Shadow of the Past

The 1992 recession began in July 1990 and lasted through December 1992, according to the National Bureau of Economic Research, which declared on November 26 that the current Economy had been in recession since March of 2001.

The 1992 recession was more traumatic, because it was recognized late. By the time that the administration admitted that there was in fact a recession, it had been going on for nearly a year and a half. And during that time period, friends lost jobs, apartments, and found themselves being swamped with debts, and didn't know why. Certainly there was a slowly dawning sense that something was wrong. But by the time there was any general recognition an awful lot of people were on the rocks.

Now, in 2001, most everyone knows there is something dramatically wrong with the economy and that layoffs are snowballing. Nobody knows how bad it will get, but the best-case scenario says that if this issue sees rock-bottom, things will not be well and healed again before March 2003, though they should be a lot better by August or September of 2002. But if it isn't rock bottom...who knows?

In the face of this sort of trouble, it may seem trivial to be writing about the preservation of what is, to most people, a hobby. But I'm doing it for two reasons. First, while Live Roleplay is a hobby to those who play it, to those who create and build it, it's an art and a passion. Like any group, we deserve a chance to try to weather the storm.

Second, in most communities that I have seen where there is LARP, Live Roleplay becomes the central community. Whether it is students at a school who identify as LARPers, or middle-aged adults who don't quite fit in at Church League Bowling, or the Country Club. I think there is a very good chance that to most people reading this, Live Roleplay represents a circle of friends and acquaintances that are "the community" in a way that Church Committees or the Rotary Club might have been Mom or Dad's Community. Sure, it isn't a way of life for everyone. But everywhere that there is LARP, I see a core community of people for whom it is a primary activity outside of work.

In 1990, I was more or less on top of the LARPing world, such as it was. I was part of a handful of about three hundred people on the East Coast of the U.S. who were actively involved in building theatre-style LARP - a Live Roleplaying genre that tended to be indoors and did not entail hitting anyone with a duct tape-wrapped piece of PVC. It was new, having roots that went back no more than about seven years, and it was growing and it was exciting. The group that I worked with was producing four games in a calendar year and five games in a six-month period. By the standards of the day they were very successful - substantially more people liked them than not. Within the community of two to three hundred (mostly readers of the nascent Kevin Barrett Edited foldover version of Metagame - the distant ancestor of this very Web Publication) we were known and talked about.

At the time, I was working part time, and living at home, having lost my father to a serious illness in early 1989, and having a bit of money. Mostly I was writing and learning LARP, while toying with starting my own Desktop Publishing Business.

Three years later I was broke, had launched a string of unsuccessful or mediocre games, and had seen the community of about three hundred dwindle to a community of scarcely more than one hundred twenty five. Worse, I'd seen friends become bitter enemies, and seen a community riven by strife.

I didn't blame the economy. In fact it was 1999 before I first began to seriously assess the early 90s and realize to what a profound extent the problems and controversies of the period…and the bad feelings that outlived the period…were linked to the economic woes of the 1992 recession.

I could go on at length about all that fell apart and how it happened. Everything is a chain of causes. I quarreled because I ran bad games and felt put upon for my hospitality and resentful of criticism; I felt resentful because I had no money; and I ran bad games because I had to go to work, and do odd jobs, to make money because my badly contemplated small business went belly up. The business would probably have failed in any situation, but the particularly painful circumstances, debts, and issues were compounded by the bad economy.

But really my situation wasn't so bad. The truth is I was a college student, used to living hand to mouth, and really wasn't so bothered by my circumstances. I saw friends have their furnishings put out on the lawn at apartment complexes, saw friends have to pick up sticks and move back to the west coast, or take jobs in places whose names could not be pronounced on short notice. Saw couples that had been stable for several years suddenly marry or explode into discord and separation.

