Tag: relationships

Published on

2025-06-18

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Theory

Together, Apart: Dyadic Play in Larp

Written by
Katrine Wind
Nordic larp thrives on intimacy. Whether through whispered conspiracies at a dinner table, a dramatic breakdown in an argument with a sibling or silent devastation in a lover’s embrace, the magic of larps often hinges on the connections between players. For me, relations between characters are at the core of what enables connection when it’s narratively driven and not purely based on player chemistry.

This article started as a reflection on why I design relations the way that I do. You may also already write relations. I hope this article serves as an inspiration piece for one of the very interesting ways to enable intense relations in a larp: dyadic play. In this framework, characters are designed in pairs and two people are locked into a singular dynamic which shapes the experience around them.

What is Dyadic Play?

Dyadic play is a larp design structure where two players embody characters deeply entangled with each other (Bowman, 2024). This pair can take many forms: lovers, enemies, siblings, rivals, or even two halves of the same character. Dyads are not always romantic; friendships, rivalries, and toxic dynamics are equally valid. For me, the defining element is that their narratives and/or experience are not just intertwined but interdependent.

The Inspired of Comedy, Christian Schönburg, and the Muse of Comedy Thalia at Helicon. Photo: Bjørn-Morten Gundersen.

Variations

Some larps, like Baphomet (2015), have used dyadic play to explore themes of marriage and partnership, ensuring that each player always has a deeply connected co-player. Delirium (2010) went even further by requiring five workshop days where pairs who signed up together built their shared culture, relationships, and character dynamics before stepping into the game itself.

Many blackbox larps and chamber larps have also used an intimate pairing where you could for example be a ghost of a deceased family member following the character around or the internal monologue of the person. In larps where one character exists in a liminal state – such as a ghost tethered to their living counterpart – this dual perspective also provides a unique means of influencing the external world without direct interaction.

Cecilia, the snake, and Professor Rowan McMillen at Daemon showing different sides of the professor. Photo: Bjørn-Morten Gundersen.

In Daemon (Wind, 2021-) I wanted to both push the dyadic design element to its extreme and detach it from the conventional themes of romance and sexuality. The dyadic structure forms the vision and the core of the experience by casting players as two facets of the same person: daemon and human. All other design choices tie to this vision of experiencing being two people who together play the whole character. The daemon, manifested in an animal form, embodies the human’s subconscious and deeper self: the soul. A key design priority for me was ensuring that both players were physically present within the diegesis and that communication between them remained fully audible and intelligible to all participants. This is coherent with the novel series that inspired the larp, His Dark Materials (Pullman 1995-2000).

Daemon also adds enforced physical proximity: players in a dyad can never be more than two meters apart. This heightens both the narrative tension and the interdependence between the two parts of the character. I added a further mechanic to enhance the complexity and special form of dyad by introducing a physical taboo — it is absolutely a transgression to touch another person’s daemon — making the dyad create even more narrative weight in the larp. I call this extreme form of dyadic play symbiotic which was also the term I used for years when describing the core mechanic of Daemon before I learned of the term dyadic.

A beautiful part of playing two aspects of the same character is the transformation of internal monologue into external dialogue both through conversation between human and daemon and externalised through the daemon’s actions. This mechanic particularly appeals to players like myself, who prefer collaborative, spoken roleplay over introspective play. Obviously, these aspects can exist within the same experience, but I have often felt alone and bored with too much time without verbal or non-verbal contact with other players, and the symbiotic dyad-mechanic ensures that this never happens.

Diegetically, the humans can hear everything the daemons are saying and vice-versa but we practice to not treat everything too literally. If two daemons are fighting on the floor while the humans are having a pointed but polite conversation, it is more a sign that the humans don’t like each other than the daemons actually wanting to kill each other. It is very hard to describe this subtlety in writing and it is always an intuitive understanding that has to be built with exercises before the larp and by practicing during the first hours of Daemon.

House of Craving. Photo: Martin Lindelien.

With this extreme form of dyadic structure, even moments of inactivity become opportunities for co-creation; if one player feels disconnected from the action, they still have a partner with whom to discuss their next move, react to the unfolding story, or voice their character’s internal dilemmas. Because of this complete interdependence, in Daemon I would never offer that you can sign up without a partner and I then cast people together; for me there needs to be a pre-existing agreement between the players and a firm wish to play together like this. In other dyadic larps, I do offer to connect people who don’t sign up together or even know each other.

