The Final Act of a Shakespeare Comedy: A Fairweather Manor LARP Report

As I write this, I am on a plane returning to Portland after attending the Fairweather Manor LARP held at Moszna Castle in Poland. If you’d like an introduction to the concepts of European-style Live Action Role Playing, please see the Conscience LARP Report I posted last week.

Whereas Conscience was a LARP pretty closely based on Westworld, Fairweather Manor was more loosely based on Edwardian family dramas such as Downton Abbey and Upstairs/Downstairs. A gigantic, sprawling game involving nearly 150 participants, it explored concepts of class, power, romance, and interpersonal politics in Europe in the tumultuous year 1912. Although the LARP took place in a castle in Poland, it was set in a castle in England, where the head of the fictitious Fairweather family had called together all of his friends and relations to celebrate the family’s impending voyage to America on the spectacular new ocean liner HMS Titanic.

The characters of this LARP represented the extended Fairweather clan, including delegations from the English, Irish, French, Belgian, American, and Russian branches; their friends and relations, including bankers, lawyers, townspeople, actors, and artists; and their servants. The relationships and tension between the “upstairs” characters (about 2/3 of the players) and the “downstairs” characters were a major driver of the game’s drama.

And oh what drama there was. Every character had agendas, secrets, and a rich backstory, and the braided intersections of all those stories guaranteed plenty of tears, heartache, scandal, disappointment, betrayal, and joy. Much of the drama involved romance one way or another, in particular the search for a suitable spouse for those of marriageable age, but there was also plenty of drama around money, reputation, status, and art. Fairweather Manor didn’t have a strong overarching plot like Conscience’s “the robots are gaining consciousness” or Meeting of Monarchs’s “Henry VIII wants to divorce his queen and found a new church;” instead, it was a huge pile of subplots which were loosely collected into a three-act structure of “A Blissful Reunion” (characters renew existing relationships and form new ones), “Out with the Old and In with the New” (characters explore and question their place in society), and “Before We Say Goodbye” (characters act on their feelings).

I played Baron Piotr Maximilian Petrov, a powerful and very conservative Russian Baron, a retired captain from the Russian Navy who had suffered a traumatic defeat in the Russo-Japanese War. His wife Baroness Anabelle, sister to the head of the French branch of the Fairweather family, was played by my partner Alisa. She was charming and bubbly and could be counted on to light up any room… possibly by setting it on fire. The Baron and Baroness brought with them their five adult children, one widowed aunt, and three servants. Dimitri, the eldest son and heir, was a dilettante artist who could never seem to finish anything he started. Next in line were twins Arkady and Anatoly; Arkady was a military man with a hot temper, while Anatoly was a bon vivant and a bit of a rascal. Tatiana, the older daughter, was brash and bold and always the center of attention, while Anastasia, the youngest child, was shy and flirty. And aunt Wilhelmina, widow of the Baron’s abusive younger brother, was intelligent and witty and actually rather enjoying being out from under her late husband’s thumb. The two ladies’ maids, also twins as it happens, were dreamy and hopeful Manya Guseva and her more practical sister Dunya, a secret communist. And the Polish valet, Pavel Bakowski, was cold, efficient, and eminently practical. At least, that was how the characters were written. But, as the Baron often said, no plan survives contact with the enemy.

The Baron and Baroness’s primary goal was to find suitable spouses for all five children by the end of the weekend. (The timeline was, of course, artificially compressed by the real-world constraints of the game, but it did raise the stakes quite nicely.) There were also a few secondary goals, including resolving a situation in which a portrait of the Baroness had been paid for but not yet delivered, but almost everything else revolved around the children and their romantic lives. Of course, all negotiations and deals around the courtships had to be handled during and between the manor’s busy social schedule. There were cards and croquet, music and theatre performances, shooting and fencing, and most importantly three meals a day.

Breakfasts were rather informal, being served buffet style, but lunch and dinner were two- and three-course affairs with a seating chart — the guests were shuffled around for each meal and the question of who sat next to whom was subject to considerable debate and negotiation with the Fairweathers and their staff — and were served to the upstairs characters by the downstairs characters. (The food was prepared by the castle’s staff and was excellent.) These meals lasted an hour and a half to two hours and were fabulous opportunities to form relationships, negotiate betrothals and business deals, and engage in witty conversation. The dinner conversations in which the players, an extremely intelligent bunch from all over Europe and the US, improvised discussing the issues of the day (the day being 1912) in character were actually among the most enjoyable parts of the game for me. And just as Conscience had a “sex mechanic” by which players could play their characters having sex without any actual sex occurring, Fairweather Manor had an “etiquette mechanic.” There were just three things to remember: elbows on the table, pointing with silverware, and tucking of the napkin under the chin. Do any of these things to signal “I have poor manners;” avoid them to signal “I have good manners.”

In addition to having their own lives and agendas, the players of the downstairs characters had real work to do. They rose hours earlier than the upstairs characters; they had to do all the fetching, carrying, obtaining, cleaning, delivering, and any other tasks delegated to them; and they were responsible for dressing the upstairs characters before breakfast and dinner. As we were informed by a historian at the beginning of the game, upper class Edwardians were fundamentally useless — literally incapable of tying their own shoes or opening a window because they had simply never been taught how to do so — and so as upstairs players we were requested to permit the downstairs characters to assist us with every step of donning our rather complicated outfits and arranging our hair. The intimacy of the act also encouraged close relations between the characters, of course, and the dressing hour was critically important to exchanging gossip, information, and plans between upstairs and downstairs. My own valet, Pavel, was absolutely essential to my game, as without him I would not only have been unable to maintain my magnificent double-decker quad-stache but I would have been woefully ignorant of all the rumors and gossip surrounding my family.

