Folklore and LARPing
Thoughts on grass-roots communal Live Action Roleplaying Games
This post comes out of a sudden spur of inspiration I had when reconnecting with a part of my past I honestly thought I was no longer interested in. The other weekend, I attended a renaissance faire hosted by an armored combat school, held on the grounds of a year-round LARPing site. While there, I had many brushes with the past—some expected, some not, but all most certainly welcomed—and was struck with inspiration for future pursuits—and another post to give me more time for writing my scholarly “Hound” review.
Before I go any farther, I suppose I have to define “LARP”—in short, the acronym stands for Live Action Roleplaying and it is applied to roleplaying games that are played in real life. Often these games are fantasy-based, though when I was much more invested in LARPing there were a plethora of other genres, but universally players and cast-members (who portray the Non-player Characters [NPCs] and monsters) create an immersive experience in a simulated world, generating emergent stories that are informed by game mechanics. If that definition has too many buzzwords, the next best definition I’ve read comes from the rulebook of the very first “big boy” LARP I went to, which defined it as, “A mixture of tabletop roleplaying games and improvisational theatre.” These games take great lengths to be setup and maintained by the cast members and players—which gets to the main thrust of this post—creating and nurturing communities that generate their own “folklore” or folk traditions. LARP games are some of the few forms of entertainment in the modern world that are not monopolized by massive corporations (e.g. movies, TV shows video games, even tabletop games, etc.) and remains, I believe, a hobby that is for the “folk.”
While at this renaissance faire, I was accompanied by a friend from college who hadn’t LARPed before but was very fascinated by the welcoming and casual, yet dedicated atmosphere. It was raining cats and dogs the whole day so we took refuge in the tavern while looking for two other friends who were also attending. My friend got to talking about the Irish tradition of “visiting” (called céilidh in Irish; pronounced kay-lee) where members of traditional communities would visit the houses of neighbors, often leading to large gatherings that would last into the wee hours of the night. Visits were spent telling stories, sharing news, singing songs, and generally socializing with members of the community. Going by what I learnt in my postgraduate courses on folklore in the Gaelic-speaking world, the tradition of the céilidh itself would be considered folklore, as well as everything that transpires at the céilidh, namely song, dance, stories, gossip, food, drink…
At some point in the conversations I had with my friend throughout the day, I mentioned that many of the people who go to LARPs (who were also a large demographic in attendance at the faire) grew up LARPing, in many cases cementing them as members of a “traditional folk community” centered around the hobby of LARPing. Many of these lifelong LARPers are fantastic storytellers, actors, and hold a plethora of information that I would personally consider to be “folklore”—arts and crafts that include how to make foam weapons (also how to expertly use these weapons), crafting costumes, staying relatively comfortable in less than ideal weather conditions, and creating a whole new world on some campgrounds in the backwoods of New England.
I like to consider myself at least partially raised in this folk tradition—though not to the extent as many of my friends and acquaintances—as a good chunk of my teenage years were spent participating in or at least thinking about the imagined world of a LARP summer camp—where I first encountered the concept of LARPing—and the community surrounding this summer camp. It was one of the first places I managed to make friends outside of school, thus it held a special place in my heart and mind. Together we managed to make memories within the game and outside of the game while navigating the struggles and uncertainties of growing up. It was really when I aged into the cast side of this summer camp that I started to become more acquainted with the inner workings of LARP; I learnt how to incorporate theatre, storytelling, creative writing, prop-making into making the game world feel genuine. I gained this knowledge from mentors and friends who had been in the tradition of LARPing—or adjacent fields—longer than I. On the “other side of the curtain” I found a lot of meaning and excitement providing live action experiences for young “heroes” who filled my and my friends’ shoes as we became the monsters and the quest-givers.
Although I enjoyed creating adventures and plots for people, I had a bit of an itch for reliving those “glory days” of being a player and sought out “big boy LARPs” that I could attend. When I turned 18 I joined a game that had some overlap in people from the summer camp. The location was secluded in the New England woods and provided some small illusion of a medieval village—although it was a YMCA campground—but what really made it feel like another world was how the cast added little details—smells, sounds, sights—and established themselves as members of the world rather than simply entertainers. Some of the more veteran players as well knew how to manifest as people who inhabited this imagined world and embody their characters. One group which stood out to me was a small college of bards who in real life were professional musicians and, at the LARP, played modernized versions of medieval instruments. Even their simple busking or jam sessions was enough to lull me into a sense of being part of the imagined world of the game.
After “game off” was called, I took part in the clean-up of the campsite and tearing down and packing away all evidence of the game world. Most people, cast and players, who were able to stuck around for this part, being given some incentive by in-game experience but also perhaps guided by a sense of thanks and compassion for those who made it part of their lives to run a game not for profit but for fun. As a very young adult I was grateful to have met up with long-time friends and mentors—who I got to know on a more personal level—and make new friends along the way, however, I didn’t have the same perception or understanding of the community aspect of LARP that I do now.