The players are encouraged to talk about their dyadic relation beforehand and we workshop the dynamic at the location, doing connection enhancing eye contact exercises and using two-meter-long strings to explore proximity and connection. More about this later.

In Helicon (Wind and Pettersson, 2024-), we choose a version of a dyadic structure somewhere in the middle of the extremes and assign characters in pre-designed duos, exploring power imbalances, control, exploitation, and inspiration through enforced dynamics. Unlike the mutual relationships of a marriage in Baphomet, Helicon pairs players in a non-consensual pact — a human Inspired in a drug-like dependency with their enslaved Muse, mirroring themes of artistic obsession, addiction, and subjugation. We strive to create a deep narrative cohesion between the dyadic characters as they both represent the same artform/science/leadership type. Rituals reinforce the hierarchical bond, deepening the emotional weight of the connection. You could call it a co-embodied narrative. As Sarah Lynne Bowman describes in her analysis of the larp (Bowman, 2024), these relationships highlight the tension between devotion and control.

There can also be options for playing with something like this in a very close ensemble with more than two people. In Helicon, we have a triad where two Inspired siblings share a Muse. However, for the rest of the article, I will only describe this kind of dynamic as dyadic.

Prime minister of Britain and the Inspired of Politics, Percy Shaw, and his Muse of Politics, Kallistrate. Photo: Kai-Simon Frederiksen.

How to determine “how dyadic” you want your larp

The chart below shows Axes of Attachment and is intended to provide some clarity of how different larps work regarding character relations (see Figure 1). It attempts to provide a way you could think about how and why you design certain kinds of relations. It’s basically about seeing the larp as a room: how do you place the players inside of the room together with the mechanics, space, physical conditions, setting etc.?

Figure 1. The Axes of Attachment model charts intersections of relative degrees of relational interdependence and shared identities in dyadic play.

X-axis (Dependency → Independency): How much a character’s arc depends on their dyadic partner-character. This could be emotional, practical, physical, narrative, or social dependence. How dependent are you on the other person being present? How closely do we bind the characters and to how many (it doesn’t have to be two).

Y-axis (Shared identity/concept -> Individual identity/concept): How closely the characters are tied internally. How much are your characters the same being? For example, Daemon has two people playing one character, while Helicon has two distinct characters with connected fates and arts. So both are more “shared” than completely individual, but Daemon is more extreme.

All larps on the left side of the figure have in my opinion some kind of dyadic design.

Another example is House of Craving (Edland, Wilson, Jansen and Pedersen 2019-). On the first day, you are playing a character and then on the second day, the same character but as a ghost in the house who is very attached to your own living person’s story. As a ghost, you can affect your own human and the others more and more as the larp moves further, and since you have the same identity as the human, you have preferences as to what they should do — and try to push them there. You could call this dynamic parasitic more than symbiotic. But the reason why I chose to define it as slightly less shared than Daemon is that you are not playing the character together and you can still walk away from each other not having to share most specific scenes. They also don’t share a consciousness. There is also a very interesting dyad complexity in House of Craving in the fact that you are knit tightly together in smaller groups as humans where the experiences are actually dependent without you sharing an identity or concept.

The Inspired of Dance, Danielle Lafontaine, holding her Muse of Dance Terpsichore during a ritual at Helicon. Picture: Kai-Simon Frederiksen.

Interestingly, it has been hard to find examples that fit into the top right quadrant where you are relationally and narratively independent but share the same identity or concept. Gothic is a good example, however, as it has a form of shared concept and identity of the characters even though it isn’t designed specifically for dependency between two characters. The two are dependent as you have just played the poet the day before and then you play the servant of the same poet the day after. As lead designer Simon Brind notes in a personal conversation (2025): “The characters were written as reflections of the poet, looking at the flaws of the poets and playing them back in different ways. Byron’s servant – Tita – is everything that Byron wants to be for example.” Simon also mentions that there is a one way dependency from the poet to the servant later in the larp as the servant has influence over the fate of the poet. So in my purely analytical opinion, you share more of an identity in Gothic (also because of off-game affiliation to a character you just played yourself) than a dependency on the individual experience, which places this experience in the top right quadrant. And this is interesting, because maybe off-game factors can also make some play experiences dyadic. If you provide the option of signing up together with someone, and you offer a lot of dependency with mechanics and/or pre-designed character relations, you might not have shared identity and/or concepts, but you move the experience further to the left on the x-axis, getting it closer to dyadic play.

