| Garko the Man-Frog ( @ 2008-11-21 11:02:00 |
This morning's economic news came from Monty Python. According to the Post:
OBAMA: But I don't want to think I've not lost a Treasury Secretary, so much as... gained
a bailout!
[clap clap clap]
For, since the tragic death of the economy--
PAULSON: It's not quite dead!
OBAMA: Since the near fatal wounding of the economy--
PAULSON: It's getting better!
OBAMA: For, since the economy, which, when it seemed about to recover,
suddenly felt the icy hand of death upon it.
FEDERAL RESERVE: Uugh!
HARRY REID: Oh, it's died!
So...the best we can say about the economy is that it was coughing up blood late last night...
In that spirit, I'm going to reprint an article from back in 2002, during our last declared financial panic. I think it was a good summary then, and holds up reasonably now. I wasn't enchanted with the title, but mine was admittedly much more boring and the current title was put on it by Dave Coleman, then the Editor of the LARPer, and it is probably better than whatever I had (which may have been the subtitle)....
This article originally appeared at http://larper.larpaweb.net/no_work.html
January 2002, Volume 2, Issue 1 LARP in the Time of Cholera
Live Roleplaying Groups, Money, and Self-Destruction
A couple of weeks ago, I sat down with the Co-GM of my current campaign and figured out our current unemployment statistics. After a few moments with pen and paper, we came to the conclusion that about 18% of our regular contingent were currently unemployed, with about a quarter having expressed serious concern about being severed. I shook my head, and began looking through our schedule…this game could move to a private venue we owned. This one we could cut the price on a little bit and offer more meals…and we could look towards running the season without any significant prop expenditures…we'd always borrowed where we didn't have to buy, and between that and my private stock, we could run the season till about next October on last year's properties… "Maybe..." I said hopefully..."Things will be better by then." My partner in crime began running games in the mid-nineties, and had never been through a recession. So I ordered another cup of coffee and launched into the dreaded old-timer's account. I ran Live Roleplaying events through the `92 recession and lived to tell about it. So I told her what I was worried about. It wasn't the cost of the games. We had a plan to control that. It wasn't the cost of the food. It's a decent group and people will help cover for them as haven't got right at the moment. And my wife who heads our logistics and catering effort works miracles on a low budget with mass food prep. We could get by on a lot less money for victualing. What I was worried about is that our community would self-destruct around us and that nothing we could say or do would stop it. That an enveloping spiral of personal quarrels, fallings out and grievances would rise and suck the entire Roleplaying community down into a black hole from which it would still be digging itself out in 2005. Because I'd seen it happen once before. Maybe this doesn't concern you. You don't game where I do. And different groups are constituted differently. But read a little and find out. I've seen the insides of seven different LARP communities in seventeen years, and shared stories of a dozen more. And they all have some similar characteristics that make them vulnerable when this sort of cloud darkens the horizon. 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 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. 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. 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. 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.
Shadow of the Past
What can a gaming community do to blunt the consequences?