I continued to LARP in my first two years of college, but stopped for a variety of reasons, one of them being that I chose to commit to my education and extracurriculars at my school entirely, the other being that I wasn’t able to engage with the game as much as a player. The latter reason is a bit tricky to explain entirely, and for personal reasons I’ll leave it ambiguous, but the short of it is that there were things going on in my life and mind which prevented me from getting into the headspace of my character and engaging with the world, other players, and even the cast. There was one night where I must have spent a full hour by an outdoor chimney, my back to the fire, just watching the game play out in front of me, not entirely sure what to do or what to say.
Fast-forward a couple years to this past September when I went to a “fight night” held by an armored combat league school. Armored combat sports involve participants wearing full medieval armor kits and wielding medieval weapons, fighting each other in usually point-based bouts. My further exploration into this sport will definitely be grounds for a future post, so I won’t digress any further. While I was there, I met several local vendors selling artwork, souvenirs, and LARP weapons. I was a little surprised to see the last item since my previous experience in HEMA (Historical European Martial Arts) exposed me to some types of people who looked down on LARPing, however, I’d soon discover that armored combat sports members were a different sort entirely. The host of the event announced that the school would be hosting a renaissance faire at a well-known LARP venue in New England. I left the event, exhilarated by the mêlées, and soon after booked a ticket to go to the faire, then reached out to several friends from college to see if they wanted to go.
I was familiar with the venue from my years when I did LARP, but never actually had been there myself. The hosts and participants in attendance at the faire were a whole mix of armored combat fighters, renaissance faire-goers, haunt actors, LARPers, and casual enjoyers of small-town gatherings. My college friends who came to the faire were astounded by the enthusiasm of the participants and the lively, cozy atmosphere the hosts established even in the face of an absolute downpour. The whole time I was transported back to when I had been a bright-eyed whippersnapper clutching a foam short sword, fascinated by the worlds and stories people could create with a secluded New England forest, some costumes, and a whole lot of passion for bringing fun to others. I excitedly chattered with my friends about how big of a culture LARPing had and the kinds of communal gatherings and traditions it bred outside of regular events.
While we were watching some bards warming up—in fact, the very same bards whose tunes I’d listened to years before at a LARP—a young person dressed as a satyr came near me and looked at me. I looked over at them and slowly started recognizing their face and recognized them completely when they said my name. I had LARPed with this person as both players and cast members in the latter half of our teenage years, and this had been our first time seeing each other since before the pandemic. It was one of those unexpected but welcome brushes with the past I mentioned at the start of this post that really reminded me of the many positive experiences I had with LARPing.
They led me over to the booth promoting the new LARP they were casting for and asked if I was interested in joining. Although I’d been out of the scene for some time I agreed and voiced my interest in casting for it. Again, actually getting to play this game will be ripe grounds for another post.
It was after that moment when I really started to realize my missteps and headspace when I had started LARPing as a young adult; back then, I treated the hobby as more of a video game brought to life rather than a living narrative akin to those that are the foundations of traditional folk communities around the world. Drawing on what I had learnt about Gaelic folk communities in Ireland, Scotland, and North America, I finally “got” what it meant to be part of the LARP/Ren Faire/Haunt communities. It’s not only about playing games and living out an improvised story, but creating a shared world with other people who do so out of passion. This is not only the imagined worlds within LARP games, but also the communities themselves that chose to spend what time they can among friends and family, using their knowledge, tricks, and lore to make every experience unforgettable. It isn’t about “levelling up” or gaining new, cool powers, or living out a power fantasy away from the drudgeries of modern life, but contributing to little worlds in order for them to thrive just as the seanchaí1 makes it his duty to recall the lives, history, and lore of his community to keep his world alive. LARP is not owned or monopolized by large corporations, thus the stories and secrets that generate in and outside their games belong only to the folk, never beholden to corporate agendas or trends, and never just simply “enjoyed” from behind screens but in person, around low fires, foam weapons resting nearby while the resident bard plucks the strings on his lute, with masked cast members lurking in the dark shadows nearby.
Thanks for reading this week’s post! Have you ever LARPed before, is it something that is on your list of things to try out? Leave a comment with the button below to share your experience with the hobby and community!
Also be sure to refer a friend to Senchas Claideb using the button below to receive special rewards including a custom Gaelic phrase (perfect if you have a LARP or TTRPG character you want a new catchphrase for) and an original, free short story!
Irish for “storyteller” or “tradition-bearer”.
It’s great that you are now able to revisit your interest in LARPing and view your experiences through a new lens. Even just having caught glimpses of the LARP events from the outside, you are certainly not overstating the fact that LARP community members bring a wealth of creativity and skills. There is tremendous value and fellowship that these communities bring. It is too easy for others to mock LARPers, but at the heart of that cynicism is most likely a longing for community and the real desire to be part of it. I hope that you continue your reengagement with LARPing and that this post may inspire others to give it a try.
Very interesting-- paints a picture of a younger you. I also enjoyed seeing the pictures of a younger you!