Most larps will be in the bottom right quadrant and not have any dyadic play in the design. That doesn’t mean that you can’t have intense relationships without dyadic play. The chart is just meant as a help to conceptualise which kinds of relations you provide in your larp.

You might be thinking, “But you can just write a dyadic relation yourself with a friend in a larp where you write your own characters.” Yes, you could and maybe you already have. You could get some kind of a dyadic experience even playing a larp with almost no pre-written ties between characters and nothing in the design to support it. You don’t even have to sign up together for it to be a dyadic experience. However, in this article, I am more interested in the design-heavy Nordic style of thinking through coherent design on many levels and creating a clearly communicated larp experience. So while I describe here a specific philosophy for designing relations in a whole larp, you can use these strategies as individual player preferences as well.

Lady Evelyn Wiltshire and her snow fox daemon Atlas at Daemon. Photo: Bjørn-Morten Gundersen.

The next part of the article shares the experiences I have made by adjusting my larps along the two axes in the chart. There are also some things I haven’t adjusted. So here are the vulnerabilities and what you win by engaging in dyadic character relation design.

The power of playing in pairs

Dyadic play is a purposeful design choice that serves multiple functions:

1. Guaranteed connection

Unlike most larps where relationships emerge organically or are written but dependent on player chemistry (Nøglebæk 2023), dyadic play ensures that each participant has a deeply connected co-player. This prevents isolation and guarantees intimate interaction throughout the larp. If there is an option to sign up together, you are also guaranteed to play closely with someone you really want to play with, which is devastatingly hard to be able to in lottery based larps.

2. Catering to specific themes

Certain themes — dependency, rivalry, obsession, or supernatural bonds — are, in my opinion, best explored through tightly structured relationships. Daemon exemplifies this by requiring players to act as two entities within the same being, forcing them into an intricate push-pull dynamic.

From Baphomet. Photo: Carl Nordblom

3. Physical and emotional presence

Dyadic play externalises internal struggles, turning them into performative, tangible elements in the diegesis depending on the degree of dependency on each other for the larp experience. In Daemon, the constant physical presence of one’s partner heightens the sense of being truly two minds in one body. Many players report that they accelerate their closeness with their co-player exponentially and that they quickly get used to the closeness. Even though the Muse has a bit more free range in Helicon, the Muse’s lack of autonomy and physical proximity required by the narrative — that Muses have to stay within 100 m of where their Inspired commands them to be — creates an embodied experience of control and restriction, which are core themes of that larp.

4. Built-in narrative depth

Pre-established relationships provide immediate emotional stakes. The weight of history between the characters and expectation add layers to every interaction, making the experience feel dramatic from the outset. Non-dyadic relations can do this as well but dyadic relations enhance the probability of it actually happening in practice at the larp.

5. Emotional safety

Navigating intimacy in larp can be complex. Dyadic play provides a structured framework where trust is central, making high-intensity scenes safer and potentially more rewarding. In the most extreme versions of dyadic relations like Daemon, you will always be at least four people when you have a conversation with another character and you will physically have experienced almost exactly the same scenes as your dyadic partner. This design makes it much easier to connect off-game over the more difficult aspects of your larp experience like an interaction with a co-player you didn’t like or feeling ostracized in the larp. Dyadic design might even make it a good experience for newer larpers as they will be able to lean on their dyadic partner and are never left alone.

6. High stakes drama

When your character’s fate is intertwined with another’s, every action becomes consequential. A betrayal isn’t just a plot beat — it’s devastating. A declaration of love isn’t just a moment — it’s a turning point. This goes for all kinds of dependencies; they are guaranteed to a higher degree with dyadic play.

7. Carrying the story together

You are not alone in developing and experiencing a narrative in dyadic play. When you run out of ideas, there is another person to carry the story onwards. The ghost version of you in House of Craving might push you as a human to do something in your story that you didn’t anticipate. The Daemon version allows an excellent excuse to portray an energetic or extroverted character even though you aren’t such a person off-game if your co-player is portraying it for both of you.

The Inspired of Dance, Danielle Lafontaine, trying to strangle her Muse of Dance Terpsichore during Helicon. Picture: Kai-Simon Frederiksen.

Challenges and potential pitfalls

1. The risk of isolation

The intensity of dyadic play can create an insular bubble. If the game world revolves too much around the pair, broader interactions may suffer. Daemon players, for example, may become so immersed in their internal struggle that they disengage from external narratives. It’s not often that I have seen it happen, but it is a potential issue to be aware of in dyadic play. This is more risky the more dependent the relation is. If the dyad does not have a fulfilling dynamic for both players, that can also be further isolating especially when witnessing other dyads highly engaged together in enjoyable play.

