I larp for selfish reasons: I am a tourist of horrible places and I use others for my own pleasure. I larp to feel all the emotions and experiences that are wrong.
I allow myself to be a horrible person.
I play with the emotions of others.
I escape the greyness of everyday life.
I went to be a vampire to shake the foundations of faith in others, to prove my own superior lack of morals.
I went to a community being torn apart by a deadly plage, to feel the fear of death and not give a fuck.
I went to a prison camp to find out exactly what kind of horrors I could inflict on my fellow human beings.
But it never works out that way in the end.
In the prison camp, love set me free and made me sacrifice myself.
When death pointed it’s finger at me, I became the most caring man I have ever been.
In the end, the vampire wept for his own lost soul.
I do it for the catharsis, that one moment of relief, when I give up and let it all be alright.
I do it for the true emotions and genuine empathy with the people around me.
I do it for the beautiful stories we make together.