Module Writing Processes

As I'm currently staffing three games, I've been thinking a lot on module writing processes. I have a fairly reliable module writing style, but I'm curious as to what more experienced staffers do. Where do you start? How do you brainstorm? How does input from and collaboration with other staffers help you? How do you pair down all of your ideas into a streamlined document, presentable to a larger staff? Do you use any technology or web services to help the process (I'm pretty dedicated to Google docs, myself)? How do you edit text and incorporate criticism?

Just some questions to think about. If anyone has processes, styles, and strategies they'd like to share, I'd be grateful.

Oh, and on the topic of a certain three games...

I'd like to take a brief bit of web space to talk about the three games I staff... and upcoming opportunities therein.

Endgame
Endgame is, well, ending. We have two events left, and, I promise you, they're sure to be exciting. That being said, if you're interested in getting involved in the last two events (happening this coming spring season), please send our NPC coordinator a message. Not only can you get some CP for new games, but you can take part in an excellent, intelligent, and well-executed game. (And I really don't say that lightly-- of all the games I play, Endgame provides some of the most thrilling and emotionally taxing RP I've experienced to date.)

Invictus
Like Rome? Like Egypt? Like your historically inspired fiction with magic, epic battles, intrigue, and ancient lore? The come play Invictus. There will be drama. There will be fighting. (Oh, will there be fighting.) If you haven't already, go check out the rules and forums! And come play!

Clockwork Skies
If you're already familiar with The Calling, then you probably know about Clockwork Skies. If not... it's Steampunk done right. Sure, we all know about Steampunk. But, trust me, this isn't just bustles and goggles: this is going to be a really innovative approach to the world of Steampunk. Plenty of combat and RP, so come play! You can check out the staff here.

Please. Come play. Come NPC. Make my suicidal decision to staff three games worthwhile.

Picturing Fantasy: Photography and Costuming

A post over on Xeph-Ink, about photographing costuming, really caught my attention. (In fact, this post is largely in response to Xeph's blog, so please go check it out!) Xeph writes about the best possible ways to photograph costuming; she mentions lighting, context and environment, and models, as well as her own experiences with the ins and outs of photography. Professional costumers are probably familiar with the trials of photographing LARP pieces well, but, with a more general audience in mind (myself included), I wanted to give a few thoughts on photography and costuming.

During a LARP, I think it's easy to see fantastic costumes and makeup for what they are: well-done elements that add to the immersive IG universe. However, to me at least, once costumes drift outside of their intended context (for instance, in the middle of the woods at 3 am), they lose a lot of their magic. Sure, when someone is standing under the fluorescent lights of a bathroom, I can see skillfully applied make-up and/or a well-conceptualized costume, but something is, undeniably, missing. The diamond studded skin becomes a face with glued on plastic gems. The whiskers or scales body paint. While the beauty of the piece is still apparent, the real life of the person wearing it is obvious. In many ways, this is how the art of LARP works: it's ephemeral-- and tenaciously glued to its own context.

This is problematic when/if we decide to show our costumes and makeup to an audience outside of the LARP event itself. As Xeph writes, costumes out of context look a little sad: in your living room or on your front porch, your highborn tarantula queen doesn't look nearly as elegant as she did two weekends ago, deep in the woods. We've all seen the pictures of costumes photographed outside of their intended environment: unless the game itself is modernistic, they rarely look good (boffer weapons, an entirely different story, even less so). This is a pity: a lot of people, even if they aren't LARPers, could probably understand and get into LARP through pictures of good costuming.

All of this considered, I've seen some pictures, including those on Xeph-Ink, that are fantastic: not only are the pictures themselves artistically taken, but the setting works. The model doesn't seem awkward. The costume, even though obviously outside of a LARP or Faire, is displayed to its full potential. While photographs of costumes may seem superficial, to me, they have a larger significance: well-done photography is one way to preserve and communicate our art form. As I've discussed before, LARP is difficult to communicate or display (as well it should be, perhaps). In my opinion, options that allow us to successfully capture our art form should be pursued.

So, what are methods for successfully photographing costuming and makeup? Are you a fan of photographing costuming? Are there privacy concerns involved with photography? And, please, for some really practical technique tips, go check out Xeph-Ink!