What surprised me and aroused resentment was the bad feeling and critical attitudes among so many others. It was a time of a failure of cooperation. Certainly some of it was inevitable. Many of us were involved in trying to build an organization to promote Live Roleplay - the SIL, and its successor the ILF, the ancestor to LARPA. Small group politics are always good at bringing out pettiness and vindictive behavior. I was an idealistic crusader who did not yet understand how to temper that idealism to get people to cooperate, and gave offense and injury. Yet the same people and entities had functioned before and when there were quarrels, the vicious ones that hit home and really made enemies were about time, travel, and money. There were high egos in those days too, and groups that were going to one up each other, or gloried in their own aggressive self-promotion...these things would have left hurt feelings at the best of times, but they would not have aroused the bitterness they did if it were not a time when the money involved mattered. I nearly lost my house over a LARP, a bitterness it would take me a long time to forget.

Even at the time, we realized that the economy was somewhat to blame. It was openly discussed that with things tight, people were being more critical of games because they felt a need to get their money's worth, and it hurt to spend a hundred twenty bucks on a lousy weekend.

Eventually, I realized that the bottom line boiled down to no more than human nature.

In normal times, most people are friendly, and behave with some reserve. But in times of stress that reserve breaks down.

Take a stable community. Put a good third of them either out of work, or in fear of losing their jobs. Put another third in fear of being enmeshed in close personal situations with people that don't have jobs, that have their hands out for food and money...or whom they guiltily realize they should help...after all aren't they friends. Then put another third in the "unaffected" category, suddenly irritated at why everyone else is so picky and can't pull their weight. Mix liberally with boyfriend girlfriend and ex-boyfriend girlfriend relationships, because this is a social group and tends to partner off.

Suddenly this picture became very clear to me, and it was no longer strange to me that so many people seemed to have an attack of "the pissies" for the first couple years of the nineties. In fact it seemed a miracle any of us stayed friends or that a community of sorts endured at all.

Human beings, we are told by sociologists, respond to stress by fight or flight...generally flight involves the suppression of the fight instinct - the suppression of hostility. Create an environment where certainties are suddenly uncertain, and you have created an environment suffused by suppressed hostility. And that hostility will out.

At the core of that miracle was the fact that LARP is an escapist literature. As movies prospered in the 1930s, so LARP should by rights prosper in a time of economic downturn. Yet LARP is also stressful personal interaction. And in a time of great uncertainty that is not necessarily the best balm.

Looking around my own community I see the signs. I see people who are usually composed being prone to snapping and bitter statements. I see myself doing these things even when I don't mean to, because I am not immune to stress. And I look around and see that there is an observable difference in how my friends and acquaintances act now, and how they acted a year and a half ago. And I remember where I have seen this before...in the early 90s.

Thus endeth the Sociology lesson. In times of pressure and fear a community might draw together if it has to, but there is also an increase in fighting, in social hostility and in individual instability. Since a hobby community does not have to stay together it is inherently more vulnerable. If you don't believe the lesson, I can't help you. I can say with some confidence that in a general sense it is true, in the same way that it is true

What can a gaming community do to blunt the consequences?

What we can't do is avoid all the fallout that comes from people interacting with people. We can't help it if Hans fights with Lottie, or Lottie fights with Jane. But we can help to create an atmosphere which is less conducive to conflict, and which helps hold the community together. In retrospect, the political matters concerning the government of the SIL/ILF and its Conventions which were among the nastiest flash points of the fall out in my own community in the early 90s were tailor made for causing division and pain. Likewise, the very style of game that predominated - a full weekend event with a high buy in and high costs for facilities (hotels and restaurants, generally) were tailor made for provoking maximum hostility when an event failed.