As I mentioned above, no plan survives contact with the enemy, and as it turned out just about none of us Petrovs played our characters exactly as written. Dimitri, who was written as a dilettante artist and poet, was played as a drunkard with a fierce temper. I found him very distant and desultory; I saw him rarely, never got to spend very much time with him, and got little out of him when I did. As such, trying to get the heir married off proved to be one of my biggest frustrations. Arkady, the angry military man, was played as a person on the autism spectrum; he didn’t really understand emotions and had no tolerance for ambiguity. At one point I tried to get him to understand love by using a metaphor of keeping a horse under control, but he came away believing that horsemanship was somehow necessary to romance. Anataoly, the bon vivant, proved to be the child whose judgement I trusted the most, if only he could be persuaded to stop tormenting his brothers. Tatiana, the bold daughter, unfortunately spent much of the game in her room due to day-job issues and so most of her plot was conducted via rumor and innuendo. And Anastasia, the shy one, invented a plot involving a stolen (or perhaps inappropriately gifted) brooch which provided quite a bit of interesting game play. I had expected that most of my game would involve fending off my children’s inappropriate relationships, but as it turned out none of them seemed particularly interested in getting engaged at all, and so their mother and I spent a lot of time trying to find appropriate spouses, pushing them together as best we could, and hoping they would click.

I myself did not play my character as he was written. Baron Petrov was supposed to be a loud and angry man, an extreme conservative devoted to pushing back against modernity, and a man with severe shell shock which he was medicating with vodka. But… I didn’t want to be that person. So I played him as a lot more compassionate. In particular, I kept saying “I don’t want to be like my father and force you to marry someone of my choosing. I want my children to be happy.” At one point Tatiana and I planned out a scene in which she would wear an inappropriate dress to the grand ball and we would have a huge screaming argument on the dance floor, but as the hour drew nearer I found I was reluctant to go there. I was concerned that too much visible drama on my part could jeopardize my children’s developing engagements, but more importantly I wasn’t certain I could even play that scene. As it happened, for a variety of reasons it didn’t come off at all, but I wonder if the game could have been even more interesting for everyone if I’d been willing to engage with my negative emotions. Perhaps at the next LARP I will try wearing the black hat.

At lunch on the second day I found myself seated next to the matriarch of the Wayward family, the American branch of the Fairweathers. She was extremely interested in joining her family’s fortunes with mine — indeed, her daughter Scarlett wore a series of magnificent Russian-style fur hats specifically selected to attract Petrov attention — and together we hatched a plan to hitch my twin sons with her two daughters in a spectacular double wedding. We planned to get the two families together at a picnic to push the unsuspecting young people together.

Arranging an event with four people, never mind two entire families, in the sprawling castle and jam-packed schedule was like herding cats. But with the help of the amazing Pavel and the twin ladies’ maids, we actually managed to get almost everyone together for a half-hour tea in the orangery (the weather having turned drizzly). It was delightfully awkward and, wonder of wonders, the four children did indeed go off in pairs at the end of it as we had hoped. But though I had planned to pair the strong-willed Scarlett with angry Arkady and bookish Tiffany with bon vivant Anatoly, the attraction actually ran the other way. Whatever, I thought, as long as they get engaged by the end of the Grand Ball.

The Baroness and I did what we could to encourage our surprisingly reluctant children to get engaged. When queried as to their romantic interests, both Anastasia and Dimitri said “that’s your job, dad, just tell me who and I’ll marry them.” But the first candidate we selected for Anastasia — an eminently suitable young man from an excellent family, with whom she was already close friends — was rejected because “it would be too weird.” “This house is full of young people crying because their parents are forcing them to marry someone they hate,” I said, “and you’re saying no to someone because you like him?” But she was intractable, and when she extracted a promise from him to never, ever marry her we had to look for someone else. Dimitri we pointed toward the Fairweathers’ eldest daughter, a bit of an ambitious reach but, given that the Baroness and I had both been seated at the head table on the first night, we thought it was not out of the question. But Dimitri seemed uninterested in actually pursuing her, and according to rumor he was not among her top candidates. Arkady spent time with Tiffany but seemed oblivious to her charms. Tatiana, because she was unavailable for out-of-game reasons, seemed destined for maiden aunthood. And Anatoly… I found that I really liked him, and trusted his judgement, but his dissipated lifestyle seemed to portend a life of happy bachelorhood. So I decided to bribe him.

At the beginning of the game we were informed that none of us would have any misgivings whatsoever about the Titanic. A Titanic ticket was a pure boon, one of the most valuable physical items in the game, and we were free to buy, trade, gamble away, or steal them as we wished. Many of the upstairs families, including the Petrovs, had enough money to just buy one from the ticket office, but in order to obtain one we had to go to the organizers’ room and make a case that it would improve the game in some way. So I went there with a plan: I would offer Anatoly two first-class tickets if he became engaged to a suitable young lady by the end of the weekend. The organizers said that this was an excellent plan, commended me for my generous play, and presented me with two tickets forthwith. I showed them to Anatoly and he seemed delighted by the challenge.