Talkative Monsters

In New England, LARPing season is in full swing-- like many of my comrades, for the last few weekends and until it gets really cold, I've been packing my totes and zipping off to the event-of-the-weekend. It's been tiring, but grand. On these many rides to-and-from LARPs, conversations, unsurprisingly, drift towards LARP. One thing that's been popping up a lot for me is the issue of RP-active combat NPCs.

To be clear, these are the crunchies-- the little ones who pop up until you take down the bigger one(s). They are often played by tireless NPCs who have been thugging for most of the weekend. They probably don't have a backstory, and they may or may not have a particularly good briefing. They are there to fight PCs, to be a body, and to amp up the danger of an encounter. This brings me to the problems of role-play with these NPCs.

As a PC, I dislike completely lifeless, uninteresting crunchies. Even if you're only out for an hour, endlessly recycling, I really appreciate when people put in the extra effort to breathe life (or unlife) into Random Zombie 5. Monster-appropriate grunts, movements, and, when appropriate, strategies go a long way for me. With that being said, as a PC, there is nothing more obnoxious than a random monster who is distracting, through over-acting, from the real focus of the fight-- to me, it's like a chorus member constantly upstaging the lead.

So how do you strike a balance in crunchy RP roles? Personally, I think it has a lot to do with monster camp briefing-- as an NPC, I enjoy it when I'm given simple and clear instructions, which include motivations (this can come from a stat card or, ideally, a person). The monster master at Aralis is particularly good at doing this: rousing speeches, funny and wonderfully delivered, provide motivation and meaning for even the smallest roles. I'm curious as to other people's opinions and experiences regarding "RP-active crunchies"? Do you like them? Hate them? Notice them? If you staff games, how do you brief crunchies relative to RP? If you NPC, do you attempt to characterize even the most "inconsequential" monsters? How?

Villainy

As an NPC, I love playing villains. Being the character that PCs love to hate is, in a strange way, rewarding. Even when PCs want to do terrible violence to your character, knowing that you, as an actor, have facilitated an emotional bond is exciting. Furthermore, as a PC, I realize how essential villains are to many LARPs-- especially in PvE LARPs, villains can amp up the intensity of a plot, provide motivation, and offer a moral foil for players. However, while most games have them, I do not think that playing a fully characterized villain is particularly easy: villains have been in fiction for a long, long time, and it's hard to play one without stumbling on some established trope ("evil faerie" and "mad scientist" are my usual go-to's). So, with that in mind, how can you make a villain interesting? How can you make one painfully boring?

As either a PC or an NPC, how do you play villains? From an observer perspective, what types of villain characterizations are successful? Which ones are failures or tired cliches? Do you have any favorite LARP villains (against whom you've fought, or with whom you've "worked")? What makes their characterization so good? What tips do you have for playing good villains?

Staying in Mundania

by Zoe

I was chatting with a friend last night; we were talking LARP, as we tend to do. The friend, who has various experience staffing and playing, mentioned the role of "mundane plot" in LARP-- especially fantasy LARPs or high-magic environments. The friend said that he preferred mundane plot over continually epic, high-fantasy encounters. After some thinking, while I like my epic plot plenty, I came to agree with aspects of this argument. So, I have some questions, and some brief answers of my own. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

What is "mundane plot"?
For me, mundane plot is the stuff that makes a world real, but doesn't have universe-dismantling consequences. It's the conversations with farmers, technicians, refugees, villagers, and minor politicians. The modules that allow you to engage with the daily grind of the gameworld's population. The minor moral decisions that don't impact the larger flow of the game, but engage players in a lasting way.

