I had heard about it. I had laughed at it. Now it was time to infiltrate. And so begins my jaunt into Live-Action Role-Playing, better known as LARPing.

Of recent YouTube fame, LARPing has grown in popularity ever since its conception during the late 1970’s. Born out of historical battle reenactments, table-top role-playing games, in particular “Dungeon and Dragons”, and a love of departing from this reality, LARPing is where a group of people assume pre-determined characters and are guided through an outlined set of scenarios. My friend said he had seen a bunch of guys in cloaks galloping around the Quad at midnight a week ago on a LARP — I had to see what it was all about.

After checking out Stanford Gaming Society’s extensive, easily negotiable and rather-fittingly-well-put-together website, I e-mailed the LARPing organizer to see if I could join the next cloak-wearing Quad-venture. Luckily, the next LARP was scheduled for Friday and was intended for beginners, so I signed myself up.

The next day, I opened my e-mail to discover this descriptive gem of a blurb recapitulating the setting of the LARP: “In a future corrupted by the technological aspirations of powerful corporations, the battle for primacy is coming to a head. There is an ‘invisible war’ between the government and corporations, so named for the assassinations, political maneuverings and backroom dealings that are its weapons of choice.” Friday seemed like it would never come.

On Thursday, I received my detailed character sheet, which not only disclosed my actual name, secret relationships to other players, appropriate dress code and general backstory, but also provided me with a list of my special skills and combat abilities. In this self-described “cyber-punk” world I was to be Acid Burn, a young Harvard student who had recently joined an elite hacking group called the ‘Data Angels.’ I had a crush on a fellow Angel, an estranged police chief as my father and some handy hacking abilities. As for battling, I had mace, a mean kick, two small vials of acid and a streaming flame-thrower which, when used, was an attempted death attack. Some mace and a love interest. What more could a girl want?

When The Day finally rolled around, I dressed, per instruction, as a Harvard prepster, printed out my character sheet and eagerly biked my way across campus.

As I walked into the spacious Lag lounge — which is where they LARP on a biweekly basis — my ears were met with an enthusiastic buzz. About 20 co-LARPers were already assembled and waiting to begin. A couple players introduced themselves explained some of the basics to role-playing to me. It is not a competitive game with a crowned winner, but more of a theatrical improvisation where characters interact with one other and react to situations that arise in each invented setting. Because the players are essentially performing a sort of impromptu sci-fi drama, it is expected that everyone remains “in character,” or IC, unless it is necessary to momentarily step “out of character,” OOC, which you would use, for example, to declare an entrance into stealth mode. Standard LARPing procedures require players to cross their fingers while they are OOC to clearly inform others of their changed game status.

Once I had heard the basics, I met with the Game Masters, or GMs. They create the plot and characters and do not LARP themselves, but rather facilitate the role play by describing settings, creating puzzles, monitoring combats and ruling on any questions that arise during the night. After a debriefing on my character, the combat card system and the risks of implanting “biomods,” using “energies” and taking “damages,” I was vaguely ready to start role-playing.

I was put into a subway tunnel with my fellow Data Angel, where we ran into members of the Umbrella Corporation who were looking for a lost briefcase. It would soon become apparent that everyone, corporations, government and secret societies alike, were searching for this same bag. Both my intended love interest, Crash Override, and I landed jobs with Umbrella, and proceeded to help them in their current investigation of “lost corporate data.” With a GM bounding in front of us to explain the set-up of each new room we entered, our group broke into sewer systems, found rooms of fire and attacked a robot turtle. We were sent on a rescue mission, discovered the central underground room, stumbled upon the briefcase, fought other corporations for it and then chased the player who successfully ran away with it.

I had arrived at 7:00 pm, and it was now nearing midnight. The game had finally drawn to a close, and we sat down for an Epilogue to discuss the ending, reveal our characters and share some of our favorite moments. Family members had become estranged, lives had been lost, loyalties rerouted and the briefcase taken. We laughed when a GM finally disclosed that after these events unfolded, the US government and all of the powerhouse corporations had joined forces to try to take over the world — everyone’s actions had been unfortunately inconsequential.

I met some interesting folk that night. I couldn’t help but take note of the black nail polish, long braided pig tails, abundance of man pony-tails, walking staffs, goggles, sweatpants and plastic swords. Last Friday, however, I also met a group of people who were creative and imaginative, who spent their free time forging a detailed world into which their fellow LARPers could get lost, and who welcomed me and all the other newcomers with open arms.

An admittedly bizarre assemblage of a dinner murder mystery, an overzealousness for the Matrix, and improvisational theater, LARPing proved itself a fascinating niche on Stanford’s campus. Over Spring Break, about 25 members of the club stay for a week long Epic LARP, where they entertain more complex and nuanced characters, clues and story lines. I can’t help but say that it sounds a little intriguing.

If you, too, have now solidified your Spring Break plans, e-mail Katie Taylor at kttaylor@stanford.edu.