1. Take matters seriously - it's an axiom in business that no plan can succeed unless it is taken seriously and supported by management. Unless folks who run campaigns and events take the lead, and really think about these things, nothing else here will much matter.
2. Recognize the signs - when you see players behaving erratically, suddenly withdrawn, or agonizing over matters you don't understand, you are seeing the onset of a reaction to general stress in the community. Recognize it for what it is, and be understanding, and encourage others to be understanding.
3. Communicate - create an environment of openness. Answer questions about matters of budget, time, and planning. In every LARP community there is some person who thinks that someone is getting rich off of this (microbucks!), and usually they deserve to be heartily mocked. But now is the time to give quiet, reasoned, careful explanations of where money is going, and what the status of the event is. That goes for the GMs' work status too. If you are not being able to put the time in on the events that you would like, say so, and explain why. Far better than a bluster to cover up work left undone, or worse, an autocratic refusal to take help or allow things to run their course without GM supervision for fear that "things will get out of hand."
4. Take Help - any campaign or event, at any time, should try to take all the help it possibly can. It isn't always easy. Trying to make use of volunteers is tough, and worthy of an article in itself. But now is the time to stretch yourself. It is especially important if the result of the current adversity is that you...or your principal writing partners...have less time than previous to give to the game.
5. Plan Small - figure out your available time commitments and realistic financial situation, and plan accordingly. Now is not the time to stretch. Players might enjoy a good retread of a previous event more than an ambitious and badly planned fiasco you didn't have time to follow through on because of pressing work concerns. Players might tolerate a smaller venue or less polished props if they don't have to pay extra for them.
6. Cut Costs - pare your budget where you can, but try to achieve real economy, not false economies. You also won't do yourself any favors by cutting your budget so thin you have to go out of pocket to fund your events. Letting one or two transition events ride with a little out of pocket or "sugar daddy" funding is fine, but it shouldn't be a regular practice (unless you are so fortunate that you are able to do it all the time). Trim prop budgets, look for cheaper venues, and borrow instead of buying to keep costs down. Above all borrow props. Your players own a huge amount of neat stuff. Telling them you want to borrow it, gives away a lot less about the plot of your game than you might imagine.
7. It's all about secondary costs - the really deadly costs are the ones you can't counter. I would not like to be, right now, a game that ran at a fixed site, for which I paid rent, a long way from my player base, so that they had to drive a good distance. But that's what most games are. Gas, food on the way to games and lodging if you don't provide it, are all player costs. On the other hand it's no gift to your players to cut a breakfast and cut a dollar off the price…often group meals are among the best financial deals in gaming. Our campaign is actually trying to plan *more* meals onsite, because they cost less than restaurant meals - we can provide a good dinner for less than the cost of a MacDonald's Meal Deal.
8. Make sure that those who have need are not ashamed - while this may be obvious, it is important. Make sure that there is no onus of shame on folks who are short on cash. This means not drawing overmuch specific attention. Nobody wants the GM to say "Joe can't really afford the game, can everyone help JOE out, since JOE is out of a job…" Recognizing folks who are currently in a tight spot as a class of individuals is better than singling out any one person.
9. Don't expect the "unaffected" to carry the burden - humans will be humans. Good as we are, when our friends start being unemployed, it takes a saint not to step slightly away, especially if we've ended up with friends on the living room sofa once before when we were younger. Those slight steps away hurt, and are the unspoken act behind a lot of fractured friendships. Don't make it worse by setting up a situation where anyone who is not currently out of a job feels they are targeted for almsgiving, and are expected to directly or indirectly underwrite others. The first tendency is to say "friends will help out," and they will. But some friends may draw away. Maybe that means they weren't real friends, but your campaign doesn't need to be the place people find that out. My current working theory is that it is better to establish a baseline system by which people who are unaffected can pay in a little bit extra to help out than to create free-floating expectations that friends will carry meals, gasoline, etc. People are willing to give, but they also want limits. And remember that the "unaffected" may have friends, relatives, siblings, or reasonable fears that make them much less able to be forthcoming with extra funds no matter how much they might like to.
10. Remember that the unaffected have expectations too - One of the things which rends a community is a sudden breach in expectations. While some people can be keenly aware of this, a certain number of people in a community blithely expect that the current pricing structure and offerings should match their capability. "Why NOT" run at a beautiful bed and breakfast that would be a perfect site, but costs $120 per person per night. "Why NOT" run at Ed's house which is a suburban rambler and cannot conceivably be made to look like a game site, but which is within walking distance of my house and free. As much as possible, try to keep up standards. Players who are used to - and still perfectly capable of - paying $65 a night for events may not be interested in a $5 game in Ed's Basement. Try to compromise, and when possible, maintain standards.
11. Create ways for those who can't pay to participate with dignity - the fact is that the people who probably need help the most are often those who won't take it. A lot of people are too proud to be a burden on their friends. You need to create routes by which people who don't have the ability to pay can contribute legitimately to support the event. Our group has "cast" and "technical" roles. The first group, for a small discount, play pre-written characters for us - the concept is found in nearly every system, under the name "monsters, NPCs, etc." Tech is a little different. Usually we charge tech nothing, and they work as stagehands, playing smaller roles as needed. It may not be the most fun role, but it does keep people getting out with their friends. Other ideas might be to sublet the construction of props, or costumes in return for admission. This would work particularly well if your group actually has a small budget for such things, since free admission or food generally creates fewer problems than paying members of the group money. Of course a real constraint is that it doesn't help to have all the volunteer help in the world if you can't afford the venue, and have to go out of pocket to cover the game. But most campaigns are open to some creative avenues for allowing players who are in bad financial shape to pull their own weight without accepting charity.
12. Consider that the need for social stress decreases and the need for escape increases. I'm the biggest fan in the world of evil psychological games that twist reality and perceptions, and often leave you feeling bleak or disappointed. In terms of action adventure literature, I'm a big John LeCarre fan. Not the stuff of happy endings.

