Novelist, editor, and print and digital journalist. Co-author of the Dystopia Rising tabletop books, Embers of the Irradiated West, Diaries of the Rum Coast, Scraps of the Rust Empire, Overgrowth of the Undying, and Sleepy Hollow. With under a decade of LARP experience, as a journalist Catie Griffin has covered events that range from LARP to Comic Con to New York Jedi.
LARP is growing by leaps and bounds. With the College of Wizardry, Dystopia Rising and other LARPs gaining steam, it’s high time to show what LARPs are all about to the general public. Catie’s focus is taking LARP and gaming and showing it in a format that's appealing to the world at large rather than just the gaming community.
So I’m going to state something right up front with this blog post: This one is going to be geared to those that play Dystopia Rising LARP. If you have no idea what that game is, then you probably won’t get much out of this one (though you should absolutely check it out here). It’s going to use mechanical terms from the game that you may or may not understand as I blast through this.
Now that I’ve gotten that disclaimer out of the way, I want to talk to you a bit about Advanced Professions in Dystopia Rising LARP (most directors love and hate these, by the way). These professions are, effectively, roleplay professions that are gained only after putting an application in for one of them. There are only a few in the network (comparatively speaking), and tend to have skills that can be extremely useful in very specific situations but otherwise don’t come into play, unless it’s for roleplay purposes.
Imagine this: You walk into a room that’s decked out from floor to ceiling in post-apocalyptic finery. There is what looks like a working still on one side, and someone takes out some rusty tools from a workbench in a corner as he uncoils some copper wiring. There are a few people quietly discussing things at a bar in the back over drinks in tin cups. For that moment, you feel like you’re in the apocalypse.
And then someone walks by with a Gatorade bottle that hasn’t been covered up, yelling, “Hey! Who here knows ‘parry?’”
Today, I want to talk to something near and dear to my heart when it comes to live experiences: immersion.
One of the things I love most about LARP is boffer fighting. There’s a thrill in using tactics, pushing a line, and the sheer physicality of it all. But while I love boffer fighting, there’s one trend I’ve noticed that I actively dislike: the gender disparity.
In LARP (live action roleplaying), there’s a term that is used whenever two players engage in conflict with their characters: CvC or “character versus character.” A term that recently replaced PvP, CvC is usually used to describe one character engaging in physical conflict with another (stabbing, shooting, maiming, torture—you get the idea). But CvC isn’t just about physicality—it’s a lot more than that
“My character wouldn’t do that.”
That phrase? That phrase right there? That’s one of my pet peeves in LARP. Don’t get me wrong; it’s a phrase that’s completely fine if you enjoy staying true to the essence of your character. At the same time, though, you shouldn’t sigh theatrically and say it with a sad look in your eyes as you learn about something that’s going on within a game.
Today, I’m going to talk a bit about Dystopia Rising: New Jersey. For those that don’t know, this is the New Jersey branch of a post-apocalyptic horror survival game that spans across the United States. For the past few months, I’ve worked as the game’s Director of Storytelling, managing storytellers and bringing the world to life. And I’ve loved every minute of it.
First, I’m going to tell you a bit about my history with the game. Before becoming the director, I was a storyteller. Before I was a storyteller, I was a coordination marshal. Even before that, I was an avid player, attending almost every month to enjoy an escape into the apocalypse (I started back in 2012, when I was covering DR:NJ as a journalist. I know. I’ve played a LOT.).
Because of this history, I have a very good sense of what happens both “on the stage” and “behind the scenes” when it comes to running the game (Seriously. One of these days I’ll write a blog post about the ridiculous things we’ve had to deal with on a staff side.). And that’s exactly why today, I’m going to talk a little bit about the game’s “gang system.”
Today, I want to talk about being a storyteller for a game that regularly averages 200 to 300 people. Why? Storytelling for a larger game comes with its own drawbacks and challenges—things you don’t necessarily face with smaller games. I’ve encountered these challenges time and time again not only as a storyteller, but also as a director for Dystopia Rising: New Jersey. And it’s also a topic that I haven’t seen covered much.
One of the things that really attracted me to LARP was the story--the ability to create a character and enact their actions in real life. It's a bit like walking into a novel or movie. There's the suspension of disbelief as you watch everyone around you act out their own small chapter in a larger narrative.
By that same token, I always viewed LARP rules as a way to facilitate the larger story. Conflict will happen--it's a story. I'd go so far as to say that conflict is inevitable and helps drive story at LARP. This means that having rules to help resolve that conflict and show what the outcome would be are useful.
When you create a character at a campaign LARP, you put a lot of time into that persona. You get the appropriate costuming, you create a personality and history for that character, and you form relationships and goals with that character. So what happens when that character’s story is at an end? What happens when your character dies?