2. Strain in the sign-up process

If you have to sign up together, finding the right partner can be stressful. Some larps allow players to sign up together, while others assign partners based on casting. The latter requires trust in organizers to balance chemistry and compatibility of wishes for the experience. You also have to make sure that you agree on energy levels and that you are okay with the playstyle the other person wants.

3. Unequal Investment

Not all players engage at the same level with specific activities or themes. If one seeks deep psychological introspection while the other prefers a light dramatic arc, friction can arise. Establishing expectations beforehand is essential — much more so than if you are free to flow through the larp to engage with whatever you find the most interesting.

4. Limited Agency

Solo players can pivot their stories at will. Dyadic players, however, must consider their partner’s trajectory. This can feel restrictive if the dynamic doesn’t align with evolving personal goals. In a completely solo experience, you can be affected by other players, your own exhaustion, etc. But the other person’s tiredness is an immaterial factor. The characters are closer than other relations in the network. Several times during Daemon, the partner had to leave. What do you do? What are the rules?

Douglas Eden and his cat daemon Haze at the Belgian run produced by Sandy Bailley. Photo: Ork De Rooij.

5. Relationship Bleed

The depth of dyadic play can be emotionally overwhelming. The sustained investment in one relationship can lead to burnout if not managed well. Ironically, there can also be disappointment if you don’t have that close feeling with your play partner afterwards. Some of this can be attributed to relationship bleed in which aspects of social relationships bleed between player and character. Romantic bleed (Waern 2010; Harder 2018; Bowman and Hugaas 2021) is the most frequently discussed subtype (Bowman qtd. in Hugaas 2024). For example, some characters in both Daemon and Helicon are rewritten with pre-existing and complicated romantic entanglements that have the potential to enable romantic bleed.

Many dyadic larps, including Daemon, Helicon and House of Craving, integrate voluntary debriefing and aftercare to help players process their experiences.

6. Predators and safety

As with all larps where we try to be brave, safety is of the essence. Preventing predators from accessing such a vulnerable type of relation requires a strong safety set-up from the organisers as well as a responsible group of players (Rotvig and Wind 2019 in Wind 2019; Brown 2017a; 2017b). This is not any different from larps with sensitive themes in general but you have to be aware that the dyadic play design choice exposes players to specific risks of emotional impact, which can be taken advantage of by problematic people.

Making dyadic play work: Expectation management, mechanics and workshops

Designing an effective dyadic experience requires structured preparation, ensuring that players feel safe, engaged, and emotionally attuned to one another. Here are key methods I use to make it work.

1. Consider which kind of experience you would want the players to have with your dyadic design

There are different ways to create dyadic experiences. So consider what you actually want to design into. Is it:
- A shared physical experience?
- A shared narrative?
- An intensely interdependent emotional bond?
- A shared consciousness?
- All of the above? (Not always possible).
One or more of these factors may appeal more to you than others, so consider carefully what you design for.

2. Expectation management between the players before the larp

The Devil You Know. Photo: Daniel Andreasson.

One of the most critical steps in dyadic play is ensuring that both players are on the same page about their engagement levels. Besides communicating specifically that this is a larp with dyadic play and what that means, players should discuss a few specific things before signing up together or playing together in an organiser-determined dyadic relation:
- Emotional intensity comfort levels: Are both players interested in exploring deep emotional drama, or do they prefer lighter interactions?
- Scene preferences: What kind of interactions (conflict, care, degree dependence) are desired?
- Narrative flexibility: How much improvisation is expected versus structured interactions?
- Off-game communication plans: Establishing ways to check in during the game without breaking immersion on the level that both prefer.
- Energy levels: How do you usually function during a larp to have the best experience? There could also be health reasons for you needing breaks from the larp. Should your co-player be aware of these needs?
By clarifying expectations in advance, dyads can avoid misalignment that might disrupt immersion during play.

