By: Bri Meisser
Read the first installation of this series HERE
Disability is something that encompasses every aspect of one's life. I was given a task to write 3 articles about my disability and how it impacts my ability to engage with the Realms. I will be splitting this series into 3 distinct sections. Bri The Player, Margaret The Character, and Bri The Event Holder. My hope is that by the end of this series, you will have a better respect for some of the struggles our disabled players go through in order to continue to play this game we love. Becoming disabled is the only minority group anyone can join at any time, and we will all deal with health related issues as we age. But maybe by working together, we can create a game that’s more accommodating and understanding to those issues. I am only one disabled individual, and everyone’s experiences are unique. But here are mine. This is Margaret, the Character. You can read part 1 here:
Many people use fantasy and roleplay as a form of escapism. And while there are many things that one can escape by entering new worlds, one thing which cannot always be escaped is disability. The WISIWYG nature of our game means that any character I play will inherently be disabled because I am. If I am in a wheelchair, so is my character. If I’m in too much pain to wear armor, so is my character. This can be challenging in a world full of perilous quests and which tend to involve a lot of mobility and fighting.
When I first joined the game I was a fighter. I went to fight practice frequently and immensely enjoyed that part of the game. In fact, I found the spell system fairly intimidating which is ironic to think about now. I was Mighty Margaret, slayer of Rexan’s Champion, and a warrior within the Realms. It was my identity as a character. However, as my health began to worsen, I had to slowly drop weapons and armor. My arms couldn’t handle the strain of a full day of fighting, nor my body the weight of chainmail. One of the reasons I immensely enjoyed aspect system playtests was that they allowed me the flexibility to do some fighting, while also having spells to fall back on when my health worsened. Or which allowed me to have a fighter combination and armored cloak instead of heavy armor. But the reality of my situation is that my health impacts my in-character build. And I am fortunate that our game is flexible enough to allow me to change builds to fit my needs, as many other games lock you into skills and paths.
If it was up to me, I would be a 2-path. I consider myself a fairly skilled archer, and 2-path allows me to engage in the fighting I enjoy while also having access to the highest circle of spell. But I never know if I will be healthy enough to fight on any given quest. So I find myself a 3-path, forced to prioritize my health over my preferred play style.
I have roleplayed my disabilities in various different ways as I’ve played this game. Sometimes I try to not think about it too much, and to pretend to be as normal as possible. This sense of normalcy can be precious and makes the costly medical interventions I endure worth it. Other times, my character laments the fact that she is able to bring back people from the dead and summon forth divine powers, but can’t heal her own chronic health issues. As I said before, LARP can be an escape, but it can also be a good medium to process these difficult emotions. Going on a personal quest for self acceptance can be as fulfilling as pretending everything is okay. And both have their places within the game as we go through difficult things.
One of the hardest things for me is reconciling how my Oaths as a character are impacted by my health as a player. There are two in-particular that stick out to me in that regard. One is the Magi tenant of ‘quest until the last quest is done’. I love questing. It is my favorite part of this game. But sometimes I can’t quest until the last quest is done. Sometimes I am in my wheelchair, and the quest takes the party into an area that is not wheelchair accessible. Sometimes I can’t come back on Sunday to finish up questing because I’m so exhausted from Saturday that I’m not safe to drive. Sometimes I could do the quest, but the physical cost of the crash I would endure isn’t worth the benefit I would personally get from that quest. While I would love to set a good example of excellent quest leadership and participation, sometimes I have to miss this quest so I can make it to the last one.
The other tenant which I can struggle with at times is the Knight of the Crown tenant of ‘do what is right, even if others would oppose you, even if it would cost you your life, ensure that it is done.’ I find doing what I believe is right as a character to be relatively easy. I will fight an enemy which I have no hope of defeating in order to inspire others to continue after me. What is much much harder is when what is right, is for me to rest and take care of myself. I don’t like asking people to do things I’m not willing to do myself. I want to lead by example. And yet at the DI3 Saturday night quest, when my legs gave out and I physically could not walk any further? One of the hardest things I ever had to do in this game was not to try. But it was to sit back and trust other people to succeed without me. 3 years ago I wouldn’t have been able to do that. Now I don’t have a choice.
In many ways playing a disabled character is like being a disabled person. The same sacrifices, mental calculations, and accommodations that go into being disabled don’t go away just because you get a magic wand and cosmic powers. But the way that we respond to those setbacks and use those to set a good example both in and out of character are really important. Next time, I will discuss my work as an eventholder. How I manage to balance my health needs with the strain of running an event. How being disabled has shifted my design philosophy when creating encounters. And how I create the type of event I would enjoy playing in spite of the struggles highlighted above.
Until then,
Bri Meisser
