Beyond Skye: The Topless LARPing Incident
As most of y’all know, I am a game dork. I play role-playing games like Dungeons and Dragons, I do MMOs like Guild Wars 2 and Destiny, and I am a huge fan of the XBOX One.
I also LARP. That’s Live Action Roleplaying for you non-dorks. The games involve costuming and mock weapons called boffers that are made from latex, foam and either PVC or carbon fiber, depending on the design. Most often the games are held in a private campground somewhere so it feels like a medieval setting and players won’t be bothered, though modern-setting LARPs can happen just about anywhere. I’ve played Star Wars at a Hilton, Vampire at a dance club and Killer on a college campus. It all depends.
A few years ago I was playing an event in Seattle. My barbarian costume consisted of a two-piece made from deer skin, matching over-knee boots, a cape made from white velvet, a battle axe boffer and an assortment of feathers and beads hanging from a loose chain belt. On the first day, everything went smooth and somewhat boring. I hung around camp, played knucklebones, “stole” some food and participated in a “bar fight” that used boffer beer mugs, kettles, and other neat toys.
The next day involved a “raid” by orks and goblins, which was more interesting, and then a huge party. I went to bed with a girl I barely knew drunk on mead and tequila.
Three a.m. rolled around and I was awakened by noises outside our tent. I was still drunk, but reasonable enough to realize it was a nighttime raid being carried out by what was left of the orks and goblins we’d “killed” during the day. I grabbed my axe and slithered out of the tent to intercept them. In my drunken state I had a good time stalking them between the tents, avoiding light and trying to get close enough to bash them with my boffer. After several minutes I caught up and charged, letting out a wild yop that woke the nearest tents and terrified the “deer in the headlights” players who were playing the role of the monsters. So great was my prowess that I killed all of them without taking a point of damage.
Once the smoke cleared and we’d adjourned to the “tavern,” I realized there was a distinct draft in the area of my boobs. It was not my fighting prowess that won the day, it was my bare fake-blood covered boobs. Apparently a six-foot topless blonde running screaming out of the darkness is enough to give anyone pause, and I’d left my top in the tent. I never saw it again.
On the plus side, I got an award for my roleplaying and a shiny new tee-shirt to cover up with at the tavern.
Yeah… my life is weird.