3. Mechanics to reinforce dyadic interaction

You can choose to implement a dyadic dynamic simply by writing a dependent narrative for the characters and possibly some degree of shared identity. However, some larps integrate mechanics that actively support the dyadic dynamic. It is a general design point of mine that mechanics provide more tools for the toolbox of the player to experience emotional impact from the written material (Wind, 2025). Here are some examples:
- Physical proximity rules: In Daemon, players must remain within a two meter radius, reinforcing their reliance on each other. In Helicon, Muses need to stay within 100 m. of where their Inspired commands them to be. This doesn’t create a physical proximity in the larp experience itself but it creates an experience of imprisonment.
- Shared resources or abilities: In Helicon, Muses can only give Inspiration to their own Inspired unless allowed otherwise, ensuring that their power remains tethered to the dyadic relationship.
- Same character identity: In House of Craving, as a ghost, you can affect your own human and the others more and more as the larp moves further, and since you are the same identity as the human, you have preferences as to what they should do — and try to push them there.
- Restricted autonomy: Preventing one character from making major decisions without the other’s involvement (e.g., Inspired in Helicon dictate where Muses can go).
From the larp Thyself. Photo: Kai-Simon Frederiksen.

4. Workshops to build trust and connection

I have a very strong sentiment that when we act (that is: do something), we experience. The ability to play in a dyadic way is emergent, so we have to just try to play in our dyads, and then our perception of the dynamic forms when we do it. For example, I stress at Daemon that we practice the first day and that it is okay if the dynamic is wonky. We have to try it out. Before play begins, workshops can help partners develop their dynamic and understand the expectations of their shared experience. Effective exercises include:
- Eye contact exercises: Building comfort with intimacy and presence. They really have to be longer than you think!
- Movement mirroring: Practicing responsiveness and fluidity in interactions.
- Physical boundaries training: Establishing safe ways to express physical connection or distance.
- Practicing the dyadic specific mechanics.
In Daemon, for example, players use a two-meter string during workshops to simulate the forced closeness of their characters, gradually adjusting to the physical restrictions of the play experience. In Helicon, we practice the core mechanic of taking/giving Inspiration in Helicon in the workshop by using a sash that is the representation of the transferral of Inspiration, which the players will also use during the larp.

5. Safety and debriefing measures

In general in many Nordic larps, we are offering people the opportunity to participate in an emotional extreme sport. Therefore, I think we have a responsibility to at least think of what we offer regarding emotional safety in general. But specifically for dyadic play I have found that it can touch a lot of people in an impactful way. Here are some suggestions for how you could handle it.

The witch and broken war hero Loviisa Raisanen and her peacock daemon Kaligas. Photo: Bjørn-Morten Gundersen.

Safety regime: I find we sometimes forget that the feeling of safety is not only important for its own sake. The right safety regime helps us feel brave; makes us less afraid to play on challenging themes. I often find that safety mechanics that are not designed or introduced in a good way are more restrictive, frustrating, and meaningless. They don’t create a good feeling about daring to make brave choices. Especially in Nordic larp, many people are very considerate and careful, and while you need safety measures, I often find it equally important to remind people that if you are worried about doing something, it is better to do it than not to do it, so you don’t regret it after the larp. The safety measures are just there to ensure that you know within which boundaries you can explore this larp experience. Feeling safe is particularly important for dyadic play to work. I do it by building what I call “The House of Bravery.”

In practice, I introduce this concept in one way or the other in all my larps by building the foundation of the house before the larp with the flagging process, transparency, expectation management, and an explicit code of conduct on the website. I also provide a floor of the house: “This is what you should at least be okay with” and the ceiling of the house: “This is the most you can encounter here.” I publish this on the website and then build on it during the safety workshop. In larps, experience designers often only actually provide a “ceiling” OR a “floor.” I have observed that the greatest houses of bravery are built when people feel more free because they know the whole boundary of the house. So just be considerate about which measures you put in place to create a sense of safety and be a bouncer to keep predators out of the house.

Structured debriefs: Facilitated discussions to reflect on the experience in order to address lingering discomfort can be a good way to get out of a very bleedy experience. I think that debriefs should mostly be voluntary, as you can easily feel out of place if you are not bleedy or didn’t have a mind blowing experience (Pedersen 2017). I realise that not all organisers want their participants to get out of the bleed but I think it is responsible to at least offer the tools if the players would like to. Then they can choose for themselves if they want to take the offer.

Buddy check-ins: Encouraging dyads to support each other after play, discussing what worked and what felt challenging. Specifically, I always ask players to check what their dyadic partner needs right after the larp and encourage them to try to find common ground. Some might want a lot of hugs, and others might want a shower and alone time. I also ask players to contact their partner in the next couple of days. Most will do so, but some are just completely over a larp right away and wouldn’t necessarily contact their co-player a few days after the larp. You can read more about after care needs in the article “Leaving the Magic Circle: Larp and Aftercare” by Anneli Friedner (2020) and other resources about how to deal with post-larp emotions.