One other Titanic ticket passed through my hands. As I mentioned earlier, the player of Anastasia had decided on her own initiative to run a subplot involving a diamond brooch, a family heirloom which she had been given by her grandmother at birth. On the second day of the game I was informed by my valet Pavel that Anastasia’s brooch was being flashed around by a no-account layabout artist named Guillaume. And so Pavel, our maid Manya, and I broke into his room to steal it back. But it was not in its accustomed place! I wandered the halls looking for Guillaume, not sure what I would do if I found him… and then I saw him wearing the damn thing on his lapel! Furious, I stalked up to him and demanded its return. “It was a gift from Anastasia,” he replied mildly. “That is family property,” I steamed, “not hers to give away, and if you were a gentleman you would return it to me this moment!” “All right,” he said, and handed it over, along with an incriminating note in Anastasia’s hand saying that it was a gift to express her thanks for extracting her from an extremely compromising situation. That, I thought, was something Anastasia’s mother and I would have to discuss with her later, but after I picked my jaw up off the floor I acknowledged that Guillaume had behaved as a gentleman should and offered him a favor — not an heirloom-brooch-sized favor, but something reasonable — to keep quiet about the whole situation. Later that day I was passed a note requesting a single first-class Titanic ticket. This, I thought, was entirely reasonable, and the organizers agreed, so I presented the ticket to him and we shook hands like gentlemen. (But he was still a no-account layabout artist, and I was secretly glad that he would eventually wind up on the bottom of the Atlantic for his trouble.)

As the clock ticked toward the grand ball which would be the end of the game my life resembled the final act of a Shakespearean comedy. I felt like I was riding a unicycle, balancing a pot of hot tea on my head, and juggling teacups while trying not to spill a drop. Arkady continued clueless, our second choice for Anastasia was hopelessly in love with an actress, Anatoly was keeping his own counsel, Tatiana was hors de combat for out-of-game reasons, and I barely saw Dimitri at all but the halls were abuzz about the Fairweather girl’s impending engagement with an Irish aristocrat. I feared that we would end the game with no engagements at all.

After dinner on the last night — the most lavish and festive meal of the game, with everyone in their very finest outfits — we divided as usual, with the women going to the drawing room and the men to the hunting room (where “I use antlers in all of my decorating”) for brandy and cigars. (The brandy was real, the cigars fake.) There I was drawn aside for a personal question by an American officer, an “aviator” in the newly formed Army Air Corps, with whom I had had several delightful conversations about his novel machine. My heart pounded. He was a commoner without money, but I knew and liked him and his character seemed impeccable, so I agreed to hear him out. He very humbly informed me that he was in love with… our lady’s maid Dunya! He requested that I permit her to depart my service to marry him and move to America. He preempted my biggest objection — that Dunya was Anastasia’s best friend in the world — by saying that he had already spoken to Anastasia and that she consented to the match provided he promised to convert to Russian Orthodoxy and sign a pledge that in case of his untimely death Dunya and any children would return to Russia. The loss of Dunya would be devastating to our family, but I realized I could not stand in the way of true love, so I agreed to grant his request as soon as I heard Anastasia’s consent from her own lips. Well, I thought, at least we’ll get one marriage out of this… though it would mean the loss of one of our most beloved servants, practically a member of the family. We shook hands and I said “oh, by the way, can you suggest anyone as a possible fiancé for Anastasia? Her mother and I are stumped.”

He could, as it happens, and though the young man — a captain in the English army — was barely known to me, he was already a friend of Anastasia’s and the aviator vouched for his character, so I asked him to arrange a meeting between us. Pretty soon the young man in question sought me out and made his case. I queried him as to his intentions and prospects and was satisfied, so I accepted his request. (I did this without consulting the Baroness, as time was growing very short, but I informed her as soon as I could and she agreed with my assessment of the situation.) We discussed how best to approach Anastasia with the news and we agreed that he should be the one to pop the question, without my involvement. One down, I hoped, four to go.

Tick tick tick. The ball had already begun and I was rushing hither and yon. Everywhere you looked men were kneeling before women crying with happiness. The Baroness, because of out-of-game mobility issues, remained seated at the side of the ballroom. Anastasia was beaming in the middle of the room, having just accepted the captain’s proposal, and I congratulated them heartily. Arkady was deep in conversation with Tiffany, that’s good. Anatoly was dancing with an absolutely beautiful specimen, that’s good. Tatiana was socializing cheerfully, that’s acceptable. But where was Dimitri? Drinking alone in the corner. Oh dear. I went to him. “Apparently Amanda prefers an Irish brute to a Russian noble,” he slurred. “But I will show him a thing or two!” I told him as strongly as I could not to do anything rash.

Then Arkady came to me, looking rather stunned. “I do not know what to do, Father,” he said. “I do not understand my own heart.” “Would an order from your father help?” I asked. “Yes.” “Go find that girl and propose to her immediately!” I commanded him. He saluted and went off to find her. But I soon saw him wandering helplessly around the ballroom. “Can I help find her?” I asked. “Yes,” he said, “Her name is Monique Delacour.” What happened to Tiffany? I thought, but once he had described this Monique I told him to remain in the ballroom and I’d try to find her and bring her to him. I did find her, eventually, and brought her back, whereupon they entered into an intimate conversation. I crossed my fingers and backed away.

Anatoly came up to me then, happily presenting his intended, a beautiful young woman named Gabrielle Delacour (cousin, as it happened, to Monique, and both members of the richest family in the game). I immediately gave my assent to the match and presented Anatoly with the tickets. “But,” I warned him, “you are not permitted to tell your brothers until tomorrow morning.” I knew that if his brothers discovered I’d bribed him so handsomely for something I was asking them to do for free they would revolt, but tomorrow of course, would be after the end of the game. Anatoly was disappointed — tormenting his brothers was his greatest joy — but consented. Three down? I thought.

