Stepping into a new world

It’s not uncommon to see a new participant standing quietly at check-in. Maybe they came alone. Their bag is filled with strange items: a wooden bowl, an old wool sweater, a belt with a cloth pouch. On paper, they have a character. But how do you bring it to life?

That’s where the magic begins... …but also the fear.

Because what worries most beginners isn’t the weather, the food, or how hard you’re allowed to hit with your foam sword in combat. It’s the thought:“What if I’m not good enough?”As if someone’s secretly scoring your performance – too little immersion, too much laughter, wrong accent.

But that’s not how LARP works. No audience. No judges. No competition. Just a group of people who’ve chosen to play – using rules, worlds and characters as tools. And there’s always room for one more.

Characters that grow

Many new players I’ve met believe they need a perfect backstory, a hand-sewn cloak, and a detailed plan for everything their character will do. Planning becomes an overwhelming barrier. But in truth, a simple idea is often enough: “I’m a weary soldier who wants to lay down his sword. ”Or: “I’m an apprentice too scared to admit I’m afraid.”

In fact, it’s often wise not to over-write your character at the start. At Umbra Lyceum, a fantasy larp for kids and families, we encourage players to leave gaps – to let parts of the character emerge during the game. This leaves room for spontaneous memories, relationships, and turning points. That’s how life works. And good larps, too.

Still want something to hold on to? Give your character a quirk – a small trait or recurring detail that helps you return to them. It might be a way of laughing, a favorite phrase, a posture, a habit, or a catchphrase. Maybe they tap their foot when lying. Maybe they swear by their mother’s soul... ALOT! Maybe they clear their throat before every sentence or avoid eye contact.

A quirk is like an anchor. When nervousness sneaks in or you lose the thread of a scene, returning to that one little thing can bring the character back to life. It’s a trick used in improv and film acting – a rhythm in the voice or a specific motion that helps actors slip into character.

For beginners, it can be especially helpful. You don’t need to know your character’s entire life story. But if you know they cross their arms when anxious, or always end conversations with “You have my word, friend,” that’s a starting point. And you’re giving other players something to latch onto – something that makes you memorable in the game.

The best part? You can start with just one quirk and let the rest of the character grow from there. That’s how it often happens. The voice, the walk, the attitude – it can all come later.The important thing is to have a door you can step through when you're ready.

Play for the story, not to win

If I could give just one piece of advice to a first-time larper, it would be this: Play a character you’re excited about.

It’s easy to be silenced by advice from seasoned players – “start with something simple, don’t stand out.” But you know what? If you long to play a wizard’s apprentice, a graceful spy, or a hardened sea captain: do it! It’s your experience. Your scenes. Your adventure.

But – play for the story.

In The Tundlaheim Saga, we’ve used that phrase for many years. It means you’re not trying to “win” the larp. You play in a way that makes the story richer – for yourself, your co-players, and the world.

Playing for the story means seeing the LARP as a shared construction, not a solo performance. It means letting your character mess up. Share information. Form unlikely alliances. Maybe reveal something that could have given you an edge – but now pulls others into the spotlight.

You don’t have to give away your character’s greatest strength. But you might let slip a clue. Drop part of a letter. Speak too loudly in a tavern. Small choices that open big opportunities for others.

When more players gain access to the world, the intrigue, the relationships – that’s when the game comes alive.

And paradoxically: the more generously you play, the richer your own experience becomes.

It’s not about being “nice” or “letting others win.” It’s about creating drama. Playing out moments that sting, that matter. Letting the world react. Sometimes it means taking risks. Doing something your character knows is dangerous – but that feels logical, emotional, or just irresistibly right in the moment.

Playing for the story means that you, the player, know things might go wrong – but choose the most interesting path anyway.And that powerful scene – the one that silences the campfire or makes everyone hold their breath in the great hall – doesn’t come from hoarding your secrets.It comes from daring.

When things get stuck – and how to get unstuck

Raoleplay isn’t always easy. I’ve sat with players who felt blocked, stuck in dilemmas where their character “should” act one way but the player didn’t want to. That’s when it’s important to remember:

You are in charge. Larp should be fun. You’re allowed to change your character’s motivation. Leave a scene. Say: “I need a break.”