I'll give an example of mundane plot that was engaging for me. In MM, a group of NPCs and staff member lead a weekend plotline that involved a debacle between a fae lord and a village; the bone of contention was a river that the fae lord wanted rerouted. The rerouting would, of course, significantly hamper the villagers; however, the players owed the fae lord a favor. Beyond basic combat modules, the plot involved several round table meetings between the players and related NPCs (including the mayor of the village, villagers, and representatives of the fae contingent). Players, as a group, had to devise ways to appease both parties-- some players, myself included, were, without question, in support of the fae; some were, without question, in support of the villagers; everybody wanted to have their interests represented in the conversation. The plot was, mostly, back and forth discussion about drilling wells, rerouting rivers, and repercussions for the surrounding communities; innovative modules to dig the well and reroute the river followed. Writing it out, it, admittedly, sounds a little boring. However, it wasn't-- it was fantastic. The level of normalcy involved drew us in-- we, epic characters of legend, needed to figure out how to provide irrigation to a random village's crops. If we had decided to ignore the plight of the villagers, in favor of pleasing the fae lord, nothing dire would have happened-- but the goodly players among us would have felt uncomfortable. It was a story arc that, through its normalcy, involved us, as characters, on a variety of levels. Simple as it was, it was a very engaging, well thought-out plot.

How does mundane plot add to a campaign?

As in the example presented above, mundane plot can make players feel involved in the world around them without involving higher-order fantasy. It can be a good way to involve character well-versed in the universe, but also to pull in newer players who may not understand the grand overarching schemes. Moreover, when epic characters and plotlines are constantly used, they have a tendency to get old and, worst case scenario, cheesy. Throwing in a goodly dose of "mundania" can help that.

When does it detract from a campaign?

Mundane plot, when done poorly, can feel like filler. Poorly done mundane plot feels like modules for bored players, or for players who don't have any connection to a larger plot. Obviously, this is problematic, and needs to be avoided. Careful writing and, perhaps even more importantly, really good NPCs, can help people avoid this. In order for mundane plot to work, the actors involved need to be skillful, knowledgeable, and interesting (easier said than done)-- that way, minor issues feel like major issues, which is the trick to making mundane plot work.

So... how do you use mundane plot in your LARPs? Do you enjoy it? Avoid it? What are some successes and failures you've had?

Cottington Woods Rule Book

Decisions! Decisions! The Cottington Woods preliminary rulebook has been released! What are you thinking of playing? Do you have ideas for costumes and props? If you're attending the playtest (I sadly cannot), please be sure to include some thoughts!

Comfort Levels

Hello everyone,
Thanks for being patient with me. Here in the archipelago, I've been hiking until I can't really stand anymore, which leave me with very little brain for LARP. However, in my lonely mountain retreat, I was mulling over something that has come up a couple times for me in conversation, writing, and playing... comfort zones.

(Please excuse the awkward English-- I haven't been using it at length or in any sort of formal context.)

Firstly, what is a comfort zone (and I'm sorry for the lack of a better term)? Within LARP, I'm operatively defining it as an individual player's tolerance and willingness to participate in any number of IG/OoG scenarios. For instance, PC Jenny Jones may have a comfort zone that allows her to enjoy emotional conversations with fellow PCs, political intrigue, and one-on-one combat. However, PC Jenny Jones may have a comfort zone that does not include any sort of PvP nor romantic relationships with other players (PCs or otherwise). Moreover, devoutly religious OoG, Jenny Jones may feel intensely uncomfortable if required to engage in IG religion. Superficially, this situation is easy enough-- don't send Jenny Jones any potential suitors, and make sure she gets in on any juicy usurpation plot (but avoid church stuff, or forewarn her). Seemingly, Jenny should have a fun and comfortable game.

However, when Jenny is one of 60+ players, all of whom have individual comfort zones, this can get complicated. How can the player base, including staff and non-staff, successfully navigate and address the comfort zones of every single player? Admittedly, this is a difficult question into which a lot of thought has been poured-- pregame surveys, post-event letters, and experiential learning have all contributed to helping us learn how to deal with the comfort zones of our fellow players. After all, LARP is, if nothing else, a fundamentally prosocial experience. So, some questions on comfort zones...answer any, all, or none.

What is your comfort zone? How do you make sure it is respected? Have you ever run into problems with your comfort zone/tolerance levels on an OoG level? How did you deal with the incident?

How do you mitigate your OoG comfort zone with the expectations of the IG world?

As a staff member or NPC, how do you deal with varying PC comfort levels in a game?

Are there ground rules for player interaction that facilitate an environment of mutual respect?

Are there ever times when pushing a player out of their comfort zone is ok-- even desirable? Why or why not?