But no — it was only two. Arkady returned to me crestfallen, saying that Monique had already pledged her heart to another. Alas. If only he had not been so hesitant — he’d missed out by less than half an hour. (After the game ended I had a chance to talk with Tiffany’s player to find out what had happened. She had been hoping and expecting for Arkady to pop the question, but he told her “my father ordered me to propose to Monique.” Argh! I had specifically said “that girl” precisely because I was not certain whom he was courting! But what we hear is not always what was intended.)

Then Pavel, my trusted valet, came up to me with a personal matter of some importance. Drawing me aside, he said “I would like your permission to marry Manya. If you grant this request, I promise that we will both serve you faithfully until the end of time.” That was, I assured him, rather more than was necessary, but I was actually overjoyed. The prospect of my two remaining servants, practically family, to not only find happiness with each other but remain with the family as well brought real tears of joy to my eyes. We went down to the servants’ hall, where it would have been unseemly for me to enter, and Pavel went in and brought Manya out. “Congratulations on your betrothal,” I told her happily. “I wholeheartedly consent to your marriage to Pavel.” She immediately burst into tears and fled from the vicinity. “I had not yet informed her of my intent to propose,” Pavel clarified. I felt sick, but as I could not follow her into downstairs space I instructed Pavel to keep me informed of further events.

I returned upstairs to the ball, which was very nearly over. Anastasia and Anatoly were glowing; Arkady was staring into space; Tatiana was cheerfully engaged in conversation. Where was Dimitri? Then I heard shouting, and Dimitri’s name. I pushed through the crowd to find him punching someone, I knew not who. “DIMITRI, STAND DOWN!” I shouted — the only time in the game I raised my voice — and he did. I dragged him into the hall outside the ballroom… and then there was a call for silence, and an announcement I couldn’t make out, followed by applause. Dimitri and I returned to the ballroom to find that the game had just ended. This was followed by a speech by the organizers about how all the people who had been so happy to have gotten Titanic tickets wound up — basically, the first-class women mostly survived and almost everyone else perished. But we all applauded anyway, because it had been a fabulous game. Dimitri and I did a passing-hand-across-face gesture to indicate “okay, dropping character now” and hugged. Final score: two children and one servant happily engaged, two proposals attempted but rejected, one proposal still pending. I’ll take it.

I spent a good hour after the game ended talking with the player of Pavel, who had been extremely emotionally contained and had never broken character once. I had grown to trust Pavel and depend upon him completely and I needed to meet the person behind the character. He turned out to be charming and witty, as I’d expected, but he also revealed something utterly shocking to me: Pavel had been an absolute two-faced bastard, who sucked up to the upstairs characters and was a complete shit to his downstairs peers. But, as Pavel was pretty much my sole line of communication to the downstairs, I had had no idea of any of it. I had played Robert to Pavel’s Thomas, and I felt an utter fool. (This was, perhaps, why Manya had burst into tears at the end. But when I talked with her player later, she said that she had merely been overcome with emotion and that the character would need some time to reach a decision. She honestly didn’t know which way Manya would eventually go.)

It really was a fabulous game. The characters, the drama, the richness of the setting and the fabulous costumes, the food — it truly did feel like a weekend spent in another time, another world. With such a large cast I knew that I had experienced only a tiny fraction of even the upstairs characters’ stories — never mind the downstairs characters’, of which I had essentially zero knowledge — but my part of it felt full and complete. All in all I have to say that I preferred Conscience and Meeting of Monarchs because they had an overarching plot rather than just character interactions (they were miniseries rather than a soap opera, so to speak), but the character interactions at Fairweather were so great that it was a rich and emotionally satisfying experience.

Would I do it again? Heck yeah! Many of the players had done two or three runs of Fairweather in the past, and I can see why — playing any other character, especially a downstairs or commoner character, would produce a completely different game. Perhaps if I do it again I will play my dark side in a way I did not allow myself to do this time. But do I really want to? I’m not sure, but I’m sure that if I did it would be interesting.

Actions Have Consequences: A “Conscience” LARP Report

Last weekend I attended run 6 of Conscience, a Westworld-themed LARP, at Fort Bravo, a tourist attraction and movie set near the village of Tabernas in Spain. This report contains SPOILERS for Conscience.

If you’ve heard the term LARP (Live Action Role Playing) you probably envision people going into a park and doing a live-action version of D&D that involves hitting each other with foam swords and throwing tennis balls while shouting “Fireball!” This wasn’t that kind of LARP. This was a kind of LARP which goes by many names including “Nordic LARP,” most commonly found in Europe, which is focused on emotion, character interactions, and immersion. It’s an improvised, immersive, interactive theatrical experience. Each of the participants — and this LARP had over a hundred — was simultaneously actor and audience, all mingling together — in costume, in a large realistic environment, for a full three days — to produce a deeply emotional shared experience.

We had each been assigned a character weeks beforehand, based on our previously stated preferences for what kind of game we wanted to play, and had been provided with character sheets detailing our character’s background, personality, function in the park, goals, priorities, and secrets, as well as general background information on the setting, themes, and game play. The weekend had an overall shape, designed by the organizers, with several important events that occurred at predetermined times. But the characters’ reactions to those events and all their interactions with each other were entirely improvised, based on the players’ understanding of what their character would do in that situation.

To me, the point of a LARP is to have a genuine emotional experience in a fake situation. You know the gasp that comes from an audience when something unexpected and significant happens in a play? Now imagine that, instead of just watching the play, you were deeply embedded in the action for days, mingling with other actors in costume and completely surrounded by a realistic set. The structure of the event encourages the players to really feel the emotional impact of the things that happen to them and the things they do. It’s like riding a roller coaster, which gives you the thrill of feeling like you’re going to die while being absolutely certain that you will not. One player, who has social anxiety in real life, told me that she loves to LARP because, as everyone has agreed in advance that we will be interacting in certain ways, she has no fear whatsoever of being rejected when she engages someone in conversation.

