This is it. This is what it feels like to die. You know how they say your whole life flashes before your eyes? Yeah, well the only thing I’m seeing is my damn beanie baby collection. I mean, give me gritty repressed childhood memories, regrets or picture perfect moments. Something. I just got my arm slashed off by some high level half orc and I’m bleeding out. I’m dying here and no one could give a shit, not even my subconscious.
Okay, so I might not be dying dying but this is called Live-Action Roleplaying. I’m in character. Who knows though, I might actually be dying. My lungs could totally give out. My body is not in peak physical condition- I’ve decided to lay off exercise for the 26 years of my life. Who knew this game required effort, stamina. The amount of rules and configurations is just excessive. The confusion, the yelling, the demands, the fighting, the bewildered look on my roommates’ face- it’s all anxiety inducing.
The three of us wanted to do something as a group to bond or whatever. I jokingly suggested LARPing for a weekend. “All the cool kids are doing it,” I playfully added. My sarcasm deficient roommate said I was “too city” for LARPing and would just end up quitting or leaving right away. Rule Numero Uno for being friends with Shannon: You do not dictate my actions or emotions. I will prove you wrong and rise like a fucking phoenix. Maybe I got a little overzealous but I went out and bought costumes, read all the rules, found a league for the weekend, and got all my shit together. This is legit and I was ready. I have to admit, my inner nerdy world was being rocked. I’d never done anything like it before but I had it all planned out. I figured, I’d outrun the nerds, get an ego-boost, tell Drew to suck it and then go home to stream Grey’s Anatomy or something slightly less embarrassing.
Only now, the reality is that I’m lying dead on the ground, recouping and waiting for the horn to sound. I wish I had a milkshake. And fries. Oh god, the ones from the deli on the corner. Yes. I’m sure if I got up and left no one would even notice. I could leave, eat and come back to play dead. First things first though, do my lungs even work?
As I’m still struggling to catch my breath, return my heart rate to normal and soothe my rage for a milkshake, Drew and Becca make their way towards me. Becca lays a flower from her crown on me and Drew whispers, “This is for you.”
The two then charge the remaining opposition, dominating in every sense of the word. Becca is the most beautifully strategic Elven Queen I’d ever seen and Drew is one bad ass humanoid thing just killing it left and right. The skill, the agility- he does the sports thing back at home.
It pains me to lose. I am dying as we speak, still mentally and physically drained, but something about being here on the ground makes me feel like I’m winning. All the cool kids are fucking doing it. I think I’ll try this thing again. My superbly talented friends are avenging my death and I don’t have to exercise anymore, so that’s a plus. If that’s not living, I don’t know what is.