Playing out aggression or conflict requires safety – especially when there’s underlying off-game tension. That’s why we work with meta-communication and clear safety tools. A gesture, a look, a code phrase – and the scene can shift or stop. Sometimes we even rehearse this before the game starts.

Because a feeling of saftey among the participants isn’t something you hope for. It’s something you build.

Improvisation is a skill

Nerves often peak before the game even begins. It can feel overwhelming to think you have to “invent” everything. What do I say? How do I start a scene? What if I freeze?

But improvisation can be trained. You don’t need to be an actor or drama kid to succeed.

Larp educators often use simple exercises to warm up the imagination and ease performance pressure:

“Yes, and…”: A classic improv game. Two people take turns building a story. Whatever one says, the other accepts and adds to. It builds your ability to embrace unexpected ideas and keep momentum alive.

Character interview: Have someone ask you questions as if you are your character. Answer on the fly: What’s your relationship with your father? What’s your biggest fear? What did you eat for breakfast? It helps you find a voice, a perspective, and a living backstory.

Two-minute monologue: Set a timer. Let your character talk freely about a topic: “My greatest dream.” “A time I betrayed someone.” “What I think about the clergy.” It’s an exercise in tuning inwards, letting the character’s thoughts take up space – without the need for perfection.

These might feel silly at first. But they work. In fact, research shows that just 20 minutes of improvisation can reduce anxiety, boost creativity, and improve your ability to handle uncertainty. In psychology, improv is often described as mental training in presence – the courage to respond, instead of planning every step.

And it doesn’t just help on stage.

Skills you practice in a make-believe world spill over into real life. When you, through your character, dare to speak up, admit weakness, or take space in a conversation – something happens. You grow. You discover new sides of yourself. That’s one reason LARP isn’t just a fun hobby – it’s a powerful tool for personal growth.

Community is the antidote to insecurity

You don’t have to do everything alone. Ask for a mentor. Join a group. Talk to the game master.

And most importantly: let go of the idea that you need to be perfect.

One participant once told me her character helped her find a new side of herself. It started with a cloak and a name, but ended with her standing up for herself in real life. That’s what roleplay can do at its best.

And if you stumble...

…it’s okay. I did too.

I was twelve when I went to my first larp. Small, bouncy, eager. I’d begged my mum for years. And there I was – an orc. With makeup, leather scraps, foam and latex weapons. Nothing really matched. It was messy. The colors were wrong. But I was thrilled. This was my entry into a world I’d only dreamed of.

My cousin, five years older, was already part of the larp scene. He had real gear, had spent hours on his makeup, built his character from scratch. When he saw me and my two friends shuffle past in our smudgy gray faces, he stopped. Looked. And said, with that unbothered teenage tone:

“How the hell did you do your makeup, Jonte?”

I remember laughing – but also how it stung a bit. Because I so badly wanted to belong. I wanted to do it “right.” To be part of it.

Maybe that’s why I later spent hours on makeup. Practiced, experimented, struggled with edges and shading. Not because anyone told me to – but because I’d found something I wanted to get good at. Something that was mine.

It wasn’t the kindest welcome I could’ve gotten as a kid. And let me say clearly: we don’t want to meet new players like that today. We want to be kinder. More generous. To understand that first attempts are never perfect – and don’t have to be.

But it became part of my story. A reminder that you can start with the wrong color. With shoes too big. With a laugh that cuts a little. And that’s exactly how it should be. Because everyone starts somewhere – even those who now do pro-level makeup, sew their own gear, or lead workshops for others.

So come as you are. Step in, even if it feels unfamiliar. We’ve all stood there too – tunic crooked, voice trembling. What matters isn’t getting everything right. What matters is that you dare to step in.

One last thing

Don’t wait until you feel “ready.” You will be nervous – that’s okay.

You will feel new – that’s okay.

You will do something silly and laugh about it – that’s more than okay. Some might even say, that’s the whole point!

Because in that moment, you know you’ve started larping. And it’s wonderful.

Jonathan 15 år.