The following paper was written by one of our LARPers for a school project. It does a wonderful job describing a first-timer’s experience at LARP, and it is also a darn good read.
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LARP Autoethnography
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to walk again,” I groaned as I dropped my borrowed sword onto the grass and leaned against a tree. My clothes smelled like smoke, and my forest green cape was tangled with burrs and dried leaves. Next to me, my sister nodded, too exhausted to speak. The horrors of the recent battle replayed in our minds. The screams, the feel of weapons on flesh, and the crumpled bodies of the dead. It had been a good day.
This scene could have fallen straight from any fantasy adventure novel, video game, or movie, but in my case it is also real life. Maybe the weapons on flesh feel like duct tape and foam, and the dead bodies are secretly smiling and planning how to avoid losing all their hit points next time, but it’s still as exciting as any story. I LARP, or live action role play. This means that a bunch of teens and adults create characters for themselves, dress up in medieval-style costumes, and get together every few months to hit each other with foam weapons. We play out an ever-changing story line with plenty of shouts of “huzzah!” interspersed throughout. It’s a game of make-believe that everyone’s in on. All the LARP-ers work to keep up the magic of imagination. It’s like stepping into a whole world.
When my friends first told me of the glorious wonders of LARP-ing, I thought it sounded like a lot of work, remaining in character and actually fighting people. But I decided to go because they were so enthused. Friends from church told me about the location of this LARP, named Torch Light, out in the country at the house of a fellow homeschooling family. I thought up a costume involving browns and greens and a Lord of the Rings elven cape that I had gotten for Christmas one year. The class of Rogue appealed to me so I chose it. Rogues are less focused on fighting than a Fighter, but still have a weapon, unlike a Healer. I had yet to acquire a sword or spear, but my friends assured me there would be plenty a weapon available upon my arrival. I nervously awaited the day on which I would find out.
As I waited, I began to dream up my character. An elf was the obvious choice, not only because of my cloak, but because my left ear appears slightly pointed. I decided to be a half-elf named Crystal, with my sister as my elf’s sister, Amethyst. Being the writers we are, we wrote a whole biography for our elf sisters. Our father was a human whom we had never met. He was killed by wolves. Our mother was a forest elf, and an enchantress. When Amethyst was about 4 years old, she got too close as our mother experimented with a spell, and was killed. Never one to give up, our mother hurriedly captured Amethyst’s fleeting soul in an amethyst necklace that my sister always wore. The Amethyst that people now see is actually a sort of hologram projected from the necklace which I now wear. I also failed to mention that Amethyst does not know any of this, her memory was erased, but because of her young age it didn’t affect her. But no one must tell her of any of this, I am not sure what would happen if she knew she’s dead. Now with our full story planned out, we were ready to go.
Finally the date arrived. As the car crunched up the gravel driveway of the host’s home, into what appeared to be a small forest, I adjusted my belt and cloak, unsure of what to expect. As soon as I placed booted foot on ground, friendly people directed me where to go. I relaxed a bit. I headed toward the center of all the activity, jumping a tiny, trickling creek and heading up a slight incline toward a tree-house-like structure on the ground. I later learned that this area was Falton, an old, almost tribal European village. A bonfire was already burning, filling the air with wood smoke, and people were milling around with assorted spears, flails, swords, and battleaxes. My friend pointed me to the tree house. I climbed the ramp and was met by a boy in black and a leather vest next to a pile of weapons. I explained that I was new and just needed something to protect myself. He suggested several swords, describing the merits of each as if they were really going to save my life. I picked a light, short sword and thanked him.
When the official LARP-ing began, I headed out into the large backyard. I later learned that the whole property consists of thirteen acres. Once you’re there it’s believable. Hilly, wooded land seems to stretch forever in all directions, which is perfect for battles, sneak attacks, or the occasional Celtic dance for those not into rigorous fighting. As we walked, ran, and fought through the land, the underbrush frequently got in the way but was mostly ignored. If a scary man in a mask is about to loot you of all your hard-earned gold, a few scratches do not matter. The whole LARP experience is much enhanced by the feeling of isolation from civilization in those woods. It can be rough, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
When I mention that I LARP, I usually get one of two responses: “You what? Is that a word?” and “Wow, that’s super nerdy.” The words “role playing” seem to bring to mind card games or online gaming. The “live action” part changes much of that, though, once LARP is experienced. It becomes almost a sport when fighting, and an improvised play when talking to others. Non-LARP-er’s responses are merited. But LARP-ing is quite a different thing from normal role playing, more involved and, dare I say, fun. The only way to fully realize that is to experience it yourself. Any negative connotations of “nerdy” are knocked down along with your hit points.
Many of the aspects of Torch Light LARP, stem from the beliefs and personalities of the people who organize and run the event. This LARP was started by Christian homeschoolers and largely attended by the same. Because of this, we pray before each LARP event, and place an emphasis on being respectful. The welcoming personalities of the hosts rub off on everyone and the whole atmosphere is comfortable and lighthearted. Through it all, safety is stressed, with strict guidelines on the hardness of weapons. I always feel like everyone’s got my back, even when they are attacking me with some crazy duct tape sword.
At regular periods of time, everyone returned to Falton for festivals, times of truce and merriment. The town Tavern was always open, with limitless “beer” and snacks. The bank accepted deposits of any money, earned, found, or looted. At one such gathering, to much cheering and laughter, Rayth, a host of the LARP, appeared carrying uberlemons, yellow orbs the size of a severed head. As we cut them open to feast, I couldn’t help but notice their watery red interiors. But I was told they were giant lemons and who was I to question it? At another truce, two brothers stood so that the elder’s arms appeared to be the arms of the younger, who gestured and stroked his beard with “his” hands. Then, as a gathering crowd began to clamor for more entertainment, the strange appendages tried to feed the younger brother food and drink resulting in a mess and uproarious laughter from the townsfolk. But soon it was time to head out again. A battle was looming with a troll named Ancient Yuletide Carol that threatened the safety of the good town of Falton, and it’s mighty warriors were not about to let it win without a fight.
The battle-hardened fighters crested the hill to find the two-headed troll and his minions armed and ready. The villagers charged and all was chaos. I hacked my way through the mass to try to get at the troll, but I could never quite make it. Grunts, shouts, and the occasional laughter clouded the air as warriors fell, revived, and fell again. Bodies whirred around me and after each opponent was down, another quickly took their place. Finally, the clash slowed as the townspeople gained the upper hand. The troll was vanquished and his minions soon scattered. Falton was triumphant!
The weary warriors slowly returned from that final battle. I sighed in contentment and stood up from the tree to follow the others to the house. I knew LARP would continue to be part of my life for a long time, I had never been part of a group of people quite like this ever before. Despite my happiness, after a day filled with fighting, tubesteaks (hotdogs), treasure chests, and multiple alliance changes, I was ready for a rest. But before that, one last thing had to be done: watching The Princess Bride. It had become a tradition to watch at the end of every LARP. As the sun began to fade, the whole group gathered in the basement. Every inch of couch was sat upon, and every bit of floor was taken. Once everybody was settled, the movie began. And so did the quoting. Almost everyone knew the movie script by heart and proved it, saying the lines along with the characters on the screen. The blue-ish light from the television washed over the strangely garbed audience, the smell of bonfire smoke still clung to their clothing, and as I looked at this scene, I couldn’t help but think, “This is home.”