersion of your co-players, and it’s great to do that. It can also really help to set-dress the area in front of you that only you will see. After all, you’ll be looking past your monitor at that area for hours at a time, and seeing post-it notes with your work to do list will probably jolt you out of the larp.

    When it comes to costume, it’s definitely worth dressing in a way that matches your character, but you get to choose between the immersion of fully wearing what your character would wear and the comfort of sitting in pyjama bottoms for the whole larp. Since you’ll be getting into costume in your own home and with typically much later start times than for physical larps, consider getting more adventurous than usual with your hair and makeup. What you’re wearing around your head and shoulders will make the biggest impression, but your hands will show up on video too, as well as serving as part of your larp world, so don’t neglect them in your costume.

    Death in Venice by Freeform Games, using Discord video chat. Screenshot by Simon Rogers.
    Death in Venice by Freeform Games, using Discord video chat. Screenshot by Simon Rogers.

    Run a tech test ahead of time, including checking out your camera angles and audio gear if you’ll need them. Using a laptop or desktop will often give you a more reliable connection than a phone or tablet, though make sure you aren’t running too many other programs in the background. Headphones will help avoid feedback, but make sure they’re comfortable to wear for a long time. More light will do wonders for your image quality, but use a shade to avoid shining a bright lamp directly into your eyes. See if your video slows down while anyone else who shares your connection uses the internet, and if you need to figure out some scheduling options. Get onto the software the larp will run on and familiarise yourself with it if you can.

    Getting Yourself Ready to Play

    Especially when you’re venturing into online larp for the first time, consider playing with people you already know. While playing with strangers is great fun, it’s much harder to learn a person’s physical cues and communication styles through digital channels, and since you’ll be adapting to a new format that has plenty of hurdles it might help to give yourself the advantage of playing with people you already know how to read when you start out.

    You can prepare in other ways as well, a lot of which are very similar to how you might prepare for an in-person larp. For example, familiarise yourself with your character, discuss how you want to play with the people you expect to interact with most closely, put together a playlist, etc. Do whatever helps you feel as comfortable as possible with larping, the part of the activity you know and understand, so you can focus your energy on adapting your larping to a digital environment.

    If you have a lot of video conferences for your work, you might be reluctant to sign up for even more of them in your free time. Consider voice or text only larps or, if you want to go for a video larp anyway, think about larping in a different space to where you work, treating the larp as a special event (booking time off work before and after like you would with an in-person larp, maybe taking time to make some pieces of your costume), hyping the larp with your friends in advance to build anticipation, and choosing larps that don’t run too solidly all in one block.

    Starting the Larp

    Once you start playing, give the larp a while to get going while everyone finds their feet and learns the communication methods you’re using. Larpers are well trained to adapt how they express themselves and understand one another, but most of us are having to apply that training in new situations and you might encounter awkwardness for the first little while.

    Take Me With You by Omen Star, using Zoom and Snap Filter. Screenshot by Kol Ford.
    Take Me With You by Omen Star, using Zoom and Snap Filter. Screenshot by Kol Ford.

    Pay attention to the larp’s mechanisms during any workshops so you know how to get the most out of the experience. Knowing when, where, and how to join conversations, ask questions, or signal safety concerns can make or break your experience. This is likely to be different for each larp and platform and may not be intuitive.

    During Run-time

    Then… larp. It’s the same activity you’ve done before in person, just using technology as an intermediary. Be conscious of the format you’re using and bring your character to your co-players in ways they can understand and respond to — facial expressions and hand gestures for video, voice for audio, emojis or adjectives or cat gifs for text.

    And as in any larp, pay attention to your body’s needs. Eat and drink when you need to. Take your meds. Get plenty of sleep. Know what you’re going to do if things get emotionally draining, even if you don’t expect them to.

    One of the most interesting new communication avenues available to you is text channels that you can use alongside play. Every online larp I’ve played has had some form of in- or out-of-character communication by text, and it’s great for quick, non-disruptive check-ins, flexible as a negotiation tool, and useful as a safety mechanism. It’s also very powerful for play in its own right, and creates opportunities that don’t exist in person for parallel conversations, back-channel dealings, and heart-wrenching confessions.

    After the Larp

    After play is done, be prepared for debriefs and afterparties to feel rather different. The after-larp glow can fade much more quickly when you aren’t physically surrounded by the people who shared in a powerful experience with you, and the energy shift between play and socialising is very different in online larp. Think in advance about how you might take care of yourself after the larp ends, be it a special meal, a bubble bath, or a cuddle with your cat, and consider arranging to talk to the people you played with most closely a few hours or days after you’ve returned to normal life.

    If you normally take a day off work after a larp to recuperate, there’s a good chance you’ll want to do that for an online larp, even though you aren’t running around in the course of play.