The structure of this LARP also encouraged players to be vulnerable and open to deep emotion because the organizers took great care to keep everyone safe. The weekend started with a half day of workshops: site orientation, general LARP principles, consent principles, violence mechanic, sex mechanic. We were provided with techniques to ensure that all interactions, up to and including simulated sexual violence, were entirely consensual and could always be interrupted. We were encouraged to drop out of character and negotiate delicate situations before and during the interaction (this is called “calibration”) and to check in with each other frequently. There was a safety room to which we could retreat if we were overwhelmed, and organizers mixed in with the cast to keep an eye on things and provide support when needed. And there were hard rules: no real violence, no real sex (not even with established partners), and although nudity was allowed it was only permitted in certain well-defined places and times and there would be no touching of naked people.

Conscience was loosely based on the first season of the TV show Westworld but although it used the same basic idea — a Western theme park staffed by realistic robots, called “hosts,” where the guests could torture, rape, and murder the robots without consequence — it did not use any of the same character names or other details, and the action of the LARP diverged from the plot of the TV show in significant ways. But the game and the TV show shared themes of identity and oppression, asking questions like “What makes a person a person?” “What is consciousness and how do we know that we or others are conscious?” and “What are the effects of violent oppression on both the oppressor and the oppressed?”

Players took the roles of hosts, guests, and park employees. All characters could be “black hats,” “white hats,” or “gray hats” (metaphorically speaking; hat color was not an indication of character morals) but the design of the park seemed to encourage black-hat behavior from both guests and employees. Park employees were divided into departments: Behavior designed and modified the robots’ personalities, attitudes, and priorities; Plot wrote the robots’ backgrounds and the stories, called “loops,” which they enacted each day and in which the guests were encouraged to participate; Maintenance fixed up the robots when they were damaged or malfunctioned; and Security was responsible for protecting the guests’ personal safety. Some of the characters were departmental-level managers and supervisors but upper management was not present in the park. And in addition to the guests oppressing the hosts, there was plenty of oppression among the park employees. Plot and Behavior each denigrated the other, both of them looked down on Maintenance and Security, and within each department there was bullying, betrayal, inappropriate romance, and toxic office politics. My department was co-headed by a married couple — she was a hardass with no people skills, while he was more reasonable but still beholden to the corporation.

My character, named Gold, was nonbinary and a member of the Behavior team. Their position in the team as staff ethicist made them rather isolated, as it was their job to remind employees of the moral and ethical principles which they should be employing in their work — principles which the basic design of the park often violated. Playing Gold I often felt like Cassandra, in that I would frequently say “you should not do that thing, it is bad for the guests and employees and will eventually hurt the company” and see that advice ignored. But as long as I made my case as best I could I felt that my conscience was clear. One big question I had to answer for myself was why Gold was working in this park at all. The best answer I came up with was that Gold had been imposed on the Behavior department by higher-ups for appearance’s sake and to use as a scapegoat in case anything went wrong, but was trying to work within the system to prevent the worst excesses.

As Gold, I had many philosophical, moral, and ethical discussions with fellow employees and guests to try to influence them away from the rape, torture, and murder which they had generally come to the park to commit. These debate scenes were actually a lot of fun for me — the other players were very smart, argued fairly, and played their parts brilliantly — and, as I said on several occasions, I wasn’t really expecting to change the mind of the person I was arguing with but I hoped to influence the onlookers. And I did indeed have some positive effects! One evening I had a long talk over whisky (tea in whisky bottles) with a multibillionaire guest — a black hat who was, at least, willing to debate the possibility that the hosts might be conscious — and after the game the player told me that his plan had been to walk out of the bar and torture a host to death just to see how it would react, but after talking with me he just couldn’t do it.

It became clear pretty quickly that Gold was one of the few “white hat” employees in the department, indeed one of a few in the whole park, and in some ways this made playing them easier. As Gold I tried to never lie, always keep my promises, be clear about when I knew things and when I was only speculating or repeating a rumor, treat others with respect, and most of all to be kind. I always said please and thank you to Maintenance and Security personnel and even hosts, and when my fellow employees would put other employees down, calling them to their faces “maintenance monkey” or even “it” (and that was a Behavior employee talking to one of their peers!) I would at least call them on it. Not that this seemed to have much effect. The two things I kept saying to anyone who would listen were: 1) you always have choices, even when your actions are constrained; and 2) actions have consequences.

After the workshops, the first day’s actual play began at the end of the work day. We had an end-of-day meeting in Behavior, discussing the new software update which was just rolling out to the hosts and which management had decided to deploy without testing. I raised my objections to this strategy, of course, but was overruled. Instead, we would observe the hosts carefully and bring every one in for analysis over the next few days. (Out-of-game this was so each host player would have an opportunity to get an interview with Behavior, which was fun for both players. One of my favorite things to do was to get the host to play a brief scene in “story mode,” switch to “command mode” and raise or lower their aggressiveness or sex drive or whatever, then switch back to story mode and play the same scene over.) After that meeting we were free to enjoy the park — a major perk of the job, given that the list price of a visit was in the millions — but there were a lot of issues with the hosts and I spent most of the evening fighting fires. Of course the official story was that “every new update has problems” but I feared there was some kind of structural problem. But I was “disagree and commit” to the plan and kept trying to keep the park running.