After party: It is an organiser’s choice if you want to offer as much larping time as possible and running the event right until everyone has to leave the venue. I prefer to offer time for common off-game socialising after the larp — preferably with an extra night before leaving the venue. For dyadic partners, I have often found it beneficial for their experience of the whole event and for aftercare that time is provided for hanging out out of character after the larp ends.

Decompression exercises: Movement exercises, journaling, or lighthearted interactions to transition out of character. (Note: I never use any of these myself, but they are resources you can use).

Two connected dyads. The married human couple basically share two Muses. The Inspired of Music, Maximillian Stern holding his Muse Euterpe while Sophia Newton, the Inspired of Sculpure is being held by her Muse Athanasia at Helicon. Photo: Bjørn-Morten Gundersen.

Conclusion: The beauty of togetherness

For those willing to embrace the intensity of a dependent narrative, the rewards can be unforgettable. So, the next time you sign up for a larp, ask yourself: Who do you want to be — and who do you want to be with?

Dyadic play can offer a uniquely immersive experience using strong narrative tools, but it isn’t for everyone. Before committing, also ask yourself:
- Are you comfortable with emotional intensity and intimacy?
- Do you trust your partner (or trust the organisers to pair you well)?
- Are you okay with a storyline that depends heavily on someone else’s choices?
- Do you prefer restricted narratives, or do you like to explore more freely?
Dyadic play isn’t just about roleplaying with another person—it’s about exploring the fundamental truth that we are deeply influenced by our relationships. Whether soulmates, rivals, or two halves of a whole, these larps remind us that no one stands alone.

The two lovers, Lord Alistair Dormer and the commoner born star scientist Yosaphine Darling observe their daemons Luca and Ramchii showing what is going on beneath the facade of the humans. Photo: Bjørn-Morten Gundersen.

Bibliography

Bowman, Sarah Lynne. 2024. “Helicon: An Epic Larp about Love, Beauty, and Brutality.” Nordiclarp.org, January 26.

Brown, Maury. 2017. “19 Truths about Harassment, Missing Stairs, and Safety in Larp Communities”. Nordiclarp.org, March 14.

Brown, Maury. 2017. “The Consent and Community Safety Manifesto”. Nordiclarp.org, March 14.

Friedner, Anneli. 2020. “Leaving the Magic Circle: Larp and Aftercare”. Nordiclarp.org, April 15.

Hugaas, Kjell Hedgard. 2024. “Bleed and Identity: A Conceptual Model of Bleed and How Bleed-Out from Role-Playing Games Can Affect a Player’s Sense of Self.” International Journal of Role-Playing 15 (June): 9-35. https://doi.org/10.33063/ijrp.vi15.323

Nøglebæk, Oliver. 2023. “The 4 Cs of Larping Love”. Nordiclarp.org. November 15.

Pedersen, Troels Ken. 2018. “Tears and the New Norm”. Nordiclarp.org, February 13.

Rotvig, Klara, and Katrine Wind. 2019. “Tryghed.”Larping Out Loud podcast, March 29.

Wind, Katrine. 2025. “River Rafting Design.” In Anatomy of Larp Thoughts: A Breathing Corpus, edited by Nadja Lipsyc et al. Knutepunkt Conference 2025. Fantasiforbundet.

Ludography

BAPHOMET (2013-2019): Denmark, Linda Udby and Bjarke Pedersen.

Daemon (2021-2025): Denmark, Belgium, USA, UK. Katrine Wind. Daemon Larp

Gothic (2023, 2024): Denmark. Simon Brind, Anna Katrine Bønnelycke, Maria Østerby Elleby, Halfdan Keller Justesen, Laurie Penny, Martine Svanevik, and Sagalinn Tangen. Gothic Larp

Helicon (2024-2025): Denmark. Maria Pettersson and Katrine Wind. Helicon Larp

House of Craving (2019-2023): Denmark. Tor Kjetil Edland, Danny Wilson, Frida Sofie Jansen, and Bjarke Pedersen

Spoils of War (2019-2025). Denmark. Katrine Wind. Spoils of War

Cover photo: War hero Sgt. Theresa Williams and Nico, her antelope daemon. Photo by Bjørn-Morten Gundersen.
Published on

2024-07-23

in

Techniques

So, We’re Gonna Play Together

Written by
Julia Greip
When cast in a relationship with another player, — meaning any kind of relationship, such as family, friendship, enmity etc., as well as romantic/sexual relationships — it is customary (but usually not mandatory) to reach out and calibrate before the larp. At times like these, there are a few questions I usually ask my co-player. A friend recently mentioned that she found my questions very helpful, and always used them when calibrating. At first I thought that they were nothing special, probably everyone used questions more or less the same? But, pre-game calibration definitely is a skill that can be developed and refined, just like most other parts of larp. So, perhaps in this text you can find some tool that will help you in your pre-game calibrations.

