Life Behind the Lens at LARP

What I've learned from being a LARP photographer.

The Hunt

LARPs leave you with memories like you could've never imagined - and as memories usually do, they inevitably fade. That is where silent watchers armed with cameras and lenses step in. At first this might seem just like any other event - weird costumes, funny scenes, that to be honest, rarely spark with cinematographic look. There is a catch. Behind the facade of flashy outfits and people who occasionally pose for you lies an opportunity for your skill. It is a hunt.

If you've ever played an any RPG, you know your prey exactly. Those are the moments you remember - highlights of a story where tears flow from anger, teeth screech from rage, eyes shine with hope... Moments that blend documentary, portrait, and pure fantasy. You hunt these moments and you hunt people.

Becoming Invisible

The one and only skill that you have to master is stealth. People you shoot are simultaneously themselves and their characters - they exist on a completely different emotional plane, and most of the time an observer can unwillingly ruin their experience. And egoistic as it sounds - you will ruin your shot.

I've tried many strategies. I’ve tried using costumes to blend in with the environment and chitchat with players "in game." It’s a bit easier in modern or futuristic settings, but medieval outfits don’t have a natural match. I thought this would at least help players get comfortable with my presence and eventually forget about my existence. Yet with a decent lens, this strategy becomes as subtle as marching around with a huge sign that says, "Look at me, I’m watching your every move." There is always a disconnect between those who play and you, just imitating being part of this world. The lesson here was simple. Gently, subtly, I was always there—yet always at a distance. Never talked to anybody. Never announced my presence. And at some point, I became as noticeable as a branch on a nearby tree.

The Sacrifice

Another revelation: you are not a player. And this is something I still haven’t figured out how to deal with. And this is something I still have not figured out how to deal with yet. Yeah. As a photographer, you are a ghost. Literally. You can cross impenetrable walls, crawl into spaces where no player should ever be, witness events from all sides of a conflict that no player in their right mind would ever cross their path with. And you can only hope that when you find yourself between two clashing armies, they’ll try not to stomp you into the ground.

If you’re part of this hobby, you’ll understand the struggle. You are never part of the story. You have no influence on the unfolding events. And those memories you hunt—they will never become truly yours. This is the sacrifice you must be willing to make.

This might be a problem. I’ve known photographers who couldn’t handle this call. The game at some point became so seductive they just wanted to play more than shoot. Without a role and a place in the world, I can just say that none of the memories that came out of it were pleasant.

But what if I try to cheat and start with a proper role? Yeeeah. No. Unless you take a specific role—say, a journalist—and make it your main quest, you will always miss your greatest shots. And you will always be reminded of limitations you never had as a photographer.

Your Battlefield

Back to reality, there’s more to deal with. It’s always too bright or too dark. No one can ever repeat their actions, and you cannot ask people in-game to pose or "play this part again." Unless you captured the moment—it’s gone forever. Sometimes events happen everywhere at once and you have no idea where to rush.

Without going into technical details, I’d say you have to prepare yourself to shoot a "sports" event—as if football, basketball, and hockey fields were next to each other, matches running simultaneously, and somewhere in the crowd, scenes from Romeo and Juliet are playing out.

Why It's Worth It

All of that said, the invisibility, the sacrifice, the technical chaos... What do you actually get in return?

Every LARP ends, and the imaginary world disappears until the next event takes its place. . Players gather and discuss the events that just happened, transforming their characters memories into their own. Someone cries for a fictional loss. Someone laughs. For a moment they were part of something that felt very real — and then they walk away with fragments.

You have to walk away too. But you walk away with evidence. Your photos get posted, reposted, discussed, argued about, turned into character portraits, printed and pinned above desks. Yes, you sacrificed your game. You stood in the cold, missed the feast, hauled gear through mud while everyone else was living the story.

But you help the world survive a little longer. And this, my friends, is worth the fight.