“He hasn’t posted in a while,” you think, “perhaps he’s run out of salt. Perhaps he’s quit LARPing. Perhaps he was hit by a bus.” Think again, reader, for I am made of salt, too stupid to quit, and statistically unlikely to be hit by oncoming traffic.
It’s easy to look at our peers at the ground floor (or penthouse, depending on how stratified and terrible your game is) and see who is toxic and why. But to peer upward into the murky sky above game, and analyze those who run it, is a tougher task. Numerous unsung labors go into managing and running a game, be they site costs, insurance, managing staff and managing expenses. Perhaps that complexity is shield enough from criticism. Or perhaps game runners are too scary to criticize, for they can make or break your social life.
Salt is necessary for water retention, and you are as likely to suffer prolonged dehydration from lack of salt as lack of water: this natural desire for salt is, I assume, why the saltier my posts get, the more they are shared. Wednesday’s post, by measure of sheer view count, must have been salty enough to pickle an entire city’s population.
Happy New Year. I’m back from the holidays with kidneys full of salt and blood pressure higher than Mt. Olympus. So let’s skip past the niceties and dive directly into the 6 categories of swine you endure in LARPs, and more importantly how to defeat them, or if nothing else, survive them.
I’ve heard it joked about, in that anxious “humorous” tone people use when the punchline manages to collide with something actual. “LARP is like a cult,” haha, no way, it’s just a hobby…
Or worse, when people have bought into the party-line bullshit about an event that sucked, yet somehow gets praised, and someone wisecracks “they drank the Kool Aid,” maybe forgetting the source of the joke (Jonestown, hundreds poisoned, actual cult), or maybe not.
Take a deep breath, gird your loins, and gaze into the abyss with me.
The killbox was NEVER exciting. You know it, everyone else at the table knows it, but that doesn’t stop the neckbeard who wins on ties from treating those 4 terrible hours as if they were directed by Quentin Tarantino. A movie scripted just for him (or her), clueless to the absolute subjectivity of their experience, convinced that everyone ought to know exactly what went down in excruciating detail. Meanwhile, you and everyone you know is just:
So is this person just socially inept? Or does your LARP inevitably create war stories, if not encourage them by design? Are you forever condemned to this audio purgatory?