These questions are based on a larp designed with a Nordic, collaborative playstyle, prewritten characters and prewritten relationships. Usually, characters are available for all players to read, and it is common to read at least parts of your co-players’ character descriptions. The questions work for other design choices as well, but may have to be adapted accordingly.

It is of course not necessary or expected that you always ask all of these questions every time you do pre-game calibrations with someone. They are to be considered as a tool-box, and you yourself will notice which ones will seem most useful, depending what larp you are going to, what kind of relationship you have been cast in, and what you know about your co-player beforehand.

Question: How much time and energy do you have for calibration, and what methods of communicating work best for you?

Why it is useful to ask: Some people have very busy lives, and many larps lined up. Others have a lot of time, and want to spend weeks or months planning and discussing play. Calibrate this first, and try to find what works for both of you. If there is less time and energy, you might have to focus on only the most important questions.

Question: What are your hopes and wishes for this larp?

Why it is useful to ask: This will give you the chance to understand your co-player better: their playstyle, why they signed up for this particular larp and what kinds of scenes they enjoy. It may also offer insights into how you can create rewarding play for them within the character relationship.

Question: What is your understanding of the relationship between our characters?

Why it is useful to ask: An important early step is to have a shared idea of what kind of relationship you are going to be portraying. This is especially relevant if you have not been reading the same texts (e.g. if you have only been reading your own character descriptions, and the relationship described from their point of view). But even reading exactly the same texts, interpretations may vary. If you do not have the same idea about what the characters’ relationship is (at least at the start of the larp), it may make things much more frustrating, both to calibrate and play.

Question: What themes and aspects of this relationship are most interesting to you?

Why it is useful to ask: Partially, this question allows you to delve deeper into the relationship, to analyse it deeper. But, more importantly, it is how you start to make the relationship your own, focusing on the things that appeal to you both. Hopefully, you have shared interests, and want the same things – but if not, this is also a good time in the discussion to politely tell your co-player if you are uninterested or uncomfortable with certain areas of the relationship. This can be hard, but hopefully you will be able to create something that appeals to you both, and fits in the framework of the larp and relationship.

Question: What are your worries and fears going into this larp?

Why it is useful to ask: Playing together is also taking a level of responsibility for one another. If you know what your co-player worries about, you might help make sure that their fears do not come true – especially if this relates to the relationship between your characters. And, if doing anything about them is out of your power, then it can sometimes be good to just share your fears with someone.

Question: Do you have any triggers, or anything else I should be mindful of?

Why it is useful to ask: This one is self-explanatory. We do not want to distress our co-players off-game, if it can be avoided.

Question: What level of physical play are you generally comfortable with?

Why it is useful to ask: If there is a possibility that we might play scenes with violence, romantic/sexual intimacy or platonic closeness, having a rough idea of what to expect is a good thing. However, this reply is not about how you will be playing (see below).

Why it is good to ask in this particular way: We usually know what level of physical play we are normally comfortable with, and if we have any boundaries that we never cross. However, I do not think it is good practice to decide beforehand, days or weeks before the larp and with someone you have not played with before, what is ok and what is not. What might have felt good when planning, might not seem at all good when the larp is about to start. It might be due to how you are feeling on the day, how it feels when you actually meet your co-player, or some other reason. I therefore think it is best to not commit to anything, but rather talk about what usually works, and then do more calibration on the day of the larp.

How not to respond: If your co-player says ”I don’t have any boundaries, you can do anything!”, I think it is fully reasonable to say ”Oh, okay, so can I break your arm?” We all have boundaries of some sort. Some people who do not state boundaries simply have not considered things that might happen at the larp. Personally, I only feel safe with co-players who state some sort of boundaries – at the very least, ”Don’t do anything that leaves lasting damage on my body”. You might think, ”But this is obvious, you shouldn’t have to say that!”, but that’s just the thing. There are very different cultures and norms in different larp communities. To some, it may be just as ”obvious” that you would never play out a realistic-looking sex-scene, or do things that are actually painful to others; those are common elements of some larps. So, try to be explicit, think about what your boundaries are, and be comfortable communicating them.