Day 2 started off with an out-of-game group calibration session for the Behavior players, in which we discussed our reactions to the game so far and our plans for the day. This was followed by an in-game staff meeting where I again suggested that the new update was problematic and should be rolled back and was again overruled. We spent the day bringing in hosts for interviews and dealing with problems as they occurred. One host was remembering things they should not, another kept muttering “dream within a dream,” another smacked a Maintenance employee in the face while in command mode. “Was the employee physically hurt?” was the official response to that one. “If not, this is normal host behavior — they are programmed to roughhouse with guests. Maybe there’s a motor systems issue that caused the host to hit harder than intended.” Each individual problem could be — and was — dismissed as “just a glitch” but to me there seemed to be a systemic problem.

The problems got worse. A host had been sliced open by a guest who had forced him to look at the wires and cables within before he died, and now, even after being repaired, kept saying he was a robot. There were multiple problems here: he should not have been able to perceive what he saw, he should not have accepted the guest’s statement (and analysis in command mode indicated that he had really internalized it), and he should absolutely not have retained any memory of it after a hard reset. I tried dealing with that one by loading him up with a simulated year of psychotherapy to convince him that he was indeed human, which seemed to work but got me in trouble with my female boss. “I pay you to fix problems, not patch them.” She called in another Behavior employee who had the host look in a mirror, then before shooting the host in the head instructed the host to see blood and brains as he died. (I did not like this employee before, and liked him even less now. This attempt at shock treatment did not work in the long term, by the way.)

Then we started to get some surprising and upsetting news about the other employees. For one thing, one of the Security people shot herself in front of guests. The story we were instructed to give out was that the suicide, with visible blood and brains, was a prototype high-realism host. For another thing, two new employees reported to work in Maintenance and were quickly discovered to be hosts. One was programmed to know that he was a host, the other was programmed to believe he was human. But the most upsetting thing of all was that we found out that a number of long-time employees had been hosts all along, including two of my Behavior peers! Lots of arguments and dramatic scenes ensued, including me trying to convince one of the Plot employees that going to her ex-girlfriend — my Behavior peer, who had just been revealed to be a host — and commanding her to love her would not be a good idea.

In the afternoon of day 2 the situation escalated as a delivery truck pulled up and dropped off a new host who was an exact duplicate of the Security employee who had killed herself. The new host had no personality, and there was no paperwork and no instructions. We hustled the host off to Behavior, where a fierce argument ensued about what to do. My male boss, the highest-ranking person in the room, decided that we should give the new host a name and a plot and send her off to work in the whorehouse, saying “look, we told you she was a host, and now here she is!” I argued strenuously that this was not only immoral but would inevitably be found out and would cause a publicity shitstorm that would make “one of our employees shot herself” look like a walk in the park. I was, of course, overruled, but as the meeting ended I promised that when I was on the witness stand I would tell the truth about what had happened, then pointed at the manager and told the other employees in the room “do not do anything to forward this plan without an explicit order from him, his co-boss, or their boss.” (Later we learned that he was, himself, a host, which would have made the legal case against the park quite interesting.)

Later in day 2 I permitted myself to be talked into going to the whorehouse “to experience your work from the guests’ perspective.” (This was something I had calibrated earlier in the game with the players of the characters who talked me into it, because as a player I did want to experience some of the dark side of the park.) I wound up having a delicious and very sweet scene with a male host called Chuck, and between the extensive negotiations beforehand and the scene itself we developed a relationship of mutual attraction, respect, and trust. This relationship proved to be pivotal to my game.

There comes a point when you pile enough WTF on a person’s head that they go from WTF to “okay sure, I’ll buy that, what else?” In the afternoon of day 2 I was in a state of upbeat cynicism and cheery pessimism. I resolved to continue to fight for the right but to not be upset when it didn’t happen. As long as I stood up for the right thing I could be satisfied. But I had said “this is the right thing to do, and I’m going to tell you even though I know you won’t do it” so many times that I felt like Cassandra. At one point I actually got my boss’s boss to say “okay, let’s try it your way, go and find out if it’s technically possible” (which it was) and I felt great even though I knew it would never actually happen. So when word came down a while later that it would be too expensive I wasn’t even disappointed. “Okay sure, I’ll buy that, what else!” But by the end of day 2 I had had enough.

Day 3 began with a Behavior staff meeting. When it came time for me to report my status I explained that I could no longer countenance the corporation’s actions — the deployment of untested and possibly dangerous software, the replacement of staff with hosts both overtly and covertly, and the immoral and in fact illegal plan to deploy a host with a dead staffer’s face — and was resigning my position effective immediately. “I’ve enjoyed working with most of you,” I told my peers, then looked my female boss in the face. “But you? You don’t look like anything to me.” And I threw down my badge and stalked out. Best scene of the game, for me.

I sought out a group who had reached out to me the day before, calling themselves “The Real QA Department” and consisting of a mix of employees and hosts who recognized the hosts’ dawning consciousness and were most concerned with protecting both the hosts and the innocent among the guests. I spent the day talking with troubled hosts, employees, and guests and doing what I could to help them deal with the increasingly insane situation. Chuck, who by now had been elected sheriff and was beginning to come into consciousness, was a key contact and put me in touch with hosts I could use my knowledge and skills to help. (We had agreed during calibration that, although my managers would of course cut off my access to the control software, the corporation moved slowly and I would retain the ability to modify hosts’ personalities for the duration of the game.) And then Dallas came up to me on the street and grabbed me by the throat.

Dallas was a host who, by now, we knew was a repurposed military robot who was dealing with resurfacing memories of perpetrating violence on humans, and Dallas’s player was literally two heads taller than me. He clutched my shirt front, leaned in close, and said “you’re going to take away my fear of guns.” I was legit terrified but kept my voice level. “I can’t do that. Although I respect your rights as an individual, I need to protect innocent people.” “Well,” he said, “that’s your choice, but like you always say, actions have consequences.” And he let go and stalked off.

