This article is classified "Real"
"No one knows why it is that dwarfs, who at home in the mountains lead quiet, orderly lives, forget it all when they move to the big city. Something comes over even the most blameless iron-ore miner and prompts him to wear chainmail all the time, carry an axe, change his name to Grabthroat Shinkicker and drink himself into surly oblivion." (Terry Pratchett [1]) Similarly, take a quiet, reserved, Systems Analyst from Stockport called Matthew, put him in a field wearing a chainmail shirt and carrying a rubber sword, and within an hour he'll be declaring himself Matthias, King of the Britons, and quoting Highlander very badly. This is the effect that Live Roleplaying has on people. Live Roleplaying is the subdivision of roleplaying which utilises costumes, imitation weapons, and a lot of hitting each other. No longer need you be confined to kicking seven bells of imaginary stuffing out of you friends, whilst rolling dice at the kitchen table. Now you too can beat them senseless with foam encased broom handle, and get away with it. The live roleplaying games have rules, just like any roleplaying game does, although most roleplaying games don't explicitly ban the use of machetes, bread knives and air rifles. Similarly, with LRP systems, there is no rolling of dice to see if skills work or not. Either they do or they don't, either you hit the Operations Manager from Kent who is pretending to be a troll, or not. Can you imagine Olaf the Hairy charging up to Brian the Saxon and whipping out his trusty d6 to see if he gave him a pasting? Not likely. Common live roleplaying props include a sword, shield, helmet, some form armour, and the highly important tankard. The weaponry must be suitably padded, so as not to injure anyone, and the tankard must be full at all times. Once a year, many live roleplayers feel an irresistable call to a strange land, at the time of the Gathering. The Gathering is an annual live roleplay event held in the UK, operated by the Lorien Trust. It usually tales place somewhere in the Midlands, and attracts up to four thousand people, including a large proportion of Goths and/or people from the computing community. The weekends events usually include hitting people, drinking, hitting more people, and more drinking, culminating in a large battle, usually involving much running about, yelling, screaming and hitting people, but strangely very little drinking. When the hurlyburly's done, when the battle's lost or won [2], everyone goes home until next time, and waits for the bruises to go. [1] Quoted with the permission of the author. [2] Quoted without permission [3]. [3] You wouldn't catch me dead at a seance [4]. [4] Har Har.