Question: What level of emotional intensity do you generally prefer?

Why it is useful to ask: Some larpers want to feel deeply when larping, and feel that larp is best when it breaks their heart, and they can immerse deeply into feelings for the entire larp. Others have a playstyle focused more on cool scenes, interesting plots, or simulating an alternate reality, and are not very interested in having their hearts roughed up in the process. Although it can be difficult to specify what is a high or low level of emotional intensity, it might be relevant to calibrate if you are unsure.

Why it is good to ask in this particular way: Just as with physical play, we can never know for certain what we want or need during an upcoming larp. It is also not always possible to plan how intensely you are going to feel during the larp.

Question: What is your preference when it comes to transparency?

Why it is useful to ask: Transparency refers to learning the other characters’ thoughts and motivations, or possible things that might happen at the larp. Since it is part of the tradition I larp in, I think transparency is a very good thing. Lack of transparency usually just makes it more difficult to pick up on things. The transparency of reading others’ characters is generally very useful. However, I do love a good curveball from time to time. If my co-player springs an unexpected scene on me, or reveals a hidden corner of their character’s mind, it can be a very impactful experience. However, not everyone enjoys this. So, discuss with your co-player what level of transparency you prefer.

When to ask: This question might be one you want to ask very early in the conversation, or it might only feel relevant later on. This, of course, depends on how many non-transparent secrets there are that might become relevant, and you should be able to assess this based on the information you have. Ask before disclosing in-game information that is most likely unknown to your co-player!

Question: What are your preferences on if/when/how to be off-game?

Why it is useful to ask: We have very different needs in this regard. Some players want to be in-game all through a larp, while others have a need for little breaks to decompress, laugh a bit, or rest. If larping in very close proximity with someone (for example, sharing a room) and having very different styles, this can prove problematic – especially if unaware of your different needs beforehand. If you find that you have differing needs, discuss how to deal with this.

There are of course countless more questions that can be asked, focusing on the specifics of the characters and how they relate to each other, and it is probably neither possible nor useful to try to list them all here. These questions usually tend to arise as the conversation continues, and your shared understanding deepens.

Why do pre-game calibrations?

Do you have to do pre-game calibrations? No, you don’t. Some people do not have any need or desire for it – others simply don’t have time. Usually, it works out alright. However, pre-game calibrations have many potential benefits.
- Building trust: Having talked to someone, getting an idea of them as a player and person before diving into the larp and your characters, makes it easier to feel comfortable and trust them. You have an idea about the person behind the character, and have established an atmosphere of wanting to collaborate for a good experience.
- Being careful: It happens from time to time that one is cast in a relationship with a person we don’t click with, or whose style of communicating, larping, or similar is incompatible with our own. Sad as it is, it happens, and it is better to notice this before the larp, than in the middle of it. You can then decide how to work around it, or if you need help dealing with it.
- Less stumbling in the dark: Without calibration, the risk is greater that we spend valuable larp time not quite feeling like we’re getting our money’s worth. We might spend time doing small-talk, not quite knowing where the scene is going, or be brought out of immersion because we are confused about important parts of the characters’ shared story. Good calibration means that we are more likely to know how to engage with the relationship from the beginning, and what to focus on for an enjoyable and impactful experience.
- Get to know your own character: Talking about the relationship isn’t only about the relationship. It also gives you plenty of opportunity to think about your own character – how they think and feel, how they behave in various situations, and so on. Getting to know and understand your character makes it more likely that you will feel connected to it during the larp.
A final word on responsibility (and feminism)

Many women larpers of my acquaintance mention that they are usually the ones who initiate calibrations with male co-players, and that they are the ones that take responsibility for asking questions and directing the conversation. This is an experience I definitely share. Although there are of course many great and responsible male larpers, the trend is there. I would like to encourage men to take on more of the responsibility, to take initiative and to be the ones asking questions. With the toolbox provided in this text, perhaps it might be slightly easier.

Cover photo: Players at Fairweather Manor: The Titanic Prelude (2024). Photo by Nadina Dobrowolska.
Published on

2023-11-20

in

Documentation

Listen 2 Your Heart Season 8: An Unexpectedly Bleedy Experiment

Written by
Sarah Lynne Bowman
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.

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