I went to Chuck, who I respected as a keen judge of people (and was also a repurposed combat model, though I don’t think I knew that at the time) and asked his advice on what to do. “Well,” he said, “I don’t like the way Dallas threatened you and I’m going to talk to him about it. But the key thing is this: who are you to take away another person’s right to choose how he runs his own life?” I spent the next hour or so thinking hard about that, then went back to where Chuck and Dallas were sitting on the sheriff’s office porch. Chuck apologized for his earlier treatment of me and requested, politely, that I take away his fear of guns.

This was the most difficult moment of the game for me. I had to weigh my respect for this dawning consciousness against the almost certain expectation that granting his request would cause human beings to lose their lives. But in the end it came down to this: there are always choices, and actions have consequences. So I would let Dallas make his own choices, and I would live with the consequences of mine. I swallowed and agreed.

We went into the sheriff’s office, where I used an administrative password to remove his phobia. At one point during the procedure my Apple Watch buzzed, saying “your heart rate is elevated although you are not moving.” Lol. After the procedure we talked for a bit about how he felt and what this meant. I said that I would not put any conditions on his behavior going forward, but I said to him “be yourself, and be kind.”

When we left the office we found Chuck waiting on the porch with a few other hosts who also wanted modifications. I did what I could for each of them. In some cases the request was beyond my capabilities (the host wanted to be able to stop men from abusing her, but her aggression was already at max, humility at min, and removing the prohibition against harming humans was not something I could do even with an admin password) so we just talked. I left each one with “be yourself, and be kind.”

After that I met up with The Real QA Department in the church, where we all talked about how we were changing and what we were going to do going forward. I tried to help Chuck come to terms with his new consciousness by changing his personality to help accept it, but one of the other humans present stopped me, saying that “we have to respect them and talk to them as people.” Important reminder for me, both in-game and out-of-game: the master’s house will not be dismantled with the master’s tools. The group agreed that when shit started to get real we would make our last stand in the church, a defensible location.

In the next few hours the hosts were acting way out of character and the guests were absolutely freaking out. Some of the richer guests were making plans to escape, or otherwise use their real-world connections to fix the situation in some way, but I knew that all these plans would take more time than we had. I tried to calm people as much as I could while not sugar-coating the situation. And then I saw the sheriff holding a guest by the scruff of the neck. The guest, a black hat, had been beaten up by his white-hat brother who was fed up with his bullshit, and now he was being asked to apologize to the hosts he had abused. He was hemming and hawing and completely failing to apologize so I barged in and told him “this is what you say: ‘I’m sorry I raped you.'” Together, the sheriff and I managed to get something approximating an apology out of him, but then the sheriff asked the victimized hosts what they wanted to do to him. They decided they were going to string him up on the gallows. I walked away at that point, but as I was leaving one of the Security employees, a cousin of mine with whom I was very close, said to me “I’ve never wanted you to see me when I do something bad.” I told him that if he was going to do something bad I would turn my back. A minute later I heard a gunshot, and saw him being led away by other Security people. He had shot the guest, using his real Security gun, and the guest was dead for real. (Later I learned that the Security person had only wounded the guest and his brother had then choked him to death O.o.)

Okay, shit was definitely getting real. I retreated to the church, where some members of the Real QA Team and a bunch of guests were gathered — including one of the very nastiest black hats, who I knew was marked for death by many of the hosts. Not only did I not want to give him sanctuary, but I knew that if he was with us we would all be in danger. “You can’t come in here,” I told him, but he just walked past me. But nothing happened for a long while, people got bored and wandered in and out, and at one point I found myself the only person in the church. So I closed and barred the door. “Real ethical move, Doc,” the guest yelled through the door, but I waited him out. Eventually I opened the door and found that everyone had left. I found and put on a bulletproof vest my cousin had stashed in the church for me; I didn’t really think that any of the hosts had it in for me, but ricochets are a thing and the guests had guns too. During this time there were all kinds of disquieting messages on the in-game Discord messaging system about the park’s central AI acting weird.

And then a siren went off, and a computerized voice announced that all loops were being rolled back. Messages on Discord indicated that the central AI had revoked the First Law. There were gunshots. There was screaming. People started showing up at the church, some of them shot, and we let almost everyone in. I don’t recall turning anyone away myself; the nastiest guests probably died before they could get to the church. I was kind of disappointed, as a player, that I hid in the church rather than going out and witnessing the slaughter, but I really felt it was in character to do so. And then the sirens stopped and a game runner came by to say that the game was over. We had survived!

After the game I learned a few important things. The update about which I had been so concerned was not actually the cause of all the glitches — the update was no worse than usual, it was the central AI becoming conscious that had been the root cause of the problem. Dallas wound up not killing anyone. (Win!) Another host, with whom I had had just one interaction, told me that my injunction to “be yourself, and be kind” had kept him from killing a guest when he’d had the chance. My male boss told me that I had been a hero for resigning. Many people said that they had enjoyed their interactions with me. All in all I came out feeling fabulous about myself and about my character.

It’s been a few days since the game and the post-game Discord has been lively. I’ve learned what other players’ experiences were like, and it’s not too surprising that, with a hundred players, many of them had games that didn’t overlap with mine at all. In particular, while my game was about the park and the hosts’ dawning consciousness, many other players (especially guests and hosts) had significant experiences with each other within the world of Mayfield before shit went down.