    Tips for Designers

    The digital larp design space has some extremely experienced designers working in it and I can’t pretend to be one of them! But a few things I’ve observed from a player’s point of view translate into actionable tips that could be useful to consider for people designing digital larps.

    Format and Technology

    When you get an idea for a digital larp, consider the format you want to use. Video larp is the immediate first choice for a lot of people as it seems most similar to in-person larp, but voice- and text-only larp can both be extremely effective. What atmosphere could you create using sound and silence when audio is the only connection your players have to the game world? Is there space for you to explore how people interact in text and display their personalities in text? What happens when you cross larp, a form that asks you to embody your character, with a format that doesn’t require players’ bodies to be visible? How can you match the format to the idea?

    Meet at the Tavern by Omen Star, using Discord video chat. Screenshot by Kol Ford.
    Meet at the Tavern by Omen Star, using Discord video chat. Screenshot by Kol Ford.

    Consider your tech setup to match that format carefully. There are many categories where you might find pros and cons, such as available functionality, ease of use, processor or bandwidth requirements, player familiarity, etc. And as widespread homeworking continues, the features each platform offers are changing regularly, so you might want to check back as your design develops.

    Accessibility should play into platform choice as well, and it’s worth keeping in mind that running your larp online isn’t a silver bullet for including people who struggle to access in-person larps. It can be great for those who find travel or the energy investment of physical larp challenging, but it has different demands on communication styles, attention spans, and physical access that can absolutely exclude others. Check your technology, make conscious design decisions, and continue asking the people you want to include in your larp how you can accommodate their needs.

    After you’ve chosen your platform, you’ll need to figure out how to set it up. Look at how you can encourage people to play in small, manageable groups, up to around six or seven players, either by making that a structural requirement of the larp or by creating softer behavioural or mechanical incentives for splitting up. Some platforms are designed to allow mingling and changing groups easily, while others might give you more features if you’re willing to accept a more rigid group structure.

    Getting Players to Jump In

    One aspect that can be easy to overlook amongst the practicalities of setup is thinking about what you can do to help players look forward to your larp as an exciting event. A lot of digital larps this year have been produced on short timelines and it’s great to get to play not long after signing up, but limited information until shortly before the larp and an absence of hype and communal anticipation can make the already unfamiliar prospect of an online larp feel alienating to some players and cause anxiety or a high rate of dropouts.

    Muerte de Reemplazo by Amalia Valero, using Spatial Chat. Screenshot by Amalia Valero.
    Muerte de Reemplazo by Amalia Valero, using Spatial Chat. Screenshot by Amalia Valero.

    Once play begins, no matter how elegant your design, interactions between players are going to be less natural. This is especially true at the beginning of the larp, so your opening act might benefit from having facilitators play a much more active role than usual in mediating communication between characters. The “just put a bunch of larpers in a room together and tell them to larp” strategy of larp design doesn’t work online yet, although maybe it will once the player community has more experience with the format. Having NPCs leading early discussions and inviting people to speak can help a lot in video and voice larps, and giving an idea of what interactions should happen where is great for text larps.

    The unintuitiveness of digital conversations also makes it harder to make smalltalk on video calls, and it can lead to awkward silences where players struggle to know what to talk about unless the pre-written characters include detailed motivations and conflicts that will drive play on their own, or play is very tightly directed. Providing new in-fiction stimulus to react to can help direct conversations, so if the larp has plot secrets it might be worth revealing the first ones earlier than you might at an in-person larp, as well as giving suggestions on how the players could react to engage with those secrets further.

    Similarly, the rumour mill doesn’t work anywhere near as efficiently online unless players put in quite a lot of effort into it. Side channels help, like having text alongside video, but there’s much less passive information absorption and dispersal than when your players are in the same place, so look at ways to divulge any plot-critical information to more players than you might at an in-person event.

    The Aftermath

    Finally, consider the design of what happens after the larp. If you plan a debrief to help your players derole or process bleed, how will you create emotional space between them and their characters when there’s a strong chance they’re still sitting in the same physical place they were occupying during play? How can you capture the post-larp energy and transfer it to an afterparty when the players aren’t physically together? Can you take advantage of the remote nature of the larp to invite players to come together again after a few days when they have had time to recover from the larp?

    Final Thoughts

    There’s a lot to think about as we adapt how we design and play larps to our current constraints, but with luck the community as a whole can see that as exciting rather than offputting.

    Yes, I wish we were able to larp in person, and no, I don’t think online larps are a complete replacement for physical larps. But right now they’re an option I’m extremely glad to have, and their low financial and time commitment are certainly going to let me larp more in 2021 and beyond even as in-person events begin to reappear.


    Cover photo: Oniros by Paula Jiménez & Pepe Roma, using Discord and Snap Camera. Screenshot by Pepe Roma.

    Editing by: Elina Gouliou