    However, when we choose to run for a broad audience, while we may challenge that audience, it behooves us to keep that audience's interest. There is no artistic law here - just sound advice. Not everyone likes the extremes in gaming, and those who want to keep a game running will temper the extremes a bit. It's not an obligation, but it is a good idea.

    Here is a hint. Your players are less likely to take it cheerfully that Nyarlathotep ate them all, or that the Lich slaughtered them than they might be at some other time. Now may not be the best time to run risky experimental concepts that are not really crowd-pleasers.

    Right now your players have a higher need for pure escapism, and a lower need for social and psychological stress. Now is the time to deal them a few victories. If you want to keep your group lively, you'll bear that in mind.

13. Now is the time for you to be laid back - this is probably the single most important item of advice I can give. There is always something to irritate you. There is always a player who can't quite get with the drill, who makes excessive demands, or mistakes, or causes problems. Oddly enough, now is not the time to take that up with them. Sure there may be issues that have to be addressed. But now is the time to say, "do I really care that much that Joe doesn't keep his stats properly."

    Now is the time when you'll want to be confrontational. Because you are feeling the stress as much as everybody else, and you would love nothing better than a just cause to lash out at - someone clearly in the wrong for you to focus on and blast into mincemeat with perfect justification.

    But this isn't the time for that sort of behavior. The reason you want to so badly is the reason you shouldn't. Being justified or right doesn't change the fact that you're creating bad feeling. And LARP isn't like work at an office. There, however painful, if you fire someone, they go away. In Live Roleplaying communities, they may stay around to cause you infinite amounts of trouble. And rest assured if you round heavily on someone, you have just made yourself the magnet for all of their suppressed rage.

    It's easy to say "I don't care, I can take them." But nobody wins fights in which everyone feels bad and embarrassed. The best you can hope for is a draw in which it is quickly forgotten.

    If you have a real problem, be as gentle as possible. Enlist others to help. And try to hold on to your temper.

14. Nobody ever likes trivialities...now is not the time to harp on them. Remember you can't change the bottom line. Your principal problem is not a minority of players who are unemployed, or in bad straits. Your principal problem is a majority of players who are under untoward stress, which makes them hostile and defensive. This is not the time to try and enforce the letter of the law.
15. Be a pillar. The core of what causes problems in social groups at times like this is fear. Fear of changing circumstances, and of unexpected reverses. What attracts people the most is someone they can rely on. The more you can be this person, the more you will earn the respect of your community and be a pillar that holds it together. Try not to be snappy, mercurial, or inflexible. In a normal time, those might be appealing characteristics for the temperamental artiste that is the GM. But now is not a time when prima donnas are appreciated. Now is a time to be reliable, calm, dependable, and helpful.

I very seriously do not know if these measures in my campaign...and the fact that I'm willing to share this advice with other area GMs, will help preserve the community in the Washington Metropolitan Region. Ask me in 2005.

On the other hand, I cannot help but think that facing the current crisis with a clear vision, and a plan, is better than facing it with ignorance, activities tailor made to create strife, and no plan at all. Whether it helps a little, or a lot, it's something.