This was only my third LARP, and in both previous games I came to the end and realized that, while I had done well by my character, I’d been a side character to the main plot. In this case I would say that my character was right in the middle of the main plot, perhaps even a pivotal character, but I still missed a lot. In particular, I realized that, despite the rape and murder all around, I had witnessed exactly one act of sexual violence, when a guest called to me from a stagecoach and demanded that I turn off the filters of the host he was torturing so she would know she was a robot. I refused, saying “it’s against policy,” but I still stayed around to listen to her being tortured to death. After he finished and pushed her body out of the carriage and onto the street, I walked her to Maintenance and gave her a post-mortem interview. Then I said “I’m sorry” and burst into real tears. It was the only time I cried in-game. I think I am glad I did not have the same game as most of those other players.

As I write this I am relaxing at a yoga retreat in the Spanish countryside. Soon I will be heading to Berlin, where I will connect with my partner Alisa and we will both proceed to the next LARP: Fairweather Manor. Look for another report like this after that one.

Heading for Spain!

I’m on my way to Europe for 3 weeks and many adventures including a Westworld LARP and a Downton Abbey LARP! That’s why I brought the Mega Suitcase.

My itinerary:

My partner Alisa will be joining me for Fairweather Manor, otherwise I’m solo. Whee!

Great review in Analog!

Fabulous review of The Kuiper Belt Job by Rosemary Claire Smith in the latest Analog!

The Kuiper Belt Job is not, however, a simple tale of the latest heist. Instead, it weaves together the earlier Orca job with subsequent events. Levine deftly switches between the collective viewpoint for the flashbacks to the Orca Job and the individual viewpoints of the members of the Cannibal Club in the later timeline. … Levine conjures up the sheer good fun to be derived from a classic heist tale, while giving it a futuristic update. It is beautifully played, indeed.”

New Arabella of Mars trilogy covers!

I am thrilled to be able to share with you the covers of the new Open Road editions of the Arabella of Mars books! Are they not gorgeous? (Click to embiggen.)

OpenRoad-3 covers.

I recounted the story of how I got the rights to the Arabella books back from Tor and resold them to Open Road Media on my blog last year. The downside of this resale has been that the books have been out of print since then, except for used and backstock paper copies, but on February 13 they will be reissued as ebooks, with the lovely new covers shown above and all-new YA-focused marketing materials. And the new ebooks will be available for the first time in English-speaking markets outside North America! They are available for preorder now from ebook stores around the world.

Vintage Books Live! Tuesday, January 9, at 7pm

The Vintage Book Shop in Vancouver WA posts: “Vintage Books Live! is back! Join us Tuesday, January 9, at 7pm via YouTube ( We’ll be visiting with David D. Levine about his latest novel, The Kuiper Belt Job. Levine is the Hugo and Nebula award-winning author of the Arabella of Mars series. This newest book is a madcap heist caper told from multiple points of view. We can’t wait to chat with him about it. If you can’t make the live event, be sure to catch the replay via our YouTube channel.”

AI is poisoning your brain

I recognize I’m becoming That Guy when it comes to AI, but I just had an interaction with AI that really demonstrates why I think it’s a serious problem.

I was talking with some folks and the question of “is it a good idea to use salt to put out a kitchen fire?” came up. There was disagreement among the group (my opinion: yes, dumping a pile of salt onto a greasy fire will put it out, whereas water will make it worse, and unlike a fire extinguisher might not make the food completely inedible) so I searched the question on my phone.

The suggested post that DuckDuckGo gave me (the one that comes up right under the browser’s address bar when you type the question) seemed to confirm my opinion. “Salt can put out a fire, but it’s not a magic bullet. It’s true that salt is an effective fire retardant, but it won’t put out a fire as effectively as a sprinkler system or water from your hose. Salt is just a last resort; if you have other options, you should use them first.” So far so good.

But as I kept reading I found that the page was wordy, repetitive, and somewhat self-contradictory. I knew it was a badly written clickbait page, but I began to suspect worse. Then I hit this gem: “Salt is used for putting out fires because it has a lot of water in it, which means that when it comes into contact with the flames of a fire, it will cause those flames to extinguish themselves by evaporating water from its own substance (the salt).” That statement is plausible, articulate, and 100% wrong: the hallmarks of AI.

This is, to my mind, a particularly egregious example of AI-generated misinformation. For one thing, it’s information about fire safety (the URL of the garbage site on which I found it includes the words “fire safety”) and misinformation about fire safety has a chance of getting someone killed. But I also noticed something going on in my own mind.

Here’s the thing: that egregiously wrong sentence means that everything else on the page, including the very reasonable statement that “salt is an okay way of putting out a fire but it should not be your first choice,” is suspect. But, having read up to that point with an open and accepting mind, everything on the page above that statement was now in my head. And it’s extremely difficult to to go back through your own brain’s “recent items” history and delete information which you now realize might not be accurate.

So I now know that everything I thought I knew about putting out fires with salt — which now includes an unknown amount of new information which might or might not be true — is suspect. My brain has been poisoned by AI-generated crap. And I’m a pretty skeptical guy, and I was deliberately using DuckDuckGo rather than Google (a search engine provided by a company which makes its money from advertising and is now heavily investing in AI) so I had already done one thing to shield myself from misinformation. And still I got bit by AI. I’m mad at myself for falling for it, and even madder at the assholes who put up that page full of misinformation for the sake of maybe getting a few fractional pennies from someone clicking on a sponsored link within it.

I hate that in this f’d-up modern world I now need to treat EVERYTHING I read, not just the political news, with deep skepticism. AI is imposing a cognitive burden on everyone and isn’t benefitting anyone except the advertisers and those who wish to promulgate misinformation.

Feh and double feh.